M Sellars - Love Is The Bond

“Lemme ask ya’ this, how’d’ya know it wasn’t some kinda gay thing?” He waggled his fingers before her to represent something mystical. “Wouldn’t that make for some girly Twilight Zone shit too?”

“Ben,” she snipped. “That’s simply rude.”

“I’m just askin’,” he replied.

“Did Wentworth have a history of bisexual activity?” I asked.

“Not that we’re aware of.” He shrugged. “Just coverin’ the angles.”

“Your killer is a woman,” Felicity stated with unshakeable determination.

“So she’s prob’ly a hooker then.” Ben wasn’t asking, he was telling.

“Actually, she may be a professional dominatrix,” she replied.

“Yeah, okay, and the difference is?”

“Professional domination is just that, Ben. Domination. It’s not prostitution.”

“Tell that to a judge.”

She reached out and tapped the photos. “It looks as if someone already did.”

“Yeah, right,” he returned. “So what makes ya’ think she’s a pro dominatrix?”

“Because I’m no stranger to the scene.”

“The scene?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod again. “Fem Dom.”

Ben began shaking his head and waving his hands vigorously as he spoke, “Awwww, Jeez, I already told ya’ I don’t wanna know what you two do when…”

“Whoa… Hold up.” I cut him off then added, “This isn’t a ‘you two’ thing.”

My stint of neutrality had been immediately ended by her comment as my curiosity piqued. Now I was going to get into the middle of things. I looked over at my wife. “So, do you think you might want to expand on that a bit?”

“Not much to tell really,” she said with a shrug. “Quite awhile before I met you, I dated a guy for a couple of years who was heavily into submissive role play. I used to dominate him all the time.”

“Really,” I replied, surprised but not really shocked. “You never mentioned that before.”

“It never came up,” she said, shaking her head. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Just a little surprised, that’s all… Of course, given your personality I guess I shouldn’t be.”

“Aye. I do have a dominant personality. And I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed playing the role.”

Ben groaned as if he had just been struck square between the eyes and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. He started to speak, hesitated, then shook his head and groaned again. It was obvious that a question was rattling inside his head, and a large part of him wanted it to remain unspoken.

“What is it, Ben?” Felicity asked.

Her prompting fueled his curiosity, and the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “So you’re actually sayin’ you’re into like whips ‘n chains and all that?”

“Whips, every now and then,” she replied. “Actually, it was a leather flogger and a belt. Chains, not so much. Quite a bit of bondage, superior attitude, some verbal humiliation… But, his real turn on was trampling.”

“What’s a trampoline got ta’ do with it?” he asked with a puzzled shake of his head.

“Not a trampoline,” she replied. “Trample- ing. He got off from me walking on him in high heels.”

“Awww, Jeezus…” My friend held up his hands again. “Stop. I don’t wanna hear any more.”

“Why?” Felicity pressed. “Are you getting turned on?”

“Do what?” he spat, staring back at her with an incredulous gaze.

“Well, you put on a good front, Ben, but deep down I think you would probably enjoy submitting to a woman.” She stated the observation without apology.

“Excuse me?” he almost yelped.

“And, you do have a thing for women’s legs,” she continued. “You’ve said so yourself. Bob did too, so it stands to reason that you might very well have the same kind of kink that he had.”

Felicity was obviously taking more than just a bit of pleasure from his discomfort. In fact, there was a recognizable glint in her eye that told me she might even be getting turned on again. However, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was sexual arousal or merely giddiness over antagonizing Ben. Considering what had happened earlier, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d seen them interact this way before, I would have been worried. However, they had a tendency to pick at one another on a regular basis. It was just how they were. Still, I kept an eye on her just in case.

“That’s different,” Ben said, shaking his head.

“Different how?”

“You’re supposed ta’ be lookin’ at these autopsy photos,” he said in an attempt to divert the conversation. “Not psychoanalyzin’ me.”

“Tell me how it’s different then,” she pushed.

“Well, ya’know… It’s just different.”

She was unrelenting. “It’s still a fetish. And it’s called crurophilia, by the way. You know, Ben, the first step here is just admitting it. I can help. I’d be more than happy to walk on you.”

“What?!”

“Sure, I’d love to do it. It would be fun. I can go put on some heels for you, and I’m certain Rowan won’t…”

“Felicity!” he objected.

“Really, Ben. You just lay down on the floor, and I’ll go change shoes. I’ve got this really sexy pair of blue pumps, and I could…”

“Dammit, Felicity!” he barked.

“Oh. Would you prefer black or red? I have those too.”

“Stop it! Just stop!”

“It’s okay. I understand,” she replied with a wicked grin.

“Jeezus…” my friend muttered, letting his forehead fall into his hand.

My wife still wasn’t finished. “It’s okay. Really. I do understand. Constance and I wear the same size. I’ll just loan them to her.”

“Felicity, goddammit!” Ben snapped. “Will ya’ just knock it off?!”

She shrugged. “Okay, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” he spat.

“No. That should be, ‘Thank you, Mistress’.”

My friend sighed and looked over at me. “Jeeezus… Row… I dunno how you do it.”

I leaned back against the counter and took a sip from my own cup of coffee. I couldn’t help but be somewhat amused by their exchange, especially since it didn’t take the turn I had feared.

“Actually, she’s not usually as mean to me as she is to you,” I replied.

“I can be if you’d like,” she offered.

“We’ll discuss that later.”

“Fuckin’ wunnerful,” Ben spat then started shuffling through the pile of photos once again until he found the shot he was looking for and pulled it out with a quick jerk. Holding it up, he continued, “So, you two clowns wanna get serious for a minute and have a look at this one? Believe it or not, the reason I came here is ‘cause I’ve got some police work to do.”

“This is what I really wanted you two ta’ check out,” Ben offered, handing a picture to Felicity.

I stepped toward the table and peered at it over her shoulder.

The image we were staring at was that of the quadrant on Wentworth’s chest where the series of shallow cuts had been scored into his flesh. These had been the lacerations I had first noticed when we were at the crime scene, and they were also what had sparked that foreboding tickle in the back of my skull. Now that I was standing here looking at the close-up photograph, and I could see the wounds in all their unconcealed glory, that feeling was returning as a full-blown aggravation.

I continued staring at the glossy color page following the thin, and sometimes faint, marks with my eyes. As I had suspected earlier, they seemed to form a pattern. At the time, all I had been able to see was an almost random checkerboard, but now more detail had been revealed. What I was seeing certainly wasn’t symmetrical, and was far from perfect, but upon close inspection it appeared to be the outline of a heart within the crosshatched slashes.