Bailey: Independence #1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bailey O’Conner
Independence #1
Karen A. Nichols
Copyright 2012 by Karen A. Nichols
First Edition
Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 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 express written permission from the author except for brief quotes used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book contains adult content and explicit sex, including anal sex, oral sex and BDSM aspects.
Chapter One
Bailey O’Conner absently listened to the chatter around her.
Not so much interest anymore, she thought to herself, making her way through the people plotting their Friday night parties. It was Halloween weekend. There were to be tons of parties and she had standing invitations to far too many of them. She was thirty-one and single but very tired of the crowd of friends she’d allowed herself to become part of.
No, it wasn’t that she was tired of them, so much as the activities that seemed to occupy their time.
She’d never been much into alcohol. And she wasn’t all that crazy about the overly loud music that ended up pounding through her skull. And really hated being pawed without her permission on a dance floor where everyone pretended it hadn’t been their hand.
When she left the large freight elevator that led to her re-created loft apartment in a small suburb outside Seattle, the big shiny package definitely caught her attention. An embossed crème colored envelope had been slid beneath the bright red ribbon that circled the box.
Bailey managed to slide her door wide, clutching the large box to her as she went inside her compact apartment. She used her hip and nudged the door closed until the lock caught.
She laid the box on the small, solid dining table and stared. She didn’t know anyone who would leave her a gift. Especially not a gift like this. The paper and quality of the envelope alone told her they were from very high end places.
Okay, girl. Not the time to turn into a coward.
Average, yes. She knew she was always average. But a coward? Never.
She pulled the envelope from beneath the wide ribbon and carefully opened the flap, breaking the lightly glued seal. The typing was done in an elaborate script that rolled prettily across the paper.
This is your night. Your chance to explore and open your senses. Everything you need is inside the box. Be at the address below at eight this evening. The gold coin is your pass inside a new wonderland for you. They will record the number on the coin. Make certain it is returned to you. You’ll need it later. A vehicle will call for you at seven-thirty to deliver you to your destination. It will also wait for you, when you’re ready to return home. Your costume and destiny await you.
Bailey swallowed hard. Setting the paper down, she slowly pulled the ribbon free. The lid was next, lifting it off and setting it on the table. Tissue paper the shade of ripe raspberries was peeled back slowly, her eyes widening, blinking and simply staring.
This wasn’t a cheap party store costume.
Her fingers stroked and massaged the soft combination of velvet and silk and see-through crepe in a glorious mixture of shades of green. From emerald to spring, the colors called to her and matched the varying moods that struck her eyes.
Bailey wasn’t sure when she began undressing, but slowly she ended up naked and lifting the pieces of the costume from inside the box. She fit the bra like top around her, leaning into it and adjusting her breasts while hands moved behind her to fasten the clips in place.
She stared down at the brocade border, the emerald green fringe below her breasts and the deep well between them. Next she lifted a small bolero style jacket. It didn’t meet in the center, was softer and lighter than anything she’d ever worn and it fit perfectly over the top, its edges on either side of her breasts.
Bailey stopped dressing and quickly removed the two items. She pulled the band from her hair and quickly headed to the shower. She’d wanted different, she told herself firmly. And evidently some fairy godmother had heard her and fulfilled the wish.
She knew the address. Vaguely. It was a very high end part of town and a very exclusive club. She shampooed, showered, rinsed and scented until she was satisfied. A thick towel was pulled repeatedly over her hair to pull as much moisture out as possible before the thick, ripe deep red ringlets began forming.
She carried the box to her bedroom and laid out the outfit reverently on the bed. Top and jacket first. She shook herself side to side, giggling nervously at the fringe moving. She stood before the mirror, adjusting the headpiece and the fine, soft fabric of the pale green veil around her face and shoulders.
Stepping into the legs of the pants was interesting. She left her panties on at first until she realized they would ruin the whole outfit. Chewing on her bowed lower lip, she examined the billowy trousers. They were lined. And soft. Almost like built in panties, she told herself as she stepped into them a second time. She carefully bent and clipped the sparkling bands around her ankles before sliding her feet into the ohh-so comfortable pair of glittering flat silk slippers.
By the time she stood in front of the mirror again, she really wasn’t sure who the woman was staring back at her. She felt silly but looked behind her to find the woman who really stood facing her in the mirror. But she was alone in the small apartment.
She lifted the small fitted mask and adjusted it over the upper part of her face, fixing the veil and inhaling deeply.
Lastly, she stared into the bottom of the box. The remaining piece was like frosted silver. The outside was velvet and the inside the softest satin she could have imagined.
Brocade in a deep emerald that matched the trim on her costume, edged the heavy cloak.
She lifted it, shook it lightly and draped it around her shoulders, fastening the three ornate clasps and lifting the hood over her head. She could feel the heavy tassel against her back as she moved around her bedroom. She looked down as she walked, watching the edges of the cloak swirl around ankles banded with shimmering emerald.
She rummaged quickly through the small selection of perfumes and found one she’d bought at a farmer’s market. Chai Spice. She closed her eyes and gave herself a light dusting, set the bottle down and walked purposefully to the door.
No backing down now. She checked the note one more time and ran back into the bedroom, locating the large gold coin in one corner of the box. It was embossed with the name of the club and a number. She closed her fingers over it, feeling the cold metal in the center of her palm as she collected a small purse with identification, some money and her key. She stuffed it into the pocket of the cloak and took one last, shaky deep breath before leaving the apartment behind her and going to the ground floor and out into the night.
A young man in a simple black suit and cap stood beside a white town car. He moved to the door and opened it, his head tipped patiently.
“Miss O’Conner?”
“Yes. You’re my driver?” A tiny hint of nerves began to bubble.
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled and gestured to the inside.
“Thank you,” Bailey never noticed the low, husky sound of her own voice. She’d always chalked it up to nerves and insecurities that she’d battled with most of her life. Freckles and red hair had a tendency to draw unwanted attention.
“Who hired you?” She grimaced at the burst of words, thick lashes blinking and staring into the mirror as he buckled his belt and started the car. She was glad the glass between them was open. She really didn’t want a panic attack and that could be warded off with talking. And as her mother would say, lord, can that girl talk!
“We only received an order for the car with location and name,” he said, almost apologetically.
“Do you like it? Driving, I mean?” Bailey settled into the comfortable cushions, positioning herself so she could watch him. He barely looked twenty. Clean shaven, short clipped hair and pleasant.
“I do like it. The hours are good, I know roads in the city people probably didn’t know existed and I can do my homework in-between trips. Tonight, I got food, homework, music and peace and quiet. Roommates can make you homicidal,” he listened to her laugh. “I’ll park somewhere you’ll be able to find me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you,” she let her mind drift, watching the October night fly past. Lights and people and cars everywhere. It was almost eight when he pulled before the unobtrusive looking building. It was wide and four stories high. There wasn’t a line outside, but people milled around talking. Only a set of double doors with shiny brass handles. An awning covered about ten square feet and a very large man stood by the door, an earpiece showing below the neatly shaped haircut.
“I’ll be across the street,” he pointed to the parking area. “We’re early so I’ll get a front row space. Have a good time at the party,” he said with a smile, holding the door for her and offering her his hand.
“Thank you,” Bailey still clutched the coin in her other palm, clinging to it like a life line. She should have researched the club. She hoped it wasn’t crazy twenty something’s with music that made her head throb. Squaring her shoulders and telling herself she had to attend the party because her driver needed to get his homework done, she approached the door and pulled her palm from inside her pocket.
Daniel Lutton watched the approach of the woman shielded by the ornate silver cloak. Most of her face was hidden, but the opening of the cloak betrayed a length of silk covered leg that tantalized and hinted at more treasures beneath the cloak. He held up his palm. He knew most of the regulars. And she wasn’t one of them. The lights above highlighted the bright emerald of her eyes.
He reached into an inside pocket for a small note pad.
“I have this,” she said quietly, opening her palm and waiting.
He looked down, one brow arching. That changes everything. He picked up the coin, made a note in the book of the number and handed it back to her. He reached for the door and pulled it wide, not saying a word.
The number on the coin said it all.
Bailey wasn’t sure what to expect. The entrance was almost severe in its arrangement. A sofa and a large desk; some nice green plants and a calendar on the wall. She noticed the soft glow from the lamp on the high desk and the pretty girl behind it wearing a mask and a smile.
There was a large sign, clear and stark against the wall next to a wide arched opening covered with thick, velvet drapes.
“Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves theme night. No exceptions.”
Bailey nodded slightly, glancing down at the opened cloak and her costume.
“Very pretty. May I see your invitation, please?” Georgi loved her job, so smiling at the guests just come naturally to her.
Bailey blinked and hastily lifted her palm, opening her fingers and extending the coin in the center.
She admitted she had no clue what was happening this evening. But she was a trainer. She read people. And the pure shock on the younger woman’s face brought just a tiny twinge of a hot spike to her middle. The younger woman looked at her, literally, up and down with a very interesting smile on her face.
“Welcome to Independence,” she said politely and ran her finger over the surface of the coin, her free hand jotting down the number before she closed Bailey’s fingers around the gold piece.
“Thank you. It looks amazing.”
“Have a wonderful evening. If you need anything, just let one of the staff know,” she smiled and gestured to the curtains. She waited until the woman was out of hearing range before she alerted security of the VIP visitor.
“Thank you,” Bailey withdrew her hand and slipped it into the pocket on the cloak. She opened the lower fasteners, letting the costume she wore beneath available for others to view. Her hand shook a little when she reached for the center of the drapes, pushing past and taking a deep breath.
Chapter Two
The first thing that entered her mind was the sensory overload from looking and listening. Voices, music, colors and people, all floating together somehow in a kaleidoscope that just seemed to fit.
The chamber – and she just knew instantly that calling it a room would be flat out wrong – but the chamber was immense. There were shelves on the walls with candles; there were low lamps lighting things. Nothing bright or garish. Flames flickered off the faux candles and shimmered against reflective surfaces hung on the walls and from the ceiling.
She felt like she was at the lower level, gradually taking in the other levels as her brain could process them. The first level she noticed was the dark, low music. Nothing hard and pounding. Nothing that would distract at all but something you could focus on to meditate.
Then there was the furniture and rustic, muted colors on the walls. There were heavily cushioned sofas; comfortable chairs, benches, barstools and large, thick pillows strewn about the whole chamber. Bars were established at each end and in the center wall.
A gentle throat clearing sent heat flooding her cheeks.
She’d come through the drapes and froze, taking it all in and forgetting there might be someone coming in behind her. She moved to the side, unable to take her eyes off the expansive landscape spread before her.
She was accustomed to the business world. She was used to numbers and programming and teaching people how to work programs for their jobs. It was all so very black and white. And nothing like what she was watching now.
Only by finally focusing on the people did she realize she still had the cloak draped around her shoulders. And that she was considerably over dressed.
It wasn’t that any of them were naked. Close, she realized, taking in the
variety of ways the Arabian Nights were being interpreted and exhaling very slowly. It was suddenly becoming very warm inside the chamber and she knew it wasn’t because of the huge fireplace on the other side of the room.
She reached both hands up to open the final clasp on the cloak, stopping only long enough to reach into the pocket and take the gold token from inside, sliding it carefully into her bodice and beneath one breast. She removed the cloak and walked to the young man standing behind the large counter, a thick black collar around his neck and smile on his face as he took the cloak. He handed her a small ticket, brows up as she slid it into the bodice of her bra.
“No pockets,” she said with a casual shrug, turning and keeping to the outer edge of the large open chamber. Then she remembered the slim chain around her neck and shoulders and the small brightly beaded bag she’d brought with her. Her fingers moved to absently tuck the cloak room ticket inside and snap it closed, letting it rest against her hip.
Bailey had long ago learned that watching provided a person with the most valuable information available. Now was no exception. She was positive this was far from a typical Halloween party. There was food and plenty of drink, and tons of costumes. But the people were most fascinating. She took in the positions, the behaviors and amazing tenderness she watched between some couples. Some female couples, some male and most mixed. But always one in the lead position. She studied them. Watched their posture, their demeanor and how they interacted. There were slight differences, but the implication was clearly understood.
One story up, leaning over the heavy wrought iron railing, Gabriel Garrett watched the petite Jeannie study the scenes laid out across the expanse of flooring. He corrected himself. The scenes were of interest to her, but the people were what she studied.
He also knew he wasn’t the only one watching her. He found himself wondering if the red hair was real. Her outfit hid a lot. Too much. And she wasn’t a regular. He knew them all. He wondered which of the patrons had sponsored her entrance into the club. He even knew most of the part time players. The mask hid only a portion of her face and did nothing to dim those wide green eyes that flickered from shock to surprise to arousal.