Don't Go L.J. Breedlove (books to read fiction TXT) 📖

too, and she was wanting to be dominant to his submission, and that suited his mood. He obeyed her whims, and they laughed together, as they watched the rooms and their occupants.

Black had tried to join them, but he didn’t dom well enough to control Ruby, and he couldn’t bring himself to sub to a woman, although Ryan suspected he would to a man. He was tempted to try, but he had already committed to Ruby, and topping one while bottom to another only worked if Ruby wanted to top them both. And she didn’t. And Black couldn’t. So, there it was.

It was a large party, a well-known BDSM club was hosting it, and Ryan saw plenty of people he knew, and more than a few from the university. He stayed away from those. Best not to confuse his worlds.

Except Black. Ryan liked whatever game he was playing less and less. And he’d about decided to end the night early when Black brought him a drink. One drink, and he’d go.

Ryan’s memories fractured at that point. He remembered some sex, and some more coke, and another drink. He remembered crouching beside Black’s chair, being fed by him. And then he’d staggered out to get some air.

He remembered some gentle hands, a taxi, and then he’d gotten home, found a phone and called Cage.

Chapter 14

12:30 p.m., Friday, Eyewitness Newsroom — Ryan looked up at the Provost sitting across from him. “Black. He spiked a drink he gave me when I decided to leave. It had been weird, but then Ruby was there, and I always liked playing with her. He tried to join, but it didn’t work with the three of us, and he was mad about it. That’s when he brought me a drink.”

McShane nodded. “And then you were docile, more docile, and you left Ruby for him. Not something you’d normally have done, I don’t think.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You were more aware of me than I realized,” he observed.

“Over time,” he agreed. “Young players who show up on campus are a vulnerability. But you seemed to avoid me, and I was happy with that. Most students are just tourists anyway. But you obviously weren’t. Although you quit. Why?”

“Got sober. Found that those games needed a drug and alcohol lubricant. Without it? It seemed sad,” Ryan said, then added hastily. “No offense.”

McShane smiled. “It’s just play for me. No different than choosing teams on a Saturday to play baseball when you’re old enough to know better.”

Ryan didn’t disagree with that. Actually, he found he agreed: Sex games were more fun and less embarrassing than city league sports any day.

“So why? Black should have wanted to stay away from me for the same reason. I wasn’t even aware of him before that night,” Ryan asked.

“He obviously had been aware of you. Although he usually stayed in the gay bars, I think,” McShane said. “You had quite the rep in our world. A chameleon willing to play whatever role you were asked — dom, sub, for men, women — and you were pretty. And surprisingly, you didn’t flame out. Many who come to it young, like you did, are deeply troubled. You took precautions, you were careful. Black approached you, and brought you to the party that night, and he expected you to die of overdose there. He was planning to use it to out me and put me out of my job.”

Ryan was silent. “What did you do to him?” he asked finally. “And what did I do?”

“Me? I’d blocked his promotion to full professor. I couldn’t do anything about his tenure —that was done before I came here. But the university needed to get rid of him. And if we promoted him, it would become all that much harder to get rid of him when the opportunity came. You? I’m not so sure. Maybe you were just handy.”

“Seems a bit malevolent to kill someone just because they’re handy,” Ryan said.

“Anything you recall?”

Ryan told him about having a class with him in the spring and tweaking his nose a bit by writing a final paper with a feminist theory approach. “He was not happy with me.”

“You were in that class?” McShane hesitated. “There was a complaint filed against him over it. I thought the complaint of sex discrimination had merit, but the complainant didn’t return in the fall, and the Faculty Senate committee dismissed the claim.”

“Teresa Valdez,” Ryan said.

McShane said nothing.

“He mentioned her today,” Ryan said. “Not by name. But he’d been keeping track of her. And that scares me. Scares me a lot.”

“Why?” McShane said. “She’s never returned to campus. I’d know.”

Ryan looked at him. “I don’t know how much I trust you,” he said at last.

“Ryan, you hold my career in your hands,” he said, with an unamused laugh. “Seems like it’s me who is at risk here.”

“I’d risk me,” he said. “But what I’m about to tell you risks more than me.”

Ryan filled him in, including custody of his 3-year-old son.

“Not at your loft, I hope,” McShane said about the last, while he processed the rest of it.

“No.”

“So, he gets even with me, gets even with Ms. Valdez, gets even with you,” McShane summarized. “I wish I had known those connections back then.”

Ryan snorted. “I wish I had known them,” he said. “I would have.... Ah hell. I would like to think I’d have cleaned up my act and married her then, but I would have put her through hell if I had. Because I literally had to get to death’s door and even then....” He looked at McShane. “You’re married. She know you play?”

McShane looked amused. “We both play.” He looked as if he wanted to laugh.  “When you graduate and are accepted to the graduate program of your choice, I’ll invite you to dinner and introduce you. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

Ryan looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll be able to bring Teresa,” he said. “But Teresa was not part of the scene.