Vessel

Copyright

Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Vessel Copyright © 2011 by Mickie B. Ashling Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-172-8 Printed in the United States of America First Edition October 2011 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-173-5

Acknowledgments

ONCE again, I‟d like to thank Jeannie, the one person who devotes

almost as much time to my writing as I do. She‟s a meticulous editor, a good listener, and a great source of comfort on the days I need it. Thanks, as well, to my critique group—Ann, Lyn, Sharon, and Jackie—for their input on this roller coaster ride called Vessel. Marita, thank you once more for another outstanding book trailer, and lastly, a huge thanks to all the readers who continue to support my work.

Vessel Prologue

THE sun was starting to creep over the horizon when Reiko awoke.

She could tell what time it was by the faint rays of light filtering through the blinds, illuminating her small bedroom. There was no need to look at the clock. She was a creature of habit and had always risen at dawn, eager to start her day long before anyone else stirred. She lay on her futon for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth of the thick down comforter that covered her frail body. Soon, she would have to fling it off and brave the frosty air to begin this momentous day. It had been a decade since she had awoken with such a feeling of anticipation, and she forced herself to rise, knowing it would take more time to achieve the desired result because she would have to do it herself. The okiya was silent as she moved about slowly, preparing her morning tea. Reiko remembered a time when the dawning had resonated with the tittering voices of young women on the brink of maturity. The geishas in training, the maiko, had occupied her every waking moment since she had taken over as okaa-san of her own house fifty years ago. Her days had been productive then, abounding with important decisions that could improve or destroy someone‟s life. She had trained a legion of women in the ancient art of being a geiko and had ruled with an iron hand, but time had been her enemy and the modern world her undoing. The traditions that were an integral part of her universe since she was fourteen years old no

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Mickie B. Ashling longer applied in this century when transactions were completed on cell phones and e-mails. The mizuage was a thing of the past, and the services of a geisha no more necessary than the hefty price tag that came with equipping them. The kimonos and obis that had cost thousands of yen and had once lined the walls of one room, had been sold one by one to support her, now that she could no longer count on the income generated by the karyūkai. The disadvantage of living well into her eighties was that she‟d run out of money, and the meager amount she received from her government pension was hardly enough to keep a tiny sliver of fish in her rice bowl. Yesterday‟s phone call had been a most welcome surprise, and an opportunity she had jumped on with the eagerness of a sixty-yearold. Her arthritis and assorted aches and pains were forgotten in the momentary rush of excitement at being at the center of an undoubtedly protracted negotiation. Fujiwara-san had been very specific about his needs, and Reiko was pleased that, once again, she was in a position to provide a service. She adjusted the magnifying mirror and gazed at her face dispassionately. Who was that old lady with the skin of a desiccated mushroom? No one she knew. Reiko‟s mental picture of herself had not changed through the years. She was still the beautiful geisha who had elicited voluminous praise from those who had been lucky enough to be graced by her elegant presence. Her mizuage had broken records, and when Hiro Fujiwara, Ken‟s father, had paid the astronomical figure to become her patron, she‟d reached the pinnacle of her career and had become a legend in Kyoto. Now, Hiro‟s progeny needed a favor, and she was not going to dishonor his memory by greeting Ken-san as an old crone. The white rice powder would hide every wrinkle and imperfection, and the black wig would cover the sparse white hair that barely concealed the mottled skin of her ancient scalp. She reached for the pot of paste and poured water into the dried out concoction and began to mix it with her gnarled fingers. It would take some doing, but she would be presentable in approximately one hour, in time to wrestle with the only formal kimono she had left. By the time her visitor arrived, she would be

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Vessel more than presentable for the tea ceremony she intended to perform with the grace and panache of a geisha in her prime.

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 1

“IT‟S a wrap,” Max said, stepping away from the camera and

removing his glasses. “You can relax, Sloan.” Relax? What a concept. I hadn‟t relaxed in over three months, so his words were meaningless. I pulled out several tissues from the box on the dresser, attempting to scrub off the foundation and lipstick without the creamy solution that would have made the task easier and less damaging to my skin. “I do plan on using your angelic face tomorrow, so please use the makeup remover, and stop trying to obliterate your features,” Max said, giving me dagger looks. “I don‟t want to deal with any red marks.” “You can airbrush them away,” I said, reaching for the jar of cream, however, and applying the white goop liberally. “What are we shooting tomorrow?” “Sunglasses.” “That means I can get blitzed, and no one will see my eyes.” Max stopped looking at my current photos on his computer and gave me the raised eyebrow. “What‟s going on, Sloan?” “Nothing.”

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Vessel He wandered over to my side of the room and gathered me in his arms. “What‟s the matter, darling? You‟ve been out of sorts for weeks.” “I‟ve got stuff on my mind.” “Is it Cole?” “Isn‟t it always?” “I mean medically speaking? Any new developments?” “You can‟t get any blinder than blind.” “Stop being a sarcastic shit, and tell me what the hell is going on at your house. You‟ve lost weight, and even though you‟re still the most beautiful face around, you‟re starting to fray around the edges. You‟re not doing anything stupid, are you?” He reached for my arm and pushed up my sleeve. “Get your hands off me!” “I‟m sorry,” Max said softly. “If you would be kind enough to tell me what‟s going through your lovely head, then maybe I‟d leave you alone and not assume the worst.” “Cole wants a kid.” “What?” heir.”

“His old man has been driving us crazy with this need for an

“Well, unless something has changed, and one of you has sprouted a uterus, I don‟t see how that‟s possible.” “When you have the kind of money Ken Fujiwara has, you think anything can be bought.” “In case you aren‟t aware of this important fact, surrogate births are illegal in New York State.” “Is that so? I wonder if Ken knows that.” “Sloan, you‟re not seriously considering this, are you?”

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Mickie B. Ashling I could see the concern in Max‟s eyes, and I knew he wasn‟t paying lip service. The man had been nothing but kind to me since we met five years ago, and he took me under his wing. Working together hadn‟t changed anything. He was still my mentor in the world of fashion photography and a devoted friend. Although he‟d accepted my relationship with Cole and had respected my boundaries, it was apparent to everyone that I continued to be his “beauty.” The primo photo shoots and contracts somehow managed to come my way, and I knew that all I had to do was give him one sign I was interested in starting up the intimate relationship we‟d had long ago, and he‟d be right on top of it, or below it, depending on his mood. He was twenty years older than me, highly respected in his chosen field, and a renowned Dom for those who participated in Manhattan‟s BDSM world. My association with Max Leavitt had made me a household name, earning me millions as the face for Klas Cosmetics, but at the root of our friendship was a sexual attraction that had never faltered on his part, even though it had been snuffed out on my side by my love and commitment to Cole Fujiwara, my partner. Nonetheless, I knew Max cared. He‟d understood the demons I‟d wrestled with when we‟d first met, most of which had been tamped down by my satisfying relationship with Cole. Lately, however, dark thoughts had begun to taunt me in the most frightening way. Max‟s inspection wasn‟t too far off the mark, which made it rankle even more. “I‟ve no choice but to consider a child since Cole and his father have been arguing about this issue for months.” “Didn‟t you tell me that Cole was terrified he‟d pass on the gene that‟s caused his blindness?” “It‟s always been the reason why we‟ve never talked about starting a family. Besides, Cole‟s sisters had agreed that whosoever had the first grandson would be amenable to retaining the Fujiwara surname. Ken and his illustrious ancestors would be appeased by a male heir. The line would continue and the pressure on Cole would lighten up.”

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Vessel “So what‟s the problem?” “They‟ve had females so far. Ken Fujiwara has four granddaughters―not one man-child in sight.” “Shit.” “My sentiments exactly.” “Why is he bugging Cole again?” “There‟s a company in New Jersey that can do PGD.” “What the hell is that?” “Preimplantation genetic diagnosis.” “English?” “It‟s a new method of genetic screening that is performed before an embryo is implanted in a womb. Several genetic mutations or diseases can be ruled out so that only healthy embryos are retained and implanted, thereby eliminating the trauma of abortions performed in the past, when testing had to wait until the third or fourth month of gestation.” “It sounds like a godsend.” “It also allows for gender selection. Ken will be guaranteed a grandson if they go this route.” “You appear quite knowledgeable on this topic.” “I have been immersed in medical lingo for the last four months, Max. It‟s all Cole and his father talk about.” “You poor thing,” Max said, practically cooing and drawing me closer. I lay against his broad chest and sighed in relief for the first time in weeks. It was so good to be able to share my thoughts with someone who knew the dynamics of my relationship with Cole and wouldn‟t judge me for my concerns. “What do you want, Sloan?” “I‟d like this to go away. It‟s not that I have anything against children. I love Cole‟s nieces, but this whole surrogate business is

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Mickie B. Ashling macabre. It‟s like something Hollywood conjured: Avatar meets Frankenstein.” “What bothers you the most? Having another responsibility, or is it because a stranger will be carrying Cole‟s child? Maybe the entire concept of becoming a father is abhorrent.” “It‟s so premeditated and cold, Max. Shouldn‟t parenthood be a spontaneous and joyful event?” “First of all, you‟re both men, so there‟s nothing spontaneous about this decision. Secondly, given Cole‟s genetic problems, you can‟t afford to be mysterious. The last thing you want is a child with retinitis pigmentosa. I understand where Cole is coming from.” “Intellectually I do, too, but my emotions are all over the place.” “Why?” “We expected Cole to lose his eyesight, but he‟d been holding for a long time, so we became rather complacent. When he went completely blind last year, it was still a shock. Coming to terms with irreversible darkness has not been an easy thing for him. I‟ve been learning how to deal with Cole‟s mood swings.” “Has he been difficult?” “He‟s had a lot of bad moments. Bringing a child into the mix won‟t be a simple decision. The bottom line is the kid‟s going to be one more item I‟d have to deal with on a daily basis.” “Sloan, babies aren‟t items. In any case, you have the money to hire a full-time nanny.” “We could have a housekeeper, a chauffeur, and a butler,” I pointed out, “but Cole wants none of that. He insists on doing everything and will only accept help from me. Lately though, I‟ve been doing most of the work around the apartment.” “And a baby will just add more to your plate.” “Which is quite full, I might add.”

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Vessel “Oh, Sloan,” Max crooned, rocking me gently. I was comforted by his mothering. I didn‟t even know I‟d missed it, but the truth was I was overwhelmed by my responsibilities with Cole and hadn‟t realized how bad it was until now. “Am I wrong for being so selfish?” “Sloan, you‟re one of the most selfless people I know. I haven‟t seen your brand of caring since the early days of the AIDS epidemic.” “He‟s not dying, Max.” “No, but you seem to be. Your contented aura is fading, darling. How‟s your sex life?” “None of your damn business.” “I hope your needs are being met.” “Give it a rest, will ya? It‟s all good.” Max cradled my face and kissed me on the lips. “Tell me.” I sighed and turned away. Not ready for that discussion either. Somehow, telling my former lover I wasn‟t getting much action seemed highly inappropriate, although he knew me well enough to have guessed I wasn‟t floating on a cloud of sexual satisfaction. Far from it. Cole‟s libido had been waning since we started the discussion on babies. There wasn‟t anything I hadn‟t tried to bring the excitement back into the bedroom, but my efforts had been futile. I was living like a monk. All work and no play made for a very unhappy Sloan. “Listen, I‟ve got to get going,” I said, reluctant to leave Max‟s cozy embrace but a little concerned that my body was starting to react to the close proximity. And he knew it too. The bastard was taking full advantage and shifted his legs to get closer. “Really, Max. I‟ve got to go.” “What‟s so pressing?” You! “Ken and Eileen are stopping by after dinner, and I was requested to attend the meeting.” “It sounds like a command performance.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “It‟s probably more of this baby shit.” “Keep me informed, will you?” “I‟ll do that,” I said, relieved when he stepped back. “What time do we start tomorrow?” “Be here by ten.” “You got it.”

THE cab ride from Max‟s studio in Tribeca to our apartment in

Chelsea was too short to suit me. I wanted more time to mentally prepare myself for this meeting with Cole‟s parents. Unfortunately, traffic was light since most of the business commuters had long gone, and the cab was in front of our apartment building in no time. It was close to seven in the evening when I inserted my key into the lock. I hoped my in-laws hadn‟t arrived yet because I wanted to shower and change. They were still a little judgmental about my decision to become a fashion model instead of pursuing my career in graphic arts, but the money was too good to pass up, and although Cole would never lack for funds, I preferred to pay my way. Modeling was a short-lived career anyway. The demand for a younger fresh face would be coming any minute now, so I had to take advantage of every opportunity until then. However, the less they saw of my modeling the better the outcome of the evening. It wasn‟t smart to show up with any residual eyeliner, and I knew that in my haste to get away from Max‟s probing questions, I probably missed a few spots. I heard voices when I stepped into the hall and realized they were already here. My leather rucksack ended up on the table by the door, and I entered the living room prepared for a confrontation. Freddie came up to me immediately, wagging his golden tail and nudging my pocket by way of greeting. I rubbed his head and slipped him a small knot of rawhide before walking up to Cole, who lifted his face for a kiss.

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Vessel There was a young woman standing between Ken and Eileen. She was staring at her feet, so I only saw the top of her head. She had jet-black hair that covered her face as it fell forward in a silky curtain. “Sloan,” Cole held my hand tightly. “I‟d like you to meet Noriko Evans. She‟s agreed to surrogate for us. She‟ll be the mother of our son.” I heard what he said, but the explosion going off in my head after his appalling pronouncement rendered me speechless. The mother of our son. What in hell? Noriko looked up and broached a tentative smile. Her hazel eyes slanted upward but were lacking the epicanthic fold more common in Japanese. Her complexion was flawless, practically glowing with good health, and devoid of any make-up but for a faint hint of blush over her prominent cheekbones. Her lip gloss was a light shade of peach, emphasizing her plump mouth. Bone-straight hair with long bangs that brushed her eyebrows framed her face perfectly. “Hajimemashite, Sloan-san,” she said in a soft, melodic voice. I gaped at her. “I‟m very pleased to meet you,” she said, switching to perfect English. She stretched out her hand, hoping to obtain a polite handshake, but my body refused to cooperate. I nodded curtly and left the room.

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 2

IT DIDN‟T take but a minute, and Cole was in my face hissing, “Why

did you walk out?” “Would you have preferred that I stay and make a scene? Really, Cole,” I spat out furiously, “did you hope that announcing the arrival of the Virgin Mary in front of an audience would make me jump up and down with joy? How fucking stupid do you think I am?” “Sloan, please don‟t go off on me. Let me explain.” “There isn‟t much to explain, is there? You and your parents have obviously arrived at a decision without consulting me.” “Please,” Cole said, reaching out for me. I stepped back, hardening my heart even as he groped for me. I moved left to walk out the door, but I underestimated his internal radar as he pounced in my direction and held me tight. “Don‟t pull away again.” He begged this time, and I had no choice but to stay and listen. “I never told you about Noriko because I didn‟t know. Mom and Dad showed up with her tonight and presented her to me like a fait accompli. I had no say in the matter.” “What a crock of shit, Cole.” “It‟s the truth, however stupid it may sound.” “Who is she, anyway? Does she live around here? Does she surrogate for a living?”

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Vessel “She‟s from Japan… Kyoto, to be exact. And, no, she‟s not a professional surrogate. My father talked her into coming to America and doing this for us.” “Where did he find her?” “I don‟t know.” “How can you not? That is the most basic question.” “Sloan, she‟s here to help us start our family.” “Us? You mean she‟s here to help your father, don‟t you?” “Sloan, please….” “I haven‟t agreed to this plan, and last time I checked I‟m your partner and have equal rights in this decision.” Cole frowned, focusing the unseeing blue eyes in my direction. Outwardly, he hadn‟t changed in the five years we‟d been together. There were a few more silver strands that weaved through the dark mane he kept long at my request, but his face was unlined and his body youthful and fit, thanks to the biweekly visits we shared at the gym. He was attractive as hell, and I never got tired of looking at him. “Maybe I would be more open to the idea of a child if our relationship wasn‟t so fucked up.” “What‟s wrong with it?” Cole said, looking completely surprised. “Do I have to remind you that we haven‟t had sex in weeks? We‟ve been sleeping in the same bed, but every time I make a move you push me away. That‟s not my idea of a healthy relationship. Jesus, Cole. We‟ve had our problems in the past, but our sex life has always been above average.” “Is that all? There‟s more to life than sex.” “I‟m twenty-eight years old, not forty. Good sex is an important part of a relationship. If I had wanted a roommate, I would have married Emily.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Cole turned his back to me, which made me think he had something else he didn‟t want to share. I always knew when he was omitting a detail or two. “It‟s not that I haven‟t wanted to have sex,” Cole mumbled, still facing the opposite way. “Then what the fuck‟s your problem?” “They said I would increase my sperm count if I gave up sex for a few weeks before harvesting the donor eggs.” “What did you just say?” I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. “Tell me you haven‟t been pretending to consult with me on a life-altering decision when in fact, you‟ve already made your mind up.” “I‟m sorry.” “You‟ve been lying all along?” “Not lying, Sloan. Just hoping you would see things my way.” I pushed him away roughly. “I had no idea you wanted a child this badly. You should have been more honest.” “I didn‟t think I‟d ever have the opportunity. When I was engaged to Juliana, the topic of children went hand-in-hand with a possible abortion. Until recently, I assumed that the only way I could have a healthy child was if I was prepared to stand by and let them abort a fetus that carried the gene causing my blindness. You know that‟s the reason I never brought up the subject anymore.” “I thought you never brought it up because you decided that you weren‟t cut out to be a father.” “Not true. I couldn‟t bear the thought of destroying a life. PGD has opened up a window I never had before.” “There are those who would argue that conception begins when the egg is fertilized, regardless of the location. A womb or a Petri dish doesn‟t change the fact that you‟ll still be destroying a „life‟ if you pick and choose the perfect specimen for implantation.”

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Vessel “I prefer to believe that it‟s not a life until it‟s implanted and growing in a uterus. I‟ve always wanted to be a father, Sloan, but I had to put my desires away when I started to go blind. Now, I have the opportunity to have a healthy child and provide the heir that will bring my father some peace. So far I‟ve been an utter failure in his eyes.” “Bullshit! You were a successful ballplayer until you were benched by your eyesight. You have a master‟s degree in history and a fine job at NYU. You‟re not exactly a loser, Cole,” I said. “What you‟re doing is buying into the guilt trip your father continues to lay on your shoulders.” “Maybe so, but now I have the chance to make it up to him. He wants a grandson and I want a son. It‟s a win-win situation.” “What about what I want?” “I thought you wanted me to be happy―that‟s what you‟ve always said.” “I said I would do everything in my power to make you happy. Unfortunately, I didn‟t realize it included a child. Obviously, I can‟t get pregnant.” “But we‟ve found someone who can. She‟ll have the baby and be out of our lives in nine months. Why does this bother you so much?” I shrugged but then remembered he couldn‟t see me, so I verbalized my concerns. “I don‟t see how it‟s possible to not feel something for her after she‟s given you a child. Once you let her into our lives, she‟ll never leave.” “You‟re jealous?” Cole‟s voice rose in surprise. “You‟re bisexual, Cole. Before I came along, you only slept with women. How do I know you won‟t switch back and fall for the mother of your kid?” “Oh, Sloan… that‟s not going happen.” I turned away from him, hoping to hide my feelings, but he could sense I was unhappy. It was a terrible feeling, but I had to admit

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Mickie B. Ashling I was insecure. Despite the fame I‟d achieved, and the constant adulation and praise from everyone in the fashion industry, my mental image of myself continued to be critical. “Sloan,” Cole said, reaching for my hand. “I love you.” “Do you?” “God, yes,” he said, opening his arms. I let him embrace me, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. “I‟m scared, Cole. Our lives will change completely.” “I promise you that won‟t happen.” “How can you be so sure?” “I just know it will be good.” “I think you‟re romanticizing the entire concept of children. They‟re a lot of work.” “Think of all the fun we‟ll have with our own kid.” “I‟m thinking of all the horrible things I did as a teenager. You think payback will be a bitch?” “Who cares as long as we‟re together?” “I can‟t envision myself as a dad. I‟m too young.” “Come on, Sloan. Our fathers were this age when they had us.” “I guess so. There is one thing I have to insist on before I can even think about this proposal.” “What‟s that?” “I‟m not going on a sexual diet to improve your chances at harvesting. God, that even sounds wrong.” “Will fucking you on a regular basis make you more compliant?” “It can‟t hurt.” Cole‟s laugh rumbled up from deep within his chest. “How could you even think I‟d give you up for pussy?” “Eww… don‟t say that word.”

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Vessel “Come on, Sloan. Let‟s go outside and present a united front.” “Kiss me first.” We came together like long-lost lovers. I raked both hands through Cole‟s thick hair and plied him with hungry kisses, grinding my pelvis against his obvious boner. It had been weeks, and I was as randy as a teenager. I grabbed his hand and placed it on my cock, which was outlined against my jeans. “You think you can manage to fix this problem before I face Madame Butterfly? I‟d hate to walk out there with a stiffy the size of Tokyo.” “That is impressive,” Cole said huskily. I could tell he was just as affected by the kissing as he squeezed me through the thick denim. “I‟m going to have to do something about it,” he moaned softly, “but not now.” “Cole?” I whined in protest when he removed his hand and stepped away. “I won‟t do anything with all those people in the other room. It would be too weird.” I snorted in frustration. “Give me a second, will you? I‟m not going anywhere in this condition.” “Think about a room full of naked fat women with pendulous breasts.” “What a buzz kill,” I grumbled, adjusting myself and willing my erection away. “You owe me big time.” “I‟ll pay you as soon as everyone leaves,” Cole teased. “You‟d better. Prepare to be ravaged, shogun.” We walked out of the master bedroom to a scene of comfortable domesticity. Eileen had brought a lemon pound cake and was plating the slices for everyone while Noriko poured the green tea into the ornate, paper-thin porcelain cups. “Is everything okay?” Ken asked, looking hopeful since Cole and I were walking hand in hand, and I had a smile on my face. “Perfect,” I said.

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Mickie B. Ashling I watched Noriko as we began eating. She was a beautiful woman and a perfect candidate for Mother of the Year. There was no question that she and Cole would make lovely babies. “Are you halfJapanese?” I was curious about her genetic makeup now that I realized she would probably be the surrogate. “Hai,” she replied automatically, “gomen nasia,” and then she giggled, switching back to English. “My apologies, Sloan-san. I am still getting used to speaking English.” “No worries,” I said, finally smiling to put her at ease. “My father is American. My mother is Japanese.” “How old are you?” “I am eighteen.” I raised my eyebrows. “So young…. Have you ever had any children?” “Sloan.” Cole frowned. “What‟s with the questions?” “I‟m just trying to get my facts straight, seeing as how I‟m late to the party.” I addressed my next question to Ken. “How are you guys planning on doing this? Max told me that surrogate births are illegal in New York State. Will Noriko be going back to Japan to have the baby there?” “It is illegal in Japan as well,” Noriko said, bowing her head and picking at an imaginary spot on her slacks. “Oh.” I raised a questioning brow and looked at Ken. “What‟s the plan?” “Simple,” Ken stated. “Cole and Noriko will get married.”

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Vessel Chapter 3

I MOVED like I was sleepwalking and slowly backed away from the

table. Cole knew the instant I got up and stood quickly. “Sloan, wait up.”

Ignoring him, I grabbed my jacket out of the coat closet, my keys from the table where I‟d tossed them earlier, and left the apartment to the raised voices of Ken and Eileen begging me to come back. I‟m sure Cole was a part of the chorus, but I tuned everything out. I was appalled by their casual solution. The hurt was allconsuming, but the fury was fast eclipsing the pain. I wanted to hit Cole. For the first time in years I wanted to knock him on his ass and draw blood. How dare he play me for a fucking fool! He knew that marriage to Noriko was a part of the plan, knew it even as he stood there and lied to me about having no idea she was coming over tonight. Ken would never presume to foist this scenario on his independent son without his permission. All the good feelings that had washed over me after our talk felt like puke in my mouth. My initial instincts had been correct. Noriko was trouble, and she would change our lives, no matter what Cole said to the contrary. The worst part was I‟d hoped that this year we would make it official. We hadn‟t been ready for the big commitment yet and wanted to hold off, seeing if what we had would last. I was only twenty-three when we first hooked up, and he, at twenty-six, had just

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Mickie B. Ashling come out of the closet. The odds were not in our favor. We were dealing with new jobs, learning how to cope with his impending blindness, a Seeing Eye dog, and most importantly, discovering and trusting each other. My issues with cutting were too recent, and Cole wanted to be certain that I was stable and on the road to recovery. In addition, his venture from straight to gay was an altered state of mind that would take some adjusting to, and I needed to know that I was what he wanted and, more importantly, what he expected. Even his parents were skeptical, so it stood to reason that I had my doubts. Yet, despite it all, we‟d worked through the differences and the daily challenges that would have stymied most married couples. We were friends, had a great sexual chemistry, and, last but not least, there was mutual respect. Or so I thought. Apparently he thought much less of me than I realized, considering he‟d just made a major fucking decision without bothering to run it by me. I ducked into a deli to buy a pack of cigarettes. I hadn‟t smoked in at least four years, having given it up for Cole, who insisted that kissing a smoker was like kissing an ashtray. Well, fuck him and his persnickety demands. I wasn‟t planning on kissing him anytime soon, so I may as well burn up my lungs and pollute the air. The alternative―cutting myself―was out of the question. I kept pushing away the compulsive need, even as my eyes kept going back to the shelf where the shaving paraphernalia was displayed. Blades were much cheaper than a gram of weed, but the residual costs could skyrocket. Shrinks and antidepressants would lead to a downward spiral that would negate all the success I‟d achieved in the last few years. Right now I needed something to block all thoughts of this horrific method of pain management. I dialed my best friend and friendly drug user. “Tin, it‟s me. Could you score some weed? “No,” I said, shaking my head as he rattled off more drug choices. “I don‟t want any Tina―all I want is some high-end dope. Get a bag and meet me at the studio.” Tin threw out more names I was unfamiliar with since I‟d given up weed along with the cigarettes. Come to think of it, I couldn‟t get

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Vessel any more boring. I‟d turned into this clean-as-a-whistle person for my lover, and for what? It wasn‟t enough. There was one thing I couldn‟t change no matter how much I longed to please him. I would never be able to give him a child, and who would even want to, for that matter? I had never been around a pregnant woman. They were creatures viewed from a distance and shrouded in mystery. The entire process of childbearing was bizarre, and I would cringe when I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have something growing in my body like that. I don‟t even know why I would think of such a thing. What man in their right mind would want to get pregnant? Christ, I was losing it…. At the last minute, I snatched a pack of replacement blades. Like an alcoholic who can never walk by a liquor store without pausing, I gave in and paid for the sharp instruments of torture that enticed me like a siren‟s song. I hailed a cab and gave him the address of Max‟s studio. If nothing else, I could crash on his sofa and avoid the inevitable confrontation with Cole. I had to calm down before seeing him again, or I‟d say or do something I‟d regret. Maybe there was a logical explanation as to why he‟d chosen this way of dropping a bomb at my feet, but I couldn‟t begin to fathom what it would be. Short of a 9/11 disaster, there was nothing in the world that would excuse this kind of deceit. As a contracted model under Max‟s umbrella, I had every right to be in the studio, even if it was after hours. He was probably upstairs in his apartment anyhow, and would come down as soon as he realized the lights were on. Five minutes later Tin was letting himself in with his own key. Etienne Pielet, whom I‟d dubbed “Tin” when we first met at Pratt, was a willowy blond Frenchman who‟d introduced me to Max and the world of fashion photography. He was a model himself and a huge success, despite his tendency to party a little too hearty. We were the same age and had risen in our chosen field at about the same pace, although his forte was clothes while mine was cosmetics and

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Mickie B. Ashling eyewear. He had the kind of body that could make the ugliest outfit look good, and he was in big demand with new designers who needed to make a splash across the pages of GQ or Esquire. Tin‟s work ethic was impeccable. He was reliable in a field where excess was commonplace and models flaked out routinely. To my knowledge, he‟d never missed a shoot, no matter what happened the night before. This, added to his androgynous beauty, was the reason he was one of the highest-paid models in Max‟s stable. Tin was also filled with mischief and an eager participant in any new adventure, but his most impressive trait, and the reason I cared for him, was his loyalty―he was always there when I needed him. “What‟s going on?” he asked, handing me the bulging baggie and a pack of Rizla. I shook my head, not willing to answer until I had a healthy amount of cannabis saturating every corner of my brain. It was clumsy at first. I hadn‟t rolled a joint in a long time, and there was more weed on the table than on the paper, but eventually I got it together. It was like riding a bike―you never forget. Scrounging around for a lighter was another chore, but I found one of those long fireplace matchsticks in a metal container by the ginormous brick fireplace Max had on one wall. During the winter it kept the studio warm without costing Max an arm and a leg. The first hit felt like someone slammed me upside the head. My body was so pure these days it reacted instantly. “Whoa… is this strong shit or what?” Tin looked at me condescendingly. “You‟re pathetic.” “Fuck off.” A couple more hits and I was starting to calm down. The potent herb saturated every part of my body, knocking out the edginess almost instantly. “Tell me again why I gave this up?” “Because of your tight-assed lover.” “He is an ass, isn‟t he?” “Uh-oh… what did he do now?”

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Vessel “Do you really want to know?” “Amuse me.” “There‟s nothing funny about this, Tin. The motherfucker is getting married―to a Japanese woman!” “Excusez-moi!” “Yup, he‟s decided he wants a kid, and he needs a wife to complete the project.” “Sloan.” Tin moved forward and placed his hand on my cheek. “Look at me, gorgeous. C’est vrai?” His solicitous words and gentle touch were all it took for the floodgates to open up. My eyes filled, and much to my horror and his, I began to cry. He pulled me close and embraced me while I sobbed on his shoulder, all the while crooning French words that were intended to comfort me, but the reality was that nothing could take away this kind of pain. I felt like Cole had stabbed me in the back, and his loving words were meaningless. The minute Ken had presented him with PGD, he‟d jumped at the opportunity, never taking my feelings into consideration. Now I wondered, if this had been available five years ago, would he have broken it off with Juliana? Was I just his second choice because, at the time, fatherhood was not a viable option? I pushed Tin away angrily, wiping away my tears with my sleeve. “Fuck him. He‟s not worth crying over.” “Who‟s not worth it?” Max sauntered in, barefoot and disheveled. “What are you men doing here?” He threw himself on one of the easy chairs, crossed his legs one over the other, and planted them on the coffee table between us. “Sloan asked me to meet him here,” Tin explained. “Apparently Cole is planning to get married, to a woman.” “Is he serious?” Max said, looking at me in disbelief. I nodded and took another drag off the fat joint. “Want some?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Why not.” He reached for the joint and inhaled deeply. “Christ, that‟s strong.” “See.” I threw an accusing look at Tin. “I‟m not the only who‟s a wimp.” “Bah! You guys don‟t know the good stuff.” “Tell me what happened when you got home, Sloan? Wasn‟t the question of having a child still under discussion?” Max probed for answers, pinning me down with his forceful gaze. He had a way of extracting the truth without even trying. If anyone knew me to the core, terrible dark secrets and all, it was Max. I could feel the sting of tears again, and I forced them away. I refused to have a meltdown in front of him. There would be a time and a place to give in to the pain, but for now I had to put up some kind of front and not look like a loser. “Your statement about surrogates being illegal in New York should have clued me in. It seems that Ken, my lover‟s piece-of-shit father, had done his investigating as well, and not only is it illegal in this state, it‟s against Japanese law.” “What‟s Japan got to do with anything?” “He‟s imported the baby maker.” “American women aren‟t good enough for him?” “Who knows what he‟s thinking? All I know is that Ken has found a surrogate in the form of this beautiful Japanese doll, and Cole didn‟t flinch when his father said the M word. They must have discussed the legal ramifications beforehand, or he wouldn‟t have agreed so readily. On top of everything, she‟s lovely. I‟m afraid Cole will fall in love with her.” “Her beauty is irrelevant if he can‟t see her.” “Well….” “And furthermore, Cole is gay,” Max said succinctly. “You need to have more confidence.” “Cole‟s past has been riddled with females.”

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Vessel “He chose you over Juliana.” “She wasn‟t a good fit, and maybe Noriko is just what he needs. You know how he‟s into everything Japanese. Christ, he‟s a history buff and thrives on all that samurai bushidö crap.” “You‟re overthinking, Sloan,” Max said. “Does he know how you feel?” “If he didn‟t before, he does now. I walked out of the apartment as soon as I heard the word marriage.” “Impulsive,” Max admonished. “You should have stayed and ironed everything out.” “Fuck that! Not in front of that stranger. Besides, I wanted to kill him, and I didn‟t think it would go over real well with his parents.” “You‟ll have to face him eventually.” “As soon as I calm down.” “It may be sooner rather than later. I just heard a car drive up,” Max said. He stood and walked over to the window. “Cole and Freddie just got out of a Yellow Cab and are standing at the front door.” “Christ.” “Go ahead and let him in,” Max sighed. “Hash it out, Sloan; face this and tell him exactly how you feel. If you come to blows, I‟ll drive you both to the emergency room, but don‟t let this fester or it‟ll get worse.” He came up to me and cradled my face in his large hands. “You are a beautiful and very special man, and if Cole is too blind to see it, and I don‟t mean that literally, I can assure you that there will be several people ready to step into his shoes.” “You‟re a good person, Max.” “No, I‟m not. I‟m completely self-serving. There‟s a part of me that wants your relationship with Cole to crash and burn because I‟ve

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Mickie B. Ashling wanted you for years. However, I‟m not stupid enough to stand in the way of true love, and I know that‟s what‟s going on with you guys. Work it out, beauty. He loves you.” “I‟ll try.” “That‟s all you can do,” Max said. “Come on, Tin. Let‟s go upstairs and have a nightcap.”

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Vessel Chapter 4

FREDDIE barked a greeting when I opened the door, wagging his tail

so hard his body moved from side to side. “What are you doing here?” I tried to be cool and dispassionate, but my voice rose to an angry crescendo. I was spiraling, and seeing him so soon after I‟d walked out wasn‟t a good thing. “Sloan, we need to talk.” “You should have thought of that before tonight.” “Will you please let me explain?” “We‟ve already tried that, remember? Why didn‟t you say anything about marriage when you were sucking up to me in the bedroom?” “May I come in?” “Be my guest.” I turned my back without waiting to see if he followed and headed toward the sofa I‟d just vacated. Freddie led Cole to the two-seater opposite mine, and he waited until Cole was settled before he put his head down on his paws. “I didn‟t know that surrogate births were illegal in this state,” Cole began haltingly. “My dad only informed me last month.” “Why didn‟t you tell me?” “Because I knew how you‟d react.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “So you‟ve been lying all along. Asking me to weigh in on this decision has been a fucking charade.” “Sloan….” “Cole, think about it… if the roles were reversed, and I signed a contract with a European firm demanding that I relocate, how would you feel if I gave them my okay without informing you? Inadequate? Ridiculous? Superfluous?” “That is an inappropriate analogy.” “I don‟t think so. You‟re foisting an improbable scenario on me, Cole. I‟m reminded of that brief time after we first had sex when you wanted me to become your boy toy―a mistress―hidden away from the world, so you could resume a normal life, or what you considered normal at the time. As you‟ll recall, that didn‟t go over very well.” “I remember,” Cole said. “And here you are again, laying out another fakakta plan. When are you going to learn that I‟m not a malleable toy you can wind up and point in the right direction?” He stood immediately and sank down on his knees in front of me. “Sloan, I didn‟t mean to spring this on you so suddenly. My dad sort of jumped the gun.” “When did the idea of a surrogate birth go from being a possibility to a sure thing? And marriage! Christ, have you lost your fucking mind?” “I started to give it serious thought as soon as Dad mentioned the possibility of hiring someone from Japan. I was just waiting for you to get on board.” “Keep on waiting.” “Sloan….” “Did you really expect me to be okay with this?” “Not one hundred percent, but I was hoping you‟d keep an open mind.” “Maybe if you‟d been more honest, I wouldn‟t feel so betrayed.”

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Vessel “Look, the marriage is a legality. I have to be married to Noriko if I want rights to my children.” “Children? I thought we were talking one child.” “She‟s willing to carry twins if we can get two genetically perfect embryos.” “Why not go the extra mile and have triplets? Better still, be the octo-fucking-dad and sire your own baseball team! You and your eight perfect sons will make nine!” My anger surged like a monsoon. I grabbed his arms and shook him forcefully. “Where did you plan on housing this woman and her litter? Is she going to sleep in between us?” “Sloan, please,” Cole said, sounding desperate. “Stop fighting this and help me.” “Help? We‟re beyond help,” I spat out, pushing him away. He fell against the coffee table but straightened up immediately. Freddie was on his legs in an instant, clearly confused. He had no idea if we were playing or if I was really going to hurt Cole. In either case, he stood guard beside his master, emitting a low growl until Cole put his hand on Freddie‟s head, reassuring him. Cole‟s heightened color and clenched jaw illustrated his shock at my angry outburst, but he understood that I needed to vent, and he knelt passively, waiting for the next onslaught. “You and your dad have been plotting for months, and I‟m an impediment you‟re trying to sweep under the carpet. I‟ll make this real easy for you, shogun. I‟ll move out and what‟s-her-face can move in.” “No.” “Why not?” “I want you to share in this experience. You‟re going to be a father as well, and I want you beside me all the way.” “Listen to you―I want this and I want that. What about me, Cole?” “I‟m trying to accommodate everyone.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I‟m not everyone,” I shouted. “Since when did I get lumped into the „everyone‟ category?” “Sloan, you‟re being unreasonable.” “Don‟t I have any say in this fucked-up situation?” “Of course you do.” “I‟m not hearing that. So far, it‟s all about you, Cole.” “What is it you want, Sloan?” I buried my face in my hands. The truth was I had no idea what I wanted. Was I wrong to deny Cole‟s chances at having children? I could never give him a family. On the other hand, the way he was going about this was entirely wrong. When he first broached the subject of surrogacy, I had something completely different in mind. I pictured a lawyer handling the transaction and managing the details with very little interpersonal contact between us and the mother. We‟d pick up the kid once it was born, and that would be that. Now, he was asking me to make room in our lives for a complete stranger, a “wife” no less. It was ludicrous and made me so angry I wanted to choke him. Instead, I swallowed the bile and put a lid on my anger, which was one second away from flying out of control. If Cole handed me another lie, I‟d lose my shit and pummel him to the ground. “You have to give me more time to think about this.” “How long?” “What‟s the rush?” “Noriko can‟t stay indefinitely; she‟s on a tourist‟s visa.” “You‟re giving her citizenship on top of everything else? How much are you paying her?” “I‟m paying her expenses, plus she‟ll get a lump sum once she delivers the babies. Of course, there‟s another settlement once we file for divorce.” “Christ, she‟s making out like a bandit just by having a viable uterus.” He shrugged. “I wish you had one.”

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Vessel “Well I don‟t! Put that in your fucking hibachi and roast it!” He reached for my hand and I shook him off. “You do realize that once you marry her she can always change her mind about divorce, and you‟ll be stuck.” “Why are you so suspicious?” “Call me jaded or just plain obnoxious, but I don‟t trust that bitch.” “You don‟t even know her.” “Do you?” “I‟m only going by my dad‟s recommendation.” “How well does he know her? Where the hell did he find her? How can you not know anything more about a woman who will be carrying your fucking children?” I was standing at this point and shouting again. Freddie crouched closer to Cole and whimpered in fright. I sat down immediately and petted him, trying to reassure the poor dog that I wasn‟t going to kill anyone. “Sloan, we‟ll get the info you want.” “I‟ll have no rights,” I said dejectedly, coming to the conclusion that I was going to lose this battle. He seemed to have it figured out and had an answer for every one of my objections. “You‟ll adopt the children once we become legal partners, and then you‟ll have every right.” “What about the mother?” “We‟ll sign a prenup,” Cole explained. “Six months after the birth, we‟ll get a divorce, and the contract will be complete. Then, you and I can go to Massachusetts or Iowa or wherever they acknowledge same-sex marriages and make it legal. Adoption will come right on the heels of the marriage, and you‟ll have rights to everything I own, including my children.” “You have this all worked out except for one small glitch.” “What?” “I don‟t want to be second choice for two years.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Christ, Sloan, you‟re not second. Noriko knows I‟m gay and that I love you. She‟s simply the vessel that will give us the family we want.” “She‟s intruding in my life, Cole. I‟m reluctant to turn over so much power. A lot can happen in a short time.” Cole sat back on his heels, crinkling his eyes in frustration. “What power?” “As your wife, she‟ll have the legal right to wreak all kinds of havoc. How do I know she won‟t insist on throwing me out? What if she gets hormonal and turns into a raving momzilla? We‟ll be stuck, Cole, and leaving ourselves wide open to emotional blackmail.” “Sloan, for God‟s sake.” “Listen to me,” I clutched his arms again. “What if the worst happens, and she falls in love with you? Having a soft spot for the father of your child is not that uncommon. She would have to be some kind of robot to be immune to her mothering instincts, and who‟s to say that she won‟t get territorial and want to protect her offspring and her man?” “Noriko is going into this with eyes wide open. It‟s purely a business arrangement, and we‟ll have no physical contact whatsoever. You‟re being overly cautious, Sloan.” “Maybe, but it‟s better than having my head in the clouds.” “Just because I‟m blind doesn‟t mean I‟m naïve.” “Maybe naïve is the wrong word choice, Cole. I think you‟re so caught up in an idea you had discarded years ago that you‟re not being your usual methodical self. Really, shogun, what do we know of surrogacy and its pitfalls? Don‟t you think it bears a little more investigation and restraint?” “I can‟t believe this is coming out of your impulsive mouth,” Cole said gently. “Usually, I‟m the one talking sense into you.” “Your nagging has obviously fallen on fertile ground. I‟m not willing to go into this without some assurance that my relationship with you will not be damaged or jeopardized in any way.”

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Vessel “I‟m open to suggestions,” Cole said agreeably. “Will you really give me free rein?” “Within reason.” “What does that mean?” “Why don‟t we compromise?” Cole asked. “Let‟s spend the weekend with her and get to know her better. Maybe then you‟ll be more comfortable and better able to make an informed decision.” “Agreed, but in the meantime, I want her investigated by my own people.” “Jesus, this is not a covert operation.” “It is to my mind. You‟ve waited years for this, Cole. Why rush? Right now, you‟re being emotional and ignoring that analytical brain of yours. You have visions of walking on a mound with your son and teaching him the finer points of baseball, making you forget the world is a shitty place and bad people do exist. You‟re rich, single, and, oh yeah, blind! A prime target for someone unscrupulous.” “Don‟t you think my father is more discerning and would have already had Noriko screened before he approached her?” “I know nothing! You‟re assuming she‟s legit and that he‟s checked her out. Well, tough shit, Cole. I want facts before we embark on this improbable adventure.” “Or what?” “You‟re on your own.” “You would leave me because of this?” “It would kill me, but I‟m not sticking around to sweep up the mess.” “I thought we‟d be together for the rest of our lives.” “Who says we won‟t?” “Sloan, you‟re sending mixed signals,” Cole said, looking dejected. His kissable mouth drooped, and his eyes swam with tears

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Mickie B. Ashling when he pushed away from me and stood up. He picked up Freddie‟s harness and gave him the sign to move forward. “Won‟t you please come home so we can discuss this in our own space?” Saying no to him was always difficult, but even more so when he looked this miserable. I caved immediately. “Let me call a cab.” “Thank you.”

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Vessel Chapter 5

THE apartment was dark when we got home, and I only switched on

one light since there was no need to illuminate a path for Cole. We‟d been living in the same place since I moved in five years ago, simply because he‟d memorized every square inch and was hesitant to subject himself to another learning curve by changing location. Cole could make his way to the subway, the stores, the bank, and more importantly his job at NYU. He‟d been preparing for his inevitable and complete blindness with the help of Dr. John Butterman, his sight counselor and friend. John had been a tremendous help in guiding Cole through the final stages of his disease. Freddie, the golden retriever we‟d been lucky enough to adopt from Guide Dogs of America, had been another source of comfort in providing the confidence Cole needed to maneuver his way in and about his daily life. I wondered what Cole was thinking now that he was planning to have children. There was no way we‟d be able to stay in this apartment. There simply wasn‟t enough room for a nursery and a nanny, which I assumed we‟d be hiring. Neither one of us had a clue how to deal with babies, plus we both worked full time. Finding space for Noriko throughout her pregnancy would be a challenge. Our spacious two bedroom, one bath, had no guest room. We‟d converted my old room into a study with two desks, two computers, and some

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Mickie B. Ashling filing cabinets. Where the heck was he planning on housing his baby maker? It was ironic that I was so cautious when I‟d been the impulsive and oftentimes reckless partner. Cole‟s love had given me the validation I needed to come into my own. I had changed a lot in five years, physically as well as mentally. I felt healthier and emotionally stable. My occasional bouts of anger were uneventful, and thoughts of cutting remained in the distant background. I knew it would be a lifelong battle, but I felt more in control despite the packet of blades I‟d bought earlier this evening. They were still in their package, shoved into a drawer at the studio, along with the stash of weed. I‟d come down from my cannabis high, and after depositing Cole and Freddie in our bedroom, I went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get rid of the smoky taste in my mouth. It wouldn‟t do for our reunion to be spoiled by oral hygiene issues, not that I was hopeful that a full-on sexual marathon would be possible right now. I could feel the residue of my bad mood, but Cole seemed intent on discussing Noriko. He‟d started to broach the subject again in the cab, and I‟d snapped at him, asking him to shut up. Although my anger at Cole was justified, and I had every right to question the motives behind Noriko‟s sudden appearance, all I wanted to do was forget about her. I came out of the bathroom in my boxers and nothing else. Cole was already in bed and Freddie on his cushy dog pallet by the door. I watched the most gorgeous professor in the world skimming over the pages of his latest book with nimble fingers. Once he‟d wrapped his head around his disability, he‟d taken to Braille like a duck to water and learned it quickly, realizing that his intellectual life didn‟t have to change much if he mastered this new way of reading. “I can feel you staring,” Cole said under his breath, continuing to read. “I was admiring the view.” He put the book aside and turned down the comforter. “Come to bed,” he said invitingly, in a voice I recognized as a prelude to sex.

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Vessel “You need some sensational make-up sex to show you how much you mean to me.” I slipped between the sheets and noticed he‟d stripped and was sporting some nice wood. That was a good sign. “I take it we‟re about to waste some of your precious sperm?” “Shush,” he whispered, sealing my lips with a heated kiss. He pulled back for a second and said, “I‟m sorry if I upset you.” “You know I‟d give you the world if I could,” I said, accepting his apology. “But what you‟re asking me to do is over the top.” “We‟ll figure out a way to make this work, okay?” “Promise me you won‟t do anything behind my back. If you want my support, I expect full disclosure.” “I promise.” “You‟ll give me time to investigate and explore different options?” “As long as you understand the ultimate goal is to have a healthy child.” “I understand.” And those two words were all it took to smooth over whatever anger and anxiety we were both feeling. Cole spent an inordinate amount of time on foreplay tonight. The weed in my system and the weeks of deprivation combined to heighten every sensation. I felt like I was on fire as he thumbed and fondled my nipples. Having sex with the same person, day in and day out for the last five years, should have grown old by now, but it hadn‟t. My body reacted to Cole‟s touch like a newbie, trembling with desire as he licked a wet track down my torso. He ended up playing with my belly button, poking in and out with his tongue, making me squirm. He moved down to my groin and spread my legs apart, pushing my knees up so I lay splayed and open to his mouth, which was hungry and demanding. He licked my perineum and toyed with my balls, nipping at the loose skin until I cried out. I was so hard it was almost painful, but he squeezed the base of my cock for a few seconds, stemming the natural progression. “Cole, you‟re killing me.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Just loving you.” “Please….” He took me in his mouth, undeterred by my size. He‟d gotten quite proficient over the years and thought nothing of sucking me down his throat. He‟d learned the fine art of fellatio by constant practice, and we‟d experimented, learning what did and didn‟t work. Neither one of us had that much experience when we‟d first hooked up, so discovering our bodies by learning new ways to pleasure each other had been a large and enjoyable part of our first year. He couldn‟t watch any porn, but he certainly made up for it by reading everything he could on gay sex. Now, we were very much in tune. Cole knew every nuance of my body. Each sigh that escaped was a signal. My cries of pleasure were the only spark he needed to fuel his fire. I relinquished all control and let him take me on the amazing ride that culminated with a burst of heat flooding his mouth. I moaned as he swallowed around my throbbing cock. Cole let go and moved up my body. “Love you so much,” he whispered, kissing me passionately. I could taste myself as his tongue explored every crevice. We turned over slowly so now I lay blanketed over his hard body. “Your turn,” I said, soaking in the sight of Cole‟s contented smile. “Worship me,” Cole teased, putting his hands behind his head. I grinned and proceeded to pay homage to the most important person in my life. The texture of Cole‟s skin was like polished marble and just as hard, chiseled in all the right places. I fanned out his jetblack hair, spreading it on the ivory linen pillowcase, a compelling sight. At thirty-one, Cole was in his prime. There was nothing I would improve, and I ran my hands over his sparsely haired chest, resting for a few minutes to tweak his nipples. They hardened under my touch, and he moaned, moving his head from side to side. I released my grip on the dark nubs and moved down his torso, massaging the taut muscles with the scented oil I‟d drizzled on him like salad dressing. It smelled of jasmine and cucumber, some highfalutin brand that Tin had purchased for my last birthday.

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Vessel “Feels so good,” Cole said huskily. “I want you relaxed and pliant,” I breathed in his ear, “because I plan to use some of that stored up cream.” “I know there‟s plenty for everyone.” “Damned straight. No more hoarding.” “Shut up and get on with this.” “So bossy.” “You love it.” “I love you, my shogun.” Cole reached for my face and brought it down for a kiss. I could feel myself rising again, pressing hard against his cock, which was stretched to the limit. “Again?” Cole asked. “I‟ve been deprived for weeks.” “You‟re a sex machine, Sloan.” He smiled. “Aren‟t you the lucky one?” Grabbing the lube, I squirted a healthy amount on my right hand and readied him. We hadn‟t done this in a while, and he was as tight as a virgin. He squirmed when I pushed in a finger and squeaked when the second followed. “You okay?” “Yes,” he said, grimacing but nodding me on. Encouraged, I added a third finger to the mix, and when I stroked his sweet spot he moaned. I was leaking precum, so the lube I swiped on myself was an added precaution since I never entered him dry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, and given my size, that fear was not unreasonable. We‟d discarded the lubricated condoms years ago, so the extra time I took in preparing him was always appreciated. I pushed back his knees and spread him wide, watching him move his hands from under his head to raise them above and back to the iron rails of our headboard, hanging on for support. His arms

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Mickie B. Ashling corded with the force of his grip, and he looked so fucking hot. I wished I could carry the image around in my wallet all day, but I had to content myself with memories instead. I buried my face in his armpits, inhaling his musky scent as my cock breached his tight sphincter in one swift stroke, and I sank into him all the way up to the root, my bony hips grinding against his pelvis. “Jesus!” “Too much?” “No,” Cole exhaled, relaxing, now that I was deep inside his accommodating body. He began to move slowly, rubbing his dick against my stomach, encouraging me to get going. I pulled out almost to my tip and sank back in, angling each stroke for maximum effect. I hit the jackpot several times, hitting his prostate and loving the look on his face as he squeezed his eyes shut in a combination of pain and pleasure. “Fuck, Sloan.” The breathless expletive spurred me on, and I began to move with shorter, more vigorous strokes. Soon I was battering him, driving our bodies forcefully back and forth. The headboard creaked loudly in time with our movements. I could see Freddie, out of the corner of my eye, coming toward the bed to jump into the fray, thinking we were playing. I raised my hand, signaling him to stay, and he sat down abruptly but continued to wag his tail, hoping I‟d change my mind. My attention was drawn back to Cole as his body clamped around me before he came in a creamy mess all over my chest and neck. A future generation of Fujiwaras dotted my torso, and I giggled at my own warped sense of humor, seconds before I shot a load up Cole‟s beautiful ass. Cole let go of the headboard, and we wrapped around each other like conjoined twins, unwilling to part while we listened to our combined heartbeats thudding loudly. “That was intense,” he commented. “Yup,” I concurred.

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Vessel “You‟re so beautiful,” Cole said softly, touching my face gently. His sense of touch had been magnified by his blindness, and I knew, as sure as I could hear the words, that he really did see me. “Do you realize that I‟ll remain forever young in your mind?” “What do you mean?” “Your vision of me will always be the twenty-something guy you first met years ago―almost immortal.” “You‟ve been watching too many vampire shows.” “Think about it, though. I could get fat and ugly, and you‟d never know it.” “Bull crap! You‟d never get fat, but don‟t think I haven‟t noticed that you‟ve lost some weight.” “Shit….” “Don‟t shit me, babe. What‟s going on?” “I‟ve been all fucked up over impending fatherhood and sex deprivation.” “You‟re too emotional, Sloan. Carb up and gain back a few pounds.” “Hai, master-san.” “Shut up.” “Don‟t you like it when I‟m subby? Your very own slut boy?” “Where the hell is this coming from?” “I saw your face when Noriko addressed you in Japanese with that bowing and san-shit. Your chest puffed up like a fucking pigeon, lapping up the subservience.” “You‟re insane.” Cole frowned, pushing me away. “Am I?” I wondered why he was so defensive. Perhaps I‟d hit the nail on the head and seen right through him. The truth was that Cole was a historian who was enthralled by the ceremonial traditions of the Japanese culture. He believed in the old ways and was partial to anything from that country, including its people. Ken couldn‟t have

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Mickie B. Ashling chosen a better candidate, and once again I was feeling threatened and insecure. “If I wanted a doormat, I would have married Juliana.” “Excuse me… who‟s bringing out your inner bitch?” “You are, with your stupid comments. Noriko is a Japanese woman who is no different from anyone else in that culture. There‟s nothing subservient about her. Attaching „san‟ to a surname is a sign of respect and nothing else.” “Let‟s not start fighting over her again.” “We‟ve been arguing about her all night.” “I know. Doesn‟t that worry you in any way?” “You need to chill out, Sloan. She‟s not a threat.” “I disagree.” Cole slid away and stood to go to the bathroom. “I will say this as often as you need to hear it. You‟re my partner and the one I love. Noriko is simply a means to an end and not worth so much anxiety.” “Maybe if I hear it often enough I‟ll believe you.”

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Vessel Chapter 6

AFTER much discussion, Cole persuaded me to give Noriko the

benefit of the doubt. He begged me to keep an open mind, so I agreed to let her accompany us to Montauk for the weekend. Max had a summer home there, and he‟d extended an open invitation for any weekend we could get away, which included our guest. I admitted grudgingly that learning more about her would be easier to stomach in a neutral setting.

She was waiting outside the Washington Square Hotel, where she‟d been staying since her arrival from Japan. We picked her up in a cab, heading out to Penn Station to catch the Long Island cannonball service, an express train to East Hampton. Noriko took the seat beside Cole while I sat opposite the pair, allowing me to study her without being obvious. I still had a bad habit of staring at people, but I‟d learned a little more subtlety with age. Freddie lay contentedly at his master‟s feet, lulled into a sleepy stupor by the rocking motion of the powerful locomotive. Our pup was a seasoned traveler and partial to trains since it was Cole‟s preferred mode of transport. She wore an orchid-colored T-shirt underneath her black jacket, accessorized with a silk scarf in vibrant jewel tones tied around her neck. Her skintight blue jeans were tucked into soft leather boots that rose to mid-calf, accentuating her shapely legs. Noriko was

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Mickie B. Ashling understatedly elegant, and I‟d been in the fashion industry long enough to know the price of her wardrobe. The boots were clearly Italian, her blazer had the Hanae Mori insignia embroidered on the right breast pocket, and the scarf‟s intertwining G‟s were an easily recognizable logo by anyone who knew quality. Her attire made the offer to surrogate even more intriguing. Why would a woman who evidently had the funds to outfit herself in designer duds be willing to sacrifice two years of her life if money wasn‟t a factor? Or was this all for show, and she was in debt up to her perfectly arched eyebrows. Other than her light berry-colored lip gloss and a bit of mascara, Noriko‟s face was once again bare of makeup. She was a natural beauty, which made her motives even more suspect. She could have anyone she wanted, so why be a womb for rent? I listened to her responses as Cole explained the dynamics of East Hampton in relation to New York City in general. Noriko was impressed by the history of the seaside towns. Coming from a country where land was at a premium, the sprawling mansions we glimpsed on the way to our destination were impressive, more so when she learned that most of the owners only used these palatial residences a few months a year. It seemed like such excess, seeing it from a foreigner‟s point of view. Her questions were intelligent, and I began to realize that there was more to this Eurasian beauty than met the eye. “Have you been to college?” I asked bluntly, interrupting the conversation between her and Cole. “No, Sloan-san. I did not get that opportunity.” “Chillax on the „san‟ shit.” Cole frowned. “Sloan, it‟s just a sign of respect.” “I get it, but she doesn‟t need to use it when she talks to me.” “I will try and keep that in mind, Sloan,” Noriko replied sweetly. “You do that,” I said, feeling the animosity instantly. Noriko seemed to dislike me as much as I detested her.

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Vessel Max and a few of our friends would be joining us, providing the buffer we‟d need to get over this awkward getting-to-know-you stage. Noriko, for all her graciousness, was a stranger, and the hours spent in her company were bound to be unnerving without the distraction of a crowd. I resented everything about her and was hard-pressed keeping my feelings in check. I hoped that a few days in her company would ease some of my concerns, but so far they were magnified instead of the other way around. Since it was early in April, the weather was decent but not enough to draw the tourists. Max had bought his old farmhouse at least ten years ago and had it completely renovated. It was walking distance to the beach, about two miles from town, and large enough to accommodate at least twenty guests. I‟d been there many times over the last five years for photo shoots. The scenery was magnificent, with the bay and famous lighthouse providing a perfect backdrop for whatever product Max was currently peddling. He‟d even designated a room for Cole and me so we could leave clothes and personal belongings, making this weekend getaway feel more like home. Freddie adored the freedom of the outdoors and spent the first ten minutes of our arrival tearing around the lawn and barking at the sea gulls that swooped down to torment him. This was a ritual we put up with each time we set foot on the property. Cole waited patiently for his apartment dweller to expend some pent-up energy before settling down to become his good and compliant Seeing Eye dog once again. “Max, I‟d like you to meet Noriko,” I said casually when Max stepped out to welcome us. “Hajimemashite,” Noriko said softly, bowing from the waist. “Anata wa eigo ga hanase masu ka?” Max said in Japanese, surprising all of us. Noriko‟s face lit up. “Hai, sukoshi hanase masu,” she prattled in rapid-fire Japanese until Max raised his hand. “Stop,” he chuckled. “I only know a few words.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Your Japanese accent is far better than my stilted English,” Noriko replied. “Where did you learn, Max-san?” “I‟ve been to Japan many times, and I had to familiarize myself with some key phrases to get around. Tokyo is one of my favorite cities.” “I am from Kyoto,” Noriko said. “Have you been there?” “I did a photo shoot at the Hanamachi last year.” it.”

“Of course,”—Noriko nodded—“most Westerners gravitate to

“Yes,” Max concurred, “no doubt after Memoirs of a Geisha was released.” “Indeed,” Noriko answered, rather curtly, I thought. I wondered what that was all about. I‟d have to take Max aside and ask him what he‟d said that might possibly have offended her. Max picked up her small suitcase, and we followed him into the house. It was casually opulent in a charming, Ralph Lauren sort of way. The sofas were upholstered in bright red and blue plaids, and the windows were covered with white wooden shutters that were opened to let in the bright sunshine. The floor was bleached knotted pine, which added to the overall impression of space and lightness. There were several area rugs in colors that matched the sofas and easy chairs scattered throughout in small groupings. The focal point of the great room was the enormous fireplace framed with flat river rocks that added a rustic atmosphere to the comfortable and friendly space. There was a cheerful fire burning right now, and several of our friends raised their hands in greeting as we proceeded past the long refectory table separating the dining room from the open kitchen and the stairs leading up to the bedrooms on the second floor. The hallway was open to the room below and had a wooden railing overlooking the cavernous space. One could see everything going on downstairs, even as the group watched us make our way to our assigned rooms. There were seven guest rooms in all and just as many bathrooms. It was a mini-hotel, and one of the nicest around. Max went to great lengths to

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Vessel see that his guests were comfortable, and each suite had every amenity that money could buy. The rooms were color-coded, and Cole and I always stayed in the blue room. Noriko had the yellow room, which meant it was the dominant color, and every piece of fabric picked up or complemented that hue. The walls were papered in an old-fashioned floral print, a light cream background with tiny yellow daisies and daffodils surrounded by lush greenery in natural reed baskets. The queen-size bedspread was a patchwork quilt, handmade, in different shades of pale blue, buttercup yellow, and celadon green. It was a woman‟s room, and the closet space would have made the ladies from Sex and the City squeal in delight. “Let me know if there‟s anything you need,” Max said, placing her case on the luggage stand beside the door. “Why don‟t you freshen up and join us for lunch in about an hour.” “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Max-san.” “You‟re welcome, Noriko. Please, feel free to just call me Max.” “Sumimasen.” “Don‟t worry about it. We‟re not formal around here.” “I was reminded of that earlier.” “And not quite as politely,” Cole was quick to point out. “Whatever,” I said, getting more and more irritated. “Are you coming?” I asked Cole who seemed reluctant to leave the room. “In a minute.” Max threw his arm around my shoulders and steered me gently toward our room. “You‟re channeling Glenn Close, darling, and it doesn‟t become you.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “The crazy jealous vibe is leaking out of your ears.” “Seriously?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “You‟ll be boiling bunnies next.” “Oh, stop exaggerating. Am I supposed to fall in love with the bitch? She‟s invading my life, not to mention, my man.” “Your man is very much interested in seeing this enterprise come to its natural conclusion. Either shit or get off the pot, Sloan. Tell Cole you‟re against this, or start acting like a decent human being. Noriko is probably as uncomfortable with this relationship as you are.” “I wonder if Ken even told her that Cole was gay.” “Why don‟t you ask her?” “I hate her.” Max howled with laughter. “You‟re acting like a jealous queen,” he snorted through tears. “So?” “Would you like me to find out more about her?” he asked when he finally stopped laughing. “That would be fucking awesome.” “I‟ll do it if you promise to be nice.” “How about if I ignore her.” “Cole will notice and get pissed.” “He‟s halfway there.” “Make it right, darling. She‟s not even knocked up, and you‟re already at odds with your lover.” “My partner,” I corrected. “He‟s more than my lover, Max; he‟s my partner!” The tears were forming as the anger swamped me, and I felt like a childish fool, but I couldn‟t help myself. “Hush, beauty,” Max soothed, cradling me in his strong arms. “It‟ll be fine.” “You think?” I sniffled against his broad chest.

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Vessel “We‟ll make it work.” “How?” “Leave it to me.” “Are you going to make her disappear in a puff of smoke?” “I wish that I could, but what I‟ll try and do is find out what‟s motivating her to make this sacrifice. Then maybe we‟ll know if we have to worry or not.” “Believe me,” I said, pushing away from him and glaring into his eyes. “I‟m plenty worried.” “Try and contain your fears for the next few days. Give me a chance to make my own judgments. In the meantime, enjoy the house and fuck Cole into forgetting Noriko exists.” “Speaking of sex, do you know what bullshit thing I found out?” “What?” “Cole wasn‟t sleeping with me because he was saving his semen for his baby maker.” Max raised his eyebrows. “Doesn‟t he know there‟s an endless supply?” “Apparently he was told that his army of swimmers would be stronger and better able to invade the hoard of female eggs if they were repressed.” “Jesus. Who‟s been feeding him this info?” “Who the hell knows? Daddy dearest, most likely.” “Okay,” Max said, standing as soon as Cole walked in to our room. “You guys get settled and join us downstairs when you‟re ready.” “Thank you, Max,” Cole said quietly. I knew, as soon as I heard his voice, that we were going to have a fight, and I dreaded the confrontation. I hated arguing with Cole because he was brilliant and invariably won. This time, though, I had

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Mickie B. Ashling to stand my ground, and I wasn‟t ready yet. None of my fears were based on fact and would be shot down as precisely as if he‟d brandished his Samurai sword. Nonetheless, I sucked in a breath and prepared to duel.

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Vessel Chapter 7

“YOU‟VE given me a fucking migraine,” Cole accused. He toed off his shoes and lay down on the king-size bed that was covered with another handmade quilt in varying shades of blue. Our room was meant to look like a ship‟s cabin, and the accessories had a nautical theme. The lamps, antique brass miniatures of a lighthouse, were topped with pleated linen shades matching the striped curtains that framed the shuttered windows. Like the ones downstairs, the slats were wide open, letting in the sun and the warmth. As always, there were fresh flowers in the crystal vase on the bureau, adding the special touch that was a signature of Max Leavitte‟s hospitality. “Would you like an Advil?” I offered, before throwing myself on the bed beside Cole. “I‟d like you to stop behaving like a prick.” “What did I do?” “Noriko doesn‟t deserve your bullshit.” “I‟m not her best friend.” “No one said you were, but you can be courteous, for heaven‟s sake. She‟s our guest and doesn‟t need to be insulted. Getting to know her was the whole point of this weekend. How‟s that happening if you keep blocking her at every turn?” “How did I block her?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I won‟t even dignify your question with an answer.” “Surely you weren‟t expecting me to accept her with open arms.” “Sloan, is this behavior going to continue until the babies are born?” “I haven‟t even decided if this is what I want. You‟re assuming again.” Cole straddled me and pinned my head between his arms. His long hair brushed my cheeks and invaded my mouth. “What do I have to do to convince you this is right for us?” I blew a silky strand away before answering. “I‟m not sure.” “Sloan….” Pushing him away, I scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood in front of the large window. There were already a number of sailboats bobbing in the harbor, and soon it would be overrun with the summer crowd and their usual WaveRunners and powerboats disturbing the serenity of this small village, much like Noriko was rocking my world. Cole sat up and crossed his legs, waiting in silent fury for me to justify my behavior. Finally, I turned toward him. “Just because you can do something doesn‟t necessarily mean you should.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Cole lifted his head toward my voice, and his eyes narrowed in anger, as if he could see me clearly. The sightless orbs weren‟t deformed or covered with any sort of film. They were intensely blue, surrounded by long, dark lashes, and an arresting focal point on his attractive face. I loved him more than ever; despite the physical challenges we‟d had to live with to get him through a day without mishap. I worried about him constantly but tried my best to give him a wide berth and never hover, coddle, or do anything for him unless he asked. He was extremely proud, almost obsessive about his independence, yet he was about to put himself in a situation that would undo years of training.

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Vessel “I‟m talking about bringing a third party into the mix. The world, as we know it, will change forever, Cole. Have you really thought this through?” “I know it won‟t be simple, but nothing worth having ever is. Our relationship and my career are a perfect example. The best things in my life have required hard work. Why would having a family be any different?” He looked so confident, but I knew how vulnerable he was. Cole was still learning to navigate his sightless life, and I didn‟t want to hold him back, but I was a realist. Our peaceful existence would be upended by nannies, doctors, and doting grandparents. They would intrude on our privacy and make demands we couldn‟t anticipate or plan for. Toys and baby paraphernalia would be left lying around in unexpected places, which could cause accidents Cole wouldn‟t be able to deal with on his own. He‟d trip or run into strollers and hurt himself, or worse yet, he‟d hurt the kids. Freddie would have to learn how to deal with a bunch of strangers. Would he adjust? He was an excellent guide dog but had never trained with anyone other than Cole and me. Our living quarters had been structured carefully around Cole‟s disability, and this would change too. I knew I was being overly cautious and looking at worst-case scenarios, but it was better than being unrealistic and imagining life as a series of heartwarming vignettes. I walked back to the bed and sat beside him. There was such a thin line between loving and smothering, and I‟d struggled to find a happy medium. I meshed fingers with him and moved a little closer. “Even under the best of circumstances, having a child is a life-altering experience,” I explained. “In our case it will be even more significant because we‟re going to relinquish control of the situation to complete strangers. There are a million things that could go wrong.” “They won‟t.” “How can you be so sure? Noriko is an unknown entity. You‟re so confident that her genes and her motives are pure. How do you know she‟s not tainted? What if she carries an unexpected gene?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “She‟ll be tested for every possible genetic mutation,” Cole stated confidently. “What if, during the middle of the pregnancy, she realizes what a cushy life she has as your wife and refuses to divorce you? What if she has a change of heart about giving up the kid or kids? Have you thought of any of that, Cole? Have you imagined life as a father on a day-to-day basis?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but it was starting to grow and threatened to choke me. “I‟ve never had kids.” “You have younger sisters, and you‟ve been around their children. Can you picture your space invaded in such a way?” “I haven‟t thought that far ahead.” “Don‟t you think you should?” “Why are you being so negative?” Cole asked, suddenly angrier than I‟d seen him since we started these discussions months ago. “You‟re expecting the worst instead of being happy for me.” I sighed and moved away from him. “As I said earlier, just because science has moved forward and given you an opportunity doesn‟t necessarily mean it‟s right for us. One can buy a ticket to the moon these days, but I can‟t picture myself in a space suit. Being a parent is not easy, Cole, and not right for everyone. I‟m sorry.” “So that‟s it? You‟re sorry, and this discussion is over?” “I meant I‟m sorry that I‟m causing you more stress, but I won‟t give in to appease you. This has to be right for me as well. After all, I‟m going to bear the brunt of the care-giving, aren‟t I?” “No, you‟re not.” “How do you figure?” “My mother and sisters will be more than happy to help out.” “Your parents live in San Francisco, and your sisters are scattered all over the country and have their own families. Will they drop everything to come and watch our kids? I doubt it.”

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Vessel “Maybe not long term, but it‟s those first months that will be the hardest. They‟ll help, and I‟ll hire a nanny, or two, if need be.” “Will this be an open surrogacy? Are you going to allow Noriko access to her children?” “I‟m not opposed to her visiting, but I don‟t think she‟ll be in this country indefinitely, and I‟m certainly not going to allow the children to go to Japan to see her.” “You keep referring to your offspring in the plural. Are you determined to have more than one?” “Why not get two for the effort?” “Why not indeed?” I said softly. This was really turning into a huge undertaking that I wasn‟t prepared for. “How do I fit into this, Cole? What are you planning on telling your kids?” “The truth.” “In theory it sounds simple, but when little Cole Junior looks at you and asks why his mommy doesn‟t live with us, what are you going to tell him? His mother was store-bought and discarded after she served her purpose?” “Could you make this sound any uglier?” “It‟s a nasty business, Cole. You‟re so hellbent on doing this, you forget how many lives will be impacted by this decision.” “Life involves change, Sloan. Surely you didn‟t expect ours to remain static.” “You‟re a creature of habit,” I pointed out. “Everything about you has an agenda, a system, a time, and a place, and you‟ve drummed your theories into my scattered brain since the day I moved in. I‟m just saying that you are fooling yourself if you think you‟ll be able to orchestrate this scenario the way the Von Trapps did in the The Sound of Music. Children are not little soldiers who will do your bidding merely because you want it done. They may actually have functioning brains! If they‟re anything like their father, they‟ll be opinionated and demanding.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “So now I‟m opinionated and demanding? Has life with me been such a fucking struggle?” “It hasn‟t been easy… not that I‟m complaining.” “Sure sounds like bitching to me.” “Cole, I love you more than I‟ve loved anyone or anything in my life, but I have to say that living with you has been challenging, and not because you‟re blind.” “Fuck you, Sloan.” Cole stood and groped for his shoes. Freddie was up and ready to go before Cole had even finished tying his laces. “Come, Freddie.” “Wait a minute,”—I grabbed his arm—“We‟re not done yet.” “I need a break,” Cole spat out. “I‟m taking my opinionated ass downstairs and joining Noriko.” “You do that. I‟ll be otherwise occupied.” “Where are you going?” “Out.” Cole spun around and hissed in my face. “Deal with this situation, Sloan. It‟s not going away, and hiding or ignoring Noriko won‟t make her disappear.” “Piss off!” I yelled as Cole left the room in a huff.

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Vessel Chapter 8

THE slamming sounded like the crack of a pistol, and it reverberated

in my ears. To be dismissed so casually was beyond insulting, and my anger finally boiled over. I picked up the glass vase and hurled it against the door, watching with great satisfaction as the water soaked the wood, and the shards of glass rained down on the carpet, blanketing the tulips and hyacinths that lay innocently amidst the carnage. The explosion was loud enough to wake up the fucking dead, and Max pushed the door open without knocking. “What the hell is going on in here?” “Nothing!” He looked around, and his eyes widened in shock. “You‟d better pick up this shit.” “I‟m not taking orders from you, either.” Max swallowed his retort upon hearing my reply and reached out and took my hand instead. “Come on.” “Where are we going?” “Somewhere quiet.” “A padded cell sounds great.” Max drew me close, wrapping a strong arm around my torso. “Let‟s discuss this over a nice big mug of coffee,” Max soothed, moving us out of the war zone and into the master suite, which had a

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Mickie B. Ashling small sitting area. He plunked me down on the sofa covered in manly brown and beige tweed. In fact, the entire room oozed masculinity, and although I‟d seen it before, it had been a while. A swift perusal of the suite was all one needed to glean a little insight into Max‟s other life. The bed alone was impressive. The four posts holding the kingsize mattress in place were like small tree trucks, able to withstand the most powerful tugging. The metal eye bolts, embedded into the wood, were devoid of cuffs for now, but I knew that the antique bureau on the far wall offered a plethora of choices. They came in leather, metal, canvas, or rope, guaranteed to imprison for as long as Max deemed necessary to gain the submission he craved. He was legendary in the New York scene and had tried to turn me onto this form of loving when we‟d first met, but I‟d realized very quickly that it wasn‟t my thing. Five years ago I was an innocent, fresh off the plane from the West Coast and struggling with body image issues. I was a cutter, simply put, and determined to move past the terrible form of selfmutilation that I‟d used for years as a panacea for my emotional turmoil. Cole‟s love had given me the security and confidence I needed to escape the dark places in my head, but not before Max had offered to “fix” me with a little flogging here and a nipple clamp there, scaring the hell out of me while convincing me in no uncertain terms that BDSM was not for me. We‟d had a brief affair, a number of sexual encounters that were memorable, before Cole had come out of the closet and admitted he loved me. It was a tumultuous time, and Max had been gracious enough to step back despite his feelings. I‟d chosen Cole, and he‟d conceded defeat, especially since I was about to embark on a fabulous modeling career that would garner millions for me as a model, and for Max as my photographer, mentor, and agent. Yet the underlying sexual tension between us had never really let up. I knew that Max would easily step in as a lover if I ever showed him one sign of interest.

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Vessel The accoutrements and the entire mindset of the BDSM world fascinated me, however, in a macabre sort of way. Max and I had regular discussions on the pros and cons of the lifestyle, although he‟d ceased all attempts to change my mind in deference to Cole and our stable relationship. This morning, his dominant nature was on full alert, and I could tell that he wasn‟t impervious to my needs. He wanted to comfort me and would gladly ease my pain through his methods if I were so inclined. “What happened?” he asked, passing me a large mug of coffee that I took with a shaky hand. “Darling, you‟re trembling,” Max exclaimed. He took the coffee mug back and put it on the table, sheltering me in his warm embrace. I continued to shake for a few more minutes until his body heat overpowered my jangling nerves. “I‟m… sorry,” I stammered. “You don‟t deserve to be a part of this crap.” “Sloan, I‟m an inveterate gossip who thrives on drama,” Max drawled. I giggled, knowing that truer words had never been spoken. Max loved intrigue and enjoyed playing Papa Bear to his stable of models. It kept him young, along with his quarterly shots of Botox, which really did a lot to keep his appearance youthful and “naturally” refreshed. He resembled Freddie Mercury, minus the overbite. If the singer had lived to be a distinguished forty-seven-year-old and had gained twenty pounds, they could have passed for brothers. I‟d always been a huge fan of Queen, and it was one reason I‟d hooked up with Max in the first place. “I feel like I‟ve lost the battle without even getting a chance to fire a shot,” I explained. “Cole isn‟t listening to any of my arguments. He thinks I‟m being selfish and negative.” “Are you?” “No! I‟m being realistic.” “Well, your communication skills are apparently suffering in the translation.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “He‟s turning a deaf ear.” “Aside from his blind eyes?” “That‟s cruel, Max, even for you.” “Sorry, I couldn‟t resist,” he said, shamefaced. “You can be such a bitch sometimes,” I huffed, pushing him away. “What am I doing here, anyway?” “Explaining to me why you‟ve trashed up your room and destroyed my Lalique vase.” “I‟ll buy you another one.” “I‟d expect nothing less.” “Order one and take it out of my next check.” “No. That‟s too easy. You need to march down to the store and pick something out yourself.” “Whatever.” I stood abruptly. “I‟m going for a walk.” “Can I come?” “Only if you promise to keep your tongue in check.” “Or in cheek?” “Max.” He sneered, looking every bit the bastard he was. “Come along, pup.” “Don‟t.” “Oh, lighten up, Sloan. You could use a good flogging right now.” “I don‟t need a flogging,” I said bitterly. “You need something.” “I can assure you that it isn‟t submission―dominance is what I need. Maybe I should flog you, or Cole, for that matter.” “You can do anything you want, but you may not get the results you‟re looking for.”

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Vessel “This is such bullshit,” I grumbled down the hallway. Looking over the banister, I could see Cole and Noriko sipping from their mugs, chatting away like old friends. A wave of unreasonable fear and jealousy swamped me. I‟d come a long way from the insecure man I was five years ago, but knowing I couldn‟t provide Cole with a family was doing all kinds of damage to my psyche. I knew I had to get a grip and deal with the situation. Every gay man on the planet who wanted biological children, without benefit of marriage, had to come to terms with this sad truth―women were necessary for procreation whether we liked it or not. Max took my hand in a show of support, and we made our way down the stairs, pausing briefly to let Cole know our plans. “Max and I are going for a walk,” I said, addressing Cole and virtually ignoring Noriko. “Will you be back for lunch?” “Yes.” “See you then,” Cole smiled. He was polite for the sake of our audience, but I knew him well enough to know it was for show. He was still pissed at me and wouldn‟t relent until I gave in. We grabbed our jackets off the hooks that lined the entry and stepped outdoors. It was a little on the cool side, and I was glad I‟d decided to go with the leather instead of cotton, which would have been more appropriate considering the season. I felt the cold more than most, probably because I had hardly any body fat. At least that was Cole‟s theory as he plied me with nutritional meals on a daily basis. He‟d made it his mission in life to see that I was healthy. I‟d actually gained ten pounds under his guidance, a fact he crowed about constantly. Admittedly, I looked better than ever, which should have given me the confidence I needed for this clash of wills, but old habits die hard. All the money and adulation from outside sources meant nothing when the man I loved was looking elsewhere. “Let‟s take the car down to Leah‟s Stable. I‟m in the mood for some nature,” Max suggested.

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Mickie B. Ashling “I haven‟t been on a horse since you dragged me out there last summer.” “You had fun, didn‟t you?” “You know I loved it.” “Come on, beauty. There‟s nothing more peaceful than a trail ride. ” We got into his Land Rover and drove down Old Montauk Highway until we arrived at Leah‟s Stables. It was a popular spot for tourists, as well as locals who couldn‟t be bothered maintaining their own horses. Renting was far more convenient, and when the day was over, one could return the animals to Leah and walk away without worrying about feeding and nurturing the beautiful four-legged creatures that brought hours of pleasure. Max had introduced me to the world of horseback riding, and I‟d taken to it as one to the manor born. All my preconceived notions flew out the window the first time I sat on a horse and felt the power of the magnificent animal between my thighs. I‟d taken a few lessons to maximize the experience, and I had to admit that it was an extremely enjoyable pastime. As luck would have it, the place was deserted but for a couple of tourists from down south. Leah sauntered out in her standard jeans and flannel and threw her arms around Max and me. “Well, look who showed up.” “Hey, lady,” Max said by way of greeting. “Can you spare a couple of your magical ponies?” “Look around you, Max. The season hasn‟t quite started.” “Thank goodness, although I‟m sure you‟re more than ready.” “It‟s been a long and lean winter,” Leah admitted. “I‟m ready to start filling the coffers again.” “I‟ll bet.” “You can take Dusty and Rose. They‟re raring to get out and play.”

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Vessel “They‟re not too spirited, are they?” I interjected. “I don‟t feel like getting thrown.” “Since when have you been intimidated by a little energy?” Leah asked. “I‟ve seen you ride, Sloan. You can handle Rose. Max can take Dusty.” “What are you implying, Leah? You think I‟m a wimp?” Max asked. “No, but Sloan‟s a better rider.” I stuck my tongue out at Max, and he responded in his most lascivious voice. “It‟s those powerful thighs of his.” “Oh, fuck off, Leavitte.” Leah shook her head and grabbed me by my belt. “Come on, studly. Let‟s saddle you up.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 9

WE HEADED out toward the walking dunes, an interesting trail that

was less than a mile but would give us a chance to experience a little bit of everything: the ocean, mountains of sand, grass, and some fascinating views. A few minutes on horseback were far more effective than any drug. The bright sun and the wind in my face were working wonders to lighten the load I‟d been carrying around for weeks. I made a loud kissing sound while digging my heels into Rose‟s side, giving her the command she needed to switch to a brisk canter. She responded like a champ, and I took it a step further, leaning into her, giving the signal to fly free. We took off in a burst of energy, galloping down toward the beach with Max hot on our tail. I turned and yelled, “Last one on the sand has to get in the water.” “Like hell,” he called back. It was glorious. The sounds of thundering hooves and snorting breaths escaping from the beautiful mare‟s nostrils added to my pleasure as we flew across the dunes and headed out to the ocean. I hadn‟t felt this sort of freedom in a long time, not since I‟d taken on the role as Cole‟s partner. My life had been structured tightly by the demands of his disease, and I rarely indulged in any kind of activity that would make me veer off my chosen path. In retrospect, I realized how my world had narrowed down to Cole and his needs. He‟d become my raison d’ệtre, and now that he was changing the rules and looking to expand his horizons, I found myself at a loss. It was quite a

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Vessel revelation and made me aware that I never did anything fun or carefree anymore. It was all about duty and responsibility, a far cry from the lifestyle I‟d led in my early twenties. I couldn‟t even remember the last time I‟d had some weed before coercing Tin into procuring it last week. I was twenty-seven fucking years old and acting like I was a hundred and two. Jeez…. I hopped off Rose as soon as we got to the water‟s edge so she could rest. Her chest heaved in and out as she fought to catch her breath, winded from the unaccustomed run after standing around all winter. I put my forehead against hers and spoke softly while rubbing her neck and praising her for being such a good girl. She whickered in response and waited patiently for me to reach into my pocket and hand her the sugar cubes I‟d pilfered from Leah‟s coffee bar. Rose took the cubes gently from my open palm, tickling me as she nuzzled my hand with her velvety soft lips. “You cheated,” Max said, reining in Dusty a few feet away. “I did not! You‟ve got the reflexes of an old goat.” Max dismounted, grabbed me around my neck, and dragged me up to his body, pressing me close. “Who are you calling old?” I stared into his brown eyes and could see that he really wasn‟t angry. There was affection, and a tiny spark of something I hadn‟t seen in a while, but I could feel his interest pressing stiffly against my groin. I stepped back. “I‟m sorry, Max.” “Don‟t ever be sorry for being attractive,” he said, smiling to put me at ease. Max was about my height but broader, physically and mentally a powerful man. He rarely took no for an answer but had respected my choices a long time ago. With Max I always knew where I stood. There was nothing oblique about him, unlike Cole, who was such an enigma and kept me guessing half the time. Now I wondered what would have become of me if I‟d chosen Max instead of Cole. Would we have lasted? I was surprised the idea even crossed my mind. I hadn‟t thought of Max romantically in years, and now, suddenly, I

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Mickie B. Ashling was seeing him in a different light. Still, I knew better, and pushing him away was the right decision. He nodded, reading my thoughts. “Let‟s walk.” We tied the horses to a tree stump higher up in the grassy area where they could nibble on the seedlings that were starting to break through the hard winter crust. Our shoes were discarded as well, safely parked on the log, along with our jackets. It was a cloudless day, and the sun provided the only warmth we needed. “This is so nice,” I remarked, allowing Max to take my hand. “Thank you for bringing me out here.” “I always come here when I‟m verklempt.” I smiled at him. It was easy between us despite that one awkward moment. We were walking close to the water‟s edge where the sand was cool and hard under our feet. The waves unfurled gently, splashing us with hissing bubbles. “There‟s nothing like Mother Nature to take away the blues, is there?” “It‟s effective for me,” Max concurred. “You know you‟re welcome to spend as much time out here as you need.” “Thank you.” I stopped walking and turned to him. “Be honest, Max. Am I being unreasonable?” Max reached out and caressed my cheek, moving on to my mouth which he thumbed gently. “You‟re not seeing the big picture from Cole‟s point of view. This medical breakthrough has opened a door that was tightly shut because Cole wasn‟t willing to foist his genetic hiccup on an innocent child. He had the maturity and the willpower to resist his father‟s nagging until he found a way to work around his concerns. His options have changed, and having children is a reality he can actually explore, unless you put up another roadblock. Don‟t you want him to be happy and fulfilled? Hasn‟t he had enough shit to deal with in his life without worrying about your issues?” “If you‟re trying to make me feel guilty, you‟re succeeding.”

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Vessel Max shrugged. “Some people need to be parents, Sloan, and others don‟t care one way or the other. Cole obviously wants a child, and as his partner you need to confront your personal fears and examine your objections. No matter how you shake this or play it, you need a female to carry a baby. That‟s not negotiable, so why not just be honest. It‟s not really Noriko, is it? You don‟t want to do this.” “I‟m not opposed in principle, but I am feeling rushed into making a decision. Before this week, I didn‟t even know she existed! All of a sudden, she‟s become the most important person in Cole‟s life. How can you possibly say I‟m overreacting?” “I think your anxiety about being pressured is warranted, and it‟s Cole who‟s being unrealistic to expect instant capitulation.” “Thank you.” “He needs to give you time to warm up to the idea.” “How do I get him to do that?” “I‟m not sure you can. He seems determined to get going on this immediately, but it‟s important that your feelings and concerns are addressed.” “I thought I was pretty clear.” “You‟re being passive-aggressive, Sloan. On the one hand, you agree to learn more about Noriko, but then you can‟t keep a civil tongue in your head. If you continue to act this way, you‟ll alienate Cole and push him into this arrangement faster than necessary. “I really don‟t think I can manage being welcoming and polite when I see her as a threat.” “Hasn‟t Cole proven how much he loves you? I thought that part of the equation was firmly established.” “There‟s a tiny part of me that wonders if he really isn‟t bisexual in the truest sense. He‟s fought his orientation from the get-go. Now that he has this opportunity to have a wife and family, will he be happy staying with me? Wouldn‟t it be so much simpler if I disappeared?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Darling, you can‟t possibly mean that?” “He‟s accepted the idea of a marriage so readily when he could have insisted on finding some other way.” “You keep forgetting you live in a state that does not allow surrogate parenting.” “We could move to California until the child is born.” “What about your jobs?” “Obviously, we‟d have to take some sort of leave of absence, but you know as well as I that money is not a consideration.” “Maybe he sees the marriage as a means to an end. A surrogate is far different from a wife. His chances of retaining custody, if this were to go sour, are much better if he and Noriko are legally bound to each other. A firm prenup will give him the ammunition he needs. He‟s trying to cover all his bases while you‟re imagining a sexual agenda. I honestly think you‟re way off.” “Am I?” “Sloan, you have to be more confident in Cole‟s love.” “Anything can go wrong,” I said, feeling the panic rising again. “I‟m terrified that he‟ll marry her and realize how easy life can be as a hetero. He won‟t have to swim upstream or deal with any of our issues; life could be a breeze.” Max gaped at me and finally shook his head in disgust. “You are so fucking insecure it‟s sickening.” “I can‟t help what I feel.” He grabbed me by the arms and literally shook me, trying to knock some sense into my skewered brain. “Sloan, you need to snap out of this. You‟re not just a passing fancy, an experiment, or a detour into Cole‟s dark side. Your relationship wouldn‟t have lasted this long. You‟ve been together for what, five years? And in those years has he ever strayed or even mentioned an interest in women?” “No.”

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Vessel “Then how the fuck can you allow such stupid thoughts to mess with your head?” “Maybe it‟s because he did it behind my back.” “That may very well be, but I disagree with any of your theories. Cole is gay, not bisexual, and he‟s not going to stay married, if it comes to that. Get those fucking ideas out of your brain. Christ Almighty, why are the most beautiful people in the world the most insecure?” Max said hotly. “You‟re like all my other models―a needy wreck! Grow some balls, Sloan.” “I‟m not needy,” I protested, although my voice had a pathetic whine to it. “I‟m just defending my relationship. How can that be wrong?” “Well, when you put it that way,” Max grumbled. “Still, you should see this for what it is. Cole‟s need for Noriko is completely self-serving. She‟s an organ donor in a sense, willing to donate her uterus, and two years of her life, to give him the children he so desperately wants. It‟s a business transaction, and money is her motivator, nothing else. She doesn‟t know Cole from the man in the moon, just as you know nothing about her. Why think she has an agenda?” “Who the fuck knows?” I yelled out my frustration. “My gut is telling me something‟s not right. Shouldn‟t I pay attention?” “You‟ll never find out one way or the other if you keep pushing them both away. You‟ll get a lot further by being charming than continuing to be an asshole.” “Fuck off,” I yelled, sprinting away and putting some distance between us. Max stood his ground. After several seconds I stopped running and turned to see what he was doing. He‟d crossed his arms over his chest, waiting patiently. He knew I‟d be back. When I returned, he opened his arms, and I walked into his embrace, letting myself be comforted. “Help me do the right thing, Max.” “I‟m trying, but you keep fighting me.” “Tell me what to do.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “First order of business is to clear your head of this ridiculous assumption that Noriko wants your man. Let‟s put that demon to rest.” “Not until the investigation is over.” “God, you‟re a tenacious shit.” “Maybe so, but I won‟t quit until I know what her true motives are.” “Will you stop being a brat, at least?” “I‟ll try.” “You swear?” “Don‟t plotz!” Max laughed. “You‟re starting to sound like my family.” “What a surprise. I‟ve been around you every day for the last five years.” “Then stop kvetching already,” he said, grinning. “You‟re not the most stoic person in the world, either.” Max cuffed me and I stuck out my tongue. “Don‟t be disrespectful,” he said. “Come on, old man. I‟ll race you to the horses.” “Fucker,” Max called, but I was already gone.

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Vessel Chapter 10

LUNCH was being served when we walked in, and I noticed that Cole

and Noriko were already eating. I stooped to kiss Cole on the cheek. “I‟ve got to wash my hands.” “Come back and join us.” “No problem,” I said, patting Cole on his back. He seemed reassured by my gesture and rewarded me with a sweet smile. Noriko observed us quietly with an expression that was impossible to read. More than anything else, it convinced me that I needed to stop antagonizing her so I could get to know her better. I couldn‟t play this guessing game forever. On my way back from the rest room, I stopped at the buffet table and made myself an enormous salad. I‟d always had a tendency to shy away from the fatty foods, preferring salads to macaroni and cheese, but since the start of my relationship with Cole, I‟d learned the importance of mixing in protein along with the greens and complex carbohydrates. His loving vigilance paid off, and I started gaining weight without realizing it. I was healthier than ever, and my body had filled out quite nicely. My father‟s prediction that I‟d pack on the pounds eventually had finally come to pass. Who knew if it was genetics or Cole‟s interference? Now I could look in the mirror and see Joe Average rather than the underweight beanpole I was used to.

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him.

“I smell horses,” Cole remarked as soon as I sat down beside

“You‟re a veritable bloodhound, shogun. You should rent yourself out to Scotland Yard.” “I‟m just saying, Sloan. Did you go riding?” “Max and I took a couple of Leah‟s horses out for a while. It was great!” “Sounds wonderful,” Cole said wistfully. “Next time you‟ll have to come. Rose won‟t mind.” “Rose?” Noriko interrupted. “That‟s the horse‟s name―the one I rode.” “I see. Cole-san,”—Noriko shifted her gaze—“you are able to do such dangerous things?” “He‟s only blind,” I interjected rudely, “not mentally challenged.” “Sloan,” Cole said disapprovingly. Turning toward Noriko he explained. “We double up. Sloan‟s a good rider and I‟m safe with him.” “Damn right.” Cole reached for my hand and squeezed it, a little too tightly, to my mind. His not-so-subtle way of telling me I needed to cool it, which pissed me off even more. “Do you ride?” I asked Noriko. “Horses, that is.” “No.” “Too bad.” Cole threw his napkin on the table, knocking over a water glass. Noriko was on her feet instantly and sopping up the spill with her napkin. “It‟s alright, Cole-san. I‟ll get you another glass.” “Thank you,” Cole replied. As soon as she left, he turned to me angrily. “I thought we agreed that you were going to be civilized.” “What? I just asked her a fucking question.”

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Vessel “And I‟m telling you that you‟re coming across all wrong.” “Oh, please. I‟m not pussyfooting around that bitch.” “See? It‟s this sort of talk that gets my goat.” “Fine,” I said, sighing dramatically. “I‟ll behave.” Noriko returned and placed a fresh glass within Cole‟s reach. “Is there anything else you need, Cole-san?” “Weren‟t you going to drop the „san‟shit?” “It doesn‟t bother me,” Cole said. “In fact, I rather like it.” “Of course you do,” I said, giving Noriko dagger looks. Her return smile was nothing short of triumphant. Round one went to her. And damn, that fried my ass! I wolfed down my salad, barely tasting it. In between mouthfuls, I watched her eat her sandwich. She was using a fork and knife rather than picking it up with her hands. Her table manners would have made Miss Manners jump with glee; they were so perfect. She knew I was watching her every move, and I wondered if she was for real or acting out some kind of role. “Do you work?” I asked, interrupting her flow. She shook her head, swallowed, and put down her utensils. “No, I‟m too busy at home.” “Doing what?” “My mother is old and needs help.” “Who‟s watching her while you‟re away?” “My grandmother.” “She‟s still alive?” “Yes.” “How old is she?” I was curious. If her mother was too old to care for herself, her grandmother must be ancient. “She‟s in her eighties.” “Yet she‟s able to care for your mother?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “She‟s very healthy.” “Is your mom sick?” “She has Parkinson‟s disease.” “Isn‟t that genetic?” I pounced. “Did you know this, Cole?” “I was aware of her illness, but not the exact nature of the disease. We can test for the gene.” “Sure,” I grumbled. “Throw that into the mix.” “As far as I know, Parkinson‟s is not considered genetic,” Noriko interjected quickly. “Only fifteen percent of cases have a first degree relative with the disease.” “Is that right? How do you know if you fall into that percentile?” “As Cole-san suggested, we would test for the gene mutation that is normally found in familial Parkinson‟s.” “I thought you just said it‟s not genetic.” “It‟s not considered a genetic disease. However, they have discovered a certain gene mutation in people who have other family members that are affected.” “No matter how you gloss over the details, it sounds genetic to me.” “We‟ll test for it,” Noriko said bluntly. “Why are you willing to surrogate? Is it the money?” “The money is important, but the commitment‟s even more.” “Who are you committed to?” “I‟m not at liberty to discuss it.” Huh? “Have you done this before?” “No, Sloan. I have never been with a man.” “You mean you‟ve never been married or been a surrogate?” “I mean I‟ve never had sex.”

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Vessel Cole spat out a mouthful of tea and had a violent coughing fit. His face turned an unhealthy shade of purple, and for a moment I thought he was choking on something. Even Freddie began barking, adding to the confusion. Finally, Cole caught his breath and turned toward Noriko with a look of pure astonishment. “I was not aware that you were a virgin.” “Does it matter?” “I… suppose not, although I would think you‟d want to have your first child with someone you love?” “I am doing this for someone I love.” “I don‟t understand,” Cole replied. “It‟s the Virgin Mary all over again,” I mumbled. Unfortunately Cole heard. “I beg your pardon?” Noriko said, looking at me in confusion. “She‟s either a Buddhist or Shinto,” Cole pointed out. “She has no idea what the hell you‟re talking about, Sloan.” “Gentlemen, I am right here. Please stop referring to me as „she‟.” “I‟m sorry,” Cole apologized. “Noriko, this may change everything.” “Why should it? You needn‟t worry about having to initiate me.” “Who is this person you love who is making you do this?” I asked. “No one is forcing me,” Noriko said, looking at Cole. “I‟m doing this willingly and with open eyes, but I will not discuss it any further.” “Wait a minute,” I argued. “You can‟t throw out such a monumental statement without any further explanation.” Noriko stood abruptly. “I would like to retire for a few hours. Please excuse me,” she said and left our table. I watched her walk up the stairs gracefully, staring straight ahead and never looking back to

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Mickie B. Ashling see if I was observing her. She moved like royalty, with her back as stiff as a board and her head held high. Every bone in my body screamed for answers, but her oblique references to some unknown person only left me with more questions. I‟d have to find out on my own somehow. “Well, ain‟t that a bitch,” I muttered, loud enough for Cole to hear. “It‟s certainly a surprise,” Cole agreed. “I guess she‟ll be the second virgin in history who mothered a child?” “Sloan, I can feel a migraine coming on, and you‟re not helping.” “Come on, shogun. I‟ve got the perfect solution for your pounding head, if you‟ll pardon the pun,” I grinned. “You‟re such a shit sometimes.” “At least I‟m predictable.” “Will you please let it go for now?” I grabbed his hand, drawing him close. “Let‟s take a nap, dear. Everything feels so much better after an orgasm or three.”

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Vessel Chapter 11

I

STOPPED for a second at Max‟s table and whispered in his ear.

“Guess what? Mother Earth is a virgin.” “Seriously?” “I‟ll talk to you later,” I said, feeling Cole tugging on my hand. He knew his way around the house, having been here often enough. As soon as we got in the room, Cole toed off his shoes and was about to climb on top of the comforter when I stopped him. “Let‟s take off our clothes.” “It‟s the middle of the day,” Cole protested. “And your point is?” “Everyone‟s awake and they‟ll hear us.” “It‟s the weekend, and no one downstairs will give a damn what‟s going on up here. Unless you‟re planning on changing from dreamer to screamer, I doubt they‟ll even notice we‟re gone.” Cole lifted his arms and allowed me to tug off his T-shirt and pull down his boxers and jeans, freeing him up for my enjoyment. I helped him onto the bed and tore off my own clothes before slipping between the sheets. We gravitated toward each other, and I held him for several minutes, listening to his thumping heart. “You realize that this new development brings home my theory that she may renege on the contract.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “How?” “She‟s never been married, never had children. How can you predict how she‟s going to react when they put a baby in her arms? I admit that I‟ll never know what it feels like either, but I would think anyone with an iota of feeling will have second thoughts about giving up their firstborn. Or the twins, if you‟re sticking to that scenario.” Cole grunted a response. “Can we not talk about this for at least ten minutes?” “You don‟t have much faith in my staying power, do you? Ten minutes? Come on, you know we can do better than that.” “You talk too much.” I silenced him with an open-mouthed kiss, covering his body with mine and grinding my stiff dick against his corresponding boner. Cole wrapped his legs around my thighs and pushed against me, moaning with pleasure. I peppered his neck with biting kisses, sucking up the soft skin, and tasting the sweetness that was pure Cole. His smell was a combination of soap and aftershave that was unmistakably male. There was nothing feminine about this man despite the fact that his skin was as soft and smooth as a baby‟s ass. He released a shuddering sigh when I moved a little lower, latching on to a brown nub and nipping at the puckered skin growing hard against my lips. There were a few hairs sprouting around the edges, and I tugged at them with my teeth while my hands ran up and down hard flanks that had loosened their hold on my lower body. “Touch me,” he begged, knowing how much it meant to hear him ask. I rolled off and turned him on his side, all the while caressing him as I got into position behind him. I wanted to drive myself into his tight ass and feel him open up, sucking me into the warmth of his body. The lube was conveniently positioned under my pillow, and I slicked up before inserting two fingers into Cole to prepare him as best as possible. “Ready?” He nodded, and I shoved into him forcefully. I pushed past the tight ring of muscle and then held my breath to feel his reaction. He was quivering, and a loud groan

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Vessel rumbled up from deep in his chest. “God, Sloan, you‟re splitting me in half.” “Should I pull out?” “No,” he said emphatically. “Give me a second to adjust.” “I‟m quite happy where I am,” I said, nuzzling Cole. My cock was throbbing with pleasure, encased within his warm body. I slid an arm under his neck, threw my right leg over his hip, and drew him closer, cocooning him in my embrace. My free hand snaked across his stomach and ended up circling his engorged shaft, which was slippery with precum. He made tiny mewling sounds and slowly rutted against me, signaling his readiness. “Fuck me,” he whispered, turning me on even more. I buried my face into his thick hair and began to rock, pushing in and out, gradually increasing my speed, like a piston starting up cold. It didn‟t take but a few minutes to feel his urgency as I shafted his silky organ while I began to pummel him with forceful thrusts. “Sloan,” Cole cried out, seconds before he erupted in my hand. A fountain of warm spunk spilled over as I clutched him and milked him dry. I felt him spasm around my cock, clenching it with muscles that pulsed in time with his rapid heartbeat, and I let myself go, soaring in a forceful rush as he massaged me from the inside out. We ended up falling asleep, entwined and at peace for the moment. When I woke up, Cole was standing by the window in his boxers, combing out wet hair that left drops of water all over his brown shoulders. “Why didn‟t you wake me up?” “I was about to.” “Are we going somewhere?” “I thought we could walk around town and give Noriko a short tour.” “Right.” Noriko… fucking hell! “Give me a minute.”

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WE ENDED up taking Max‟s Land Rover into town and spent several

hours perusing the boutiques and specialty shops. Even though Cole couldn‟t see anything, he was delighted by Noriko‟s obvious enthusiasm as she explored the different stores lining Main Street. She led the way, and we let her choose the shops, following hand in hand as she picked up and discarded candle after candle, looking for a particular scent. Finally, she settled on a purple piece: a lavenderbased candle shaped like a lotus flower. She found it at Willow, a tiny store featuring handcrafted, one-of-a-kind items. “Where are you sending this?” I asked, handing her the tiny package she had wrapped for shipping. “To my mother. She loves candles.” “They don‟t have candles in Japan?” “She doesn‟t get out much.” “I see. Will they deliver it to her front door?” “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Who‟s going to watch her if you and Cole sign a contract?” “If we reach an agreement, I will have the funds to hire someone.” “Is this all about money, Noriko?” “Isn‟t everything?” she said. I stared at her, hoping to see more than what she‟d shared. On the surface she appeared cool and unruffled, but behind the façade lay secrets I could never glean unless she was willing to divulge her motives, an unlikely scenario given our mutual hostility. However, I did catch a whiff of fear so intense it shocked me. Why was she so afraid? And who was making her feel this way? I decided to talk to Max and discuss the logistics of hiring a private detective. Cole had given me permission to investigate on my own, although he probably didn‟t think I‟d carry it this far. Wrong. Noriko posed a severe threat to my relationship, in my opinion, and wild horses couldn‟t stop me from getting to the bottom of her story. There had to be more than met the eye.

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Vessel That evening, after dinner, while Cole and Noriko shared a brandy, I snuck into Max‟s room to enlist his help. He was sitting in front of his oversized computer monitor, browsing through headshots. “What are you doing?” “I‟m looking for the right person.” “For what?” “Harrods and Bergdorf are joining together for a project in late fall, and they want me to pick models who epitomize the British male, or what they believe a true Brit gentleman should look like.” “Why don‟t they just hire Prince Harry?” “That‟s actually the look I‟m hoping for. I‟ve already got several people lined up, including you, but I need a redhead, preferably one without freckles.” “Good luck on that.” “Well, he exists. I just need to find him.” “Speaking of finding, I need a detective.” “Are you serious?” “Can you help me?” “I‟m sure I can come up with a few names. You want someone Japanese, don‟t you? You don‟t want to pay for travel expenses and assorted bullshit. Get someone from over there.” “I want them to speak English.” “Naturally.” “Don‟t say that like I‟m an idiot. I don‟t know what‟s available.” “Leave it to Uncle Max. I‟ll hook you up.” “Thanks.” “No problem, Sloan. How did it go in town earlier?” “Fine, I guess. We‟re both still alive to talk about it.” “How long before you have to give Cole your answer?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Sooner rather than later, so hop on the detective, will ya?” “I said I‟d take care of it. What do you think of this guy?” Max said, pointing at his monitor. “He looks like that actor from Torchwood.” “Captain Jack? I wish.” “What do they wear under those kilts?” “Not a damn thing, if I remember correctly.” “That‟s fucking insane.” “It‟s hot as hell.” “It makes life easier, doesn‟t it?” Max laughed, looking at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “There‟s only one way to find out.” “Will you sample the wares?” Max snorted. “I‟m not a Hollywood producer, beauty. Sleeping with me is not a prerequisite for the job.” “I seem to recall you mentioning that before I ended up in your bed years ago.” “No one twisted your arm.” “Why are we even having this discussion?” “You started it.” “Let me know how it works out with your English hottie.” “I‟ll text you.” “You do that.”

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Vessel Chapter 12

FOR some reason, Cole thought that a weekend of sex and recreation

would erase all my doubts and put us on track for the Immaculate Conception. I was nowhere closer to being comfortable with Noriko or in having to make a decision that would change our lives forever. My gut feeling was that this was a mistake. Not the babies per se, but the methods the Fujiwaras were employing to obtain them. I was sure the decision to marry Noriko would have unforeseen complications. In retrospect, I should have known that Cole‟s family would do something like this. They‟d been shocked when he came out five years ago, but due to more pressing concerns―his imminent blindness―they‟d held their peace. Cole‟s transition from straight to gay had not been without issues, but his reluctant parents followed my father‟s supportive lead after seeing how much I loved and cared for their son. Anything that would help Cole through the worst time of his life was appreciated, and that included putting up with a gay lover. Since the advent of PGD, I felt a subtle shift in Ken and Eileen‟s behavior. I couldn‟t verbalize my concerns because they were so farfetched and groundless. I knew that Cole would laugh at me or get upset and, once again, accuse me of being insecure. Nonetheless, I felt that his parents, Ken in particular, were taking perverse pleasure in seeing me so conflicted.

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Mickie B. Ashling I put all my faith into the detective‟s investigative skills, hoping he would unearth something damaging so that I could convince Cole that Noriko should be replaced by an anonymous surrogate in California. I still believed we could find a better solution, which didn‟t include his marrying the mother of the child. There was no way I‟d agree to it. No way! If he wanted someone Japanese or Eurasian, we‟d find one. After all, the Golden State abounded with people from every corner of the world, and moving out there for nine months was preferable to putting up with a “wife” for two years. Max had found a detective who was willing to do the legwork for a small fortune. I insisted that he text me updates throughout the day. It was a long shot, but I was hoping he‟d uncover something within the month. That was the deadline Cole had given me because it would take that long to prepare Noriko for implantation. The first order of business was deciding where Noriko would live while she was undergoing the initial phase of treatment. Ken and Eileen thought it made more sense for Noriko to live with us, even though I protested that we didn‟t have the room. “We could clear out the study,” Cole suggested. “Move our computers and desks into the living room.” “It‟s a terrible idea.” “We‟ll have to make it work for now. Maybe start looking for a bigger place?” “Hold on,” I said. “You promised we‟d wait.” “For what?” “Several things,” I said, trying to keep my tone of voice on an even keel. Cole, on the other hand, was already frowning, and I could feel the tension radiating out of him. “What are we waiting for, Sloan?” “For one thing, you assured me that nothing would move forward until I was convinced that Noriko was a good fit, and the genetic testing was completed. You also said we‟d wait on the marriage until the pregnancy was firmly established.”

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Vessel “In the meantime, she needs a place to live.” “She can stay at your parents‟ condo.” “How are we ever going to get to know her better if we don‟t have daily contact?” “We‟ll have contact with her every time we go to the fertility clinic.” Cole had insisted that I accompany him and Noriko for the initial visit to the doctor on the Monday after our trip to Montauk. I sat with them, feeling like the proverbial third wheel, while the physician in charge of the case explained what we could expect in the upcoming weeks. Noriko would be given drugs to suppress her own hormones for twenty-one days, inducing a state of artificial short-term menopause with the accompanying side effects like mood swings and hot flashes. Once her hormone levels were reduced, they would begin injections to stimulate her ovaries and egg production. This phase usually lasted around eight to twelve days, depending on how her body reacted. She would be constantly monitored via ultrasound to see if her ovaries were responding to the drugs. Sometimes, the doctor explained, a woman‟s body overreacted, resulting in ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. This could cause a number of symptoms, including abdominal pain, vomiting, nausea, or dehydration. It sounded ghastly, but it was all a part of the process, according to Dr. Frankenstein. I‟d jokingly referred to the physician in charge of Noriko‟s care by that name. He didn‟t seem to object, but Cole was not amused. If the hormone therapy followed its normal course, Noriko‟s ovaries would produce a sufficient number of large follicles so that withdrawal could take place. The eggs would be collected using a fine hollow needle. At this stage, Cole would have to produce his sperm, which would be placed in the Petri dish. And voila! The cells would multiply and grow. Testing for normal growth patterns would occur daily, and as soon as there were enough cells for genetic testing, PGD would begin. Once the tests were complete, and a couple of viable candidates were selected, they would be implanted into Noriko‟s

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Mickie B. Ashling uterus, and the waiting game would begin. Sometimes a pregnancy would go off without a hitch, and other times it would fail, and the entire process would have to be repeated. Why would anyone in their right mind undergo such physical and mental trauma? Even under the best of circumstances, the in vitro process was stressful and invasive. I couldn‟t imagine subjecting myself to the constant examinations, but that was just me. Thank God I was born a man and would never have to endure that sort of thing. Noriko was unfazed by any of the steps, which made me wonder where Cole got the idea that she‟d need our support. She appeared fine without it. “I know I promised that we‟d wait on the marriage until she got pregnant,” Cole said, pulling my mind back to our discussion. “In the interim, someone‟s got to support her emotionally.” “I don‟t see why I have to.” “We owe it to her.” “She‟s being paid to do this, Cole. She owes us, not the other way around.” “I don‟t care. I‟d like to keep an eye on her to make sure she‟s doing well physically. She‟s about to embark on a huge undertaking, Sloan, and I want to be around if she needs me.” “You‟re hellbent on doing this regardless of my feelings, aren‟t you?” “You need to come to terms with the situation, Sloan. You keep hoping I‟ll change my mind, but I‟m not going to.” “Is there nothing I can say to convince you that you might possibly be wrong?” “Unless you can come up with a damn good reason based on fact, rather than your gut instinct, I would say no. I am not changing my mind.” “Your complete disregard of my feelings borders on disrespect.” “Sloan, be reasonable.”

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Vessel “Be reasonable? Cole, you‟re the one who‟s not willing to discuss this rationally.” “You‟ve been negative from the beginning, and I‟m tired of dealing with your attitude.” “Excuse me for wanting to protect my lover and our relationship.” “I think you‟re being selfish and unwilling to compromise.” “This is pointless, Cole. You can‟t admit I might be right. You‟d much prefer to take the leap and hope for the best.” “Is it wrong to want some normalcy?” “What the hell does that mean?” “I‟m tired of being a circus sideshow.” “Sorry?” Cole walked toward me and looked me right in the eye. I was pretty sure his mental picture of me was crystal clear, even if he hadn‟t seen me in over a year. “It‟s ironic how this is all playing out,” he said, startling me as tears swamped his deep blue eyes. “The truth is one of these days you‟ll come to your senses and see me for what I am―an albatross around your neck, your altruistic experiment.” “Cole!” “Do you think I don‟t hear the comments from your peers? I‟m blind, not deaf, but people seem to equate the two things. I‟ve heard them wager on who the lucky candidate is going to be―the one who lures you into his bed when you get bored playing nursemaid.” “Why are you listening to those assholes? They‟re a bunch of meddling queens who like to stir up shit.” “Where there‟s smoke, there‟s fire.” “Bullcrap! Have I ever done or said anything that would come remotely close to cheating? ” “No, but it‟s bound to happen. You were only twenty-three when we hooked up. Far too young to take on so much responsibility, yet you‟ve done amazingly well. You‟ve conquered most of your

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Mickie B. Ashling demons and even some of mine. You‟ve provided me with the stability I needed to transition from sighted to blind. I‟m grateful and very proud of you, Sloan, but I‟m also a realist. One day you‟ll look at me and wonder why the hell you‟re here.” “Cole, I love you very much. I wouldn‟t want to be anywhere else.” “Maybe not this minute, however, I know in my heart that you‟ll leave me one day. Having children will bring me some comfort and take my mind off my lot in life.” “There is nothing wrong with your life,” I said, grabbing both his arms and shaking him in frustration. “Cole! You have a great job and a partner who loves and respects you.” Cole shrugged off my hands and continued softly. “I‟m tired of wondering when it‟s going to happen, Sloan. I just want to be a dad and have a family. I want to be like everyone else. I don‟t want people to feel sorry for me anymore.” I was horrified by Cole‟s statement and the direction this conversation was taking. Years ago, Cole had issues with people‟s perceptions of him as a blind man, but I had thought he‟d finally made peace with it, thanks to his sight counselor and my constant reassurance. Apparently, I was wrong. I could barely articulate my next sentence, I was so taken aback. “People don‟t feel sorry for you, Cole.” “They won‟t when I have a family.” “I thought we were a family?” “A family needs children.” “That‟s not true. And for the record, I want you to know I‟m not against children. It‟s the marriage to Noriko that‟s completely freaking me out. And you‟ve just added another dimension to my fears. I had no idea you doubted my feelings.” Cole snorted. “You were recently voted one of America‟s most beautiful people. Why the fuck would you want to be saddled with my blind ass?”

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Vessel I reached for him, but he stepped away and held out an arm. “Don‟t come any closer. We need to settle this, and I can‟t think straight when we‟re holding each other.” “Cole, don‟t push me away.” His rigid control finally broke as bitter tears began to pour down his cheeks. “You can do so much better than me, Sloan. You‟re too young to be tied down to a man who‟s so fucking needy. You need to be with somebody who can take you places and show you the world.” “You‟re just saying this to justify your decision to marry Noriko.” “No.” “You never doubted me before she showed up. This is just your fucked up way of getting rid of me.” “I wish that were true,” Cole said softly, “At least then I wouldn‟t feel like such an asshole. I keep thinking about the opportunities you‟ve missed since we‟ve been together. The trips you never took, and the invitations you‟ve passed on because I hampered you. I refuse to spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come to your senses. If I have children, I‟ll have something to sustain me when our relationship is over.” “You have zero faith in my feelings for you,” I said, ignoring the tears that poured down my face. “You think you‟re some charity case I‟ve taken on to feel better about myself? Don‟t you know how important you are to me? How I require your love and support as much as you want mine?” “Initially, but things are different now.” “In what way?” “You‟re mentally and physically in a much better place. You don‟t need me anymore.” “I do need you.” “Not really.” “Cole, I can‟t envision a life without you.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Unfortunately, I‟ve been doing nothing else but imagining how I‟d survive without you.” “My God.” “I‟m sorry.” “I‟m going to pack a bag.” “Where are you going?” “To the studio.” “Stay.” “I can‟t, Cole. Will you be okay?” “Noriko will be here shortly.” “Of course,” I said, shaking my head. “You‟ve found the perfect replacement.” Cole lunged and grabbed hold of my waist. I struggled to get away, but he was clinging to me. “Pretend we never had this conversation,” he begged. “Please don‟t go.” “I have to get away from you!” “Can‟t you understand where I‟m coming from?” “You‟re wrong,” I shouted. “Calm down, Sloan.” “Fuck you, Cole! I don‟t know when all these stupid ideas started brewing in your head. You should have said something a long time ago instead of springing this on me so suddenly. No matter what you say to the contrary, I have a feeling your parents have been feeding you a line of crap and using Noriko and the possibility of a family to destroy what we have. I see there‟s more to this than I ever contemplated. The idea of being a part of a traditional relationship is falling on very fertile ground.” “I can‟t deny that I want a family.” “But your idea of a family is a man and a woman, isn‟t it? Why stay in a gay relationship when life could be so much easier as a straight man.”

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Vessel “Sloan, I love you.” “You sure have a strange way of showing it.” “Please,” Cole said, flailing. “I didn‟t mean anything I said. I know you‟ve never cheated. We need to talk before you do anything rash.” I backed away from him, blindsided by my emotions. Everything about our conversation had upset me, especially Cole‟s idea that I would cheat on him or want something else. I knew we‟d never be The Brady Bunch, but I thought he‟d settle for Modern Family. After hearing his prediction that our relationship would go south, I doubted even that would be possible. Everything I‟d held true over the last five years was obliterated by his thoughtless words. “There‟s nothing more you can say, Cole. I think you‟ve made your feelings very clear.” “You‟re taking everything out of context.” “No, I‟m not.” “When will you be back?” “I don‟t know.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 13

I DECIDED to go back to Montauk. To my way of thinking, running away was a better option than sticking around and saying something I‟d regret. Going to the studio wasn‟t the answer, either. Showing up with a bag in hand and no Cole would start a shitstorm of gossip among the models and their minions. A few of the notorious queens would take evil joy in knowing the perfect couple was having problems. We‟d been a source of envy for a long time, and they would be happy to see our little bubble of love burst into a million pieces. I left a message on the company voice mail letting Max know I needed a few days off and where he could reach me in case of an emergency. Cole would have to stew in his own misery. I was too angry and hurt to inform him of my whereabouts. The cleaning service had already swept through the country house, clearing up the weekend debris and leaving everything in perfect order. I threw my bag on the floor in the hallway and headed for the garage. The Jeep was parked in its usual spot, and the keys were dangling from the hook beside the door. Anyone who‟d been Max‟s houseguest knew the car was community property, and I was relieved he hadn‟t changed this familiar routine. Years ago, when I was still in therapy for the cutting, I was advised to seek human contact or lose myself in an activity whenever I felt the need to hurt myself. I‟d resisted the urge so far, but I knew that staying alone in the large house with my dark thoughts could only 92

Vessel lead to one thing, so I decided to get out and go horseback riding. Standing in front of the large closet, where Max kept the extra outfits for anyone in need, I changed quickly into a pair of riding pants and boots. Just thinking about horses and nature lifted my spirits. I‟d been doing a valiant job of pushing back thoughts of Cole and our conversation since I walked out of the apartment, but now they were replaying in my head like a broken CD. How could he think I was so shallow? Hadn‟t he ever heard of the saying “for better or for worse”? Did he think that I was so easily swayed by the people around me? The more I thought about his predictions, the angrier I got. He had absolutely no confidence in my love. Or was this a part of a malicious smear campaign by his parents to frighten him into thinking I would abandon him in the future? Leah was surprised to see me in the middle of the week but happily turned over the reins, knowing that Rose was in good hands. The beautiful chestnut mare whinnied and flicked her tail when she saw me. I handed her a few sugar cubes, murmuring soft words of encouragement as she took them gently from my open palm. At least somebody gave a shit that I was around. I mounted her and headed toward the beach. Soon we were at the water‟s edge, and I dipped my head down to Rose‟s neck and leaned forward, giving her the signal to go. She took off like a Preakness champ. I stopped thinking and acted on pure instinct, enjoying Rose‟s energy. She was in need of release as badly as I was, and we pounded across the bare stretch of land. It was exhilarating. I‟d been wound up and so controlled for the last few years. It was a pleasure to let go and revel in the speed without worrying about repercussions. We‟d stopped doing so much due to Cole‟s limitations; I‟d forgotten how much fun it was to be wild and reckless. The sun beat down on my hatless head, and the wind tore at my shirt and hair, but I was in heaven. Eventually Rose got tired and slowed down. She picked a spot behind the sand dunes that had some greens tempting her. I hopped off and let her nibble while I approached the water with a handful of pebbles I tossed in one by one.

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Mickie B. Ashling What was I going to do? There was no point in talking to Cole again. No amount of reassurance on my part would change his mind. He was positive I‟d walk or look elsewhere. I couldn‟t begin to tell him how often I‟d pushed someone away. And why even mention the temptations I faced on a daily basis? To prove I was faithful? If he didn‟t know that by now, telling him about the men who hurled themselves at me was pointless. And there had been many. Yet I‟d never been tempted, which said a lot about my feelings for Cole. He was my first serious relationship, and I suppose, my first love. He‟d rescued me from myself, and I had been there for him throughout his slide into the dark world of the blind. We were good for each other for a very long time. It was inconceivable that he didn‟t appreciate how great we were together. The man‟s IQ was off the charts, but he wasn‟t using any of his brains right now. He was adrift, aided and abetted by his asshole of a father, who‟d hated me from the start. Instead of reassuring Cole, he was turning him into an empty replica of the strong and decisive man I knew. Feeding him ideas that I was going to cheat, or I was being deprived somehow, was certainly a buzzkill, no matter how you looked at it. I was starting to get angrier. I suppose it was better than feeling sorry for myself, because that was more destructive and usually ended up with me reaching for a blade. I glanced at my watch and saw that I‟d been out almost two hours. Leah would be expecting me back soon, and Rose was probably hungry for more than grass. I hauled myself back on the saddle and let her gallop toward the stables.

ON

THE way home, I stopped at Munch Box, a small restaurant in town, to get an order of fried scallops and oysters to go. It came with a serving of French fries and a small cup of clam chowder. I was starving, and I was pretty sure there was nothing to eat in the SubZero refrigerator. Max‟s cleaning service was nothing but efficient, and they‟d probably thrown out all the weekend leftovers. I‟d worry about dinner later on.

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Vessel When I pulled up to the house, I was surprised to see Max‟s Land Rover parked in front. I hoped he hadn‟t made the trip just to talk to me and give me support. I wanted to deal with this on my own and didn‟t relish the idea of having an audience if I had a meltdown. I parked the Jeep and discarded my boots, making my way into the house in stocking feet. There were voices coming from the great room, and I walked into a meeting in progress. “What‟s going on?” I said, addressing the three men who were huddled around the coffee table. As I got closer, I realized they were examining a shiny display of whips in varying sizes and shapes. “Sorry. Am I interrupting?” Max smiled at me. “You remember Victor, don‟t you, Sloan? And this,” he said, indicating the blond to his right, “is Trent.” I remembered Victor, of course. He was a Dom of Max‟s caliber and one of his best friends. Trent? I tried to recall where I‟d seen him before. He looked vaguely familiar. “Have we met?” He turned icy blue eyes on me and a half-smile that brought out a dimple on his left cheek. As soon as I saw it, I remembered. “We met at the Esquire shoot last fall,” he replied in a deep voice. “You were a brunet at the time,” I pointed out. “I can be anything they want me to be.” “Trent is here for a mini-seminar with Vic,” Max interjected. “I‟m sorry you had to walk in on this, but I didn‟t know you‟d be here. I only listened to my voice mail on the way out of the city, and by then it was too late to turn around.” “Max, don‟t apologize, for God‟s sake. This is your house. I‟ll just take my lunch in the kitchen, and you guys can do your thing.” “You want to join us?” Trent asked. “Why, do you need a guinea pig for Domination 101? No thanks.” Max laughed out loud. “Sloan isn‟t into this lifestyle, Trent.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “What a pity,” he replied, practically burning a hole into my crotch. “Not so much,” I said lightly, picking up my lunch box and heading back toward the kitchen. Great! That‟s all I needed right now. A room full of crazy Doms looking for a submissive. I put thoughts of them aside and plowed into my lunch. I couldn‟t remember the last time I‟d had anything substantial, and although I wasn‟t a big fan of fried food, fresh scallops and oysters were hard to push away. Max strolled into the kitchen when I was halfway through my meal, scrounging around for something to drink. “I‟m sorry to fuck up your seminar.” “You didn‟t fuck up anything, darling. Do you want to tell me why you‟re here?” “Can it wait until they‟re gone?” “They‟re spending the night.” “Oh. Are you expecting more people?” “Jason should be here any minute.” “Is he the whipping post?” “As a matter of fact, he is.” “Could you keep the screaming down to a controlled level?” “Jason‟s the best in the business. He doesn‟t scream.” “Christ! The thought of what your subs endure makes me want to puke.” “Enduring is not a word I‟d use in reference to a sub. They thrive on this, Sloan, believe it or not.” “We‟ve already had this conversation multiple times.” “I know. We‟ll let it go for now. I‟ll make sure you‟re not disturbed.” “Seriously, Max. What are you guys doing?” “Trent has applied for a membership at Wilde, and Vic and I want to make sure he knows what the hell he‟s doing.”

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Vessel “Is he a Dom?” “He says he is.” “When did you become headmaster at Wilde?” It was a private BDSM club in Manhattan. Max had taken me there several years ago, but as far as I knew, he had nothing to do with the management. “When I bought into it last year.” “No kidding? How convenient. Now you don‟t have to look too far when you‟re in need of a sub.” “Unfortunately, the person I want isn‟t available,” Max said, piercing me with his most dominant glare. I bent down and shoved a spoonful of oysters into my mouth. I couldn‟t deal with any of this right now. I knew I was vulnerable after being rejected at home, and the last thing I wanted, or needed, was to get embroiled in another relationship with Max. No, no, no…. “Relax, darling.” I felt Max kiss me on the nape of my neck. “You‟re safe with me.” “Thank you,” I said, still looking down at my food. I wondered what he‟d do after I divulged this latest twist with Cole. He left with three bottles of mineral water. No booze, which I found surprising, but then I remembered he told me once that Doms never performed while intoxicated. It was a big no-no. I tossed the empty box of takeout and rinsed the glass I‟d used. There were stairs in the kitchen that would take me up to my bedroom without having to cross through the great room. I opted for that instead of interrupting what could only be an uncomfortable situation for me. I still didn‟t get the appeal of Max‟s kink and probably never would, so the best thing was to stay away. My phone buzzed, and I saw that it was Cole on caller ID. I debated on whether or not to answer, but ultimately, years of worrying kicked in, and I hit the accept button. “What‟s up?” “Where are you?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Out in Montauk.” “Come home.” “No.” “Please, Sloan. I‟m sorry about the things I said.” “That may be true, but unfortunately the words can‟t be deleted from my memory. Is Noriko there?” “Er… yes.” “Where is she?” “Putting her things away.” “In the study?” “Uh-huh.” “Wasn‟t I clear enough? I don‟t want her in our space.” “I figured you were already pissed off, so what difference did it make?” “The difference is now I‟m beyond pissed off! I‟m fucking enraged, and you can stop calling to try and get me to come home. I won‟t step foot in our apartment until she‟s gone.” “Sloan, please stop fighting me on this.” “I need to go.” “Wait.” I disconnected and threw the phone on the carpet.

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Vessel Chapter 14

I MUST have dozed off, because the next thing I was aware of was someone knocking on the door. There was barely any light filtering in through the slatted windows, and the illuminated hands of the clock on the nightstand confirmed that it was early evening. I‟d been asleep for probably an hour―my only way of escaping an impossible situation. Switching on the lamp, I went to see who was so persistent. I was fully prepared to tell Max to leave me alone, but when I yanked the door open, it was Trent. He was in a black turtleneck, and a pair of distressed jeans that left little to the imagination. I couldn‟t help but notice the respectable bulge since the denim hugged his hips like a girdle. It was quite obvious that he dressed to the right. His hair was a soft blond and about four inches longer than mine. The day-old scruff was several shades darker than his hair, almost brown, which led me to assume he was a natural brunet. However, his blue eyes were the perfect complement to the overall Nordic look. He made a kick-ass blond, and he knew it too. He carried himself with supreme confidence. “Would you like to join us for drinks and dinner?” “Sounds good.” “Where‟s your partner?” “My partner?” “Aren‟t you the one who has the blind boyfriend?” 99

Mickie B. Ashling “You remember?” “I remember everything about you.” I studied him closer and wondered if he was flirting or if he was sincere. “I‟m flattered.” He shrugged. “I was drawn to you when we first met, but everyone, Max included, said you were devoted to your partner and never looked at anyone else. All that did was fire up my curiosity and my interest,” he said, smiling. “Is that right?” “Where is he?” “Cole is at home.” “Are you still together?” “Very much so.” “That‟s too bad.” I laughed. “You don‟t beat around the bush, do you?” “I usually say what I mean and mean what I say.” “Huh… I can tell you‟re a Dom.” “You know about our lifestyle?” “Max and I have been friends for a long time.” “Were you ever his sub?” “Hell no. I‟m nobody‟s boy and definitely not into pain.” “Submission isn‟t all about pain,” he said, looking surprised. “Do you think every sub is a masochist?” “Aren‟t they?” “No. The relationship between a Dom and his sub can be much more subtle than that.” “Maybe you can enlighten me after I‟ve had a few drinks.” “You need to be drunk to talk about BDSM?” I laughed, embarrassed by his frankness. “No, getting drunk isn‟t necessary, but a little loopy helps.”

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Vessel “I can pour any drink with a liberal hand.” “Give me a sec to get ready.” “Should I stay or leave?” “Whatever turns you on.” Trent grinned at me. “That‟s an open-ended statement if I ever heard one.” I stared at that dimple and felt a faint stirring in my groin. For the first time in years, I was paying attention to someone‟s flirting. “Don‟t get excited, Trent. It‟s merely an expression.” “Or not,” he quipped. I gawked when he turned and left the room. What the heck? Did he seriously think he had a chance in hell to get me into his bed? Not only was he wasting his time, he was barking up the wrong tree. Even on the off chance that I might be persuaded to cheat—and truth be told, I was so pissed at Cole right now I figured I may as well commit the crime if I was being punished for it—except Trent‟s brand of loving was like Max‟s and not my cup of tea. My phone was still on the carpet where I‟d thrown it earlier, and when I picked it up, I saw there were six missed calls from Cole. I didn‟t really want to listen to anything he had to say. I wanted this time away from him to make a decision, and hearing him plead would weaken my resolve. I‟d end up back in our apartment and the arguments would start all over again. I‟d hoped that the detective had something to report; it had been a couple of days, but nothing so far. Meanwhile, I was going to dress for dinner and join the men downstairs. Why the hell not? At least I could enjoy the eye candy, if nothing else. There were five of us at the table. I sat to Max‟s right, and Trent was across from me beside Jason, the submissive/guinea pig who‟d come to spend the night. Victor sat opposite Max, who‟d had the food catered by Manucci‟s, an Italian restaurant in town that was open year-round. A lot of the other establishments weren‟t open for business until May, when the official season began. The ravioli, stuffed with Portobello mushrooms, was smothered in a spicy tomato sauce and served with garlic bread and a mixed-green salad. Dessert

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Mickie B. Ashling was tiramisu. We ended up taking our after-dinner drinks into the great room, sitting around the fire Max had started. Although it was late spring, the temperature dropped at night. The fire provided some welcome heat as well as a homey ambiance. The three Doms held brandy snifters in their hands while Jason and I had coffee. I observed this “perfect” submissive, as Max had called him. He was nothing like I expected. I‟d always pictured subs as weak and pathetic creatures, yet this guy exuded strength and virility. “What do you do in real life?” I asked, turning my attention to Jason. “I‟m in law enforcement.” “A cop?” I was surprised. “Something like that.” “You‟re not one of those rent-a-cops who walk up and down the malls, are you?” He glared at me. “Fuck no.” “Oh. Sorry… I just didn‟t think a real cop would be a submissive.” “You can‟t be that naïve.” “What do you mean?” “Being submissive doesn‟t make me weak or any less a man than you.” “Doesn‟t it?” The three Doms laughed at my statement while Jason continued to explain. “The D/s relationship is the perfect exchange of power, but it doesn‟t necessarily mean one man is weak and the other strong. It takes strength to submit. To hand over the power to another individual and trust them to bring you to erotic heights you couldn‟t achieve with anyone else, takes a lot more strength than you know.” “I thought it was all about the pain.” “Many subs get off on physical pain, as do their Doms, but there are those in the world of BDSM who aren‟t interested in receiving or

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Vessel inflicting pain. Some relationships are purely psychological and based on wanting to please one another through discipline, sensation, and withholding of sexual favors until submission has been achieved. BDSM is as varied as the people who participate. The only common ground between players is that it‟s safe and consensual.” “Give me an example of submission that doesn‟t involve pain.” “If you can hold off your orgasm because your Dom demands it, despite doing everything in his power to stimulate you sexually, you are submitting. You‟re handing over your feelings and trusting him with your body. When he allows you to cross that fine line between agony and ecstasy, you submit, and the resulting release is ten times greater than it would be if you had an ordinary sexual encounter.” “It sounds much better when you explain it this way. My brief foray into your world was all about whips and nipple clamps.” “That can be a part of it. Still, I‟ve been in relationships where the most physical restraint has been my Dom‟s voice. Finding the right partnership with someone who enjoys submitting to a strong and dominant personality takes time and patience, but when you find the right combination between two consenting adults who get off on the same thing, it can be amazing. And contrary to popular belief, the power in a D/s relationship is not in the hands of the dominant partner. It‟s the submissive who calls the shots.” “Seriously?” “Yes,” Jason said, nodding. “The submissive sets the limits and decides what can or can‟t be explored. He has the ability to put a stop to anything that pushes him out of his comfort zone. It‟s the Dominant‟s job to stay within those limits until they change. And like most things in life, they evolve and change over time. The Dom, in essence, is a facilitator who creates a setting where a sexual fantasy can be explored. What most people don‟t realize is that he‟s in it to please his submissive as much as the submissive wants to please him. It‟s completely symbiotic.” “You‟re painting a very different picture than the one I know.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “My fault entirely,” Max interjected. “For reasons I won‟t get into, I thought Sloan was into pain. I should have been more perceptive.” “Hey,”—I smiled at Max—“you‟d just met me. How could you have known?” “Sloan, I‟m older and more experienced. I pride myself on being able to find the right combination to make a D/s relationship work. I failed with you.” “Max,” I said, shaking my head. “Let‟s not even go there.” “When was this?” Trent asked. “Five years ago.” “Before you were with Cole?” I nodded. “Hmm….” “What does that mean?” I asked. Trent acted like he could have done better when I knew damn well that it wasn‟t so much Max‟s failure but my love for Cole that prevented us from having any sort of relationship, whips notwithstanding.” “Maybe you should give it another go?” “With you?” I must have looked incredulous because he was defensive and responded almost immediately. “You‟re a submissive, Sloan. You just don‟t know it.” “You know nothing about me.” “I know who you‟ve been with for the last five years. Your partner is an obvious Dominant. He barks and you jump.” “Fuck you, Trent.” “Admit it. He calls the shots. I‟ve seen how you act around him. Hell, I‟ve seen you with Max. You‟re obviously attracted to dominant men.” “I‟ve had enough of this conversation.” I stood abruptly and nodded at Max. “See you in the morning.” I turned and glared at

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Vessel Trent, who continued to stare at me with that frosty, all-knowing look. “You‟re wrong.” Trent smiled slowly. “I don‟t think so.” “Fuck you.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 15

MAX knocked and advanced into the room before I could utter one word. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at me with concern.

“Who does he think he is, anyway?” I snapped, wishing it was Trent so I could punch him in the mouth. you.”

“Trent Hamilton is a compelling Dom who‟s set his eyes on “Screw him!”

“Come here, Sloan,” Max said, taking my hand and drawing me into his embrace. “Let it go, will you? I want you both to get along.” “Why?” I shoved his chest and stepped back. “Why should I put up with his assumptions when he knows nothing about me? Does everyone share his opinion? Do you?” “Relax.” “He just called me a fucking pussy, and I‟m supposed to calm down?” “He did not call you that.” “He may as well have,” I said heatedly. “I am neither Cole‟s doormat nor yours.” “No one said you were.”

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Vessel “He said I was submissive and attracted to dominant men. Isn‟t that a doormat?” “Oh, for God‟s sake. You‟re way too sensitive about this topic.” “Didn‟t he say that, Max?” “Yes.” “Do you agree with him?” “In a way.” “What!” “Come here,” Max wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder and guided me out the door gently. “Where are you taking me?” “You need a drink, or you‟ll never get to sleep. Besides, you still haven‟t told me why you‟re here without Cole.” “Stop changing the subject.” “We‟ll talk about Trent later. What happened at home?” “We had a major fight.” “I guessed as much. About what?” He coaxed me into his bedroom and onto the loveseat. I watched in sullen silence as he poured brandy into the crystal snifters. “What did Cole do?” he asked again as he handed me a drink. I felt it burning a path down my throat. It was so strong it made my eyes water. “Jesus, what is this? Lighter fluid?” “You‟re such a peasant, darling. It‟s Rémy Martin XO.” “I‟m supposed to be impressed? It‟s vile.” “It will relax you.” “Believe me, it‟s going to take more than this,” I said, although my limbs were already feeling heavier. Whatever this stuff was, it was doing the job. “So, tell me already,” Max persisted.

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Mickie B. Ashling “Cole and I got into another discussion about Noriko when he dropped an unexpected bomb on me. He thinks I‟m going to leave him one of these days, so his plan is to have a huge family to sustain him when I walk out the door.” Max raised both eyebrows. “Seriously?” “Yup. He‟s convinced I‟m going to stray because I‟m young and attractive and blah, blah, blah. Cole said I shouldn‟t have to be saddled with his blind ass.” “And here I thought you were the only one with issues.” “I guess we‟re both fucked up,” I said softly. “Max, he‟s been listening to the gossip. Apparently, people have been talking behind my back and wondering how soon I‟ll jump ship. Why can‟t those bitches mind their own business?” “Didn‟t you set him straight?” “I tried, but there‟s no way I can change his mind. Once he gets an idea in his head, he doesn‟t let it go―stubborn motherfucker.” “He‟s always been rather obtuse.” “What do you mean?” “Sloan, he‟s opinionated and demanding.” “Max!” “I‟m being frank, darling. It doesn‟t mean I don‟t like Cole or that he‟s not good for you. But that‟s what he is, and you‟ve been marching to his tune since you met. There‟s a lot of truth to Trent‟s accusation.” “You think I‟m a doormat?” “Will you quit it with the doormat analogy? Being a submissive male has nothing to do with lack of strength or backbone. For your information, Jason is an FBI profiler.” “No shit? It just sounds so weak―submissive―makes me cringe.”

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Vessel “That‟s your perception, but it‟s not real. A submissive takes pleasure in wanting to please his dominant partner without debasing himself. This has nothing to do with who‟s macho and who‟s weak. Get that shit out of your head.” “Why do you people have to put us in a slot, though? A category like top/bottom or Dom/submissive. Why can‟t it be about two guys attracted to each other and making it work?” “Well, that‟s exactly what a D/s relationship is. Two people making it work.” “You‟re oversimplifying,” I said. “That‟s not the way of your world, and you know it. You get off on the domination, inflicting pain, and seeing how far you can push before they break. It‟s how you get high.” “It‟s not a question of breaking anyone or anything. The last thing we want is a broken submissive. In fact, it‟s the worst thing that can happen. It‟s our responsibility to keep our men safe while pushing them to their personal limits. Finding their limit is what makes the pain worthwhile, if they‟re into that. Withholding an orgasm until you feel like you‟re at the edge of an abyss is simply a means to an end.” “And what is that ending?” “It‟s finding a sublime place with one special person―your subspace.” “You‟ve been talking about subspace for years, and I‟ve never experienced it with you. All I can remember is the fucking pain.” “That‟s because I thought that being a cutter meant you were into self-mutilation. I was mistaken, Sloan, and I‟ll always regret it since I‟m pretty sure you‟ll never give me another chance to prove myself.” “Max,” I said, reaching for his hand. “I can‟t risk losing your friendship over this. You‟re too important to me to muck it up with sex.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I hear you, darling. Let me ask you, though, and be honest. Are you attracted to Trent?” “He‟s a jerk.” “Sloan….” “He‟s hot; I‟ll grant you that. But a jerk nonetheless.” “That jerk is going to be in the Brit photo shoot with us.” “I thought you wanted a redhead?” “He‟s willing to dye his hair.” “Oh God.” “What‟s the matter?” “Do you have any idea what he‟ll look like in a kilt?” Max‟s smile was as wicked as every dirty thought I had running through my brain. “I know exactly what he‟ll look like, and it‟s why I asked him to be my Scotsman.” I groaned and covered my face with both hands. “Please, don‟t make me be a part of this shoot.” “Too late. I‟ve already signed the contract and banked your advance.” “You didn‟t even ask me!” “I‟ve never asked you before.” “Max, I can‟t. Not with him.” “You are attracted to him.” “Last time I checked I was still alive.” “Maybe Cole knows something even you don‟t know.” “What? You think I‟m on the verge of jumping into a relationship with a man I hardly know simply because he‟s hot and I‟m unhappy? Give me a fucking break. I‟ve been faithful for five long years. Why do you assume I‟ll break the fast with Trent?”

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Vessel “Because you will,” Max said, nodding. “I hate that it‟s happening, but I‟m not going to do a thing to stop it. You need to figure out what you want out of life, Sloan. Cole‟s theory that you‟re too young to be saddled with so much responsibility isn‟t as preposterous as you make it sound. He‟s been the center of your existence for five years. When was the last time you did anything spontaneous or Sloan-driven?” “When we went horseback riding.” “Christ. Is that it? I admire your dedication, but it‟ll get old unless you‟ve had a chance to spread your wings. Only then can you be absolutely sure that being with Cole and settling down with a family are the right decisions.” “I love him, Max.” “Sloan, I‟m not saying you don‟t. We all know how much you care, but it‟s important that you put yourself first for a change. Ever since we‟ve met, it‟s been about Cole.” “I don‟t want to lose him because I‟m too scared to be a father or deal with some bitch I know nothing about.” “What if you knew everything about her? Would that make it easier?” “I don‟t know.” “Precisely. This situation is more than just deciding if Noriko is the right person to surrogate. It‟s about the rest of your life. You‟re twenty-eight years old with hardly any experience. It‟s time to be a little selfish and think about the things that make you happy. Do you even know what they are? Cole isn‟t going anywhere. I can almost guarantee that he‟ll be right there waiting for you if and when you decide to go back to him. If Trent will get you through the crisis and help you come to an informed decision, then I‟ll step back and let it happen.” “I‟m not into his brand of loving.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Trent‟s nothing like me, darling. I do believe the man has your number.” “Whatever,” I said, standing and effectively putting an end to the discussion. I picked up my cognac and got ready to walk out the door. “Is that fucking detective ever going to get in touch with me?” “As soon as he has something to say.” “Shit!” “Good night, darling.” “Night, Max.”

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I FINISHED the cognac in my room, but I was more wired than ever. I had no clue what I was going to do next. My thoughts kept going back to Max‟s statement that I had to explore other options before I could decide if I wanted to stay home for the rest of my life. A sudden vision of Trent in a kilt, with his hair dyed a deep auburn, flashed in my brain, and I was appalled to feel my cock lifting. Why now and why him of all people? I‟d been surrounded by gorgeous men for the last five years and never been the least bit tempted. Now, all I could think of was Trent‟s bare ass underneath a red and black plaid…. Jeez. I slid off the bed and squeezed my cock into submission. I was not going to whack off to the porn show in my brain. The kitchen and leftovers sounded like a better plan, so I went downstairs, doing my best not to make a racket. There was a small container of ravioli that I threw in the microwave. I was almost finished when my phone chimed, announcing an incoming e-mail. I reached for it, sure that it would be Cole, but it was from Adachitokyo. I opened it, excited to finally hear from the man who was draining my bank account. On the subject line he wrote GEISHA. What the hell was that all about?

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Mickie B. Ashling To: Sloandriscoll From: Adachitokyo My sources have confirmed Noriko Evans is third generation geisha. Grandmother Reiko and mother Hana top earners in Kyoto Gion-Kobu. Hiro Fujiwara on record as Reiko‟s patron from 1941-1946. Is this all you need? No, this was not all I fucking need! Who the hell was Hiro? And how could a geisha possibly be a virgin? Weren‟t they whores in colorful outfits? What the fuck! Ken bought a prostitute to be the mother of his grandchildren? Had he lost his mind? To: Adachitokyo From: Sloandriscoll More details on Noriko please. She claims to be virgin. Is she a full-fledged geisha? Please investigate further. Who is Hiro Fujiwara? I hit send and pushed away the container of food. I‟d lost my appetite big time. Now I was even more convinced that Noriko was nothing but a gold digger and would destroy Cole‟s life. Emotional blackmail was her game, and I‟d be damned if I‟d let it happen. I stood abruptly and knocked over the chair accidentally. It clattered on the tile floor, and I bent to pick it up just as Trent walked in. “What‟s going on?” “Nothing.” “You look pissed.” “Ya think?” “What happened?” “None of your business,” I yelled. “Hey, take it easy.”

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Vessel I stopped fuming long enough to notice that Trent was wearing lounging pants which hung far too low on his hips. Bloody fucking great! His lightly furred chest was chiseled in all the right places, and I couldn‟t help but notice the love trail starting above his navel and disappearing underneath the waistband of his pants. My hard-on returned in full force. “Leave me alone, will you?” “Don‟t get all weirded out.” “I‟m not!” “You‟ve been in a bad mood since dinner. What‟s your deal?” “Didn‟t I tell you to mind your own business?” “Sorry. I was trying to help.” “I don‟t need your kind of help,” I spat out. In retrospect, I‟m amazed he stood there and didn‟t hit me in the jaw. I couldn‟t have been more obnoxious. “Knock on my bedroom door if you want to talk.” “Don‟t hold your breath, buddy.” “We‟re not all bad guys, you know?” “Who‟s „we‟?” “Dominants.” “Oh, please… let‟s not start that shit again.” “Just saying, Sloan. Don‟t knock it if you haven‟t tried it.” He turned those sapphire eyes on me and damn if my cock didn‟t react. My body was responding on a visceral level while my brain kept fighting this attraction that had come out of left field. “I have tried it, Trent. With Max.” “And he‟s the first one to admit he did it wrong,” Trent said, moving toward me very slowly like a lion approaching a trembling gazelle. “Don‟t you think it would be worth another try? Second time‟s the charm.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “What part of „partner‟ don‟t you get? I‟m in a relationship and have absolutely no interest in you or your second chance.” “Why am I getting so many mixed signals?” “What are you talking about?” I said, backing into the refrigerator. I was trapped. When he was close enough, he reached for my face and held it between his hands. I didn‟t realize how large they were until they spanned my entire head. It felt like I was caught in a vice. “Your mouth is saying no, but this,” he whispered, rubbing his groin against mine in slow, torturous moves, “is saying yes.” “Stop it,” I said shakily. It was impossible to hide the erection that was about to stick out of my pants. He licked my mouth, tracing my lips with his tongue very, very slowly. I couldn‟t stop the whimper that escaped my throat. “Please.” “I do love that word,” he said huskily. “Say it again, Sloan.” Pushing him away, I scampered over to the other side of the room, like the aforementioned gazelle. He was going to have to run to catch me. “Stay away, Trent. My body might be reacting, but that‟s a physical thing I can‟t control. My mind, on the other hand, knows better.” “Go on, Sloan. Run and pretend you don‟t feel the attraction. You‟ll be back, and then maybe you‟ll see that I was right all along.” “I‟m so out of here,” I mumbled, leaving him standing there with his boner tenting his pants and his dimple mocking me. I knocked on Max‟s bedroom door and walked in to find the room in complete darkness. “What is it?” I heard him rumbling from somewhere to the right. “I need to talk to you.” “Get in bed.” “What? I don‟t want to get in bed with you.” “I‟m not getting up, so if you want to talk to me, lie down.”

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Vessel I felt my way over to the empty side of the bed, toed off my sneakers, and slid in under the comforter. “This is beyond strange, Max.” “Shut up and tell me what‟s wrong. I need my six hours.” “I can‟t do the Brit shoot.” “Yes, you can, and you will.” “I just had another run-in with Trent.” “So? Deal with it.” “It wasn‟t that kind of run-in.” “Oh?” “Nothing happened.” “But you wish it had, and you‟re freaking out and wanting Uncle Max to fix it. I‟m too old to give hand jobs.” I kicked him in the thigh. “Ouch!” “I don‟t need your hand job, thank you very much. I have my own hand, and it works just fine.” “Like I said,” Max huffed and put his arm over his eyes. “Deal with it.” “You‟re as comforting as a cold compress.” “Damn it, Sloan.” Max sat up and shoved a couple of pillows up against the headboard. “I‟m up and listening. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.” “I don‟t know.” “Well, I do. You‟re horny and Trent‟s driving you nuts.” “Yeah,” I whispered. “How am I going to resist?” Max began to laugh. He was laughing so hard he started to wheeze, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. “What is so bloody hilarious?”

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Mickie B. Ashling Max grabbed me around my neck and hugged me tight. “You have no idea how attractive you are, Sloan. You‟ve developed into a very sexy man and everyone wants to fuck you.” “Shut up.” “The best part about you is you still think you‟re a skinny runt.” “And how‟s that bad?” “It‟s great. You don‟t think the sun rises and sets on your beautiful head, unlike ninety-five percent of the group, who can barely get their egos through the door.” “Not to sound like a broken record, but why is that bad?” “People are attracted to you because, aside from your angelic eyes and lips that look like you‟ve been kissing for hours, you‟re a really nice guy.” “I guess I am. I would rather die than betray Cole.” “This is where you need to separate sex and love. One has nothing to do with the other. You‟re a normal, healthy adult male. You‟re supposed to be perpetually horny.” “I need to get laid on a daily basis.” “I remember those days.” “Well, I‟m used to having it regularly, and in the last few months sex has been very sporadic. I guess it‟s only natural that I‟m attracted to Trent.” “It‟s certainly understandable, Sloan. Trent is very attractive.” “That doesn‟t make it right. Cole would be devastated if he ever found out.” “And who‟s going to tell him?” “Me.” “Honesty isn‟t all it‟s cut out to be. Why would you tell him?” “So he‟d hear it from me and not one of the gossipmongers.” “Are you trying to assuage your guilt or get back at him for bringing Noriko into the mix?”

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Vessel I jumped out of the bed and began to pace. “I don‟t fucking know! And speaking of Noriko, I‟ve heard from the detective. She‟s a whore.” “What do you mean?” “She comes from a long line of geishas.” “It doesn‟t necessarily make her a whore.” “Isn‟t that what they do? They‟re glorified party girls.” “No, it‟s not that simple.” “Whatever. I asked for more info.” “How could she be a virgin, though?” “Beats me.” “Keep me updated, will you?”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 17

TRENT was about to enter his bedroom just as I stepped into the corridor. He looked surprised to see me leaving Max‟s suite. “Don‟t get any ideas,” I said. “If you‟d rather be in his bed than mine, it‟s your choice.” “I wasn‟t in his bed. Well, not really.” Trent laughed and that dimple showed up again, changing his domineering look to something softer and much more attractive. I couldn‟t help but smile back. “We were only talking.” “I‟m not your keeper, Sloan.” “I know.” “Then why explain?” “I didn‟t want you to get the wrong impression.” “Why do you care what I think?” We gravitated toward each other, and when we were a few feet apart, I stopped, almost afraid of getting too close. He was still shirtless, and I couldn‟t help but admire his physique now that I wasn‟t pinned to the refrigerator. Trent was a perfect specimen of manhood. His skin was light bronze, most likely achieved through biweekly sessions on a tanning bed. His chest was well formed, without appearing grotesque, as were his biceps. Models had to be on 120

Vessel the lean side or clothes wouldn‟t hang right, but it didn‟t mean we had to resemble emaciated zombies. Those days were long gone. Now, the public expected their clotheshorses to look more realistic, even if it was an illusion. Male models were encouraged to lift weights and work out, within reason. There was no market for overblown gym bunnies, but a skinny man with hardly any muscle wasn‟t appealing either―trust me, I knew. It had taken years for me to fill out and get to the point where I was comfortable removing my shirt in public. Trent had no qualms running around half-naked. There was nothing shy or withdrawn about him. He exuded confidence, which rang every one of my bells. I suppose if I were honest with myself, I would admit there was a lot of truth to his statement that I was attracted to strong men. The chemistry between us was definitely powerful, and I could feel the tug. Yet, despite Max‟s prediction that I‟d succumb to the blond‟s undeniable magnetism, I resisted. “You look troubled,” Trent said softly. “I hope it‟s nothing I‟ve said.” “I‟ve got a lot on my mind, and your comments didn‟t sit well.” “Does the truth scare you, Sloan?” “How do you know what the truth is when you barely know me?” “Call it instinct. I‟ve been around long enough to know when a guy is a natural submissive. You‟re a perfect example of strength and vulnerability. I would love to show you that there‟s nothing to be ashamed or frightened of. Why don‟t you watch one of our sessions tomorrow?” “Won‟t Jason object?” “Not if I ask.” “Can I think about it?” Trent nodded. “Look, if nothing else, we should be friends. We‟re going to spend a lot of time together on this photo shoot. I don‟t see why it has to be uncomfortable for either one of us.” “Agreed.”

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Mickie B. Ashling He reached for my hand and held it for a minute. It was completely innocent, but I felt the sparks. Five years ago I wouldn‟t have hesitated to drag him into my bedroom, but so much had happened in my life since then. I would never start anything when there were so many loose ends. Not the least of which was my partner, and the man I still loved. What Cole and I shared wasn‟t going to be replaced by Trent and hot sex. I couldn‟t fathom such an idea, but there was no denying I was sorely tempted. And if Trent wasn‟t a mind reader, I‟d eat my socks. He leaned forward and brushed my mouth with a soft kiss. “I‟ll see you tomorrow, okay?” “Okay.” I entered my room and shut the door firmly behind me. I didn‟t turn the lock, certain that he wouldn‟t force himself on me. A small part of me wished he would, taking the decision out of my hands. If he walked through the door, the onus of responsibility would be on him, and I could fool myself into thinking I‟d been coerced. No such luck. I kept hearing the words “consenting adults” and “consensual sex.” It was one thing I had to admire about these dominants, if Trent was anything like Max in that regard. They knew how to control their urges and had the patience of a fucking saint. I brushed my teeth and stripped, climbing into bed with nothing on but my fierce erection. It was torturing me, and I kept my hand away deliberately, willing it to subside, even though I‟d brought a hand towel in the event that it continued to be disobedient. It was a lost cause. My mind‟s eye kept seeing Trent and reliving the scene in the kitchen, feeling the bulge underneath his lounging pants. I flipped over and groaned into my pillow, humping the mattress to release some of my frustration. I imagined Trent straddling my ass and bending down to whisper in my ear. I got goose bumps thinking of his husky voice commanding me to hold my orgasm. “Don’t come until I let you.” Moving the soft down pillow between my hips and the mattress, I thrust against it mindlessly, desperate to get off. The hand towel conveniently soaked up the mess when I finally shot my load. My heart slammed against my chest, and I rolled over and dropped the towel over the side of the bed. Although completely

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Vessel unsatisfying, the orgasm did its job, and I was finally able to relax. A terrible longing for Cole gripped me suddenly. I wondered what he was doing right now. Did he miss me? How was he managing without me? I couldn‟t help but think about the comments that Max and Trent made about me being the “hop to” guy for Cole. I know that early on in our relationship he did call most of the shots, but that was how I wanted it. He had enough on his plate. He didn‟t need a partner who fought him at every turn. In any case, there wasn‟t much to fight about once my issues with cutting had been dealt with. Being in a loving relationship had done more for me than years of therapy and antidepressants. I loved serving Cole. There was a part of me that yearned to be under the guidance of a strong and confident man. It was something that came naturally, and maybe this was what Max meant. Did wanting to please a lover make me a submissive? Was that why I was turned on whenever Cole got domineering? And he was that, without a doubt. He got off on my compliance and willingness to do his bidding. And I liked seeing his confident and forceful side. It was far better than watching him struggle with his insecurities as he adjusted to being blind. Watching him trip on curbs or walk into walls was heartbreaking. If helping him feel whole in the bedroom was the answer to keeping him on an even keel, I was more than happy to oblige. In thinking back, the faster Cole had slid into the world of the sightless, the more aggressive he had become in bed. It was one area where he didn‟t need his eyes to excel. His sense of touch was amplified, as was his hearing and his taste buds. He could reduce me to a quivering and malleable sex partner. Once in a while we‟d role-play. He was the warrior, my shogun, and I was always the slave boy. He had an authentic Japanese suit of armor, and he‟d dress the part, insisting that I wear the simple cotton kimono of a peasant, so he could rip it off my body without worrying about costs. We‟d buy them in bulk from Pier 1 and stash them in the linen closet. Whenever he pulled out the horned helmet, I knew I was in for a night of wild sex.

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Mickie B. Ashling Our games took on many forms. He was adept in the art of knot tying, a skill he‟d acquired as a Boy Scout, but he put it to good use with the silk scarves we also bought by the gross. He‟d tie me up, and I‟d be his captive for the evening while he tortured me with loving kisses and Ben Wa balls, a sensory delight invented by his Japanese brethren. Cole made me do everything when I played the part of a slave. We‟d start out with a ritual bath, and he‟d allow me to soap his entire body and shave his face and groin, continuing the ceremony with a relaxing massage that usually ended with a blowjob. He loved coming on my chest and face, smearing his semen all over me, staking his claim in a primal way. Cole preferred to be on top, constantly complaining about my size, but he would let me fuck him if I begged. He seemed to get off on the pleading, not so much the penetration. Our sex was out-of-this-world intense when we roleplayed, but that‟s all it was. A game. Not a structured lifestyle. Yet, wasn‟t BDSM one big adventure into role-playing? My association with Max had taught me a little bit about his world, although admittedly, not enough to know the subtleties. He‟d shown me the sadistic side, but we‟d never moved beyond that. What Trent was talking about was something completely different, more in keeping with my relationship with Cole. It was eye opening to think I‟d been in a D/s relationship all along without even knowing it. In the last eighteen months, however, things had changed. I was stronger and more assertive while Cole was retreating and not as forceful. The wheel was turning, and maybe this is what was freaking him out. Cole probably felt he was losing control. I hadn‟t even realized it was happening. My career had been climbing steadily, ever since Max had taken me under his wing, and I was at my peak. I had more money than I ever dreamed of, and I looked good, judging by all the men who were constantly trying to lure me into their beds. Cole was aware of my success because he handled our finances. He was privy to everything except for the flirting I put up with on a daily basis. Since I‟d never looked at anyone twice, I didn‟t see the point in upsetting him. I should have known he was keyed in to that part of

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Vessel being in the limelight. Cole was many things, but clueless or naïve weren‟t adjectives I could attach to the man. I decided to watch part of tomorrow‟s training session. For curiosity‟s sake, and also in the hope I might learn something more about myself. Perhaps then I‟d understand Cole better. Who knew? I was pretty desperate at this juncture and willing to try anything. Maybe it would help me come to grips with Cole‟s decision to have kids and dealing with Noriko. Doubtful, but it was worth the attempt.

THE three Doms and their submissive were already downstairs when

I showed up for breakfast. Nobody seemed to care that it was only nine in the morning. They were as eager to get on with this training as I was to watch. Jason was very quiet, most likely preparing himself mentally. I wondered what would make a person crave that kind of pain. The few sessions I‟d had under Max‟s lash only made me cringe. Subspace was as nebulous as the ozone layer. People kept talking about it, but who could see the damn thing? Max and Victor were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but Trent was in full-out leather regalia. His tight black pants were held together with bindings rather than a zipper. Strips of leather decorated with buckles and rivets wrapped around his upper chest, showcasing the well-developed muscles. He looked every bit the Dom, and once again my cock stirred with interest. “Ready?” he asked, practically melting Jason with his imposing presence. “Yes, sir,” Jason said, keeping his head down. We followed Max down the stairs toward his wine cellar. In all the time I‟d known him, I‟d never been underground before. I expected to see a dark and somewhat dirty room, but it was nothing like that. It was a finished basement with wall-to-wall carpeting and knotted pine walls. There was a temperature-controlled area that housed Max‟s small collection of wine, but the rest of the room was a monument to the BDSM lifestyle, complete with a spanking bench, a leather swing, and a St. Andrew‟s cross. I was savvy enough to know

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Mickie B. Ashling the function of each, having experienced them myself, however briefly. “Please, strip,” Trent said, moving past Jason and heading toward a large bureau. He opened it and scanned the different instruments of torture. I turned away from him and observed Jason removing each item of clothing methodically, folding them into a neat pile. When he was completely naked, he knelt, clasped his hands behind his ass, and bent his head. “Very nice,” Trent commented upon turning and seeing his sub. Nice? That was an understatement in my book. Jason had a magnificent body, on par with Michelangelo‟s David of Florence. His thighs were massive, as were his chest and arms. His groin was cleanly shaven, which only emphasized the daunting size of his semierect cock. He was more thick than long, and my brain short-circuited a little bit, imagining the stretch. “What is your safe word, Jason?” “Mulder, sir.” Trent smiled. “X-Files?” Jason‟s blush was rather endearing. “I‟m a big fan.” “What are your hard limits?” “No blood play.” “Soft?” “I‟m not fond of ball gags, but I can deal with it if you insist.” “We can forego that today. Do you have a preference on whips?” “No, sir.” “Good,” Trent said, “because I do.” He hefted a rather scary looking piece of leather that split halfway through the length. Later on I‟d find out this was a tawse, one of the more easily mishandled whips. Trent had chosen the perfect piece of equipment to showcase his skills. Too much force with this particular strap could seriously damage a man and cut right through the layers of muscle. I hoped not

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Vessel to ever see this in my lifetime. Reading about it was bad enough, and Jason was too beautiful to ruin because of an inexperienced hand. “Please, go and stand by the cross.” Trent picked up four leather cuffs and proceeded to attach them to Jason‟s wrists and ankles. He then hooked them onto the clips at the end of the chains on the wooden X-shaped cross. “Do you expect to be fucked at the end of this session?” Trent asked, loud enough for us to hear. “If it pleases you, sir.” Trent caressed Jason‟s ass, rubbing both hands around in circles, squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints. I felt the excitement and saw Jason‟s cock slowly filling out, getting thicker by the second. “Please me by not coming until I allow it,” Trent said, stepping back. “If you do what I ask, I‟ll fuck you.” Trent glanced in my direction to see if I was watching. “If you come beforehand, I‟ll put you in a chastity device for twelve hours. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir.” “Then we‟ll proceed.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 18

IT TOOK ten minutes into the session before Jason showed any signs of discomfort. By then I was shaking, experiencing his pain vicariously. Yet, I continued to observe in fascinated horror. The leather slapped against the vulnerable skin on Jason‟s upper thighs, back, and buttocks, making me cringe. I had yet to see the merits of this horrific form of sexual fulfillment. Trent‟s upper body glistened with sweat, and the muscles in his right arm corded and stood out in relief as he landed the blows, avoiding the same spot each time to prevent any serious injuries. The craziest part of this was seeing Jason‟s erection. The man was totally getting off on the flogging while I was freaking out. I shot a quick glance at Trent‟s groin, and damn if his cock wasn‟t about to burst through the leather bindings used to hold his pants together. He was just as aroused as his sub. Several heartbeats later, Jason began to groan. At first you could barely hear him, but soon he was clamoring for release, begging to come. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, obviously trying to get comfortable. Trent stopped for a second and went up to the man, whispering something in his ear while he rubbed his hand around Jason‟s reddened ass. I saw Jason nod, and his breaths evened out, calmed by whatever Trent was telling him. It was like watching a jockey taming a frightened horse. Whatever he said worked miracles―the moaning ceased, but Jason‟s erection never subsided. Trent slipped a finger down Jason‟s crack and must have inserted it 128

Vessel into his hole because Jason pressed his ass against Trent and groaned. “Please,” he entreated in the most pitiful voice. “Hold on,” Trent commanded. “Submit to me, Jason, and I‟ll let you come.” I had no idea what Trent was talking about. Wasn‟t Jason submitting by allowing himself to be chained, flogged, and imprisoned by his lust? Trent continued to stripe Jason until he sagged, and his head sort of lolled to the right. For a moment I thought he‟d fainted. I moved over to Max quickly. “Is he okay? Maybe we should call an ambulance?” Max held me back. “Don‟t interfere. He‟s in subspace.” “He is?” I watched Trent drop the tawse, grab a lubricated condom from the table close by, and begin to untie his pants. My words of protest died in my mouth when Trent‟s erect cock pushed out, released from its prison. He rolled on the condom, walked over to Jason, and plowed into his ass, without so much as asking. Jason‟s keening set me off, and I almost ejaculated. Watching Trent rock against his submissive was a show in and of itself. The man was fucking hot as hell, and I would have bent over right there and then if he‟d turned his gaze in my direction. I was so horny I scared myself. What was I made of if I was excited by this sort of thing? Was I just kidding myself when I said this was barbaric? The reality was I wanted to be on the receiving end of Trent‟s forceful thrusts. I couldn‟t stay another second. Heading for the stairs, I climbed them swiftly, plucked the keys to the Jeep off the hook in the kitchen, and headed for the garage. My wallet and cell were already in my pocket, so I didn‟t have to backtrack into the house to retrieve anything. On the way to the ocean, I kept seeing Trent‟s ass muscles, clenching and unclenching as he fucked the daylights out of Jason. Shit, I was so horny I hurt. I grabbed my crotch and squeezed, hoping to tame my dick into submission. All it did was make me hornier. When I saw the sign that announced the entrance to the public beach, I turned into the lot, parked the car, and ran toward the water. I found some protection behind a small sand dune, sank to my knees, yanked

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Mickie B. Ashling down my pants, and jerked off violently. I screamed when I shot, impressed by the load I sprayed across the sand like a fucking fire hose. I was so spent I collapsed onto my back, huffing out an embarrassed laugh―I was pretty sure I was certifiably insane. I must have dozed off for a few minutes. When I woke up, I barely had time to form a coherent thought before a seagull swooped down and began pecking at my legs. It felt like a thousand needles were prickling my skin. “Hey,” I barked, shaking my leg and flailing my arms. “Get the fuck off me, you stinking bird!” Did he think I was his next meal? So far this morning had been a total disaster. Just as I was about to get up and head back to the car, my phone buzzed. Great. If it was Cole I wouldn‟t answer, but it was the detective, so it merited a look-see. To: Sloandriscoll From: Adachitokyo Sources confirm Noriko is a purported virgin. Her mizuage was bartered and gained by one Ken Fujiwara recently. The unheard-of amount is the talk of the hanamachi. There has been much speculation on Noriko‟s whereabouts and her future plans. Mother and Grandmother are mum. Should I continue to investigate? To: Adachitokyo From: Sloandriscoll What is a mizuage? I hit send, hoping I‟d hear back immediately. I calculated the time difference between the east coast and Tokyo. They were thirteen hours ahead. It was eleven in the morning my time, so that put them at midnight. I hoped my detective was a night person. And just as I was thinking, this my phone dinged a reply.

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Vessel To: Sloandriscoll From: Adachitokyo Ancient practice of money exchange for support of emerging geisha. Illegal in today‟s Japan but still practiced on the down-low. Person who pays mizuage has full rights to deflower geisha. Deflower? Didn‟t that word go out of style with corsets and horse-drawn carriages? Did Ken purchase Noriko to entice Cole into switching back to his hetero lifestyle? Did he choose her because of her Japanese ancestry and her virginal status? Was this his twisted plan from the beginning? To guilt his son into the marriage, not only to have the Petri dish children, but on the off chance that Cole might actually be interested in Noriko‟s body? None of it made sense, then again, everything did. If Cole felt guilty about robbing Noriko of a future in Japan, he‟d have to keep her regardless of my feelings. I was enraged, yet at the same time, hurt and terrified because I knew Cole. He was in a bad place mentally, and the timing of this transaction couldn‟t have been more perfect. My tears began to fall before I could stop them, and I reached for a seashell, one of the millions that washed up from the depths of the Atlantic, and began scratching a big S into my thigh. My pants were still halfway down my legs, and the bare skin was ripe for cutting. I pressed hard, hoping the skin would break, but all it did was fade to white and then immediately turn bright red. I hadn‟t actually broken the surface, but another swipe of the brittle shell would do the trick. Fortunately, the pain stopped me. I sucked in a ragged breath and tossed the seashell as far away as possible. I stood and yanked up my pants, muttering cuss words the entire time. I was not going to succumb to this dark world again. I‟d come too far and refused to fall back into self-mutilation. I had to be proactive and face my anger and my fears. I decided to go back to Manhattan and confront Cole―no more avoidance or pussyfooting around. We‟d settle this in a major, knockdown-drag-out fight, if necessary, but we‟d have amazing make-up sex and get rid of that bitch once and for all. Let her keep the money Ken paid, and her precious virginity, and get the fuck out of our lives!

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Mickie B. Ashling I had to reassure Cole that I was in this relationship for the long haul. All the gossip and speculation in the fashion world wasn‟t proof that I would stray. He couldn‟t push me away on the assumption that I‟d tire of him. It was wrong in every sense. Sure, I‟d just jerked off to the sight of two men getting it on, but I was only human. It was hot and I got excited. Was that so terribly wrong? I didn‟t fuck Trent, did I? I loved Cole! Driving into the city was a much better option than taking the train. It was quicker, and I needed to get home in a rush. I‟d been gone for three days, and God only knew what havoc Noriko had wrought in our home, not to mention any warped seeds she‟d planted in Cole‟s receptive brain. I left Max a voice mail telling him my plans. Hopefully, he was too preoccupied with his friends and wouldn‟t question my state of mind. I‟d return the car as soon as I settled things with Cole. It was close to four by the time I parked in front of our building and handed the doorman the keys. He‟d find somewhere to stash the car until I could take it back out to Montauk. I was so relieved to be back I didn‟t even notice the subtle changes in the apartment. I would become aware of them at a later time. There was Japanese music in the background when I turned the key and stepped into our foyer. I couldn‟t determine if it was piped in on the sound system or live. I walked into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. Cole was in full-out shogun mode, dressed in his samurai outfit, sans the helmet. He was sitting on the floor listening to Noriko who was strumming some guitar-looking thing and singing to him in Japanese. She was in a kimono, and her hair was swept up in a chignon of sorts, with white flowers and jeweled pins cascading down one side of her face. Freddie lifted his head as soon as he heard me, and I signaled him to stay. Cole hadn‟t moved an inch, too enthralled by the nightingale serenading him, oblivious to my return. Noriko slanted a glance but ignored me and finished her song. When she was done, Cole clapped appreciatively and said something in Japanese that made Noriko smile. She crawled on her knees to his side and kowtowed respectfully at his feet. She looked like a beautiful

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Vessel Japanese doll. If I had a knife, I would have carved out her heart. Instead, I stood there paralyzed, watching this bizarre reenactment unfold. She moved away from Cole long enough to pour tea from the ornate pot that Cole had purchased many years ago. It was an antique and worth hundreds of dollars. Allowing Noriko to use it was another sign that Cole was completely under her spell. She tittered as she poured, touching him on his hand and arm. Finally, she handed him his cup, making a big ceremony of passing it to him, all the while caressing him with her long and ladylike fingers. “I‟m home,” I said, loud enough to wake the dead. “Sloan,” Cole stuttered guilty. “How long have you been standing there?” “Long enough.” “Come and have some tea.” “I need to talk to you.” “Sit down and we can talk over a nice cup of green tea.” “I‟d like to speak to you in private.” “Can‟t it wait?” “No,” I said, not bothering to keep the anger out of my voice. If he didn‟t get up in five seconds, I‟d drag him kicking and screaming. However, he stood up, sparing us both the embarrassment. He turned to Noriko and muttered something in Japanese, which just fried my ass. “It‟s rude to speak in a foreign language when you‟re with someone who can‟t understand.” “Is it? I‟m sorry,” he said. “I was just excusing myself.” “And you couldn‟t say that in English?” “What‟s this all about, Sloan?” Cole said, shutting the bedroom door. “You‟ve been gone for days, and now you walk in here, throwing your weight around and being a total jerk.” “This is my home, and I can act anyway I want.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “We have a guest, and I would hope you‟d be more considerate.” “Your „guest‟ is a paid for, wrapped up present from daddy. Did you know that?” “I knew Noriko was being paid to surrogate. Why are you so surprised?” “Do you know what a mizuage is?” He frowned at me. “Why?” “Ken bid on Noriko‟s, especially for you.” “How do you know?” “Would you like me to read off the e-mail from the Japanese detective?” Fortunately I‟d saved them all to my phone. “What detective?” Cole asked, sounding shocked to hear that word. this.”

“You said I could do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of “I didn‟t say you could invade her privacy.”

“How in fucking else am I supposed to find out anything without hiring someone?” “I don‟t know,” Cole said, raising his voice. “Why don‟t you let it go, Sloan? I‟ve already made up my mind.” “Isn‟t our relationship worth fighting for?” He sighed and turned away, running his fingers through his long hair in frustration. He looked incredibly distinguished in his kamishimo. The exaggerated shoulders of the sleeveless vest worn over his kimono made him look larger than life and more powerful, as well as foreign and unreachable. I felt like I was with a stranger instead of the man I‟d shared a life with for the last five years. I sank down on my knees in front of him. “Turn around, Cole.”

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Vessel He turned and stumbled, almost falling on top of me. “Why are you kneeling?” “So you can tell how desperate I am. Believe me when I say that I‟m committed to our relationship. I will never leave you. Not today or next week or three years down the road. Don‟t make any decisions about children and marriage because all of a sudden you think I‟m going to cheat. I‟m not.” “Sloan,” Cole sighed, sinking down on his knees in front of me. We were now eye to eye. He held my face in his hands and wiped away the tears that were dribbling down my cheek. He kissed me gently and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back his own tears. “I love you passionately,” he said, kissing me once more. “You were the only thing that kept me from losing my mind, a precious gift I‟ve had for a long time. But I need to set you free. I don‟t want you to look at me years down the road and wonder whatever happened to your youth, or wonder about all the opportunities you‟ve pushed away due to your loyalty. We‟ve grown apart in many ways. You‟re healthy and thriving, a success.” Cole‟s voice broke, and he paused to get himself under control. “You don‟t need me for anything.” “That‟s not true,” I said, interrupting him. “I need your love and support.” “You‟ll always have that, but you need to experience everything life has to offer without being hampered by a blind man. We want different things right now. I want a family, children, and yes, a wife who needs me to survive. If I dropped dead, you‟d manage just fine. Noriko will give me what I want, and in exchange I will give her my name, my loyalty, and my respect as the mother of my children. It‟s more than money, Sloan.” “Cole,” I whispered, clutching him fiercely against my chest. “You‟re not straight.” “That‟s the least of it.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Are you willing to settle for a passionless existence for the sake of children? Didn‟t I tell you I was ready to have them if we had a different scenario? Another surrogate you wouldn‟t have to marry?” “Noriko‟s pledged herself to me, and if what you‟re saying is true, and I‟ve paid for her mizuage, it would be the greatest dishonor for me to send her back to Japan. She will lose face and will probably kill herself.” “What about me? Aren‟t you worried that I‟ll go on a cutting spree? Aren‟t my feelings as valid as hers?” “Of course they are, but I know you‟ll be fine, Sloan. You‟re so over that phase of your life.” I pushed him away. “Uh huh.” “You know I‟m right.” “Aren‟t you always?” “You‟ll get over it, and we‟ll go back to being friends.” “You‟re in denial.” “No, I‟m not. When my sons are born, I want you to be their godfather. They‟ll need someone to teach them how to play baseball.” “Aren‟t you afraid I‟ll teach them how to accessorize instead?” “Stop being ridiculous.” “The only one in this room who‟s being ridiculous is you. You‟re pushing away my love because I‟m not needy enough. If that‟s what it takes to make you happy, then go ahead, marry Noriko, and spend the rest of your life pretending. I‟ve got far better things to do.” I left the apartment without saying another word. If I stayed for one more minute, I‟d break down completely. I was not about to give Noriko that satisfaction. Fuck her and her putrid honor.

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Vessel Chapter 19

I DROVE straight to Tribeca. The weed I‟d procured from Tin was hidden away in a drawer, deep in the bowels of Max‟s studio, and it would be my salvation, at least until I‟d sorted out my scrambled brain. Cole‟s words kept repeating in my head. You don’t need me anymore. Was he that self-absorbed? Did I have to be bleeding all over the tiles for him to feel wanted? What kind of relationship did we have if my neediness was the only thing keeping him around? Or were those words simply an excuse to push me out the door? Once again this boiled down to his parents‟ influence, demands, and expectations. I was sick of competing against the “right” thing to do. I was the right thing! None of them were around when he needed them. How could he forget everything we‟d been through? By the time I got to the studio I was shaking. I hadn‟t eaten since breakfast, about eight hours ago, and my blood sugar was at zero. With all the shocks to my system, it was a wonder I could still walk and talk. Instead of stopping in the kitchenette to see what I could scrounge up by way of food, I headed to the utility room, where I‟d stored the weed. It was still in the original baggie Tin had purchased, beside the brand new pack of blades I‟d bought on an impulse. I reached for the blades, holding them in my trembling hands before dropping them back into the brown bag, and tucking it away

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Mickie B. Ashling like some dark secret. Just seeing them reassured me that there was more than one way to escape. If the weed didn‟t do the trick, the blades would. The strong Jamaican hemp threw me for a loop, setting off a crying jag instead of making me feel better. When I was done with my pity party, I headed for the refrigerator and decided I‟d better eat something before I fainted. There were a few boxes of Stouffer‟s in the freezer, and I picked the Tuscan Chicken and nuked it. It helped with the shakes, and I could feel my body sucking up the protein and carbohydrates. As soon as I‟d had my meal, I got sleepy. Lethargy was replacing the nervous tension that had gripped me all day. I moved over to the sofa, stretched out, and fell asleep in minutes.

THE next thing I was aware of was someone shaking my shoulder. I kept swatting the annoying hand away, but it was persistent. “Darling, wake up.” I popped open one eye and saw Max looking down at me with concern. “What are you doing sleeping on my sofa?” Rolling over, I buried my face in the upholstery. “Go away,” I muttered. I could feel the tears starting up again, and I was not going to succumb to another round of weeping. The last thing I wanted was for Max to feel sorry for me. “I‟m not going away, Sloan. You may as well talk to me.” “Shit.” I rose up on my elbows and thought about my response. Whatever I admitted would be the official version, and the talk of the fashion world, so I chose my words very carefully. “It‟s over with Cole.” “What?” I sat up and reached for the toke I‟d left in the ashtray. There was plenty left for another round. Using it as a delaying tactic, I spent an inordinate amount of time lighting and inhaling deeply, all the

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Vessel while aware of Max‟s quiet gaze. Finally, when I felt the hit, I said. “I am officially single and available. Wanna fuck me?” “Jesus, Sloan. What happened?” “He‟s chosen Noriko.” “I don‟t believe it.” “It‟s true. Cole says she needs him more than I do. Personally, I think he‟s having a mid-life crisis.” “It does sound like that, doesn‟t it?” Max commiserated. “Whatever happened to his promise to wait? Didn‟t you tell him you were having her investigated?” “Oh yeah,” I said, “here‟s the latest newsflash from Tokyo. Noriko Evans is a third generation geisha whose precious mizuage was purchased by Ken Fujiwara.” Max frowned. “You can‟t be serious.” “You know what that is?” “Yes, I do,” Max said, nodding. “I thought that part of the geisha world ceased to exist years ago.” “Apparently not,” I snorted. “Her honor would be severely damaged if Cole were to reject her and send her back.” “Your father-in-law is a devious SOB.” “The motherfucker couldn‟t have chosen a better way to mess with Cole‟s head. Unfortunately, I‟m paying the price.” “Would you like me to try and talk some sense into Cole?” “There‟s nothing you can say that hasn‟t been said already. I‟ve assured Cole that he could have the family he wants, without being saddled with a wife, but he has this vision in his head right now, and there‟s not much else I can do. I have to move on, Max, or go insane.” “Come here, Sloan,” Max said gently, reaching for me. “Please don‟t.” I moved farther away. “Don‟t touch me, or I‟ll start crying and never stop. I can‟t do this anymore.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I want to make sure you won‟t go off and do something stupid.” “Like slashing my wrist?” Max shrugged. “You know what I‟m talking about.” “I‟ve been tempted,” I said, biting my lip to keep from breaking down. “But you‟ll be happy to know I‟ve chosen herbal therapy instead.” “I suppose that‟s a better alternative.” “It‟s medicinal and more effective than Prozac.” “I‟m hoping to keep you so busy in the next few weeks you won‟t have time to stew in your misery.” “Good. When do we leave for London?” “Five days.” “Can I stay here until I find something permanent?” that.”

“Of course you can. I have a guest room upstairs. You know “Would you do me a favor?” “I‟d do anything for you,” Max said softly.

My gut twisted upon hearing those words. God, it would be so simple to fall into his arms and let him make it all better, but I knew in my heart that I didn‟t love him the way he hoped. I could feel the sting of tears again. “I can‟t tell you how much it means to hear you say that,” I said, in a voice raw with emotion. me.”

“I know I‟m not the solution, darling, but I‟m here if you need “Thank you, Max.” “What‟s the favor?”

“Would you or one of your minions go to my apartment and pack a bag for me? I refuse to go back there. I can‟t.” “Make a list of what you want, and I‟ll get it later.”

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THE next few days sort of went by in a blur. I was high every waking

moment. Each time I‟d start to come down, the anxiety and sorrow would overwhelm me. I missed my life and my partner so much. It felt like I‟d had a limb amputated, and these phantom pains were killing me. I was fighting a couple of urges. The need to cut myself was paramount and getting stronger and stronger. Despite everything Max said to reassure me, I felt like a loser. I wanted to throw myself at Cole‟s feet and beg, but I knew it wouldn‟t change his mind. Not with his geisha in the next room. I‟ve never hated anyone or anything as much as I hated Noriko. Thank God we were leaving the country. If we stayed another day, there was no telling what I‟d do. The plane ride to London was uneventful. Max insisted that I leave the weed, swearing he‟d find more as soon as we arrived. However, I wasn‟t taking any chances. I rolled a few sticks, wrapped them in Saran so the dogs wouldn‟t sniff them out, and threw them in a pack of Marlboros. I went through security without raising any alarms. So far, I hadn‟t laid eyes on Trent, which was just as well. My mood was terrible, and I wasn‟t fit company for anyone but Max. He was the only one I could tolerate. I didn‟t want the other models to know that Cole and I had broken up because then the gossiping would start. Anyone I looked at would be automatically entered into the contest with me as the ultimate prize. The malicious queens wouldn‟t be able to curtail their wagging tongues with the utter juiciness of the news. We were booked at the Millennium Hotel on Sloane Street in Knightsbridge, where Harrods and a million other high-end shops were located. The photo shoot was expected to take anywhere from five to six days, depending on the weather conditions. One of the shoots would be out in the country at some fakakta castle. I hardly paid attention to anything Max said. I was depressed and getting more lethargic each day. It didn‟t help that I hadn‟t had sex in well over two

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Mickie B. Ashling weeks. To me that was a lifetime, and no amount of wanking would make up for the lack of a warm body in my bed. I was sitting at the small, round table in Max‟s luxury suite, listening to his lecture on my eating habits, which had gone by the wayside since I‟d left home. “You‟ve lost weight, and I don‟t have time to get you refitted. Eat,” he insisted, pushing a plate toward me. “Do I have to?” “You‟re as bad as a five-year-old.” “And you sound like your Aunt Sadie.” “It‟s my Jewish mothering gene,” Max said, smiling at me indulgently. “Come on, Sloan. Try and have something.” “Ack… what is this shit?” “It‟s a light continental breakfast. I wasn‟t sure what you wanted, so I got you an assortment of fruit, sweet rolls, cereal, oatmeal, cheeses, and yogurt. I‟m sure something will appeal.” I picked up an apple and took a bite, followed up by a nibble of cheese. Both tasted like sawdust, but I realized I couldn‟t function without food. I‟d ignored my diet this week, subsisting on coffee and cigarettes, reverting back to my pre-Cole habits, and it was beginning to show. “Have some oatmeal at least. That‟ll stick to your ribs.” I spooned a mouthful of the oats and spat them out immediately. “Yuck. It tastes awful.” Max threw his fork down with a clatter. “Jesus, Sloan. You‟re disgusting! What the hell would you like?” “How about some toast and scrambled eggs.” “There‟s toast right there,” Max said, pointing at the breadbasket. “I‟ll order the eggs. Do you want sausage or bacon on the side?”

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Vessel “I don‟t care.” “You‟d better care. I‟m not putting up with this behavior much longer. It‟s starting to get old.” “Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes. There was a knock on the door, and I stood to see who‟d arrived. It couldn‟t possibly be room service, as Max had just gotten off the phone with them. I yanked the door open and was startled by the sight of Trent Hamilton, my walking wet dream. He‟d dyed his hair, as promised, and the Irish setter auburn brought out the blueness of his eyes. I had to admit this was a lot better than the blond or brunet. He looked good enough to fuck. “Wow,” I said, unable to keep that word from spilling out. “You look fabulous.” “You think so?” He smiled, squeezing out the dimple that always knocked my socks off. “Yup.” I smiled back. “Did you just get in?” “Uh huh. Are you staying in this suite?” “No. I‟m being force-fed by the boss.” “I‟m on the sixth floor,” Trent said. “So am I.” “You all are,” Max interrupted. “I booked ten rooms on that floor.” “We should party,” I joked. “Yeah?” “What you need to do is have breakfast,” Max said sternly. “Get your skinny butt back here and eat.” “He‟s such a mom,” I whined. “Come and sit with us.” Trent grinned and followed me into the room. My mood had improved exponentially, and the lightness in my step mirrored the overall feeling of relief in seeing his handsome face. Suddenly, I was

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Mickie B. Ashling very hungry for more than food. “Do you want some coffee?” I asked, pouring him a cup. He nodded, never taking those blue eyes off my face. “I‟ll take what I can get.”

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Vessel Chapter 20

THE elevator dinged, and Trent and I stepped onto the sixth floor.

Max had practically thrown us out of his suite, telling us he had a thousand things to do before we left for Harrods. Our first day was going to be hectic, trying on outfits at the mammoth store, and then driving off to our photo shoot in another location. Max gave us approximately forty-five minutes to shower and shave, knowing that realistically it would be more like an hour before anyone made an appearance. The hallway was deserted. I knew it would turn chaotic as soon as the models, assistant photographers, and technical staff began their daily preparations, but for now it was peaceful and gave us a chance to talk without worrying about the rumor mill. “You look tired,” he said, caressing me with his eyes. “Don‟t you start.” “I was worried when you ran off the other day. Did my session with Jason frighten you?” “A little bit. Are you a sadist?” “Do you think this is the time and place to have this discussion?” I snorted a nervous laugh. “I guess not.” “Why don‟t we go to your room?” “Tin‟s fast asleep.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Let‟s go,” Trent said, taking my hand and tugging me down the long corridor. His room was several doors away from mine, and he‟d obviously lucked out and didn‟t have to share. I watched him pull out his key card and swipe it. The click releasing the lock was loud in the silence that surrounded us―just as loud as my heartbeat thudding against my chest. I‟d thought about this moment for days, wondering how I‟d react when I finally laid eyes on this man who‟d been invading most of my daydreams. Now that he was here in the flesh, I was nervous as hell. I hadn‟t been with anyone but Cole since we‟d been together. Previous to him my experience was limited. Trent was a seasoned Dom who had his pick of anyone in the scene. His day job wasn‟t monastic either. I was pretty sure he had all kinds of men propositioning him. Why would he be interested in me? I was vanilla personified. He must have sensed my discomfort because he didn‟t touch me when we entered the room. Instead, he picked up the phone and called room service, asking for a pot of tea, two cups, and some strawberries, brown sugar, and sour cream. “That‟s interesting,” I remarked. “I‟ve never had all three in combination.” “Don‟t knock it until you‟ve tried it,” he said. “That seems to be a recurring theme with you,” I joked. I felt marginally more comfortable. At least he didn‟t have that domineering look in his eyes right now. In fact, he looked quite normal—if you can call a stunning six-foot redhead with sapphire-like eyes normal. “Relax, Sloan,” Trent said, “I‟m not planning on torturing you.” “Thank Christ, because I don‟t carry smelling salts.” His laughter was reassuring. “I don‟t wear my Dom hat 24/7.” “Have you ever been in a normal relationship?” “Being dominant is normal for me.” “Whatever happened to down and dirty hot sex?” “That‟s always an option.”

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Vessel “Good to know,” I said, drawn by the glint in his eyes and his mischievous smile. “Where‟s Cole?” Trent asked casually. “We broke up.” I turned away from his gaze and stepped closer to the window. I didn‟t want to expand on the subject; it would just upset me. The ache in my heart was a constant reminder of my loss, even though it had been almost a week since we‟d split. “I‟m sorry to hear that.” “Shit happens.” I leaned my forehead against the windowpane and felt Trent come up behind me. He moved my collar aside, exposing my neck and kissing it lightly. His breath was warm against my skin, and the goose bumps appeared automatically. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, turning me around so we could see each other‟s facial expression. He brushed my quivering lips with his thumb, knowing instinctively that I was swamped with feelings for my former partner. “I‟m a good listener, Sloan.” There was tenderness this morning, and a softer side to Trent I never would have suspected underneath the steely exterior. I sighed. “I‟m so tired of discussing Cole. Kiss me instead.” He dimpled with pleasure. “Works for me,” he said, one second before I felt his mouth cover mine. There was nothing tender about this kiss, though. It was hungry and aggressive, very much what I was expecting from Trent, and he didn‟t disappoint. I moaned with pleasure as his tongue swept through my mouth possessively. He yanked me closer, grinding against me. The bulge in his jeans assured me that he was attracted. We were clearly on the same page, despite my momentary slip into melancholia. “Trent.” I retreated, stepping back to catch a breath. “I want you,” Trent affirmed, hauling me back. He kissed me again, claiming ownership of my mouth. “You drive me crazy,” he said, taking my lower lip in between his teeth and biting gently.

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Mickie B. Ashling “I‟m not exactly immune to your charms,” I muttered, when he finally let me go. I was blindsided by the power that exuded from him in waves. “I‟ve waited a long time for this,” he said huskily. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “We don‟t have much time.” “Please don‟t stop,” I said. His eyes turned a deeper blue when he heard me begging. My tone of voice and the word please acted like some sort of switch for him, because he reached for me again. “I‟m so close,” I whispered, taking his hand and pressing it on my crotch. “Sloan,” he said, giving in and tugging on the zipper. He released my cock in one swift move, and I heard the surprise in his voice as he curled his fingers around my swollen shaft. “What have we here?” he purred. “How come I didn‟t know about this?” “I don‟t advertise,” I said hotly. “You‟re in an industry where people run around naked all the time. This was bound to come up somewhere in a conversation,” he said. “I don‟t do naked.” “If I were as endowed as you, I‟d have no such qualms.” “Not comfortable displaying these bones.” “Oh, baby, there‟s nothing bony about this,” Trent breathed, handling my cock like it was a precious jewel. “I take it you‟re a size queen.” “Never a queen,” Trent said, “but very impressed by your size.” “Show me?” He drew me toward the bed but stopped when we heard a knock on the door. “Motherfucker,” I cussed. “Hold that thought,” he said, giving my dick a slight squeeze.

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Vessel “Ya think?” I turned so the waiter wouldn‟t see the enormous boner jutting out of my pants. I waited impatiently as Trent made small talk and signed the slip. When the guy finally left, I hurled myself at Trent and slammed him up against the wall, kissing him fiercely. “Are we doing this or what?” “Oh, yeah,” he growled, “definitely doing this.” Somehow we ended up on the bed with me on the bottom. Trent held my face between his large hands and plied me with hungry kisses while he rocked back and forth over my cock. He still had his pants on, and the friction from his rough denim against my tender skin was excruciating. “Please,” I said, “take your jeans off.” He managed to unbutton and unzip in record time, shoving his clothes down his thighs while I did the same. We rubbed against each other, slippery from our combined fluids. It was heavenly, and I was on the verge of coming, as was he. “So fucking delicious,” he growled, mashing his erection against mine. He invaded me with his tongue and I opened up for him, sucking on the warm flesh eagerly in perfect rhythm with the back-and-forth motion of our hips. I clutched him and cried out as I spewed warm cum all over him, only seconds before he joined me in a fierce mingling of body fluids. It was hot, messy, and intense, and I was suffused with guilt. Trent collapsed and continued to undulate against me. “That was a lovely appetizer,” he said, kissing the side of my face. My silence cued him into my state of mind immediately. He pushed away and looked into my eyes. “You okay?” “Fine,” I blurted out. Extricating myself, I dressed in record time and headed for the door. “I‟ll see you after I shower.” “Sloan,” Trent called out, “don‟t go!”

I

COULDN‟T stick around for another minute. My reaction to this brief interlude went beyond what was expected. Our passionate

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Mickie B. Ashling moment probably meant nothing to Trent, but it was significant for me. He was the first man I‟d been with since the breakup, and I was not going to burden him with any of my emotional issues. I had to deal with them on my own. I needed some privacy because I was on the verge of another crying jag, and the last thing I wanted was for Trent to witness my pathetic breakdown. Tin was stirring when I walked into our room. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” “It‟s all good,” I mumbled, barreling past him and barricading myself in the bathroom. I stripped quickly, struggling with my pants as they clung to my groin, sticky with conjoined fluids. I turned the shower on full blast, letting the stinging spray pelt my face and back, and then I sank to my knees slowly and began to sob. I couldn‟t stop the tears. The immense sorrow pressed against my chest, and I grieved for the end of a relationship that had sustained me for years. Being with Trent only reinforced the sad truth that my union with Cole was really over. I couldn‟t have been more despondent if Cole had died. The sobs shook my body, and the harsh sounds that escaped from my throat were loud enough to concern Tin. Soon, he was banging on the door and begging me to let him in. I crawled out of the shower stall and unlocked the bathroom door. Tin sat on the floor, took me in his arms, and held me as I continued to cry, all the while crooning French platitudes in a soft voice. His words were reassuring and his tolerant attitude even better. Tin loved me unconditionally and knew every detail of my life―the good, bad, and almost every ugly moment. He had never judged, only supported. “Arrête de pleurer, mon chéri.” “I‟m trying,” I wailed, angry at myself for this humiliating display. “Did Trent hurt you?” “No, nothing like that.” “Then what is it?”

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Vessel “We had sex.” “Aren‟t you the lucky one?” This set off another round of weeping until finally there were no more tears. I exhaled a few more shuddering breaths and let go of Tin. My loss of control was over for the moment. “Sloan, chéri, it‟s not the end of the world.” “I know.” “In terms of a replacement, you couldn‟t have picked a hotter guy.” I barked out a raw laugh. “He‟s gorgeous, isn‟t he?” “He‟s very magnetic.” “Uh huh.” “He has this aura about him.” “Tin, you don‟t need to sell me on this guy. I just came all over him.” “Vraiment?” “Really.” Someone knocked on the bedroom door. “Shit,” I pushed Tin away. “That‟s probably Trent. Hold him off for a minute while I get ready.” “With pleasure.” “I don‟t mean that literally, Tin.” “Possessive already.” “You know I don‟t like to share.” Tin rolled his eyes. “I know.” “Get your continental self out there and charm him with small talk.” “J’y vais.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 21

BY THE time I walked back into Trent‟s room, I was in complete control. A few drops of Bright Eyes were all I needed to wipe out any outward signs of my pity party. Trent was discerning enough not to press for more information. He had showered and shaved as well and was wearing another pair of jeans, black with a black turtleneck. The somber colors complemented his new palette. Before the dye job he was an arresting man. Now, he was drop-dead gorgeous. The auburn intensified the blueness of his eyes and made his fair skin glow. There were a few freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose I‟d never noticed before. They seemed fitting on a redhead and softened his otherwise cool and untouchable appearance. My heart skipped a beat when he cast a discerning look in my direction. “Are you alright?” “Yes,” I said, nodding. “You‟ll make a kick-ass Scotsman.” Trent grinned, dimpling at my compliment. “My father‟s Scottish.” “Is that why Max picked you for the part?” “He doesn‟t know.” “Do you know much about them?” “Who?”

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Vessel “The Scots,” I reminded him. “Aren‟t you paying attention?” “I‟m more interested in finding out why you ran.” “Let it go, okay?” “For now.” He nodded. “We have time for a light snack. Do you want to try the strawberries my way?” “Sure.” Putting a few of the plump strawberries in a bowl, I watched as he sprinkled them with brown sugar and plopped some sour cream over the lot. “Here you go.” I took a bite and was pleasantly surprised. “This is really good.” He smiled. “I would never steer you wrong.” “I‟ll keep that in mind.” Shortly after, we joined the rest of the group on the big red bus Max had rented to cart us back and forth each day. Everyone seemed in high spirits, infecting me with the enthusiasm of being in a new and exciting locale. Traveling was part and parcel of the job, and it had not lost its appeal. Discovering new cities and partaking of local cuisine were some of the perks I loved. I was determined to shake off the dark thoughts that had descended so suddenly. I had to keep reminding myself I was desirable and worthy of the title of one of America‟s fifty most beautiful people. Preventing a spiral into the sick and familiar trap of feeling ugly, inconsequential, and generally unlovable was going to take some effort, but I was resolute in my quest to remain mentally stable. Tin sat beside me on the bus and chattered away while Max and Trent argued over something toward the rear of the vehicle. I glanced at them briefly, wondering what it was about. Max had a scowl on his face, and Trent appeared a little agitated as well. They kept looking my way, and it occurred to me that I was the topic of discussion. Shit! I liked maintaining a low profile around my fellow models, always trying to keep my personal life separate. The last thing I wanted was to be the latest catastrophe in a world that routinely saw models crash

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Mickie B. Ashling and burn. As far as I knew, no one was aware of my breakup with Cole, unless Max had decided to get territorial about me and read Trent the riot act. I hoped he‟d mind his own damn business and leave us alone. Trent and I had enough issues without adding him to the mix. Tin held my hand and gave me a slight squeeze. “This is lovely, isn‟t it?” It was. London was a city in full bloom, shaking off the cold winter chill and slowly coming back to life. The streets were bustling with activity. We were going to stop at Harrods briefly, to pick up our wardrobe, and then proceed to the Kensington Roof Gardens to spend the entire day. Max had rented the place for eight hours, wanting to take advantage of the good weather, knowing it could change on a dime. We‟d been told that May was usually a wetter month than April, and since the sun was shining, we‟d spend it outdoors. The roof gardens were located at 99 Kensington High Street in a department store one hundred feet above street level. It included a Spanish, Tudor, and English woodland garden complete with resident flamingos. It was the perfect solution to Max‟s dilemma of wanting variety in locales without having to travel all over the English and Scottish countryside. The convenience of having everything in one location worked for me. The last thing I wanted was to spend hours in a bus thinking about Cole and wondering what he was doing. It had been almost nine days that we‟d been apart, if you counted the three days I‟d spent in Montauk, and the pangs of separation continued to pull at me. Noriko was probably ripe for harvesting, what with the hormone shots she‟d been receiving, which meant the impending marriage would soon be a reality. If Cole stuck to his original plan. The way things had been going, I doubted he‟d take things slow. He seemed intent on moving forward quickly. Once again I rehashed the entire chain of events since this nightmare began. The only piece to the puzzle I had yet to figure out was Hiro Fujiwara and the emergence of the geisha world. Cole had never mentioned any connection to that ancient tradition. If he had, I

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Vessel certainly would have remembered. And why did Ken never bring up this option in the past? Was it because he knew Cole was antiabortion and would never subject a woman to that trauma, even if she were a paid surrogate? Did the new techniques in genetic testing give Ken the right to demand a grandchild? What the fuck was I missing? I wasn‟t buying into Cole‟s statement that I‟d leave him eventually. That was the dumbest reason in the world to end a relationship. It was like having my balls removed on the off chance that I‟d get testicular cancer. I‟d been shocked into leaving the apartment. My initial reaction of unworthiness had overshadowed my good sense, and instead of standing my ground and fighting, I‟d retreated. If I could just prove to Cole that Ken was using him and that we‟d weather this storm, we could probably go back to the way we were. Of course, I‟d have to admit that Trent and I had an encounter, but considering everything else going on, Cole would probably give me a pass. After all, we didn‟t fuck, and that‟s what counted. I didn‟t need to mention that the idea of fucking Trent was foremost on my mind lately. Being the object of Trent‟s interest was making me a little crazy. I was torn between lust, guilt, and the inexplicable draw of his dominant personality. We were shooting for the fall line, although it was spring, and we‟d just put winter behind us. Fashion magazines were always two seasons ahead, and modeling swimsuits in the dead of winter or fur coats in blistering heat was not uncommon. Since we were featuring British designers, Aquascutum, Burberry, Paul Smith, Alexander McQueen, and Jaeger were the names bandied about this morning as the models put on and removed item after item until choices were made. It was tedious but part of the process. When everyone had their proper attire, we piled back into the bus and headed off to the gardens. By now it was closer to noon and I was starving. Fortunately, there was a restaurant in the building that housed the rooftop garden. It was called Babylon and served standard British fare. Trent approached as soon as he saw me. “Are you up for some lunch?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Yes.” “Sit with me?” “Sure.” We gravitated toward a small table for two, thus avoiding the chance of anyone honing in on our impromptu date, especially Max. “I‟ll have a steak and Guinness,” Trent said, handing the menu back to the waiter. “What will you have, Sloan?” “I‟ll try the bangers.” “Good,” Trent said, reaching for my hand. “You‟ll need something substantial to hold you. We probably won‟t get another chance to eat until late tonight if Max has his way with us.” “He‟s such a slave driver, isn‟t he?” “That‟s why he‟s one of the highest paid photographers in the world.” “I suppose so. What were you arguing about in the bus?” “You.” “Why?” “He told me to back off and leave you alone.” “He‟s jealous.” “I know, but you‟ve been in a relationship with someone else. Why is he getting so possessive?” I shrugged. “He‟d like more, and now that I‟m not with Cole, he thinks he has a chance.” “Does he?” Trent asked, pinning me down with the stare that made my dick react. “Unfortunately not.” “Why is it unfortunate?” “It would be so much simpler to be with him. He cares for me and knows all my deep and dark secrets.”

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Vessel “And yet?” “I don‟t love him that way.” “Did you ever?” “No.” “That‟s a relief.” Trent smiled. “I‟m going to have enough problems getting you to forget Cole. I don‟t need to add another challenge.” “You think you can get me to forget five years of my life?” “I‟m certainly going to try.” “Good luck with that,” I sneered. “Why are you so negative?” He caught me by surprise, and I opened my mouth to deny the charge, but his intense expression made me stop and rethink my response. He looked concerned, not derisive. “It‟s years of conditioning,” I admitted. “I‟m not very secure.” “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I laughed, feeling the heat creep up to my cheeks. I was probably pink with embarrassment. “I don‟t see what the big deal is.” “The big deal is in your eyes. They are the most stunning shade of gray I‟ve ever seen,” Trent said, “and when I look into their depths, I see the most beautiful combination of vulnerability and ferociousness. You bring out every dominant urge to drag you off to my room and ravage every part of you. Imagining your ultimate surrender is enough to keep me hard for hours.” “Here we go again with the whole submittal thing. Why do you feel the need to overpower me?” “Overpowering is the wrong word choice, Sloan. What I‟m looking for is your trust. The day you can hand that over unquestioningly is what keeps me interested in this cat-and-mouse game. ”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Trust is earned, Trent, and I‟m not into games. When I give my heart, it‟s complete and unconditional.” “Yet one more reason I‟m intrigued. What happened this morning? Did I do something wrong?” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You did everything right and I wanted more.” “Then why did you run off?” “Guilt.” “I thought it was over between you and Cole?” “Technically it is.” “But?” “I‟m not convinced that it‟s final. I need to know I‟ve done everything possible to make our relationship work.” “Does that mean you want me to back off?” His stare was riveting, and I couldn‟t help but give him an honest reply. “The truth is I want you as much as you want me. The only thing preventing this is my own conscience.” “They say guilt is the most useless and counterproductive emotion.” “Probably true, but how do you expunge it without undergoing a lobotomy?” “I‟m afraid I don‟t have an answer,” Trent said, smiling. He reached for my hand again and meshed his long fingers with mine. His touch was comfortable, and I felt safe, for some reason. I couldn‟t explain the whys or the wherefores, considering he was a man with a sadistic quirk, but it was present nonetheless. His next words put the nail in the coffin. “I‟d be more than happy to help you through the process.” “I was afraid you‟d say that,” I said, chuckling nervously.

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Vessel “I‟m a very patient man, Sloan, and when I see something I want, I‟m willing to wait for it. „Haste makes waste,‟ my mother always used to say.” “Your mother was a wise woman.” “Indeed.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 22

TRENT and I separated after lunch, each one of us assigned to a

different garden. I drew the Spanish, and he, the Tudor. It would be hours until we saw each other again. By the time we dragged our tired selves onto the bus, we were beat. Don‟t let anyone tell you modeling is a snap. It‟s backbreaking hard work to maintain a pose for as long as necessary to achieve the perfect shot, smiling vacuously into a lens while trying to appear engaged and broodingly mysterious. Since we were modeling coats, they had the foggers going, simulating a common London winter scene. I was hot and sweaty from being overdressed and would have killed for a cool shower. Apparently everyone else felt the same, as it was pretty quiet on the way back to the hotel. Some were even snoozing. “I want everyone ready by eight tomorrow morning,” Max said when we got to the hotel lobby. “I don‟t care what fuck-all you do tonight, so long as you‟re nice and chipper at eight bells. Anyone with a hangover is docked, got it?” There was a general murmuring of yeses, and soon we all dispersed. “Bloody slave driver,” I mumbled, swiping my key card and pushing into my room. Tin was already in the shower. I could hear him singing some French ballad in his loud and off-key baritone. I toed off my shoes and threw myself on the bed, sighing in relief. My back was killing me, and I had the beginnings of a hunger headache. I

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Vessel hadn‟t eaten in at least six hours. It was eight in the evening, and I calculated the time difference between London and New York. Cole might be home from school, it being three in the afternoon, so I took a chance and rang his number. He answered almost immediately. “Sloan, are you alright?” “I‟m fine.” Hearing his voice made me wish I were there. I missed him terribly and couldn‟t believe we‟d let this conflict tear us apart. “How are you doing? Does Freddie miss me?” “We‟re both okay,” Cole said. “Why are you calling?” “I wanted to hear your voice.” There was an awkward pause until Cole said, “That‟s nice.” “How‟s it going with the baby maker?” “She goes in for harvesting tomorrow.” “I thought it was about that time. When will you have any answers?” “They‟ll be removing cells from the developing embryos on the third day, and testing for the RP gene abnormality will proceed immediately after.” “And then?” “If they can get a pair of viable candidates, they‟ll be implanted into Noriko‟s uterus. Then we wait to see if she gets pregnant.” “Cole, who is Hiro Fujiwara?” “My grandfather.” “How come we‟ve never talked about him?” “He died when I was a kid. Why the interest? “Did you know he had a geisha?” “I didn‟t for a long time.” “When did you find out?” “Why are you asking?” Cole said, sounding irritated. “I want to know.” “It‟s no longer relevant.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “It is to me.” “Forget about it, Sloan. The wheels are already in motion, and there‟s no turning back.” “It would help to give me some closure, Cole.” “My father shared my grandfather‟s history shortly after we learned about PGD.” “Why?” “He was bemoaning the fact that finding a likely candidate to surrogate for me would be almost impossible.” “When was this?” Pause. The same awkward, guilty, motherfucking I‟ve-knownabout-this-forever pause! “Answer me, Cole.” “Last year.” “You piece of shit.” “Sloan….” “You and Ken talked about surrogates months before you presented me with the idea?” Silence―complete and devastating. “What do you have to say for yourself?” “You would have tried to prevent this from happening. This is Noriko‟s chance to fulfill her obligation.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Nothing you would understand.” “Try me, Cole. I‟m really more than a pretty face.” “Noriko is repaying her mother‟s debt by helping me have a family.” “Who‟s getting the money?” “Her grandmother.” “I don‟t get it.” “Mieko, her biological grandmother, was a geisha in the same okiya as Reiko, my grandfather‟s special friend.” “You mean his whore.”

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Vessel “Geishas are not whores, Sloan. They don‟t sleep with all their clients.” “Oh, right. They‟re „entertainers,‟” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “They only sleep with their patrons―the ones who‟ve paid for their fucking mizuage!” “What do you know about a mizuage?” “I Googled it!” “Don‟t believe everything you read on the Internet.” “Isn‟t the mizuage a term used for the bidding rights to deflower the geisha-in-training?” “Maybe a long time ago, but not in modern-day Japan. It‟s simply a celebration marking the passing of a maiko, or geisha-intraining, to a full-fledged geisha. Her virginity is not for sale.” “But Noriko herself said she was a virgin.” “What of it? It has nothing to do with being a surrogate.” “Doesn‟t it?” “I knew you wouldn‟t understand,” Cole said, hissing angrily into the phone. “How could you? You‟re not Japanese, and you know nothing about our tradition, honor, and commitment.” “Whoa! Back the fuck up, shogun. You‟re the one who bailed on me, not the other way around. The Japanese did not invent the word honor. I was in our relationship for the long haul. Now, finish your fakakta explanation.” “Mieko got pregnant during the war.” “Noriko‟s grandmother?” Cole let out a loud sigh, exasperated with all the questions. I could just picture him scowling. “Yes,” he said finally. “The man was an unknown American soldier who disappeared as quickly as he arrived on the scene. Reiko took over Mieko‟s support once she could no longer work as a geisha. She did everything she could to keep her best friend in the okiya. When Hana was born, Reiko assumed responsibility for her as well.” “Why couldn‟t Mieko take care of her own child?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “She died in childbirth.” “Oh. That‟s too bad. But wait, Noriko said she had a grandmother?” “She was referring to Reiko, who adopted her mother, Hana. My grandfather supported them for as long as he could, but once the war broke out, communication between Japan and the United States became impossible.” “Ya think? They fucking bombed Pearl Harbor.” “Let‟s not discuss world politics, Sloan.” Frankly, I wanted to hurl the phone across the room and tell Cole to go fuck himself. Still, there was a small part of me that wanted more answers, so I persisted. “What is this supposed debt you‟re talking about?” “Once my grandfather disappeared from the scene, it became very difficult for the women of the kariyukae.” “What‟s that?” “It means the flower and willow world. The services of a traditional geisha were no longer in demand, and the money began to dwindle. Reiko raised Hana, despite the many difficulties of staying afloat in a dying business. When Noriko was born, also out of wedlock, and again by an American flyboy, Reiko supported her as well.” “Let‟s recap, shall we? Noriko comes from a long line of women who had a problem keeping their knees together when it came to American men.” “God, Sloan. Is everything in life a dirty joke?” “No, but it‟s not a fucking soap opera either. Glorifying a cheap and sordid encounter between a soldier and his Japanese plaything is delusional.” “This conversation is over,” Cole said angrily. “Don‟t you dare hang up, you bastard. I deserve the truth for once!” “Calm down.”

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Vessel “The hell I will! So, let me get this straight. Noriko is repaying her mother and her grandmother‟s debts to this Reiko person, your grandfather‟s geisha, by surrogating for you. Is that right? By becoming Noriko‟s patron, your father and you, by default, have bought her loyalty. I guess it‟s far more sensible than asking an American woman, who might actually pose a threat by wanting to have a say in her children‟s lives.” “My family is paying Noriko for her services. She‟ll be able to give back the money owed to Reiko while providing a secure future for two old women who have sacrificed their entire lives for her.” “And what‟s little Ms. Tokyo getting out of this, apart from a rich husband and US citizenship?” “Her freedom. She will no longer have to remain in the okiya.” “The whorehouse?” “Goddamn you, Sloan!” “Just answer me one thing, Cole.” “What!” “Have you collected on her mizuage? After all, it‟s been handed to you on a silver platter. Have you fucked her yet?” The seconds ticked by, and after ten with no reply, I disconnected and hurled my phone against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces.

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 23

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RAGE erupted, a five-alarm inferno, scorching any hope for reconciliation. I wanted to hop on a plane to New York and strangle Cole with my bare hands. This betrayal was finite and irrevocable. I knew there would be no way to repair the damage. My psyche stumbled back down into the black hole of insecurity and started playing its old refrains. I was worthless, a loser, unable to keep my man or sustain a relationship. The thought of drugs crossed my mind, but I knew they weren‟t going to put a stop to the inevitable. The demon was pulling me toward the bathroom, and I began to shake from the effort of holding back the need. I envisioned the fancy shaving kit sitting beside the lovely white porcelain mug. It was an old-fashioned straight razor that flipped open like a pocketknife, very Sweeney Todd and so fucking handy. Tin took one look at my face and the pieces of my iPhone scattered all over the carpet and knew I was in trouble. “What happened?” “Cole‟s getting it on with Sailor Moon.” “Quoi?” “That Japanese bitch! I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her.” “Oh, chéri, do you need some X?” “No. I want you to get dressed and get out!”

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Vessel “I‟m not going anywhere.” I leaped off the bed and threw some clothes at him. “Get dressed now, or I’m walking out of this room. I‟m sure I can get into all sorts of mischief in this bloody town.” “I‟m dressing,” Tin said, pouting, “but I‟m going to get Max. You mustn‟t be alone.” “Do not get Max,” I said adamantly. “Do you understand?” Tin flailed his hands around like a windmill. “Honestly, Sloan. You need to get over Cole. He‟s doing you a favor by showing his true colors. The man has issues that have nothing to do with his lack of eyesight. Merde!” Sinking back down on the bed, I placed my elbows on my thighs and buried my face in my hands. I couldn‟t bear to have Tin witness my humiliation. “Get the fuck out, Tin. Please.” “Je pars!” He left in a huff, slamming the door behind him. I stayed in the same position for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. It didn‟t help that I was lightheaded from hunger, and my head was pounding due to the spike of adrenaline rushing through me during the emotional phone call. All triggers I‟d been told to avoid. How could he? I could forgive Cole anything but this. It boiled down to making me feel like I‟d been his second choice. If he‟d had the PGD option five years ago, would he have come out? I was starting to think that the only reason he‟d chosen me was because I was the only one who didn‟t mollycoddle him or treat him like an invalid. In my eyes, Cole had always been a strong and decisive man despite his disability. I was also physically drawn to him from the first night I moved into the apartment. Sadly, my feelings for him weren‟t mutual. How could they be if he could easily move from my bed to hers? Were the last five years a big lie? Suddenly, nothing was what it seemed, and I was floundering in a sea of doubt. Releasing a shuddering breath, I stood and began to strip. No sense in fighting this any longer. I knew what the bottom line was

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Mickie B. Ashling going to be, and it wasn‟t going to be tears. There would be no more crying over Cole Fujiwara. The bathroom beckoned, and I took the first step down my slide into hell. It was several degrees cooler in the tiled room, and it felt good against my hot skin. I reached for the white mug with the hotel logo and stared at the shaving paraphernalia for a long time. The razor had a red handle and was sealed in a plastic bag with an orange tag, indicating it had been sterilized. Now, wasn‟t that fucking convenient? No worries about disease… just exsanguination. I took my time tearing off the plastic, secretly hoping that the prep work would halt my progress. It didn‟t. I tossed the wrapper into the trashcan, and then I stepped into the shower enclosure and sat down with my legs sticking straight out. I‟d left my boxers on for some reason. Turning the blade over, I studied it to make sure it had only a single edge. It had been a long time since I‟d resorted to this form of pain management, and I hesitated. My hands were shaking. Did I really want to do this? Was this the answer? It had never solved anything in the past. Unconsciously, I picked a safer route, turning the sharp side away from my body. I drew a deep line into my thigh with the dull edge. Soon, a light welt appeared with a few pinpricks of blood weeping through. It hurt like hell, but it accomplished the shift from internal to external pain. I was no longer entombed in a black box of nothingness. At least, these self-inflicted wounds were real and made me feel alive. I pressed the dull edge to my skin again, and once more after that. Before I knew it, I had at least ten lines on my right thigh. I was so engrossed in my task that I didn‟t hear the bathroom door opening or the soft expletive escaping from Trent‟s mouth. He bent down, took the blade out of my hand, and tossed it away. “Come with me,” he said, encircling my waist and lifting me up easily. He helped me step over the lip of the glass enclosure and moved me into the bedroom. I was unaware of anything but the soft voice telling me it would be okay. Once we got into the bedroom, Trent inspected my thigh, and when he was satisfied that I wouldn‟t need any medical attention, he tucked me into bed. But not before he

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Vessel poured half a bottle of Listerine on my wounds. I gasped in shock, agonizing from the biting sting of the alcohol in the mouthwash. “I‟m sorry,” he said, kissing me softly on the mouth. “It‟s necessary.” “Go away.” “No.” I turned away from him but not before I noticed he was only in boxers and a T-shirt. “How‟d you get in here?” “Tin was frantic with worry; he gave me his key.” “Fucking queen.” “He‟s a good friend.” “Whatever.” Trent slipped into bed with me and gathered me close. I fought him and tried to escape. I didn‟t want to listen to any advice or catch one whiff of pity, but he held on, imprisoning me within his muscular arms and legs. They wrapped around me like a silk rope, and I was bound to him. “Don‟t fight me, Sloan.” “I don‟t need your fucking help.” “Yes, you do.” He continued to restrain me while I struggled to get free, but finally, I gave up and relaxed enough for him to loosen his grip slightly. “Is this incident something I should except on a regular basis?” he asked, murmuring softly against my ear. “I‟m not your problem.” “What if I want you to be?” “Why the fuck would you want me? I‟m a pathetic loser!” “I see.” “You don‟t see shit. Would you please get out of my room?” “No.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I‟ll call management.” “You do that and they‟ll get Max.” “Fuck!” I began to struggle again, but all it did was make him latch on that much tighter. I was his prisoner. “You‟re stuck with me for now,” Trent said calmly. “Why don‟t we order some food? There‟s nothing like a hot meal to make you feel better.” “I‟m not hungry.” “I don‟t care. You‟re eating.” “Why does everyone have this need to shove food down my throat?” Trent kissed the top of my head and picked up the phone on the nightstand. He ordered tomato soup, a large salad of mixed greens we could share, and grilled cheese sandwiches―comfort food. It didn‟t take very long for our meal to arrive, and after the waiter set up the rollaway table, placing everything on the white linen, Trent coaxed me into joining him. He found a sweatshirt and insisted that I wear it because I was still shivering. I‟m sure it had to do with my low sugar level rather than the cutting. In terms of my history, tonight‟s incident was relatively mild. I hadn‟t actually cut my skin, but I knew it was only a question of time before I plunged headfirst into that sick world again. Yet one more reason to hate myself. I sat and watched Trent pick up his spoon. “Eat,” he said, pinning me down with a forceful stare. “What if I say no?” “Can you honestly say you‟re not hungry?” I began to eat without another word. Little by little my appetite opened up, and soon I was shoveling in the soup and reaching for half a sandwich, which was still warm and oozing melted cheese. It was delicious, and I practically inhaled both halves. When we finished, Trent stood and went to the bathroom. I heard running water and the toilet flush, and he was back out in a few minutes. Now that I had

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Vessel something in my system, I was able to study my unexpected savior calmly. His T-shirt was white and boring, his boxers were navy-blue cotton and nothing out of the ordinary, yet he carried himself with so much confidence one tended to overlook the mundane. All I could see was that special something he exuded, and I was, once again, captivated by his presence. “Would you like a cigarette?” “You don‟t mind? Cole hated it when I smoked.” He leveled me with a look that clearly said I’m not Cole, and don’t compare us. “I wouldn‟t ask if it bothered me.” “Sorry.” “Don‟t apologize. I‟ll go and get them.” He exited without another word, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I inspected my leg. It wasn‟t as bad as I thought, although it hurt, and I knew I‟d be feeling the burn for a few days. It looked like I‟d been scratched by a wildcat, but the wounds were superficial and would heal without scaring. My main concern at this point was keeping Max in the dark. He would go insane if he found out I was cutting again. I heard the door, and I knew Trent was back. He passed me a lit cigarette and then lit one for himself. He got back in bed and patted the spot to his right. “Come sit with me.” “Tin should be returning any minute.” “He‟s in my room. I asked him to switch with me for the night.” “Why?” “I don‟t think you should be alone right now.” “I‟m fine,” I said, climbing into the bed and pulling up the sheet to cover myself. Trent ignored me and continued to smoke. Finally, when he was done, he put the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray and viewed me dispassionately. “How long have you been a cutter?” “I‟d prefer not to discuss it.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “This is why Max assumed you were a pain slut?” “Yes.” “But you‟re really not.” “No.” “Are we going to move beyond monosyllables?” “Maybe.” Trent regarded me with eyes that were patient but uncompromising. I knew he wasn‟t going to budge. He took the cigarette out of my hand and extinguished it. “When was the last time you had an incident?” “Five years ago.” “What set you off tonight?” “Cole.” “You shouldn‟t let one person have so much power over you.” “That‟s a strange comment, coming from you.” “Sharing power and surrendering during a sexual encounter are a far cry from being manipulated. What did he say to upset you so much?” “Cole doesn‟t manipulate me.” “Is that right? What set you off, Sloan?” “It‟s a long story.” “I‟ve got all night.” “He slept with a woman.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He‟s bisexual?” “It‟s complicated.” “Most things in life are. Why don‟t you tell me what‟s going on? I‟m sure you‟ll feel a lot better getting it off your chest.” “There‟s nothing you can do about it.” “I didn‟t say I‟d fix it.”

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Vessel “Then why should I burden you?” “Because I‟m interested and I care.” “Look, I‟ll fuck you if that‟s what you‟re after.” The anger flared in his blue eyes, turning them dark and smoky. Trent‟s placid demeanor was momentarily derailed, but he got himself under control. “Do you think I‟m only here for the sex?” “Aren‟t you?” “There are lots of men out there without half your baggage.” “Why waste your time with me, then?” “If I‟m here, it‟s because I choose to be. I don‟t let circumstances rule my life. You, on the other hand, appear to be rudderless. You‟re like a small boat floating on a sea of doubt. So the question isn‟t whether I‟m wasting my time, Sloan. The big question is: Are you worth the bother?” “What?” “Are you man enough to come to grips with who you are and move on?”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 24

“AM I man enough?” I repeated, feeling my anger building once

more. How dare he presume I was weak? “Who the hell are you calling a coward?” I said, pushing Trent away. He clung to me like stubborn ivy, which pissed me off even more. I began to twist and turn, trying to escape his iron grip, but the more I wiggled, the harder he held on. “Let go of me, you bastard.” “Settle down.” “That‟ll only happen if you get the hell out of my room.” “No,” he said, straddling me in one swift move. He held my wrists and stretched my arms high above my head, pinning me to the mattress. “You need to listen.” “Fuck that,” I spat out, turning away so I couldn‟t see his face. “Look at me, Sloan.” “No.” “I have all night,” Trent growled, tightening his grip. In a burst of energy I was able to get my hands free, and I flailed at his chest and shoulders, slapping at the hard muscles, hoping he‟d relent. He growled his displeasure and yanked off my sweatshirt. Ripping it in half, he tied my hands together without even breaking a sweat. It happened so fast I was too surprised to do anything but yell. “Untie me, you asshole!”

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Vessel “Not until you behave,” he said, checking his handiwork to make sure the binding wasn‟t too tight. My wrists were crossed over each other, but my fingers were able to wiggle freely. “I‟ll kill you when I get loose.” Trent chuckled, amused by my feeble attempt to intimidate him. He was quite satisfied that I wasn‟t going anywhere. “You listen to me, Sloan.” “Up yours.” “Cole doesn‟t deserve you.” “Shut up! Don‟t even mention his name.” “You‟re worth more than you know.” “And you are not my master!” “Someone has to knock some sense into you.” “Well, it sure as fuck won‟t be you.” “Won‟t it?” he teased. I was drawn by the timbre of his deep voice and finally stared into his eyes. They radiated authority. I whimpered without even realizing it. There was something so magnetic about Trent that my fury morphed into a violent need to be fucked and taken forcefully. I could tell he was just as affected by my resistance because his boxers were tenting in front of him, and there was a wet spot slowly blooming before my eyes. I bucked, making one last attempt to break free, but all it did was make me hornier, and my cock pressed against the soft cotton of my boxer briefs, a sight that did not escape my captor‟s notice. He grinned savagely. “You like this, don‟t you?” “Get off me.” “You want this,” he said, seconds before he kissed me roughly. His mouth took immediate possession, forcing mine open. I reacted instinctively, meeting his aggressive tongue with my own, and he began sucking on it, sending lightning bolts straight to my groin. I was as hard as steel but unwilling to give in. Trent pulled away for a

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Mickie B. Ashling second and stared into my eyes. “You‟re looking for someone to take this decision out of your hands.” “Fuck you!” I raised my knees and lifted my hips, bracing my feet against the mattress to get better leverage. I was intent on shaking him off, but it made him more determined. His thighs gripped my hips and he hung on, riding me like I was a mechanical bull. No matter how high I bucked, he never loosened his grip, and his very noticeable erection smashed into mine, creating unbearable friction. “Stop!” In truth, I wanted him to keep on moving. “I won‟t stop until I hear you screaming my name.” “Oh God.” He began to suck on the soft skin behind my ear, murmuring obscenities the entire time. “I‟m going to fuck you,” he breathed, moving to my earlobe and taking the tender skin between his teeth and biting gently. “I going to eat you out, and when you start to scream, I‟m going to stuff my cock up that tight ass and fill you with my cum… you‟d like that, wouldn‟t you?” My immediate response to deny his accusation died in my throat as he let go of my arms and flipped me over like a pancake. He tore off my boxers, easily laying me bare, and despite my halfhearted attempts to protest, I lifted my hips and spread my legs, giving him complete access. He buried his tongue in my ass, and I screamed, “Trent!” I heard him chuckle before he began to tongue my crack, twirling through every crease and crevice, slobbering wet heat all over my balls. He was doing an admirable job of slicking me up with his saliva, which was just as well since there were no condoms or lube in sight. I assumed this was happening without them. For a split second I worried about disease, but my lust overcame my good sense. I should have known that Trent wasn‟t that reckless. He continued to rim me until my erection was unbearable. “Fuck me,” I begged, rutting back and forth against his unrelenting mouth. He was wreaking havoc on my determination to remain aloof and unengaged. It was a losing battle, and soon I began whining pitifully, driving him a little crazier.

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Vessel His clutched at my hips so forcefully they hurt, but not enough for me to ask him to stop. I wanted this to happen. I needed to be pounded into the mattress by this dominant man who wanted me as desperately as I wanted him. Begging seemed to spur him on, and I could beg with the best of them. “Please,” I moaned. Trent pushed me away abruptly and sat up on his heels. I glanced over my shoulder, horrified that he‟d stopped. “What‟s the matter?” He leered at me, unable to mask the look of sheer triumph. His lips were wet with saliva, and he rubbed them clean with the back of his hand. “Get on your back,” he ordered. I rolled over slowly, never taking my eyes off him. My hands were still imprisoned and resting on my stomach, inches away from my cock, which lay within reach. Trent followed my every move with a ravenous stare, zeroing in on my fully distended cock, which oozed precum, making the bulbous head glisten appetizingly. Trent finally tore his eyes away and pinned my face between his knees. “Suck me,” he commanded. “Show me what you can do, boy.” I was too horny to pay attention to the use of his term “boy,” which would have sent me into orbit under normal circumstances. However, there was nothing normal about what was happening between us. I didn‟t understand any of it, but getting off was paramount, and the reasons would have to wait. Trent could have called me much worse at this point, but if proving my worth as a cocksucker was all it took to get him to fuck me, I was more than happy to comply. I opened up, relishing the feel of his smooth organ as he slid in, filling my mouth. His loud moan was enough encouragement, and I began sucking on him without another thought. Everything cleared out of my head, except for the urgent need to pleasure him. I wanted to send him on an erotic journey, proving to him that I was worthy of his time and effort. All thoughts of resisting were gone.

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Mickie B. Ashling I slid my tongue around his cockhead, sucking up the clear fluid like it was nectar. I was starved for this, and he tasted so good. It had been too many weeks of celibacy, and I was on the fringe of coming before he withdrew unceremoniously. “Don‟t go,” I whimpered, missing him already. “I‟m not going anywhere,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are about to fly over the moon.” “Trent.” He slid down my body, stopping at my cock to admire it once more. Holding it firmly with one hand, he said, “You‟re hung like a fucking bull.” “Get over it,” I snarled, making him laugh. He took me in his mouth and destroyed me with his tongue. I had no idea if it was kosher in the BDSM world to have a Dom dispense a blowjob, but this one sure as hell knew what he was doing. I was on the verge of coming, and I drew back, attempting to pull out. “Trent, I‟m so close.” “No worries,” he said, engulfing me again. He slid a finger into my asshole at the same time, probing around until he found the little treasure that, when poked, made me scream. I erupted, flooding him with my warm spunk. He continued to suck me until I made him stop. Pulling away, he parted my thighs, and spat a mouthful of cum around my asshole. Down and dirty was the order of business tonight, and Trent used my own fluids to ease his path. He positioned his cock, rubbing it around my puckered skin until he was sure it was slick enough to breach without tearing. He rocked into me, moving beyond the tight ring until he was buried deep in my ass. “Bloody hell,” he groaned. “You‟re tight as fuck.” “Oh my God,” I squeaked, blown away by the burn. It had been a while, and my ass throbbed with the invasion. “You okay?” he asked, panting warm gusts of breath around my neck. “Give me a sec.”

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Vessel “We‟ve got all night.” “Trent?” “What?” “Don‟t come inside of me.” “I won‟t.” “Thank you.” He kissed me and began to move slowly, drawing back out and plunging deep, rocking and rolling around leisurely. It felt like he was exploring, trying out different moves to see which one most affected me. He was considerate and took his time, waiting for me to catch up. Fortunately, I had youth and deprivation on my side, and I felt myself getting hard again. “I knew you‟d come back in a flash.” “Shut up and fuck me.” “Say please.” “Please, you persistent motherfucker.” “You can call me sir.” “Like hell. It‟s Trent or nothing.” “Master Trent,” he said, slamming in deeper. My ass clenched around his cock, and I massaged it with muscles that were trained to please. Years of practice with Cole had made me pretty good at this, and I could tell Trent was enjoying every move as I squeezed with all my might. “Good boy,” he whispered, obviously pleased. “I‟m not your boy.” “You will be,” he said, pushing in savagely. Something flipped in his brain, and he began pounding into me while I matched him shove for shove. He shouted and pulled out quickly, clutching his cock with a tight fist and pumping it roughly until he came in spurts all over my chest, neck, and parts of my face. It was the hottest thing I‟d seen in a while, and I joined him, soaring with pleasure as I

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Mickie B. Ashling exploded all over myself. I was covered in spunk, yet he didn‟t seem to care. He collapsed on me, licking around my nipples, which had a few rogue drops of cream. “You taste so good,” he said, lapping at me like a giant cat. “Untie me, you creep.” “Not until you promise not to scratch my eyes out.” “I promise.” He made short order of the knots and tossed the mangled pillowcase away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back down on my chest. “Stay with me?” “Of course.”

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Vessel Chapter 25

SOMETIME during the night we separated, and I slid out from underneath Trent and went to the bathroom. Taking a washcloth, I soaked it in warm water and cleaned off my chest and groin. I avoided the scratches on my thigh because the red lines were a constant reminder of my epic fail. At least they didn‟t look infected, which was a relief, although they stung like hell. Rinsing out the washcloth again, I wrung it and carried it back into the bedroom so I could clean Trent. He stirred when I began to rub at his stomach and groin but didn‟t open his eyes, only patted me on the head and mumbled his thanks. When I was done, I lay back down on my side, keeping my distance. I had no idea where we were going from here, but I was pretty sure Trent wouldn‟t want me clinging to him. He rolled over on his side and mumbled. “Can‟t sleep?” “No. I‟m too wired.” “After coming twice in one night, I was hoping you‟d be more relaxed.” “Don‟t get me wrong,” I said. “It was great, but I have stuff on my mind.” “Cole?” I nodded. “What else?” 181

Mickie B. Ashling Trent sat up and reached for a cigarette. He lit two and passed one over to me. It was nice to be with someone who didn‟t have issues with smoking. I‟d always enjoyed it in the past, but Cole was rabidly against it. “You‟re a bad influence,” I remarked, inhaling deeply and then blowing out several smoke rings. “You can always say no.” I laughed. “I have no willpower.” “Sure you do. You just have no confidence.” “Please don‟t start up. Let‟s have a few uninterrupted hours of peace.” “How‟s your thigh?” “It‟s fine.” “Are you going to cut again?” “It wasn‟t as satisfying as I thought it would be,” I said, recognizing the truth. “I‟m glad to hear that.” “I wonder why? I was extremely angry after my phone call with Cole. Cutting used to make me feel better, at least temporarily.” “You‟ve changed.” “You didn‟t know me five years ago.” “That‟s true, but you‟re not made of stone. People evolve and grow, Sloan. Neither one of us is the same person we were a few years ago.” “I didn‟t think I‟d changed that much.” “Five years is a long time to remain stagnant.” I took another puff and exhaled slowly. I was getting used to the nicotine again after having been pure for so long. It didn‟t make me quite as dizzy as it had earlier. Turning to Trent, I couldn‟t help but notice how good he looked, despite the bed head and the thick scruff that covered his face. He was attractive as hell, and I didn‟t get what

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Vessel he saw in me or why someone with all his experience would waste his time on my sorry ass. “I still can‟t believe it‟s over with Cole,” I said aloud. “Do you want to talk about it?” I looked at him and wanted to say something witty and sarcastic, but the words died in my mouth when I saw the honest concern. “Are you sure you want to hear the whole sordid tale?” “Yes,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Talk to me.” And just like that he set me at ease. I told him everything I knew, starting from the first conversations Cole and I had when he discovered the new forms of genetic testing. Trent listened and only interrupted my flow when he lit another pair of cigarettes and handed one over. “Do you think he‟s doing this for his father, or is this something he truly wants?” “I honestly don‟t know, Trent. He‟s given me a lot of reasons, but none of them make sense. The worst was when he pushed me away and told me he was doing this because he knew that eventually I‟d leave him. Having children would be his guarantee that he‟d never be lonely.” “Have you ever given him cause to doubt you?” “Never,” I said loudly, shaking my head. “You‟re the only other man I‟ve slept with since Cole and I got together.” “Yet, he must have sensed something. One doesn‟t dream up accusations like that without basis.” “I was a needy wreck when we first hooked up. As I grew more confident he became withdrawn and less sure of himself, slowly turning into the needy one. It‟s like the whole relationship shifted without my realizing it.” “And he couldn‟t tolerate that?” “I guess not.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I can guarantee you that is the root cause of the problem. Cole is a dominant, even if neither one of you chooses to acknowledge it. You were his submissive for years and you changed suddenly. He didn‟t know how to deal with it.” “I always did what he asked.” “He didn‟t realize that, despite your mental growth, you were, and always will be, a naturally submissive man. He was hampered in many ways by his own insecurities. Being blind left him completely vulnerable, and once he started doubting his ability to control you, it spiraled and became an obstacle.” “Wait a minute,” I said angrily. “Are you saying all this is my doing because I grew up and became a big boy?” Trent smiled and glanced at my groin. “You certainly are a big boy.” “Hey,” I said, pointing at my face. “Eyes this way.” Trent laughed out loud. “You‟re a crack-up.” “Why do you keep calling me a submissive? I‟m not.” “Shall we have this conversation again? A submissive male is not weak. If that were the case, I wouldn‟t touch one with a ten-foot pole. I like men who are confident and know their own mind. I also like men who are willing to give up control when it counts. It can‟t get better than that.” “You think I‟m all that?” “And more.” “Really? But Cole—” “Sloan,” Trent interrupted, “Cole has issues that have nothing to do with your love for him. I think this was bound to happen, Noriko or not.” “Fucking whore,” I grumbled. “Shush,” Trent said, silencing me with a soft kiss. “She‟s not the problem.” “He wouldn‟t have fucked her if she weren‟t around.”

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Vessel “Something tells me that he would have found another excuse to end your relationship.” “But why? I don‟t understand how you can stop loving someone overnight.” “As I said earlier, life is fluid and ever-changing.” “But I thought our love would be forever.” “Oh, baby,” Trent said, reaching for me. “Nothing is forever.” To my horror, I began to cry. The tears flowed quietly, and Trent didn‟t say or do anything to stop them. His silence was calming, and when he held me closer, I didn‟t feel unmanned. On the contrary, I felt an immense sense of relief. When I let out the last shuddering breath, he didn‟t release me but curled around me instead, and we finally slept, wrung out from all the drama. The banging on the door woke us, and I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, gasping in horror. “Trent, get the fuck up. It‟s eight thirty.” “Oh, crap.” He sat up and quickly sprinted to the bathroom while I went to the door. It was probably Tin, wanting to dress. Wrong. It was Max and he was livid. “Why aren‟t you ready?” “I‟m sorry.” Max glanced over my shoulder, and his eyes widened in shock when he saw Trent coming out of the bathroom. “Well,” he huffed, frowning at both of us. “Now I know why you‟re both late. Get your asses in gear and be on that bus in exactly ten minutes.” “Aye, aye, mon capitaine,” I snarked. He glared at me and left. “We‟re going to have a lovely photo shoot, aren‟t we?” I said to no one in particular. Trent shook his head. “You‟ve got such a mouth on you.” “And your point is?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I like it.” “You do?” I was taken aback. Cole hated my sarcasm. “I like everything about you,” Trent said, plying me with light kisses. He grabbed my crotch and squeezed. “Especially this.” “Size queen.” “Guilty.”

WE SAT together on the bus, trying not to touch, but finally giving in

to temptation. It was difficult to keep my hands off Trent, especially when I found out he would be in a kilt today. They were showcasing woolens from The Scottish Weaver and had even allowed Trent to select his own colors. Naturally, he gravitated toward the blue and green of the Hamilton hunting plaid, even though he knew hardly anything about his Scottish ancestry. He was delighted when he found two plaids corresponding to his “clan,” and he strutted like a peacock once he was dressed in his finery. He looked like a hero on the cover of a romance novel, the kind the girls carried around in their oversized purses. Tall, imposing, and just fucking gorgeous. The saliva pooled in my mouth when I saw him amidst the trees in the English garden setting. Gravitating toward him, I looked around quickly to make sure nobody was the wiser before I slipped my hand underneath the kilt and fondled his bare ass. “I love method actors,” I whispered. “I knew you‟d be sniffing around.” “Cocky bastard, aren‟t you?” “Be nice and I‟ll let you play.” “How long till you‟re done?” “If Max has his way, I‟ll be here all day.” “You‟ll have to break for lunch.” “Meet me behind the Spanish wall?”

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Vessel “Only if you promise not to change.” “I wouldn‟t dream of it.” “Slut.” “Sloan,” he growled, reminding me not so subtly that he was in charge. I leaned into him, and for that brief second, we were in complete harmony. My cock swelled against my jeans. “I can‟t wait.” “Me neither.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 26

THE fountain was making tinkling sounds, and the birds were

chirping as I crept along the path that led to the side of the Spanish garden for our assignation. Trent was already there, and I soaked in the sight of my gorgeous “Scotsman.” He was still in full dress, as promised. He had on a black jacket over a white ruffled shirt and that funny, round leather purse thingy, the sporran. It hung down below his waist, dead set in front of his cock. I wondered if he had the good sense to slip a few condoms into said purse for good measure. It was all well and good to spray my chest last night, but I wanted him deep in my ass when he came this time. “Yo, Highlander,” I flirted playfully. “You wanna fuck?” “You irreverent shit,” Trent said, smiling at me. “Come here.” He seized my neck when I was close enough and slammed me up against a tree. There was something about this aggressive move that was sexy as hell, and I whimpered when he crushed my mouth with hungry lips. He tasted as good as I remembered, and we began grinding against each other. I went a step further and slid my hand underneath the heavy wool, thrilled to feel his cock rising steadily, thick and heavy in my hand. Twirling my thumb around his alreadymoist head, I heard the first moan escaping from his lips. “You‟re so fucking hot,” I breathed, speeding up my hand job.

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Vessel “You‟re not so bad yourself,” he said, leading me over to a strategically designed pile of rocks. There were also several large bushes that gave us some privacy. Not much if you were intent on spying, but enough for a casual walker to overlook us. Since the gardens were closed to all but our group, I was pretty sure we could get away with this. He pushed me down on my knees and lifted his kilt. “Suck me off, boy.” “I hate it when you call me boy.” Trent captured my face between his hands and glared down at me. “Are we doing this or what?” “Doing.” I swallowed my snappy comeback and took him down my throat instead. This was too bloody hot to get all bent over a stupid name. I‟d let him call me anything he wanted if he continued to look at me like I was the most desirable man in the universe. “So good,” Trent sighed, pushing in and out of my mouth. He adjusted his motion when he realized I could take it all without gagging, pushing in a little deeper. Soon I was sucking on him as if the world were ending in the next five minutes. The very idea that someone could stroll by and see us made it much more exciting. He stopped himself seconds before coming and hauled me up his body, mashing his lips against mine. “I have to fuck you.” “Yes.” Fumbling in his sporran, he pulled out a condom, and I exhaled in relief. It was the lubricated kind, although I‟d been devious enough to squirt some slick up my ass just before joining him. I didn‟t feel like being ripped from stem to stern, but I definitely wanted to get fucked. Literally. “Hurry,” I breathed, plucking and lifting his kilt. “Bossy little sub.” “Whatever,” I sassed, seconds before he bent me over a rock, yanked down my jeans, and plowed into my ass. I‟d left my briefs in the dressing room after lubricating myself, fully prepared to be ravaged by my horny Highlander. And he was taking possession

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Mickie B. Ashling enthusiastically. It felt great to be desired, and I had to hold him back for a second, relishing the fullness and his hot breath against my ear, telling me I was gorgeous. A tear escaped unwittingly, not because I was filled with sadness, but because I was soaring with happiness for the first time in a very long time. “Move,” I begged. “Fuck me hard.” “Say please.” “Please, sir,” I said, surprising us both with that word. “You‟re so mine,” he rumbled triumphantly, wrapping my cock in his right hand and pumping me in time with the rocking motion of his lower body. He thrust in and out of my eager ass, sucking up marks around my neck. I knew there would be hell to pay when Max saw them, but I didn‟t give a shit. It was such a turn-on to feel Trent out of control and desperate because of me. “Fuck me,” I begged, “harder.” He shifted position and drew me up against his chest, tilting his hips to go deeper. I was practically sitting on his cock, but he was up to the task, and his busy hand kept up the rhythm on my dripping shaft. “Oh my God.” “Come with me,” he ordered, extracting a guttural sound out of my throat when he glanced my prostate, one second before he came deep inside of me. I spurted hot jizz all over the rock. When he had milked every drop, he spun me around and kissed me roughly. “You‟re crazy,” he breathed, resting his forehead on mine, even as his hands continued to knead my ass cheeks. “You make me feel good,” I said, trying to catch a breath. “I‟m glad.” “We better get you presentable or Max will implode.” “He‟s already given me an earful,” Trent said, pulling away reluctantly. He tied off the condom and threw it in a handy trash receptacle.

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Vessel “What do you mean?” I asked as we straightened up our attire. “I got the usual lecture about taking advantage of a bad situation.” I held his arm and looked him the eye. “You‟re not.” “I know.” We kissed again and headed back to the English gardens. I was intent on taking this up with Max, who needed to realize I was not his personal property. Unfortunately, he was already in the middle of the next shoot, and I knew that interrupting was impossible. Since they didn‟t need me for the rest of the afternoon, I decided to find an Apple store and buy a new phone. Thankfully, all my contacts were backed up on my account, and getting them restored on the new phone wouldn‟t be difficult. I was informed that there was a store on Regent Street, which wasn‟t too far away. The taxi driver dropped me off at the entrance, and I spent the next hour getting everything I needed. I walked out with a spanking new iPhone that showed ten missed calls. All from Cole. Ducking into a handy Starbucks, I ordered a Grande iced Caramel Macchiato. The weather was warm enough to warrant the cool drink, and I was in the mood. Finding a small table for one, I sat and began listening to my voice mails. In the first three messages, Cole sounded contrite and extremely upset. He begged me to return his calls. The next messages were a little more formal. They were left earlier today, hours after the initial call, when the hateful admission wasn‟t so fresh. His last two messages were angry and demanding. Well, fuck him! Did he think I would jump at the chance to hear more about his escapades with Noriko? Regardless of what Trent said, this entire scenario wouldn‟t have gone this far if she hadn‟t turned on the geisha charm, pursuing Cole aggressively. Maybe Ken had offered her some sort of bonus if she could get his son back on track in the world of heterosexuals. My thumb hovered over his number on my favorites. I didn‟t want to make the call, but I was in a much better frame of mind and in

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Mickie B. Ashling a public place. Keeping this as civil as possible would help me to move forward. Knowing I had Trent on my side was an immense source of comfort. There‟s nothing like a new love interest to help one get over an old relationship. I hit send and waited, holding my breath. When Cole finally answered, I sucked in a lungful of air. “You called?” “Why have you waited so long to return my calls?” Cole said, sounding completely unapologetic. “I‟ve left you several messages.” “I had to buy a new phone. The old one ran into a wall.” “Temper tantrum, Sloan?” “Fuck off, Cole. What do you want?” “I want to explain.” “What‟s to explain? You fucked her, and it‟s over between us.” “It just happened, Sloan.” “Your dick just flew into her twat by accident?” “Goddamn, Sloan! You make everything so ugly.” “It is ugly!” I shrilled. Several people glanced in my direction, and I willed myself to calm down and get it together. It was difficult, because Cole had a way of pressing every damn button in my body. I still loved him, unfortunately. No amount of hot sex with Trent was going to make my feelings disappear. Not in the foreseeable future. “What happened between us was unexpected. I never thought I‟d be attracted to a woman again. You know it‟s you I love.” “Your meaning of love and mine differ considerably. I never cheated on you, Cole. Despite all your doubts, I was faithful.” “Was?” “Not that it‟s any of your business anymore, but my celibate days are over.” “That was quick.” “I‟m just living up to your worst expectations.” “I never meant for this to happen.”

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Vessel “Was it all a lie, Cole? Were the last years of our life so abhorrent?” “They were the best, Sloan. I love you, and I always will.” “Then why did you do this behind my back? What kind of love is that?” “We‟re in a different place right now. I feel that I can no longer make you happy, so why tie you down? Even under the best circumstances, our relationship would have changed with the advent of children.” “You‟re assuming the worst. Not once have you given me the benefit of the doubt. You‟re so fucking sure that I‟ll be a miserable father you won‟t even give me a chance. All that crap about wanting me to adopt after two years was all bullshit, wasn‟t it? You never had any intention of letting me be a part of this.” “That‟s not true; however, your reaction to Noriko sort of threw everything off balance.” “My reaction? She didn‟t give me a hard-on, Cole. Shoot me! Hoping I‟d accept her with open arms was delusional on your part. Even the lowest animal form will fight to protect its own.” “You‟re so dramatic.” “I prefer to think of myself as honest. Brutally honest, maybe, but it‟s far better than lying to the one person who you purported to love more than anything in the world.” “I still love you. That will never change.” “This conversation is pointless. All you‟re doing is making me feel worse.” “That was not my intention.” “Did you hope that a few choice words would make me forget your lies?” “I never meant to betray you. Will you ever forgive me?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I doubt it. When I get back to New York, I‟ll be by to pack up my things, but I‟ll call first. I don‟t want to see either one of you. I‟ll leave my keys on your desk when I‟m done.” “Can‟t we still be friends?” “Not with her in the picture.” “Sloan….” I knew he was crying, but so was I. I got up and walked out of the door and headed toward the hotel. I must have been quite the sight with my phone pressed up to one ear and the tears streaming down my face. Talk about a dramatic exit. “I have to hang up now.” “Please,” Cole begged. “Don‟t shut me out.” “This was your move, shogun, not mine.” “Be reasonable.” “Good-bye.”

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Vessel Chapter 27

WHEN I got back to the hotel, I headed straight to my room, threw

myself on the bed, and broke down. My determination to never shed another tear over Cole was shot to hell by our conversation and the anguish in his voice. How could he feel so much remorse yet turn around and continue with his plan? I didn‟t understand and probably never would. Maybe Cole felt there was something wrong with me and didn‟t want me around his children. Maybe it was his plan all along to get rid of me before he got married. Then again, the logical voice in my head kept telling me to stop speculating. Cole had been contradicting himself from the beginning of this crisis. Asking me to stay and be a part of his life, and then in the same breath, pushing me away. Trent was probably right about Cole‟s need for supremacy. It‟s much easier to feel like the head of the household when you‟re partnered with someone who has no career, no money, and basically no life other than the one you would provide. Noriko was his to do with as he pleased, while her sole purpose was to procreate and make him happy. I assumed that‟s what it took to be a successful geisha. Pleasing the clientele regardless of anyone else‟s feelings, including your own. I don‟t even know why I was thinking of her. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand spurred me into action. The photo shoot was probably over, and they would be showing up any second now. I

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Mickie B. Ashling didn‟t want Trent to find me in the midst of another meltdown. I was determined to stop acting like a rejected wife. In the bathroom, my eyes automatically drifted to the shaving kit. I was sorely tempted, and I even picked up the blade and studied it again, but I fought the urge and put it back down. My altered state of mind helped push away the nagging demon. Two men, Max and Trent, were vying for a place in my bed and my life. They wouldn‟t be if I were the big loser I kept seeing in the mirror. I had to keep telling myself I was desirable, witty, and in demand. The face staring back at me was red-eyed from weeping, but behind the tears were features that had made a ton of money for several people. I finally acknowledged that I wasn‟t the troll I professed to be. A quick shower and shave helped clear my head, and I was more than presentable by the time Tin walked in with Trent close on his heels. My handsome redhead gathered me in his arms and planted a hungry kiss, ignoring Tin‟s wolf whistles and vulgar asides. I was too caught up in the moment to really care about my best friend‟s opinion of me. “You‟ve been crying,” Trent whispered, astute as ever. “I‟m fine.” “Let me take you out for dinner.” “Okay.” “I‟ll be right back.” He left to get ready. One second after the door closed, Tin was on me like rubber on tires. “Tell me what‟s going on.” “Isn‟t it obvious?” “You‟ve slept with him.” He looked stupefied. In all the years we‟d known each other, and despite Tin‟s cajoling, he‟d never been successful in getting me to have extracurricular activities with a fellow model. This was a first, and it was quite shocking. “Mon dieu! It really is over with you and Cole.” “Duh….”

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Vessel “Tell me all about it.” “Maybe later,” I said, pulling away. “I need to go and talk to Max.” “La! He will be furious.” “I know.” “Good luck, chéri.” “Tell Trent to wait for me right here, okay?” “Oui.” I left him and made my way upstairs to Max‟s suite. I wasn‟t surprised when he opened the door and frowned the minute he saw me. “What do you want?” “To talk.” “What about?” “You know damned well what about.” He turned abruptly, and I followed him into the luxurious sitting room. He‟d already poured himself a drink. “Do you want some wine or something?” I shook my head. “I‟m going to dinner shortly.” “With him?” “Yes.” “Do you have any idea what you‟re getting into?” Max turned on me suddenly. His pent-up fury burst like an infected boil. “Trent isn‟t going to get down on his knees and propose marriage. He‟s looking for someone who‟s compatible with his nature, a submissive, Sloan. You‟ve said repeatedly that you‟re not interested in our lifestyle. What makes you think Trent wants a vanilla relationship? “I‟m not expecting anything from him, Max, other than what I‟m getting at the moment.” “Don‟t delude yourself into thinking he‟s soft. He‟s courting you and will do and say anything to get you into his bed.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “He‟s already had me, Max. More than once, and I don‟t see him morphing into the Marquis de Sade.” “Give him time and his true colors will emerge.” “Maybe, but for now, what‟s more important is that he‟s keeping me sane.” “What do you mean?” It occurred to me just then that Max had no idea Cole was sleeping with Noriko or that I had a cutting incident last night. “Cole and I broke up for good. There‟s no hope for reconciliation.” “When did that happen?” “Last night. He admitted that he‟d had sex with Noriko.” “Bastard! And then you turned right around and fucked Trent?” Max was livid, and looked like he was about to pop every blood vessel in his head. “Yes.” “Why him?” he shouted, getting right in my face. “Instead of you?” His anger was a little over the top, considering he wasn‟t even my partner, but I knew he‟d never stopped hoping. My admission was a slap in his face. “Why choose a complete stranger when I‟ve loved you for years?” I shrugged helplessly. “I don‟t know, Max. Why is anyone attracted to another human being? It‟s not like you‟re much different. We‟re comparing oranges and oranges.” “I‟m nothing like Trent.” “I‟m talking about what‟s inside.” Max frowned. “You think we‟re alike?” “You both make me feel safe.”

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Vessel He let go abruptly and sank down on the sofa, looking utterly defeated. “Sloan….” I knelt in front of him and rested my head on his knees. He toyed with my hair and then caressed my cheek. “Darling, I would do anything to make you happy.” “I know, Max. Believe me when I say that I would give my right nut to feel the same, but I don‟t. I would be lying if I told you I wanted you as a lover. And didn‟t you advise me to go ahead and sleep with Trent that weekend in Montauk? To explore my limits before I made a decision about Cole and children?” “I never thought you‟d do it!” Max blurted out. “All these years you‟ve never looked at anyone else.” I saw him struggling for control. The different emotions were warring with each other, and I prayed that his common sense, and not his ego, would win the battle. This would be the second time I‟d rejected him. Even the most confident Dom in the world would have a hard time overcoming the insult. Yet, I needed him to be my friend and continue as my mentor. Max was my anchor in this constantly changing sea of life, and I didn‟t want to lose him along with Cole. He cuffed me on the head with a light hand. “Stupid boy.” “Max?” There were tears in my eyes, and his tender brown orbs were sparkling with moisture that he blinked away immediately. “Come here, darling.” I slid into his embrace, safe and confident that he would accept my decision. He was a mensch in the true sense of the word, and I loved him for it. My father had always been a kind person, but he never understood me the way Max did. The relief flowed through me like a drug. I relaxed against his chest and let him hold me close. “Are you sure you can deal with Trent? He‟s no pushover.” “I honestly don‟t know where this is going, Max. All I can tell you is that he makes me want to go on trying.” “He likes to play rough.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “I don‟t think he‟ll hurt me unless I ask for it.” “You don‟t like pain.” “He knows.” “Will you let me talk to him at least?” “Only if you‟re respectful.” “I would never insult him, but he needs to know I have your back.” “I‟m sure he‟s well aware of that.” “I would feel better if I had my say.” “Okay, you can be my official daddy.” “Blech! Don‟t insult me.” I laughed and kissed him quickly on the lips. “I‟m outta here.” “Stupid boy,” he said again, shaking his head. “Be careful.”

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Vessel Chapter 28

WE HAD a traditional English dinner of lamb slowly roasted in wine,

according to the description on the menu, and served with creamy mashed potatoes and thick gravy. Now that most of my immediate problems were dispensed with, my hunger pangs took over, and I ate like a prisoner on death row. Everything tasted as good as it looked, and I didn‟t stop to say two words to Trent, who matched me forkful for forkful. When we were finally sated and sipping our coffees, heavily laced with whiskey, he asked me what happened after we‟d parted ways earlier in the afternoon. “Where do I begin?” “How about telling me what made you cry?” “Do I have to?” “Yes,” Trent said. “Talk to me.” I sighed, took another sip of the coffee, reached for a cigarette out of his pack, and played with it nervously. I knew smoking was prohibited in the restaurant, but it gave me something to do with my hands. He looked on in amusement. “I can outwait you any day, Sloan.” “I don‟t doubt it,” I said, rolling my eyes. I stuck my tongue out at him for good measure.

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Mickie B. Ashling “And just in case you‟ve forgotten,” Trent leaned in and reached for my hand. “I can see.” “Oh fuck.” Trent chuckled. “I‟m sure it‟s going to take some getting used to. You can start by getting rid of the eye roll. It annoys the hell out of me.” “Does it?” “Did you speak with Cole today?” Trent asked, gently steering the conversation back to a topic I wanted to avoid at all costs. I nodded and recounted the entire afternoon, starting with my new phone and the many messages Cole had left. Halfway through I had to stop. The tears were too close to the surface, and I refused to embarrass us both with a public display. He waited, calmly holding my hand. “It‟s going to take some time,” he said softly. “It‟s okay to grieve.” “I know.” “Did anything else happen to upset you?” “I told Max about us.” “Uh oh… is he going to blackball me?” “It was touch and go for a minute, but he came through with flying colors. Be prepared for a fatherly lecture, though.” “Fuckin‟ A.” His reaction was surprising, but it occurred to me just then that Max would make a formidable enemy and could easily ruin Trent‟s career. Even his entry into the Manhattan BDSM world could be blocked by Max if he wanted to get shitty. Trent had taken a leap of faith into my bed that I only appreciated at this very moment. “Did he warn you away from big, bad Trent?” “He said you liked to play rough.”

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Vessel Trent nodded slowly. “I do, but only if my partner is willing. I‟m fairly eclectic in bed. What‟s important to me is finding the right fit. It‟s not always about pain, Sloan.” “You know that‟s what turned me away from BDSM in the first place.” “So you‟ve said. What you don‟t seem to understand is that every D/s relationship is different. It can be as rough or as tame as you want it to be. Some couples get off on the physical signs of domination, no doubt there, but I‟ve known of successful pairings that have never used a flogger. The exchange of power can be more mental than physical, but the underlying thread of submission and domination has to be present.” “You‟d be content in a vanilla relationship?” “No, but I don‟t necessarily have to wield a bullwhip to make me happy. The only thing I demand is your submission. Everything else can be negotiated.” “Will I need a safe word tonight?” Trent smiled, but his blue eyes turned a shade darker. My question seemed to have ignited something, and I could tell he was very much engaged. “That‟s only if you want to play.” He‟d switched to the dominant voice I could already recognize, and my pants were getting tighter with each word that came out of his mouth. “I‟d like to discuss it further.” “Negotiation is a large part of BDSM.” “Is it?” “What would you like to do tonight?” he asked, shifting gears once again. His uncanny sense of timing was very much in play. He knew exactly when my comfort level was about to be disrupted. “What time do we have to get up?” “Tomorrow is Sunday.” “So it is,” I said, pleasantly surprised. “I‟ve lost all track of time.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “You‟ve been a little preoccupied.” “I‟ll say. Do you want to go clubbing?” “I only do that when I‟m alone and looking to hook up.” “I saw a park close by. Shall we check it out?” “That sounds good,” Trent said. “It‟ll give us a chance to talk and get rid of these calories we‟ve just consumed.” According to the waiter, Green Park was close enough for our purposes and, more importantly, safe, which was always a concern in a new locale. We split the bill and shrugged on our jackets. The sun had barely set, so it was still on the warm side as we strolled hand in hand toward the area. We found a clean bench and sat down to continue our conversation. “What are your plans after we go back home?” Trent asked, crossing his legs and putting his arm on my shoulder to draw me closer. “I‟ll have to find a place to live. I can‟t stay at the studio indefinitely.” “Good luck. Finding the right apartment in Manhattan is always a challenge. Do you know where you want to live?” “I‟d like something near work. I don‟t own a car, and I‟d rather not spend a whole lot of time on the subway.” “Anything in Tribeca will cost you a small fortune.” “Cole helped me make some good investments over the years. Maybe I‟ll buy something and forego rent altogether.” Trent whistled. “You must have done real well if you‟re thinking of buying.” “I‟ll be fine,” I said. “What about you? Where do you live?” “In the Village.” “Do you live alone?” “Yes.” “How long have you been modeling?”

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Vessel “Three years, but this is a side job. I‟m an investment banker. That‟s how I met Max.” “Did he twist your arm like he did mine?” Trent laughed. “I handled some investments for him, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of his camera without a shirt. It‟s been a wild ride since then.” “Tell me about it. Max literally dragged me into the modeling world, kicking and screaming, but I‟m so glad he did. I‟d never make this kind of dough anywhere else.” “Until someone younger and hotter comes along.” I shrugged. “We‟ve got a while before that happens.” “What will you do when the merry-go-round stops?” “I‟m a graphic artist. I can always fall back on that.” Trent turned to me and put his hand behind my neck, leaning in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, a far cry from the heated frenzy of this afternoon‟s encounter but just as good. “Sloan, spend the night with me.” “I had planned on it.” “I don‟t want you to think it‟s all about sex.” “As long as you still respect me in the morning.” I grinned. Trent‟s laugh was loud and unrestrained, and it made me smile even wider. Knowing he enjoyed my sense of humor was very relaxing. Max‟s warning about Trent‟s fondness for rough sex hadn‟t put me off. I felt I could speak my mind if anything he suggested was outside my comfort level. “Did you enjoy being restrained the other night?” he asked abruptly. “Yes.” “Have you ever been tied up with rope?” “Not recently.” “When?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “When Max was trying to induct me into his world about five years ago.” “What went wrong?” “He found out I was a cutter and assumed I was a masochist. He didn‟t understand that it was simply a means of coping with my insecurities.” “Why were you so insecure?” “I had severe body image issues.” “From where I sit, there‟s nothing wrong with your body.” “I was horribly underweight and thought I was hideous.” “I guess I should thank Max and modeling for giving you more confidence.” I shook my head. “It was Cole. Max had nothing to do with it.” “How?” “By loving me and seeing that I ate properly every day. He made me quit smoking and urged me to join a gym. He was constantly pushing food supplements and vitamins.” By the time I finished my last sentence, I was close to tears again. “I‟m sorry,” I said, turning away from Trent‟s intense look. “I can‟t talk about Cole right now.” He stood and tugged on my hand. “Let‟s go back to the hotel,” he said. “You need some TLC.” We headed out toward the entrance of the park when a skinhead stepped in front of us, blocking the path. He must have been watching us for some time because he knew we were gay, even though neither one of us looked the part. If he‟d been observing us, though, he would have seen us touching and kissing on the bench, which is probably what set him off. He was belligerent and got right in Trent‟s face. “Where do you poofters think you‟re going?” “Back to our hotel,” Trent replied. He pushed me behind him and began the standoff with the idiot, who must have been drunk, because he couldn‟t shut up. The

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Vessel skinhead jabbed Trent in the chest and asked again, “Going somewhere, ass breath?” Trent moved quickly, spinning the guy around so he was facing the opposite direction. He was our height, probably thirty pounds heavier, but clumsy. Trent wrapped his left arm around the man‟s neck, forcing him to bend forward, and then he grabbed the idiot‟s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, bending it at a cruel angle. It must have hurt like hell ‟cause the guy started to scream for mercy. “Let go of me, you motherfucker.” “If you promise to leave us alone,” Trent said in a deadly voice that sent a chill up my spine. “Get off me, you asshole.” Trent let go abruptly, and the guy fell and knocked his chin on the gravel, making him scream again. “Stay down or I swear I‟ll kick your teeth in,” Trent growled, stepping on the guy‟s neck and pressing hard. “I‟ll stay―just leave me alone.” Trent took my hand, and we walked away, leaving the guy whimpering like a frightened puppy. Trent wasn‟t even out of breath. I slanted a glance. “What did you say you were before you became a model?” “An investment banker.” “And before that?” Trent finally cracked a smile and looked my way. “Special Forces.” “Holy shit.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 29

THERE‟S something about danger and thoughts of imminent death

that bring out a need to procreate, and in our case, fuck like rabbits. It‟s been proven over and over again. Birth statistics nine months after a catastrophic event often show a major spike, validating the theory that sex and danger are a great combination. Not that we needed an excuse, but seeing Trent in full-out combative mode was a high like no other. Who knew? I was so turned on I would have come if he so much as sneezed on my cock. As soon as we entered his room and locked the door, we were tearing at each other‟s clothes. “Trent, hurry… please.” I was acting like a drug addict in need of a fix. My urgency didn‟t leave any time for the finer points of submission and domination. All we could think of at this point was getting off. Trent‟s cock practically jumped out of his pants when I finally got his zipper down. He was as hard as steel and oozing precum like a faulty spigot. Grabbing both sides of my head, a move he employed routinely, he dragged me closer until I was inches away from his engorged shaft. I buried my face amongst the wiry brown curls, inhaling the pungent scent of his arousal. My need for Trent was overpowering, and I licked the drops that oozed from his slit, moaning wantonly. He sank into my mouth, going as deep as humanly possible without killing me. Eventually, he loosened his hold on my head and allowed me some freedom of movement. I managed to get a

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Vessel couple of my fingers in my mouth, alongside his cock, so I could slick them with saliva to ease my way up his asshole. He grunted in surprise when I wiggled a finger up the hot passage, but he didn‟t push me away as I made every effort to loosen that tight ring. My goal was to reach the tiny walnut-shaped gland and stimulate it until I brought Trent down on his knees. “Sloan,” he hissed and tried to pull away from my invasive finger, but I was having none of that. It was obvious my big, bad Dom had a virgin ass. Even better! I could not wait to see his face when I began to milk his prostate. “Come to bed,” I said, releasing his cock. He looked shellshocked and followed meekly as I made him lie down on top of the comforter. I tugged off his pants and boxers, dropping them on the floor. I was so intent on making this good for Trent that my own need subsided, and I was more in control. “Spread for me, please?” I asked, humbly respectful, lest I blow his mind completely. I didn‟t want him to think I was taking over. God forbid. I swallowed him to the hilt again while my busy fingers were right back where I wanted them―burrowing their way up that passage and finally hitting home. When I felt the soft bump and began stroking it, Trent let out a rough cry and yanked my hair so hard I thought he‟d pull it out by the roots. His cum flooded my mouth, and the salty-sweet taste was all I needed to get off as well. I began humping his thigh and came in a satisfying gush, coating his leg. Trent drew me up his body and embraced me so tight I thought I‟d suffocate. “You‟re mine,” he said in a voice I could barely hear. “Yes.” I had to concede that, for now, I was definitely his. Tomorrow was another story, and one I‟d rather not think about. We fell asleep and awoke again sometime in the middle of the night. This time Trent was determined to return the favor and took his blessed time, rimming, sucking, and turning me into a quivering wreck. By the time he stuffed his cock up my ass, I was begging incoherently. He exploded into the latex reservoir just as I splattered

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Mickie B. Ashling all over the sheets. Housekeeping would surely have something to say about us tomorrow.

WE

WOULD have slept through Sunday if not for the endless pounding on the door. “It‟s probably Tin,” I muttered into the pillow. I was lying on my stomach, well aware of the stinging sensation in and around my asshole. “I think you broke me last night.” “No way,” Trent said, kissing me on the neck. “You‟ll be good to go in a few hours.” “Jesus. Maybe if you wear the kilt I might revive.” “I‟ll wear stilettos if it will perk you up.” “Na uh… don‟t like that.” “We‟ll make a list of do‟s and don‟ts.” I flipped over and tried to focus. He was leaning on his elbow, and his hair was a mass of knots and sticking out all over the place. His day-old scruff was dark brown, more in keeping with the auburn. “You sure are pretty,” I said softly. “I was just about to say the same thing,” he said, bending down and kissing me. We were interrupted by more of the infernal pounding. Trent hissed. “I‟m killing whoever is standing at the door.” “Make it quick,” I urged, “I‟m feeling perky already.” Trent chuckled and walked across the room. He was stark naked and didn‟t even bother to cover up. He pulled the door open and exclaimed, “What the fuck are you doing here?” “I‟ve come to talk to Sloan.” I heard the voice, but my brain kept denying the obvious. It couldn‟t possibly be Cole when he was in New York just yesterday. How‟d he get here? Was he alone or did he bring Noriko? I grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around my waist. Cole was standing at the door

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Vessel with Freddie. The golden retriever barked at my familiar face and began wagging his tail enthusiastically. I knelt down and embraced the excited animal who slobbered all over me with his big wet tongue. When I‟d had my fill, I stood and faced Cole. “Why are you here?” “We need to talk.” “I‟m done talking, Cole. Did you fly alone, or is Ms. Thing with you?” “I came by myself.” “That‟s a first.” “Zip it with the sarcasm, Sloan.” I leaned against the doorjamb and stared at him. He looked exhausted, and there were many more strands of gray weaving though his dark hair. Yet, for someone on a mission to make things right, which is why I assumed he was here, he was unrepentant. I waited for the emotion to kick in, but surprisingly, I felt nothing. Not pity, nor anger, or even mild annoyance. Whatever I carried in my heart for so long seemed to have been washed away in the passionate wake of my new relationship. I was more concerned about Trent‟s reaction to Cole‟s sudden appearance than anything else. “You‟re wasting your time, Cole. I have no intention of rehashing our differences.” “That‟s not why I‟m here.” “Why, then?” “To tell you the truth.” “And here I thought you were being truthful all along.” “I‟ve lied by omission.” “So what else is new?” “Seriously,” Cole said, moving closer. “This is huge and will explain a lot.” “What if I don‟t care?” “You have to care. We love each other.” I snorted. “That was yesterday.”

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Mickie B. Ashling Cole reached for me and I stepped back. “Do you mind waiting in my room while I get dressed? It‟s weird having a conversation with you while Trent and I are both naked.” “What does it matter when I can‟t see either one of you?” “It matters to me. Please go,” I said, handing him my key card. “It‟s the third door to your right. Tin may or may not be in there. In any case, lie down and rest if you like. I‟ll be there shortly.” “Hurry.” I slammed the door and turned around to see Trent scowling in my face. “What the hell, Sloan?” “I know.” “Does he think he can just walk in here and reclaim you?” “Apparently.” “I can‟t stop you from going across the hall, but I want to say something before you go.” “Trent, I‟m aware that whatever we have is brand new and may or may not work out. It won‟t influence my decision with Cole.” “Do you need some kind of reassurance from me?” “No. Your feelings are quite obvious.” “Come here,” Trent said, in the commanding voice I was starting to listen for. I moved into his arms and let him hold me. It made no sense to feel safe in the arms of a man I barely knew―an acknowledged Dom who had no problem tying a man in knots or flogging him till he screamed for mercy. Safety was across the hall, with the man I‟d known intimately for the last five years. Trent was nothing like Cole, yet he was everything I wanted. With him I could do or say anything that came to mind. I didn‟t have to guard my tongue or worry about repercussions when I slipped off the narrow path that Cole had chosen for us years ago. Trent was a mystery, and this could all blow up in my face tomorrow, but right now, at this time in my life, I wanted him.

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Vessel “Sloan,” Trent said softly, lifting my face so he could look me in the eye. “We‟re good together, aren‟t we?” “Very,” I admitted. “Give this a chance, okay?” “Kiss me, Highlander.” He claimed me with hungry lips, making sure I understood how well suited we were together. And as an added precaution, he moved me toward the bed, and proceeded to give me a blowjob that banished every single doubt from my mind.

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Mickie B. Ashling Chapter 30

IT WAS almost thirty minutes before I could tear myself away from

Trent. I didn‟t even bother to take a shower, throwing on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Cole opened the door a few minutes after I knocked. “It took you long enough,” he said. Frowning, he scrunched up his nose and added, “You smell like sex and cigarettes.” “Did you come all the way from New York to demonstrate your olfactory skills?” “I‟m sorry,” Cole said stiffly. “You should be!” “My father is dying,” he blurted out, effectively stopping my tirade. “Sorry?” “He‟s got lung cancer and won‟t last another year.” I sank down on my knees in front of him. All my anger retreated at the sight of Cole‟s tortured face. “Cole… I‟m so sorry. When did you find out?” “He told me last fall.” I saw that he was trembling. I stood and guided him toward a chair, rubbing his hands automatically, hoping to soothe him. I‟d

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Vessel never seen him this vulnerable. “Go on,” I said, encouraging him to talk. “After telling me he was terminal, he begged me to give him a grandson. He said he couldn‟t wait for one of my sisters to produce a boy. He wanted to hold my son before he died.” My gut reaction was anger. A part of me wanted to slug him for keeping me in the dark, but there was the other side that wanted to take him in my arms and kiss the hurt away. “I‟m sympathetic, Cole,” I said, letting go of his hands. “But didn‟t you consider this news important enough to share with me?” Was our relationship so fucked up that he‟d chosen to keep something so devastating a secret? “I was afraid you‟d flip out over the baby.” “Fuck the baby! Why didn‟t you tell me about Ken?” “I‟m not sure… he wanted me to give him an answer about the child, and I was upset with his news, so I said yes immediately. I never thought you‟d object.” “Maybe if you had included me in the decision making process, I would have reacted quite differently.” “I was wrong.” “You were a fool.” “Sloan, I was in shock,” Cole protested. “He seemed so scared. I was willing to do anything to ease his suffering.” “I get all of that, Cole. What I don‟t understand is why you didn‟t tell me. Didn‟t you think I would be sympathetic? Your father has been a part of my life as long as you have, if not longer. He and Dad were best friends for years.” “I thought about telling you, but when he insisted that I use Noriko as the surrogate, I was afraid you would see red.” “Why did Ken choose her, of all people? This entire decision would have been a lot easier to stomach if we‟d moved to California and found a surrogate through a lawyer, without throwing marriage

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Mickie B. Ashling into the mix. Didn‟t either one of you realize I would object vehemently?” “He suggested using a geisha whose family was indebted to ours. The connection was already established, and Dad mistakenly thought you‟d be more amenable if you knew she was in this strictly to repay a debt. What neither one us counted on was you getting all crazy over this.” “Because none of your decisions made sense, and you didn‟t care enough about my feelings to reveal the most important part of this puzzle. You‟ve had many opportunities to ease my concerns, Cole.” “I‟m really sorry.” “Sorry doesn‟t erase the loss of trust and the pain you‟ve inflicted multiple times.” “I didn‟t think you‟d understand.” “I may not be a historian or have a master‟s degree, but my IQ is just as high as yours. How dare you think I‟m incapable of understanding a dying man‟s wish? A part of me has to wonder if you‟re using his illness to justify your leap back into the hetero world.” “You have to see it from my point of view.” “I honestly don‟t get it, and I‟m not going to be manipulated into feeling guilty enough to forgive you. There are certain things that are unforgivable, and I consider this one of them.” “You‟re fucking someone else, yet I‟m willing to forgive and forget.” “I didn‟t do anything until you admitted to having sex with Noriko.” “I never admitted anything. You presumed.” “Are you going to deny it now? Have you or have you not been having sex with her?”

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Vessel “I don‟t know why you‟re getting all salty over this, Sloan. It‟s just sex.” “So you admit it.” “Yes, but it means nothing. I‟m her dahna, and it‟s expected.” “What did you just say?” “It‟s a time-honored tradition in my culture. My grandfather had a geisha, a wife, and a family. They were kept entirely separate, but all parties were aware of each other.” “Tell me you‟re not asking me to continue to have a relationship with you while you‟re married and fucking her on the side. I‟m not going to be your mistress!” “You‟ll never understand.” “If I hear you say that one more time, I‟ll hit you. So help me God, I will wipe that fucking look off your face.” “What look?” “The sanctimonious I-am-better-because-I‟m-Japanese look!” “I don‟t think that,” Cole protested. “There are just certain things we do and say that would make no sense to a Westerner.” “You‟re acting like you‟re one hundred percent Japanese. Newsflash, Cole: you‟re half Irish, born in San Francisco, ate PB&J, and played baseball. You‟re an all-American boy like me. A love of their history and half their genes do not make you emperor of that nation. And not all Japanese men have mistresses! You‟re trying to have it all, as usual. The wife, the family, and the boy toy on the side. I can‟t believe you expect me to have any part of this.” He shrugged. “I knew you wouldn‟t get it.” “What I don‟t get is how someone who lived with me, fucked me, and said he loved me over and over can be so self-righteous. You‟re so caught up in your medieval world of honor and tradition that you‟ve forgotten the present-day lover you‟ve been lying to. Where‟s the honor in that? I‟m sure even your illustrious ancestors would agree that you‟ve been a two-faced motherfucker!”

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Mickie B. Ashling Cole stood immediately. “This discussion is over. I was willing to forgive you for your indiscretion, but it seems pointless if you‟re not going to forgive me. We seem to be at complete odds, Sloan. I don‟t think we can get back together.” I couldn‟t believe his attitude. He didn‟t think we could get back together? I would just as soon dive off the London Bridge as go back to him. “For the record, shogun,” I said, getting right in his face, “I never stopped loving you, even while I was fucking Trent. If you had come clean, laid your cards on the table, and treated me with the respect I deserved, I would have understood. I may not have liked it, but I would have known you were doing this for your dad, and I would have supported the plan.” “Sloan,” Cole said, reaching for me. He had tears in his eyes, and his proud façade was crumbling rapidly. “Come back with me.” “I can‟t, Cole.” “Are you in love with this guy?” “No. But I respect him, which is a lot more than I can say about you.” “I can make this right, Sloan, believe me.” I shook my head and backed away. My tears were blinding me. If he started to beg, I‟d lose my shit. No matter what I‟d said out loud, Cole would always be the love of my life. “You and Freddie were everything to me, Cole. I gave you one hundred percent, but you didn‟t return the favor. There was a small part of you that treated me like a child. You enjoyed having someone mentally dependent on you because everything else in your life had been ripped away by your disease. I was the only one who couldn‟t function without you, but then I got better. When I started to become independent, you couldn‟t handle it, could you? Well, no worries, Cole. Noriko and your new family will give your life some purpose again. You can call the shots, and everyone will do your bidding.” “You‟re wrong,” Cole said. “I loved you just as much as you loved me.”

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Vessel “Then your kind of love is way different from mine. Let‟s end this now, as friends, and move on.” “Won‟t you reconsider?” “No. I‟ll have Max drive you and Freddie to the airport. He‟ll stay with you until you board.” We were both crying openly, and he lunged, wrapping his arms around my waist and sobbing on my shoulder. I wanted to die. “Sloan, please?” “I‟m sorry,” I said, pushing him away reluctantly. I practically ran out of the room. If I stayed another second I would cave, and I knew I‟d be miserable with my decision. I walked into Trent‟s room and picked up the phone, calmly asking to be connected to Max‟s suite. Trent watched me in silence. I could have kissed him for his tact. After telling Max what happened, he agreed to remain with Cole until he left for New York. I went to the bathroom, stripped, and turned the shower on full blast. The stinging spray was almost as hot as the tears that kept on flowing down my face. I sank down into a crouch and let it all out. This was the end of everything I‟d known for a long, long time. My haven was about to board a plane and leave me to fend for myself. A part of me was terrified. I could feel the panic fluttering wildly in my chest, like a bird trapped in a room and banging against the window in a desperate bid to escape. I wanted to cut myself to ribbons, to take away some of the pain, but I kept hearing Trent‟s voice, telling me not to give anyone or anything so much power over my life. Still, the need was overwhelming. I turned off the water and stepped out. Standing in front of the sink in nothing but a towel, I picked up the hotel razor. With trembling hands, I tore at the plastic, and in my haste, it fell on the floor. Just then Trent walked in, took in the scene, and bent down to pick up the straight razor. “Come with me,” he said quietly. “If you need this to make you feel better, let‟s do it right.” I looked into his eyes and didn‟t see a hint of derision, so I let him take me by the hand and lead me out of the bathroom. He

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Mickie B. Ashling sheltered me in his arms and waited a few minutes until my shaking got under control. “It‟s going to be alright,” he said softly. “Trent… I‟m losing it.” “Shh… let me help you.” “How?” “Do you trust me?” “Yes.” “I‟m going to coax the pain right out of your system.” For whatever reason, I believed he could do it. “You need to lie down on the floor while I get some things.” “Why the floor?” “Because I want you flat and immobile; the mattress might shift while I work around you.” “You‟re not going to torture me, are you?” “Never.” “Will I need a safe word?” “Everyone does,” Trent said. He kissed me on the mouth and wiped the tears that covered my face. “Pick a word, Sloan.” Trent could tell I was confused yet, at the same time, curious. Whatever he planned warranted some reassurance. Choosing a safe word was good enough for me. “How about Queen?” “I‟ve always liked them.” I smiled through my tears. He knew I was talking about the band, and that was such a dealmaker for me. “Queen it is.”

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Vessel Chapter 31

TRENT picked up the phone and ordered mineral water with a bucket of ice. He made a point to ask for extra ice, and in the same breath, he requested a new razor and a first aid kit. He asked if they would include a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls. I felt a fluttering in my chest when I heard the word razor, and for a second, I wanted to get up and walk out of the room. He must have had some sixth sense about my feelings because he turned in my direction and smiled. His dimple reassured me somehow, as did his embrace when he enveloped me in his arms after putting down the receiver. “Don‟t be nervous,” he said softly. “We‟ll take this very slowly. Tonight will be all about sensation.” “What are you going to do?” “Don‟t anticipate, Sloan. I want you to close your eyes and let me take charge.” I was stark naked, and he still had all his clothes on, which made me feel very vulnerable. Conversely, I‟d never felt safer in my life. His self-confidence exuded from every pore. Now that I knew he‟d been in Special Forces, an elite division of the army, it explained a lot. He was a natural leader, and this trait carried over into his civilian life, giving him a certain poise and élan that could have only been gained by having men under his wing while making life-and-death decisions on the fly. 221

Mickie B. Ashling “I need to use the bathroom.” “Go ahead,” he urged, pushing me in the right direction. There was a knock on the door just as I closed the one behind me. By the time I‟d finished taking a piss and brushing my teeth, room service had already left. Trent had drawn the drapes over the windows and turned off all the lights in the bedroom but one. He‟d also removed his shirt and slipped on his lounging pants, the ones that hung low on his hips. My last coherent thought was trumped by the image of this fine-looking man. I could feel my body stirring as he zeroed in on my face, and his eyes burned bright with an emotion I‟d never seen before. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Yes.” He spread one of the extra-large Turkish towels on the floor. It was white, and I had a sudden vision of it discolored with drops of blood, but I pushed the thought out of my brain as quickly as it appeared. “Come here, Sloan.” I responded to his command automatically. “Lie facedown.” I did. “I‟m going to restrain your hands and feet loosely, so you don‟t jerk or make any sudden moves. Let me know if the bindings are too tight or if they pinch anywhere. I don‟t want you going numb. Okay?” I nodded. “Say it out loud, please.” “I‟m okay.” “Thank you.” Trent had been busy while I was in the bathroom, ripping up a bed sheet into strips he could use to tie me up. I could only imagine the comments from housekeeping tomorrow. He‟d probably end up paying some outlandish amount for destroying hotel property. All these thoughts were going through my mind as he positioned my arms above my head and crossed them, one wrist over the other, expertly

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Vessel binding me with a series of knots. “How does that feel?” he asked, stroking me gently. “No issues.” “Good.” He did the same thing with my feet. Within minutes, I was bound and at his mercy. “I‟m going to start by giving you a massage,” he said, taking a small bottle of scented oil and pouring a healthy amount on my back and buttocks. “Where‟d you get that?” “In the bathroom.” “I didn‟t even know it was there.” “In the army, they taught us to be resourceful―notice our surroundings and make a mental list of objects at hand. It‟s far better than wishing for something unattainable.” “Does that include people?” “Sometimes,” Trent said. I could tell by his voice that he was smiling. “Do you like to be massaged?” he asked, bearing down harder on my back. He was kneading my muscles, following the line of tendons and pushing at the knots with his thumbs. “I‟ve never had one quite as good.” “I would have thought Cole was into Shiatsu.” “I usually massaged him.” “Didn‟t he reciprocate?” “Not often, but hey, that doesn‟t mean he didn‟t want to. He was always on some tight schedule.” “Your continued loyalty is admirable,” Trent said. “It‟s one of the things I find so attractive about you.” “You find me attractive?” I must have sounded dubious because he smacked me lightly on the ass. “Do you find that incomprehensible?” “I‟m such a loser,” I said, falling back into my dark space.

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Mickie B. Ashling Trent straddled me and bent down to whisper in my ear. “I don‟t want to hear you referring to yourself as a loser. Tell me about your first experience with cutting. What set you off?” I didn‟t want to talk about cutting, but I knew it was the whole point to this scene. “I was barely fourteen and didn‟t make the traveling baseball team I was trying to join. My younger brother did, and I was extremely disappointed. I was just starting puberty, and I was underweight and underdeveloped. Junior was covered with body hair while I was as smooth as a baby.” “Were you close in age?” “I was eighteen months older, but everyone thought he was my big brother. He was taller, wider, better at sports, and my father adored him.” “You resented that?” “There was the usual sibling rivalry, but things began to escalate as soon as we got into our teens. My feelings of inferiority had been climbing for months, and I remember that day. I was so hurt and angry, I began scratching at my thighs with my nails. Before I knew it, I was bleeding. The pain was intense, but it made me forget I‟d been rejected.” “And soon you graduated into cutting?” Painful memories slammed into me, and I began to tremble. I was overcome with the old feelings of worthlessness. Would my life start to spiral now that I no longer had Cole to make me feel good about myself? The tremors were extending to my limbs, and even though I was bound, I knew that Trent would feel my skin jumping under his touch. And I was right. He immediately lay on me, blanketing my body with warmth. “I‟m here, Sloan,” he said softly. “I‟ve got you.” “Do you?” I closed my eyes and tried to derive some comfort from his words, but my body had long since programmed itself to need a certain type of pain to mask the other feelings, so I continued to shake.

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Vessel He sat up and reached for the ice bucket. Without warning, he began to rub my neck and back with ice. One would have thought that the cold would make the trembling increase, but it was a shock to my system and had the opposite effect. As Trent passed the ice cubes over my skin, I began to go numb. Little by little, the shaking was brought under control. I felt him reach for something else, but I was too focused on the cold to realize that he‟d grabbed the blade. I smelled the alcohol a second before I felt the cotton ball making a frigid swath across my upper right shoulder. The first slice was shocking, and I gasped. “Don‟t move,” Trent admonished. “Close your eyes and feel the hurt oozing out of you.” My mind blanked, and I focused on the sting. I imagined the ache in my heart seeping through the opening in my skin. Although I couldn‟t see the blood, I knew it was there. The mental picture, along with the physical pain, was slowly purging me. Trent dabbed at my shoulder with the antiseptic before cutting me again, and twice more after that. His light touch hardly registered until the alcohol provided an extra boost of pain. The throbbing in my shoulder matched my pulsing cock. I didn‟t understand what was going on. In the past, cutting had never led to any sexual feelings, but tonight the pain had transformed suddenly into an acute need to be possessed by the man who was wielding the blade with such expertise. His touch ignited something deeper inside of me, kindling a hunger that could only be satisfied by a hard cock. “Please….” “What do you need?” “You,” I sobbed. I couldn‟t stop the tears even though his voice was reassuring. “I‟m here for you,” he said, “right here, Sloan.” The words comforted me along with the warm breath against my neck. I began to relax little by little as I handed over my trust. The bleeding must have stopped, because he laid down the antiseptic and the saturated cotton. He picked up a small tube of slick, and the next thing I felt was the cool gel being spread around my asshole. He

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Mickie B. Ashling slipped in a couple of fingers, loosening the tight ring and causing me to shudder with anticipation. The invasive probing was stimulating me, sending signals directly to my cock which was filling rapidly, pulsing with need. In one swift move, Trent was deep inside of me. My immediate reaction was to buck and try to push him off, but seconds later, the euphoria surged through me as his rigid shaft stabbed my prostate, transporting me to some sublime place heretofore unknown. The pain of Cole‟s rejection evaporated, and only the joy of the moment remained. “Fuck me, oh God, Trent….” “Sloan,” he growled, nipping at my earlobe. I shut everything out of my head, focusing on his deep voice and the overall feeling of safety. He snaked a hand around my waist, lifting me slightly, so he could wrap his warm fingers around my cock, which felt like it was ready to explode. His touch carried me to another level of serenity, one I‟d never experienced before. “You‟re a special man,” Trent said, reassuring me, a mantra of positive reinforcement. “You deserve the best.” “Don‟t let me go,” I begged. “I‟m here for as long as you need me, Sloan.” “Thank you,” I sighed, releasing my fears as my confidence in Trent climbed. He stepped up his movements, thrusting in and out while I moaned and tried to match him, shove for shove. I was hampered by the bindings that held me in place, but the loss of control was enhancing my pleasure. Letting him take charge, shifting my body any way he wanted, was a huge turn-on for both of us. He got off on the power, and I got off on the surrender. My surroundings faded out as I concentrated on the unprecedented passion that was cresting into a mind-blowing orgasm about to rip me apart. I braced myself with my elbows when Trent lifted me up to my knees. He gripped my hips so forcefully I could feel his nails digging into the skin, but it only added more to the moment. We were grunting and pushing against each other, and when he shifted, his hard cock grazed my prostate. I cried out loudly,

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Vessel coming all over the towel in a forceful spray. He crested seconds later, hanging onto me tightly as my muscles squeezed his cock in tight spasms. He poured into the latex reservoir, panting harshly while he pummeled into me. “Such a good boy,” he gasped, seconds before he bit my uncut shoulder unexpectedly. That extra pain made my climax much more powerful. I felt like a firecracker, bursting into a million tiny fragments and floating back down to earth. “Oh my God,” I whimpered, “Trent….” Trent continued to lie on my back, and he kissed me gently on my neck. “Thank you,” he said before pushing up and making short order of the knots. Soon he was rubbing my wrists and ankles. “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?” “I‟m okay.” I felt completely loopy―like I‟d smoked a fat joint or inhaled half a bottle of tequila. “I feel drunk.” “It‟s subspace.” “No shit?” He gathered me up like a wet rag, boneless and pliant against the hard planes of his chest. “Enjoy it,” Trent said proudly, obviously pleased. “I could get used to this.” “So could I,” he admitted. “You‟ve made me very happy.” “You? “By trusting me to lead you away from the pain, you‟ve given me a huge gift.” “It wasn‟t hard at all. Can I ask you something?” “Ask me anything you want.” “Have you ever cut anyone before?” “Yes.” “You‟re pretty good at what you do, aren‟t you?” My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and my limbs were virtually useless. Subspace had zapped all my energy, and the lassitude made each movement incredibly difficult. Trent must have been aware of this phenomenon

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Mickie B. Ashling since he made no attempt to separate us. I felt unbelievably safe in his arms. “I try and make it work for both of us.” “You succeeded, but why didn‟t it hurt or frighten me the way a flogging did? I couldn‟t bear it when Max tied me up and whipped me.” “There are as many levels of pain as there are people and tools. What feels right for someone like Jason could be God-awful for you, just as I couldn‟t tolerate being cut. Our minds process each situation differently due to our own experiences. We have diverse perceptions of what feels good and what doesn‟t. You‟re used to cutting as a coping mechanism. To you, it isn‟t strictly pain, because it‟s always self-inflicted and a pathway or means of escape from a bad situation; whereas a flogger, wielded by another person, is out and out torture. It‟s as jarring as getting your finger burned on the oven door―a different level of hurt altogether.” What happens now, Trent?” “You tell me.” “There‟s so much to learn about this lifestyle, and I‟d like to explore it further.” “I thought you‟d never ask,” he said gently. “Are you ready to get on with your life?” “As ready as I‟ll ever be.” “Did you and Cole say everything that was necessary?” “His decisions over the last six months have been clouded by grief.” “What do you mean?” “Apparently, his father is terminally ill, and Cole is trying to provide him with an heir before he dies. His motives may have been pure, but his methodology was completely fucked. I can‟t forgive him.” “It won‟t be easy to let him go, Sloan.”

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Vessel “I know, but the trust I used to feel has been destroyed. I could never go back.” “That‟s harsh, considering your long history. The word never is so finite.” “Why are you trying to get me to forgive him?” “I‟m not. I don‟t want you to have any regrets where Cole is concerned.” “I won‟t. Maybe someday I‟ll be able to be around him without wanting to knock his head off, but at the moment I can‟t stand being in the same room with him.” “Shall we go on a holiday?” “Where?” “Putting on the kilt made me want to explore my Scottish roots. Why not do it now while we have the opportunity. We could rent a car and drive to Scotland.” “Wow… an entire nation of men in kilts. What could be more tempting?” Trent chuckled. “Yes, but I hope your attention will center on one particular man.” “Without a doubt,” I replied. I curled my fingers around Trent‟s neck and drew him down for a long kiss. After we broke apart, I could feel his reluctance to let me go. It was an unspoken agreement, a lingering sense that I now belonged to this complex man I hardly knew. And rather than scare me, I was filled with hope. “I have a lot to do when I get back to New York,” I said, trying to keep the conversation on an even keel. I‟d always been accused of being overly emotional, and for once I was trying to show some restraint. The reality was I wanted to tell Trent how much I was invested in our relationship, but I knew the timing wasn‟t right. It would be premature on my part, so I said nothing. “What is so important back home?” “Moving out and separating my assets from Cole‟s.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Everything can wait, Sloan.” “Including you?” “My wait is over, isn‟t it?”

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Vessel Chapter 32

I

FELL asleep without answering his question and awoke in the middle of the night thinking about Cole. Did he get home okay? He‟d never traveled this far by himself, and I was sure there had been some harrowing moments when he probably regretted his decision to put himself in harm‟s way. That he‟d come after me willingly was a desperate act I only now appreciated. What must it be like to stand in a place like Heathrow Airport, feel the movements of hundreds of passengers around you, and not see anything? I couldn‟t imagine it. Hopefully, the airline had given him all the assistance he needed to get home without mishap. Why was I even thinking about Cole when I was in bed with another man? Already I felt disloyal to Trent for worrying about Cole, which was stupid considering we had no shared history. I guess it was just a part of my genetic makeup. I was monogamous and didn‟t have room in my heart for two. It was one or the other, and I‟d chosen Trent over Cole―a shock to everyone, including me. I slid out of bed as quietly as possible, so I wouldn‟t wake Trent. We had a long day ahead of us, and I didn‟t want him sleep deprived any more than was necessary. He‟d been so supportive earlier, guiding me through my crisis, and he deserved a few hours of undisturbed rest. I wondered what he‟d be like now that high tension no longer factored into our every move. I really knew nothing about Trent other than what my body was telling me. And it was feeling

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Mickie B. Ashling damn good. Subspace was everything they said it would be and more. I was still floating from my experience. A guy could get used to this. I stood in front of the mirror after I‟d taken a leak, trying to get a look at my shoulder. There were several fine lines that were so thin and perfectly drawn, they looked like tattoos. In the past, I‟d practically mangled my flesh by cutting too deep. Trent was an artist with the blade, and I knew that these lines would be gone in a few days. Nobody would be the wiser. The memory of last night came rushing back, and I could feel my cock awakening slowly. The interesting thing was I‟d never associated sex and cutting. Now it was at the forefront of my brain. What did that say about me? Maybe I was a pain slut. Max had thrown out the accusation when he first learned that I was a cutter, and I‟d denied it vehemently. Nonetheless, here I stood, getting hard at the thought of being cut by Trent. Was it because he was the only one who‟d been intuitive enough to know exactly what type of pain I needed? Or was it the perfect combination of his capable personality and my needs being met. Was it wrong? Should I check into a mental health clinic to get my brain flushed out with bleach? Did this make me sick or damaged? All along I had associated my behavior with mental instability, yet Trent was telling me there were hundreds in the BDSM world who routinely inflicted or received pain and were considered quite normal. Well, as normal as anyone in that lifestyle could be. I thought about Max. He was highly successful at his job and would never be called aberrant, but if one peeled off his layers and examined his quirks, one could come to the conclusion that he was sort of deviant. Yet people admired him without recommending psychiatry to “fix” him. So was this okay, then? Should I embrace my true nature and not keep fighting it? Trent walked in, seized me, and held me against his naked body. “Are you having buyer‟s remorse?” he asked softly, nuzzling my neck. “What do you mean?” “Freaking out.”

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Vessel “A little bit.” “Over Cole, or the cutting?” “Both.” I was surprised that I could talk about it, let alone admit that I was conflicted. It said a lot about my level of trust with Trent. “There is no instant cure for a breakup.” “I can‟t help but worry about him… it‟s years of programming.” “I would expect nothing less from you. Why don‟t you call him to make sure he‟s safe?” “I don‟t want to hear his voice.” “If listening to him will affect you that much, then maybe you should get on a plane and go back home.” “I‟m sorry.” Trent lifted my face and looked into my eyes. They were a little blurry, I had to admit, but he kissed each eyelid shut and held me tight. “Don‟t be sorry. I want you to be very comfortable with your decision, Sloan. I‟d like you to stay with me and give us a chance, but I‟m not heartless. I know how difficult this must be for you.” “I am comfortable, Trent. I don‟t understand a lot of my feelings, especially what happened last night, but my decision to leave Cole feels right.” “You can always change your mind and go after him.” “I don‟t want to.” “Then let it go. Remember what I said about guilt? It‟s useless.” “It‟s fucking inconvenient.” “Everything we do in life adds another interesting layer to our personality. You would be an extremely boring individual if you didn‟t have life experience.” “Is that what we‟re calling this?” “What else?” “I thought neurosis would be more appropriate.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “You‟re not neurotic. You‟re deeply emotional, but I wouldn‟t have you any other way.” “Thank you.” “You keep thanking me, but you don‟t seem to understand that I‟m benefiting as well.” “Are you?” “I wouldn‟t be here if I weren‟t. Come back to bed.” “Trent, am I deviant?” “Because of the cutting?” “Because I got off on what you did to me.” “No more deviant than Max or Jason.” “Or you?” “That‟s right.” Trent held my face between his hands and stared into my eyes. “We‟re a good fit, you and I. Do you have any idea how rare it is to find the perfect partner in the BDSM world?” “Why is it so difficult? There are clubs full of men who want to be hurt.” “That‟s all well and good for a one-night stand, but I want more.” “You want me on a permanent basis?” “I like you, Sloan. You‟re smart, hardworking, and funny. You have a lot of qualities I look for in a guy. I won‟t even mention the draw of your cock because I know it‟ll piss you off,” he said, teasing me with the smile that brought out that dimple which made him so damned attractive. “But good sex shouldn‟t be dismissed lightly.” “It is good between us, yeah?” “Yeah,” he whispered, moving closer. I could feel his body responding to mine and knew we were going to go another round. “Do you ever bottom?”

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we?”

“Not as a rule.” “What‟ll it take?” “It‟s always good to have goals, Sloan.” I laughed at that and kissed him soundly. “Let‟s work on it, shall

“Not tonight,” he said firmly. “You‟ll have lots of time on our trip to try and convince me.” “It‟s going to take work, is it?” “It‟ll make the victory much sweeter,” “I‟ll keep that in mind.” “Can we stop talking about sex and actually do it? This conversation is giving me a raging boner.” “Unlike you, I have no issues with being plowed.” “Less talk and more action, buddy.” We laughed our way to bed and fell on the crumpled bed sheets, kissing the entire time. Within seconds, he rolled on top of me, plying me with open-mouth kisses while he had my head trapped between his hands. It was becoming quite clear that Trent loved kissing, and he did it very well. I could feel his erection pressing against mine, and I spread my legs wider, wrapping them around his thighs and grinding frantically. My hands clutched at his ass cheeks, loving the sensation of the taut muscles rippling under my fingers. We were both oozing with beads of moisture, which helped us slide effortlessly, making one messy, delicious combination of heat. It wasn‟t long before we were both gasping and soaking each other with our seed. Much later, when my breathing settled back down to normal and I lay spooned against him, I asked, “Would you ever consider doing it raw?” “In theory, I have nothing against it if we‟re tested first, but like your other goal, it will take some time.” “You‟re full of challenges, aren‟t you?”

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Mickie B. Ashling “That‟s what makes life interesting. Now, be a good boy and try and get some sleep. Max will skin us alive if we show up with bags under our eyes.”

MAX did inspect me, making sure that I‟d survived the night, and

Cole‟s departure, without spiraling into a morass of guilt. “How are you doing, darling?” “I‟m fine. Did Cole get off okay?” “Right on schedule.” “Did he say anything to you?” “No, but I couldn‟t resist giving him a piece of my mind.” “You shouldn‟t have.” “Tough.” “Did he have anything enlightening to share?” “He was being his usual self-righteous self.” I shook my head. “I have no idea when he turned into such a sanctimonious prick.” “He hasn‟t changed at all, Sloan. You have.” “Really?” “Uh huh. Now hustle over to the dressing room and get changed.” “Okay, boss.” I made my way through the crowd at Harrods, mentally preparing myself for our long day. My phone chimed, and I fished it out of my pocket. It was Cole, and I answered before even thinking about it. “Sloan?” The hope in his voice clawed at my gut but was instantly replaced by a slow boil when he said, “Have you come to your senses yet?” “Meaning?”

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Vessel “Get your butt on the next plane and come home where you belong.” “I don‟t belong with you anymore.” “We can make this work.” “You, me, and Noriko?” “Yes.” “Forget about it.” “Are you positive?” “Absolutely.” “Then I‟m pushing up the wedding. I got a call from her doctor, and he confirmed her pregnancy. She‟s carrying twins.” “Congratulations,” I said coldly. “I hope you‟ll be very happy.” “You can still be a part of this, Sloan.” “I don‟t think so.” “My offer still stands.” “Oh? Which one is that? Being your mistress?” “You‟re obviously carrying a grudge.” “And you‟re as delusional as ever. Good-bye, Cole.” I disconnected, cutting off his protest, and I went in search of Trent. Fuck the dressing room. I needed to touch, smell, and be with him, so he could banish all the voices that were screaming like banshees in my head. I was furious, and a step away from breaking something. Trent took one look at me and jerked me into one of the private dressing rooms. “What‟s going on?” “Cole just called to tell me Noriko‟s pregnant with twins and the marriage will soon be a reality.” Trent lifted my chin. “You‟re angry, a definite improvement over the tears.” “Damn right.”

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Mickie B. Ashling “Why?” “The fucker propositioned me again. He basically told me I could walk back into his and Noriko‟s life without missing a beat.” “As his boy toy?” “What do you think?” “And you said?” “No!” “Then why are you so pissed?” “‟Cause he makes me feel so damn insignificant! I want to get on a plane and punch him in the mouth.” “Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Trent said, holding me tight. His voice shifted down, taking on that commanding tone I now recognized as a signal to let him take over. “No matter what Cole says, you and I know there‟s nothing inconsequential about you. You‟re important to me as well as Max.” “Am I?” Trent kissed me softly and whispered. “Very.” “You know that question you asked me the other night?” “Which one?” “About whether your wait is over or not?” “Yes?” “It‟s over.”

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About the Author

MICKIE B. ASHLING began writing stories about men who love

men around the time she discovered Queer as Folk. The characters on that show intrigued her, and ground-breaking writers such as Patricia Nell Warren inspired her. She began to write the kind of stories that she enjoyed reading, spurred on by her muse, who really has this thing for hunky men getting it on. Mickie has lived in the Philippines, Spain, the Middle East, and San Francisco but currently resides in a quiet suburb outside Chicago. She‟s a respectable office manager by day and a proud mother of four grown men who continue to wonder where this interest in gay romance has come from. They shake their heads and scratch their chins but ultimately leave her alone. Mickie‟s first love is writing, but traveling is a close second. Her dream is to be able to quit her day job soon so she can devote all her time and energy doing what she loves best. Visit Mickie‟s web site at http://mickieashling.com and her blog at http://mickieashling.livejournal.com/ You can contact her at mickie. [email protected]

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