The Original Sinners: The Red Years

Zach furrowed his brow at the odd question.

“No more so than the next man, I suppose.”

“I mention it for a reason.” Søren began to make a slow circuit of the room. “During my summers at seminary I worked in a leprosy camp in India. There is a disturbing amount of misinformation about the disease. The idea that it is the disease that infects the limbs and causes them to rot and fall off? Pure myth. Leprosy, Hansen’s disease as it should be called, is a disease of the nerves. It destroys the nerves that experience pain. And once the ability to feel pain is gone, then it is a simple matter to burn the hand off while cooking dinner over an open fire, or to step on a small nail and not realize it until a doctor pulls it from a festering wound a week later. There were mornings,” Søren said as he took a whip from its hook on the wall and examined it, “I awoke to the sound of screams. Without the capacity for pain it is all too easy to slumber in peace as a rat chews off your fingers in the night.”

“Pain is a necessary evil,” Zach said, fighting off the chills produced by Søren’s hypnotic speech. “But still an evil.”

“Pain is a gift from God. It imparts understanding, wisdom. Pain is life. And here we give pain as freely as we give pleasure.”

Zach watched Søren’s hand as he gripped the handle of the whip and coiled it neatly. Every movement the priest made was precise, his fingers as deft as an artist’s, his muscles lean and taut as a dancer. And on his face he wore an expression of quiet peace, of intelligent disinterest. A true believer, Zach could tell. But a believer in what? Words from Paradise Lost came to Zach’s mind—“Better to reign in hell than serve in Heaven.” Somehow, Zach realized, Nora’s priest had found a way to do both.

“If pain is a sign of love,” Zach said as Søren hung the whip on the wall once more, “then I must love a great deal.” He thought of Grace now, wondered what she would say if she knew where he was, what he was doing.

Søren’s eyes found his and the look he gave Zach was one of the most profound compassion.

“I am certain that you do.”

Zach held the priest’s gaze as long as he could, but the moment grew too intimate and Zach turned away. A good priest, Griffin had called Søren. He was certainly adept at inspiring confessions.

A mural adorned the fourth wall of the room. Zach picked up the oil lamp and threw light against the familiar monster on the wall.

“The lesson of the Jabberwocky,” Zach said, studying its line and angles. Søren came to stand at his side. “I saw a book at Nora’s. The Jabberwocky. You, I presume it was you, wrote, ‘Never forget the lesson of the Jabberwocky’ inside it. But it’s a nonsense poem. It has no lesson.”

“But it does,” Søren countered. “A handsome prince fights a terrible, beautiful dragon and slays him then carries the head home strapped to his saddle. The lesson is obvious. When one is a monster, one does well to beware knights in shining armor. A good lesson for Eleanor.”

Zach heard the meaning behind Søren’s words. “Nora is not a monster. She’s not perfect obviously. But she’s a good person, and to call her a monster is ridiculous.”

“You know her that well, do you?” Søren asked, turning to face him full-on. “Before tonight she scared you, didn’t she? Her fearlessness, her brazenness, I’m sure it’s terrifying at first. Foreign to those who lead the proverbial life of quiet desperation as I imagine you do. She scared you with the sheer force of her life and being. But now you look around and think her courage is merely a byproduct of her damage. You imagine I abused her, changed her. And you would save her, as Wesley imagines he can? You would be her knight in shining armor? Yes, before you feared her and now you pity her. I assure you, Zachary, you were right the first time.”

* * *

This was her favorite part.

Nora ordered Michael to lie on his back in the middle of the bed. She pulled out from under the bed a silver spreader bar. She laid the bar, a length of rope and a pair of scissors on the bed next to Michael’s hip. She lit three candles and let them burn on the table next to the bed.

“Don’t be scared, angel,” she said. “You are completely safe here. You have your safe word. You can stop this at any time. You don’t have to do anything but lie there and take what I give you. Do you understand?”

Michael eyed the scissors warily. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, mistress. I understand.”

Nora took two snap hooks and locked Michael’s ankles to each end of the bar. She threaded rope through the buckle on his ankle cuffs, tied the cuff to the bedpost and neatly snipped off the excess rope. She came to the head of the bed and took each of Michael’s wrists in her hands. She spread him out like an X and tied him down. He could move neither his hands nor his feet. She bent and bit the soft skin above his wrist—a shiver passed through his body. His eyes looked to the ceiling and stared placidly at nothing. Nora knew that look, had worn it herself a thousand nights in Søren’s bed.

“Michael, stay with me.”

“I’m here.” His eyes focused again on her face. She knew how easy it was to disappear into the moment. But she wanted him to remember it, to be with her every step of the way.

“Good boy. How do you feel?”

Michael tugged on his bonds but not in a struggle. He seemed simply to take pleasure in their existence.

“Free,” he said and she knew exactly what he meant.

Nora slipped off the bed and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She crawled back onto the bed and sat next to Michael’s hips. She ran her hands over his skin…smooth and cool to the touch. She caressed his face, stroked his arms and lingered along his inner thighs.

Finally, when it seemed he could wait no longer, she straddled his hips, took him in her hand and guided him inside her.

Michael arched underneath her as she wrapped herself around him. She watched as his eyes closed in shocked wonder and opened again darkened with knowledge. He gasped as she pushed and clenched her muscles tight around him. She bent over, dipping her mouth to his, his lips eager and artless and tasting of snow. She remembered the last kiss Søren gave her before he penetrated her the first time. Such pleasure coupled with such pain…the pain, like the flash of a camera, rendering the moment forever fixed in her mind. Michael would remember this moment, too. She would make sure of it.

She pushed against him again and let herself enjoy his body inside hers. Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined someone else under her, inside her, someone with blond hair instead of black, someone with brown eyes instead of silver…Nora felt her climax start to build and she pushed it back and opened her eyes.

Rising up, she reached for the candle burning beside the bed. She brought it to her carefully, not letting any of the wax drop. Michael’s eyes followed the glowing wick as Nora held it over the center of his panting chest.

“And now how do you feel?” she asked, rocking her hips to evoke another gasp.

Michael turned his gaze from the candle to her face. He wore an expression of fearful trust, of trusting fear.

“Safe,” he said.

Nora smiled down at him and let the scalding wax fall.

* * *

Søren doused Nora’s oil lamp and shut the door behind them. Zach followed Nora’s priest down another set of stairs and hallways. He stopped in front of one of the doors but did not move to open it. They faced each other across an invisible threshold.

“Why did you bring me down here?” Zach asked.

“I thought you needed to see what Eleanor is. You thought you knew her until tonight.”

“I do know her.”

“No, you merely think you know her. It’s one of her best tricks. She flirts, she teases, she confesses everything but reveals nothing. It’s the oldest magician’s trick—smoke and mirrors, misdirection. You are absolutely certain she’s here—” Søren snapped his fingers at Zach’s right ear “—when all the while she’s right over here.”

Zach looked at Søren’s right hand and saw the priest holding up his wallet.

“Nice trick.” Zach snatched his wallet and shoved it back into his pocket. “But I think I know Nora better than that.”

“Do you really? Tell me, what do you think her darkest secret is?”

“You,” Zach answered. “She was once lovers with a Catholic priest. I know that now and I couldn’t care less.”

“Me? Her darkest secret? Hardly. She keeps me a secret for my sake, not hers.”

“We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. Everyone has a past.”

“Eleanor has a past, yes. But she has a present, too.”

Zach took a step forward and with more courage than he knew he had within him stared Nora’s priest down.

“You’re jealous,” Zach said.

“Am I?” The idea seemed to amuse him.

“Yes, because she’s found a life outside of you and away from here. She told me you want her back. But she won’t come back. She loved you once. But now you’re just a game she’s tired of playing.”

“I assure you the game has only begun.”

Zach didn’t back down.

“This game you’re playing with me is over. Show me anything you want to show me. Tell me all the horror stories you’ve got. But I know what Nora Sutherlin is.”

“Do you? What is she?”

“A writer.”

“Yes, she certainly is. And a very talented one. But a writer is not all she is, Zachary.”

“I don’t care about her private life. Whatever you say, she’s no monster.”

Søren sighed and Zach saw something unexpected in the man’s eyes, something like sympathy.

“No, you are right. She is no monster,” Søren said, turning his attention to the door. Zach followed the priest’s gaze. Unlike all the others the knob on this door was painted white and from it hung a familiar-looking riding crop—black with white braiding. And from within the room came a faint sound, a whimper of pain both poignant and plaintive like the cry of a child. Zach found Søren’s eyes on him. “But she is no saint, either.”

22

Zach heaved a sigh of relief when they returned to the bar at the end of his tour of the 8th Circle. Søren led him to a table elevated on a platform at the corner of the room farthest from the balcony. Clearly it was the best table in the house and reserved for Søren alone. When he and Zach took their seats, a small army of attendants, Griffin included, rushed the table to serve them.

“Care for a drink?” Søren asked as he reached out to casually stroke the hair and collared neck of the lovely young woman who waited at his feet.

“I’m afraid I’ve reached my two drink maximum.”

Søren gave him a slight smile. “I do have some sway here.”

“Another G&T.”

“Of course.” Søren leaned forward and the young woman rose up on her knees. He cupped his hand around her face and whispered something in her ear. She blushed, smiled and whispered something in reply. Søren paused and seemed to consider her words. He turned his head, whispered again and the girl rose and hurried to the bar.

“May I ask what that was about?”

“Simply giving her our drink order.” Søren snapped his fingers at Griffin and pointed to the floor. Immediately Griffin went down on his hands and knees at Søren’s feet displaying for them a perfectly flat back.

“Giving her our drink order required hushed whispering?” Zach asked.

“Not at all,” Søren said with dark amusement glimmering in his steel-colored eyes. “But even a drink order can be an intimate act when done properly.” He raised his legs, resting his feet on Griffin’s back. The girl returned with Zach’s gin and tonic and a glass of red wine for the priest. Søren took the glass from her hand and pressed a kiss inside her palm. After another brief exchange of whispers, the girl floated off. Zach raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just saying a simple thank-you,” Søren explained.

Zach glanced down as Griffin looked up at him and winked. He started to argue with Søren—nothing about him seemed remotely simple—but at that moment Nora entered the bar through the side door and strode toward their table.

Rarely in his life had Zach been so glad to see someone. He ran his eyes up and down her—she seemed completely unharmed by whatever activity had distracted her for the past hour. She gave Søren the most perfunctory of curtsies and stepped onto the platform, ignoring Griffin’s attempts to bite her ankles. She collapsed dramatically onto Zach’s lap and Zach wrapped an arm around her waist. Such possessive alpha male maneuvers were never his style, but he couldn’t resist showing Søren that he and Nora weren’t completely in his thrall.

“Where have you been, my dear?” Zach wanted to see how Søren would react to outright flirtation. He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Sorry that took so long.” Nora took a quick drink of Zach’s gin and tonic. “Had to do a favor for a friend.”

Zach breathed in and recognized a sweet and heady scent on her skin—a familiar scent that Grace’s skin had carried after they’d made love. She hadn’t been with Søren, he knew. Or Griffin…Zach remembered the lingerie in his pocket and wondered if she’d run off with another woman.

“Quite all right, Eleanor.” Søren dipped his middle finger into his wine and delicately ran the wet tip slowly around the rim of the glass. “I kept your guest entertained in your absence.”

Nora shot Griffin a dirty look, but Griffin only shrugged a helpless apology from the floor.

“Well, Zach and I both had a long night then,” she said to Søren. Leaning back against Zach’s chest, she asked, “You ready to go?”

“Absolutely,” Zach said and stared at Søren. Zach saw no jealousy in Søren’s eyes, but no mercy, either. Zach realized he could never win in a game with this man, especially not on his territory.

“With your permission, sir,” she said to Søren.

“Of course. I will show you out.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Zach stood by Nora and took her hand. She moved her fingers in his grip, wrapping them tightly around his thumb.

“I insist,” Søren said. Nora squeezed Zach’s hand in a warning. Apparently Søren was not to be denied.

Søren stepped to the floor and set his glass of wine on Griffin’s back, balancing it on the flat plane between his shoulder blades. “Stay,” Søren ordered Griffin who stayed stiff and motionless on the floor. Søren offered Nora his arm and Zach was pleased to feel her reluctance to let him go.

Søren and Nora led as Zach followed closely behind. They went back down the elevator and across the pit where the play had grown louder as more Circle denizens had joined in. Zach expected Søren to leave them at the elevator, but the priest entered it with them, taking a key and inserting it under the down button. The doors closed and the elevator ascended. The door opened onto the first entry hallway and Zach stepped out.

“Excuse us, Zachary,” Søren said, still inside the elevator. “I need another word with Eleanor.”

Søren flicked his wrist and the doors closed once more leaving Zach alone in the empty hall.

* * *

“Søren, let me out,” Nora demanded. “Zach and I want to get home.”

“He can wait. We have things to discuss.”

“We have nothing to discuss.”

“Not even Michael?”

Nora sighed. There was no point in fighting Søren.

“Yes, of course. Michael was lovely. Thank you very much.”

“You are certainly welcome. I take it Michael is no longer a virgin?”

“No, of course not.”

Søren nodded. “How funny.”

“What is?” Nora said, exasperated.

“Tonight you took the virginity of a boy you’ve never met…and yet you still think you can keep Wesley safe from you.”

“It’s different. Michael’s obviously one of us. Wes is vanilla. Michael’s a sub. Michael was born—”

“Michael was born fifteen years ago.”

Nora could only gape at him.

“You gave me an underage boy for our anniversary?” she breathed in shock.

Søren smiled and moved closer to her. She backed into the farthest corner of the elevator.

“Yes, I did.” He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “Which you would have known had you asked. But I knew you wouldn’t ask. And so tell me again how safe Wesley is with you.”

“You bastard.” She tried to turn her face away from his hand but she had nowhere to go. “God, you’ll do anything to make a point, won’t you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t for that reason alone. I had to give him some incentive to stay alive.”

“And I was the incentive?”

Søren brushed her hair with the back of his hand. “You have kept me alive all these years.”

Nora shook her head, moved away from his hand.

“I will do whatever I can to protect you even if I’m only protecting you from yourself. You are a creature of appetite. You take what you desire without thought or remorse. And that is how God created you and it is much of why I love you. But do not stand there and claim to be otherwise. Not with me. I know you. You must make a choice, little one—bring Wesley into this world with you or let him go.”

“I won’t do either. And he stays with me for as long as he wants to.”

Søren stared her down with a look of pure skepticism.

“Fine,” she said. “I admit it. I can’t be trusted with him. But it doesn’t matter because he can be trusted with me.”

“Wesley…you don’t even know him. The things he has kept from you—”

“Wes is perfect the way he is. I don’t care if he has secrets. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I won’t ask him to change.”

Søren turned away from her.

“Of course you won’t. God forbid you allow anyone to make any kind of sacrifice for you. Because if Wesley changed for you, then you would be indebted to him. And you won’t allow that. You are so in love with your own profligate freedom that you refuse to even be grateful to another person lest you be weighed down by the smallest shred of guilt or obligation.” Søren faced her again. “Your obsession with your own liberty is why Wesley is still a virgin and I am still a priest.”

Nora raised her hands to her face. “Don’t bring that up. Please.”

“I offered to leave the priesthood for you and instead you left me.”

“You never wanted to leave,” Nora said, facing him angrily. “You just wanted to keep me any way you could. I couldn’t let you give up your life for me.”

Nora tried to pull away as Søren reached out for her hands. But his grip proved too strong. He moved her hands away from her face and looked at her.

“You are now and always my life.” His voice was so soft and true that she couldn’t even look back at him.

“You love being a priest. The priesthood is a sacrament. You can’t quit it. It’s who you are.”

“Yes, I love it. Yes, it’s who I am. And yes, I was willing to give it up so we could be together. But you couldn’t allow that.”

“I still won’t. And I won’t turn Wes into something he doesn’t want to be, either. You say it’s because I refuse to be indebted to anyone. I say it’s because I won’t let you two fuck up your lives for me.”

“And we have no say in this?”

Nora finally found the courage to meet his eyes. Even after five years, no, eighteen years, she still couldn’t look at his face without falling in love with him even more. Time sharpened the edge of her love for him. It cut into her more and more with each passing year.

“No,” she said. “You don’t. And neither does Wes. Whatever he wants to do or be, that’s his decision. I don’t own him. And you don’t own me.”

Søren rose to his full height. What charity had been in his eyes was now gone. He put his hand on the elevator key but did not turn it.

“I have seen both hell and purgatory. I assure you, purgatory is the more fearsome punishment.”

“I can be me and be with Wes, too. I don’t have to choose.”

“You will eventually. You will have to choose between this life or the one Wesley promises. You think because you’re a Switch in the bedroom, you can be a Switch in all aspects of your life. You will have to decide one day if you’re a professional writer, or just a professional who writes. And whatever you decide, you must tell Zachary who you really are. If you care about him at all, he must know.”

Nora growled. Søren was merciless tonight.

“I’m surprised you didn’t tell him. I know you were trying to scare him off.”

“Only testing his courage to see if he was worthy of you. He impressed me, but still he’s quite in love with his wife. I’ll allow him to hurt you, Eleanor, but if he dares harm you, I will not be happy with him.”

Nora repressed a shiver of fear. She’d seen Søren not happy with someone who’d hurt her before.

“I appreciate the chivalry. I think I can handle Zach on my own.”

Søren cupped the side of her face and forced her to meet his eyes.

“Marriage is a sacrament, too, Eleanor. If Zachary offers to finally leave his wife for you, will you run from him as you ran from me?”

“I told you—I didn’t run from you.”

“You can’t have him and Wesley. Neither of them will allow that.”

“I don’t have Wesley. The kid’s been with me for over a year and he’s still a virgin. Obviously I don’t have him.”

“You have him as much as I had you even when you were still a virgin. You believe he remains celibate because of his faith?”

“Of course he does.”

“Wesley is celibate now for the same reason I was celibate eighteen years ago.”

Nora scoffed. “What? Because he’s a priest?”

“No,” Søren said, leaning in to meet her eye to eye. “Because he’s waiting for you to grow up.”

Nora’s spine stiffened in fury. She took a deep breath and met Søren’s eyes. “You don’t own me anymore, Søren.” She said the words slowly, carefully, enunciating one syllable at a time. “Now,” she said, shoving her anger down, “is there anything else, sir?”

“No. There is nothing else. You’ve made up your mind about him. You won’t let him go. And you won’t turn him into one of us. And so you will let him turn you into the one thing you most fear becoming.”

“What? Happy?”

“Boring.”

Nora gasped and raised her hand to slap Søren’s perfect face. But she’d forgotten how fast he could strike. He grabbed her by the wrist before she could touch him. He pressed her flat back against the elevator. Pinning her right hand above her head while his free hand slipped through the slit in her skirt. Hard and fast he shoved two fingers deep inside her.

“Stop,” she ordered but he only pushed deeper. She panted and cursed him, hating him for how well he knew her body. His probing fingers found her most secret places and dragged her to the edge.

“You were a child when I fell in love with you,” Søren said into her ear. His warm breath on her neck sent shivers through her whole body. “You’re still a child.”

“I don’t want this,” she said, even as her body betrayed her. Her inner muscles clenched tight around his fingers, her body grew wetter and wetter with each deft movement of his hand.

“I have kept nothing from you. I gave you everything I am. I have risked my calling for you. I will not allow you to destroy yourself.”

“How am I destroying myself?” She gasped the words. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. “By loving someone else?”

“By denying yourself. You don’t love him. You only love that he loves you. This is what you love.” Søren turned his hand and slipped a third finger inside her. His thumb found her clitoris and rubbed it. “Giving yourself to me completely. Tell me this isn’t who you really are.”

“It isn’t,” she said even as she spread her legs wider and pushed her hips into his hand again and again.

“Liar.” Søren punctuated his word with a dexterous twist of his fingers, and Nora came hard on his hand, gasping with each sharp, spiking contraction. She leaned against him as the pleasure waned, and he stroked her hair. For a moment she let herself forget she didn’t belong to him anymore.