The King

“You paid for it.”

“You made my dream come true,” he said. “Worth every penny. It’s everything I wanted and more.”

“I have to show you the best part.” Sam took him by the hand and led him past the bar to a door at the back. They walked through a large storage room that led to a hallway that led to another hallway that led downstairs and to the hall of the masters.

“What is this?” Kingsley asked as she stopped at a door—second to last one on the right.

“Your playroom.” She pulled out a key chain and unlocked the door. She left Kingsley standing on the threshold while she stepped in and lit a lamp. “What do you think?”

Kingsley’s eyes widened as he stepped into the room and looked around. Sheer white fabric hung over the walls and divided the bed from a side room full of kink accoutrements. Silk-covered sofas and pillows lay about in artful arrangements.

“It looks like...” Kingsley began.

“I told the decorator to think Lawrence of Arabia, Omar Sharif or a desert king. He did good.”

More than good, the room was magnificent. No one could walk into this room and not immediately want to lie atop the bed with its blue, red and gold pillows and offer up their body and soul to the master of the house.

“Sam, I can’t...” Kingsley’s voice trailed off. “How did you know I loved Lawrence of Arabia?”

“I called the padre and asked him for ideas. He said something about T. E. Lawrence being kinky?”

“He did love a good flogging, I hear.”

“I have one more little tiny gift for you.” She pulled it from her pocket and put it in his hand.

“A key chain?” he asked, holding up the silver fleur-de-lis.

“You need a key chain for your keys to the kingdom. I had this one made for you. But not only the key chain. There’s a key on it which goes to a lock.”

“What’s the lock?” he asked, finding the tiny key.

“This one.” Sam grinned as she pointed to the little silver lock that hung over the top button on her suit trousers. “I told you I put a lock on my pants. I wasn’t kidding.”

“And you gave me the key?” Gone was all his cynicism, all his sarcasm.

“If you still want me, I’m willing to try. I also wasn’t kidding when I said if I had to be with any man, it would be you.”

“Sam...” He wrapped his fingers tight around the key chain. “Of course I want you.”

“We have an hour before the club opens. I can’t promise I’m going to be any good at it.” Her voice shook, but she never lost her smile. “But I know a lot of queer girls who fuck guys. They say it’s fun. A fun change of pace. And it’s you, and I love being with you, so why not?”

Kingsley opened his hand again and traced the edges of the fleur-de-lis key chain.

“Why not?” he repeated. “I can give you one reason why not. Because you’re perfect the way you are, Sam. And I love you the way you are. And you never have to change for me. And I hate to admit it and never tell him I said this, but Søren is right. I have all the lovers I need. What I could use is a partner and a friend and a second-in-command.”

“I am your partner and your friend and your second-in-command already.”

“Then I have all I need.” Kingsley pressed the keys to his chest over his heart. “But don’t think I’m not tempted. But I also know you’re a little relieved, aren’t you? Hmm?” He tapped her under the chin.

Sam winced. “A little,” she admitted. “But also sad. Sort of. I wanted to do something special for you.”

“You gave me my kingdom. You gave me all of this.” He swept his hand around the room, the perfect room she’d created for him.

Sam took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. He held her close and tight and tears escaped her eyes.

“Can I tell you something crazy and inappropriate while standing in the middle of your new kink playroom?” she asked.

“Please,” he said.

“I think you’ll make an amazing father someday.”

“I think that is the best thing to say in the middle of this room,” Kingsley said. “If I’m going to be a father someday, the child will likely be conceived in here.”

He gazed once more around the room. It was everything he could ever ask for. Almost everything.

“There is one thing I’d like to do in this room before we open. With you. I think I need to get it out of my system.”

“Anything,” she said. “I’m your girl.”

Kingsley put the keys in his suit pants pockets and took a deep breath. He reached out and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, the other arm around her waist. He dipped her back as if they were in an old Hollywood movie and kissed her. And Sam, God bless her—Sam kissed him back as if her life depended on it. He kissed her mouth, she kissed his tongue. He bit her bottom lip. She bit his top. She ravished his mouth and he ravished her in return. He raided her, plundered her and sundered her. The world turned to light and heat, and if he opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of the desert with the sun blazing down on to them, he wouldn’t be surprised, the kiss was that shockingly, knee-knockingly, world-rockingly hot.

And then it was over.

Kingsley stood her up on her feet and took a step back.

“Bon,” he said, and straightened his jacket. “I needed that. Merci.”