Orders
by NovaD Chapter Five:
Aquatic Maneuvers

At first, Blair believed that he was working hard at trying to justify what seemed to be an intense preoccupation between himself and his lover for no other purpose than to receive amazing pleasure. Not that there was anything wrong with the pleasure he derived from Topping Jim. If he allowed himself, the Guide could easily see himself slipping into an obsession of creating scenes to maximize Jim's wonderful vulnerability and willingness to please. On these occasions, Blair was glad he's come up with such a rigid frame for the Commander. The scenarios had a beginning, middle and end. It had to be that way, or Blair swore he's never allow Jim out of that state of naked neediness with his pale eyes begging for more. The intense reaction to being the Commander shook Blair sometimes that was certain. But it never troubled him enough to try to make excuses for it.

The biggest lesson both men learned from the times they nearly lost each other is that they should both pay close attention to what the inner voice is telling them to do. Since both of them had a relatively weak record interpreting the appearances of animal guides or visions, he believed the amazing Sentinel-Guide synergy found another way to reach their minds which were generally too grounded in modern life to even consider supernatural symbols as a real message. So it's their bodies -- or Jim's body -- that gets the message to them.

Blair came to believe that Jim knew what things were wrong on some subconscious level. Whatever comes to him is too subtle for his conscious brain to process and articulate. So it's converted into some need. Blair reasoned that since he was attuned to responding to Jim's ordinary needs and he enjoyed the man when he was especially needy, their play sometimes brought answers to crimes which were proving to be elusive. It took the Guide a while to notice that. He thought nothing of the fact that Jim needed training in the middle of that grueling task force rape murder case. The choice of hotel was more of logic than mysticism. That it was across the street from where the perp found his victims was coincidence in Blair's mind.

But then the ever so butch Jim suddenly got an interest in cross-dressing That led to a search for chic ensembles for a man with linebacker's shoulders. That led him to the very dressmaker who was supplying the Natasha part of the Boris and Natasha bank robbers with his ensembles. They were so named for their relative heights, the man's taste for dark suits and gangster fedoras and his partner's love for purple strapless sheath dresses. That unique experience got scholar Blair's mind working on the theory.

Out came Burton's book and Blair's research from other sources. Aside from details on how Sentinels interpreted the changes sensed around a tribal village's environs, the book and notes mentioned more "fantastic" and supernatural signals of dangers Sentinels could pick up for their Guides to interpret. Back then, in the jungles, it wasn't unusual for folks to see signs and portents about. They knew how to handle them. The last time Jim had a portent, he reacted the wrong way and Blair drowned. That makes a man even less receptive to such things, so they stopped coming. At least they stopped coming in that fashion. Instead of visions, Jim got a hankering to wear red high heels while being spanked. Blair researched the best places to purchase the desired items and voila! An incredibly prolific bank robbery team gets nabbed. Jim's sudden interest in pumps and lacy drawers vanished shortly afterward.

But aside from an interesting collection of clothes in his closet, Jim gained nothing from the experience. Blair gleaned a ton from the whole incident. Of course, he didn't tell Jim about the theory. And it isn't a matter of hiding anything. It had been just a theory and a wacky one at that. Blair didn't want it to affect Jim on the job or at home. Besides, part of his Guide deal is protecting his Sentinel and allowing him to do his thing. He figured the less said the better. Besides, he really did enjoy being the Commander.

And since they were both happy and well adjusted and working and loving well together, the fates conspired to throw them a curve. And Blair would get to put his theory to a real and vital test.
 
 

Dennis Nelson was tired and frustrated and once again headed for the Pacific Northwest. What was with that part of the country anyway, he wondered. He and colleagues in other part of the Bureau had been up there for more serial killers, terrorist and mad bombers than any other part of the country. Sometimes, Nelson felt like they were fighting a forest fire with a single garden hose. He was seriously considering writing a proposal for a new study for his Behavioral Science Unit to take up. If they could isolate the root cause of all the madness encountered in that part of the world, perhaps further mayhem and misery could be prevented. Or maybe that unit in the basement of the Hoover building could find some paranormal reason for the mayhem.

The file he'd been reading on the plane was one he wished could have been prevented. Four beautiful women in suburbs of Cascade, Washington had been found murdered in their own homes during a six-month period. This was on the heels of the spree that killed those women in the downtown area of that city. Nelson had heard of areas that got more than their share of serial murders. Santa Clara, California came to mind. But this coupled with all the other oddities that happen there was startling. It was enough to make Nelson consider that darker; other worldly forces were at work there. What else could explain the horrific way these girls were killed then displayed for loved ones to find them. That angered him as such things always did. But Nelson was frustrated because he couldn't make things add up.

The killer fit certain aspects of a profile but didn't in others. And those differences were so major that they made any speculation worthless. He was missing something and that oversight wouldn't likely mean more deaths. He wasn't accustomed to this happening. What was more unnerving is the guys at Quantico came to the same conclusions. Either the evidence was not gathered properly which would explain the inconsistencies or there is something going on that even with the combined experiences of his team, he wasn't seeing. For some reason that the agent couldn't put his finger on, that was what he believed was the case. Thus, after rechecking the crime scenes himself, Nelson planned a trip to Cascade to fill in the gaps to his education -- if his teachers were willing.

A LA homicide detective named Forbes who was taking the course on profiling he was teaching at Quantico had told Nelson about Ellison and Sandburg. Forbes brought up their case as part of a question about how many different kinds of lifestyles and their nuances should an investigator know in order to be affective. It apparently bothered him to have had to ask these detectives from another jurisdiction to risk their reputations and lives on a LA case because no was able or willing to take on the bdsm scene. Nelson thought it was unlikely that there weren't cops in LA who could handle that action. It was more likely that they were unwilling to be exposed. Even cops who are known to be straight have sometimes been harassed after an undercover detail in a gay setting.

At the time, Nelson answered that it wasn't necessary to know about every hobby or obsession available. Most serial killers have a narrow range of interests. That's part of the reason that they become such isolated loners. And despite its portrayal in popular culture, people in the bdsm lifestyle don't move onto killing as a rule. Serial killers have a problem with impulse control. Practicing Dominants are all about control. They've understood what killers do not - playmates can't play once they are dead. And since there are people with kinks to float anyone's boat, the relationships in this community are mutually satisfying --even if they do mystify "vanilla" folk. Such folk included Nelson who was frankly confounded by bdsm. And his little voice was telling him that an understanding of that culture was vital to solving those cases.

Nelson approached the proposed interviews the way he had when he studied killers. He armed himself with information. Because of his status at the Bureau, he could get his hands on a lot of it. The agent didn't want to intimidate the detectives. He wanted to get some kind of handle on them -- or at least a mental picture. He also wanted to save time. If the partners knew that he already had information about them, it would save time. There was no need to fence and evade over some questions. They could get to the heart of the matter. Nelson knew this wouldn't be easy. Unlike a convict, these men had to be handled with respect and great care. Forbes continued to regret causing Sandburg anguish over the way he solicited their help.

In many ways, Nelson had to be more careful with these men than he had with even the most brilliant of killers. He knew everything about them including the research on Ellison's senses Sandburg spectacularly discredited. The Bureau had all the information, but was taking a wait and see attitude as to the validity. Ellison had been very careful to make sure his cases were locked down with other evidence. Thus, despite the unusually high arrest rate, nothing could be proven and no one was crazy enough yet to kidnap an ex-Special Forces and award winning cop to prove a theory. If the Black Bag guys existed, Ellison and Sandburg hadn't tweaked their radar. But Nelson was certain that they feared that sort of thing whether or not Jim was a so-called Sentinel. He didn't want to fence with them over things he already knew, but he sure as hell didn't want to frighten them.

By the time he reached his hotel, Nelson was nervous. He decided to play completely on their turf. Normally, he'd find a watering hole to his liking and have the subject come to him, but he wanted them relaxed. As soon as he'd unpacked, Nelson was headed for Cascade PD headquarters.

He saw Ellison first. He was across the room from the elevators with his head down considering a file. Nelson took a few moments to observe while pretending to rummage through his papers. Jim Ellison was all alpha male. A cop's cop with the military bearing still evident in the way he sat. He was at ease but not really relaxed. He was good looking - better in person than in photos. He seemed at ease with himself. There was an easy banter with the people around him. Ellison's demeanor brightened further when Sandburg came out of Banks' office. He had a big grin on his face that warmed Ellison's features immediately. The photos the Bureau had were outdated. Sandburg had cut his hair. The "beauty" that his secretary raved about was still there, but it had been tempered. He looked more mature than the grad student in the photos did, but the large blue eyes were still mischievous. They shared a joke in the way intimates would for a moment nothing else existed for them. It was a telling moment for Nelson. He straightened his tie and headed over.

"Detective Ellison...Detective Sandburg," he said extending his hand. "I'm Special Agent Dennis Nelson. I believe we have an appointment with your Captain."

Each man shook the offered hand. Ellison nodded at him. The warmth had gone from his expression. He was unreadable. "The Captain is expecting you. This way."

Dennis was tall. He was a little startled to find Ellison staring him straight in the eyes. Captain Banks was a giant. After swallowing his hand during the greeting, he offered a cigar, which Dennis accepted then, pocketed with a smile.

"You know we really should insist on a retina scan," Sandburg said. He was only half kidding. There was no mirth in his large blue eyes.

Ellison stood by the door with his arms folded. "Or at least a blood sample."

"Come on guys, I've seen this one on a TV newsmagazine," Banks said in assurance. "He's the real article."

Ellison scrutinized him as if he were a microorganism. "No sign of plastic surgery scars. That's a good sign."

Banks shook his head. "We're all a little gun shy with the Bureau for a number of reasons. I'd be worried, too if it wasn't for Dateline . Have a seat. Detectives?"

The two men settled in seats next to one another and some distance from Nelson. They weren't cold, but they weren't friendly.

"We thought we'd hear from someone sooner about these cases," Banks observed. "They're mighty close by."

"And it would have been a good idea for the county Sheriff to contact you," Nelson concurred. "For all they know, you may have someone similar in your files and could assist one another. But the sheriff in the next county doesn't seem like the cooperative type and the Bureau can't do anything until we're asked. I think your input could be valuable, so the Sheriff will have to just deal with his issues."

"What can we do for you?" Sandburg asked. His voice was deeper and more resonant than expected. Nelson looked about the room before he spoke. He met each man's eyes and hoped his sincerity carried through.

"Gentlemen, I need to talk to you about some information or insight you may have that could help me pin down a profile of this killer. Something I have yet to do to my satisfaction."

"Isn't that why were in here?" Ellison asked.

"I needed to meet you with your Captain and brief you all, but I need to talk to you and Blair alone and away from here," he replied.

"Why?" Banks asked.

"A lot of what you can tell me will be of a deeply personal nature," he replied keeping his eyes on the two detectives. I need you to feel comfortable with me and your surroundings."

Again, when Ellison looked at him, Nelson thought the man was looking under his skin. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found. The big cop relaxed a little diffusing the tension in the entire room.

"Why don't you brief us then," Banks said.

Nelson did in a brisk and efficient manner. He was only certain of one thing when he was through. The killer would keep going until he was caught. Sandburg was solemn at the end. His enormous blue eyes were sad. Ellison was still unreadable.

"Where would you like to talk?" Sandburg asked quietly.

Nelson shrugged. "Wherever you're most comfortable."

Ellison looked up at Banks. "I'd like to be home for this, Sir."

"Good idea," Banks nodded. "Call me when you're finished."

Nelson decided that it would be prudent to give the detectives a little time to talk through their anxieties and set up for his arrival. He was pleased at the chosen location even though the turf edge was clearly theirs. How the men lived would tell him a lot about them. Even if they didn't talk a lot, he would learn something that may help him win their full cooperation.

Sandburg answered the door. His posture and demeanor was different -- aside from the comfort of being in his own home. Nelson realized that he wasn't armed. Blair Sandburg had been a pacifist by all reports. The agent wondered idly how carrying a weapon affected his psyche. He seemed centered and adjusted.

The loft was large and airy. The decor reflected both of their interests and thus was intriguingly eclectic. Nelson sensed that a whole lot of compromise went into what was seen on the walls and about the room. Yet it was warm and inviting. It said a lot to him that such diverse individuals could share a living spaces and makes it a real home.

"The salads are ready,' Blair said. "We waited for you to put the steaks on."

"Thanks."

"You want a beer...or some wine, maybe?" Sandburg asked.

"Beer sounds great."

Jim was quiet with his grill pan behind the kitchen island. I didn't expect much idle conversation from him. There was however some silent communication between the two men. After Sandburg swung through with his beer, Nelson was left to observe them. It could have been choreographed; the movements were so graceful. There was a lot of eye contact and chaste but meaningful touches. This too, Nelson realized, was practiced. They remained intimate but never made him uncomfortable.

Ellison wasn't long for the gently comradery. He wanted to get down to business. Which he did just as the food was served.

"What is it about the case that has you so frustrated, Nelson?" He asked.

Nelson swigged on a beer. Sandburg held his, but his eyes were on Nelson. He was waiting as well.

"Okay, the manner of death suggests the killer is an inadequate type...long standing history of problems with women...low self esteem. There was a lot of rage in the way they were brutalized before they died and what he did to their bodies afterward."

Both men nodded expectantly. In this respect, the cases were tragically common to other sex crimes.

"A man with that kind of baggage usually has some sort of physical or psychological problem which prevents him from attracting women in the first place.... Hence the rage. When a man like that strikes out at women like these, they usually have to blindside them."

"Because they would never get anywhere near them normally," Blair said.

"Right. It's apparent that the killer was let into the homes of the victims. Some had a meal with him before the attack. It almost looks like a date."

"If he's got enough going for him to get a date, what's with the rage?" Blair asked. "I see. Where do we fit in?"

Sandburg finally asked the big question.

"I think I may be having trouble with this because there may be an element to the crimes which is beyond my normal scope," Nelson began. "There is evidence in some cases that bdsm is involved."

Blair looked over at Jim whose jaw had tightened to the point it could shatter teeth.

"Here me out," Nelson said quickly. "First off, I understand your concerns about this. I've had very long talks with Detective Forbes from LA Homicide. He still regrets his handling of your personal lives."

That startled Jim. "Really?"

"Yes. He admits that Blair was right to get indignant. He was treating you like vice-boy specials. And it still bothers him," Nelson said. "I won't make the same mistake. I see you have a very special relationship and have built a lovely life here. I would never disrespect that. I don't see it often."

"Thank you," Blair said.

"And to lay all of my cards on the table, I'll tell you what I know about you, so you don't have to feel that you need to hide anything," Nelson said. "I apologize in advance for the Bureau. They shouldn't know a fraction of this, but it's what they do sometime."

Each man listened silently as Nelson made his report. Jim stoically ate his dinner. Blair thoughtfully had his beer. They tried to look incredulous at some of the information, but Nelson knew they were shaken with the scope and detail of his report.

Jim chewed his steak afterward. His face was set. "I take it that all is safe with the US. There are no more threats of terrorism or anything like that if they have the time to dig up this much bullshit on a pair of Cascade cops."

Nelson shrugged. "You must admit, a lot of strange stuff goes down in Cascade. You guys are often at ground zero."

"If they really think I'm a Sentinel, why aren't I strapped to a bed in some no-named facility?"

"They don't believe it," Nelson said. "And so far, you've never done anything to make them believe it."

That gave them pause. They relaxed again though only marginally.

"Okay," Sandburg said. "Exactly what do you want us to do?"

Nelson accepted a second beer. "Look over the files and photographs. I'll even take you to the murder scenes. Tell me if it is an S&M thing and teach me what I don't know about that as a loving lifestyle. I know nothing save for the killers who've had the violent S&M fantasies."

"Why do you think they are related to the lifestyle?" Blair asked. "You said you only found literature at some of them."

"Correct, but I think I'm missing something."

"Do you have a list of books that were at the other victims houses?" Jim asked.

Forbes did. He handed it to Blair first while Jim began to carefully scan the photographs. The younger Detective took only a little while to scan the lists.

"They all had bdsm literature in their homes," he said. "Not all of them are as obvious as The Mistress Manual or Exit to Eden. There are the Gor books, which are sci-fi bdsm. Some of them are technically romance novels, but they have heavy bdsm leanings. Did you find any equipment?"

Nelson handed him another list. "There were soft restraints or handcuffs and a paddle at some of the apartments, but frankly I see that in a lot of bedrooms these days."

"You may not know what you're looking at. There is Equipment with a capital e, then there is stuff that someone could use that's around the house," Blair said. "That sort of equipment is more likely for someone who's dabbling."

"Can you tell from the photos, Jim?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "We'll have to see the crime scenes for ourselves."

Nelson found himself letting out a held breath. "Then, you'll help me?"

Jim and Blair exchanged a brief, confirming glance. "We don't really have a choice," Jim said. "This nutbar isn't going to stop until someone stops him."
 
 

Whatever else could be said about Special Agent Dennis Nelson, he knew how to beat a discreet retreat. They finished the meal and set up the parameters of the investigator then briefed Simon, and he was gone with a warm handshake for each of them. Blair couldn't dislike Nelson. He had very kind, sincere eyes. The Guide wondered how it was possible for a man who had looked at so much evil. He trusted the man, but it was still jarring. Jim was quiet, and Blair knew that his lover was troubled by what he had seen and heard that night. As soon as the door closed behind the Agent, Blair was in his arms pressed closed to that long hard body.

Jim just buried his long fingers in his hair and nuzzled his neck. The Sentinel was breathing his scent and centering himself.

"Are you okay?" Blair asked gently.

"I'm trying to be," he replied stroking Blair's back then making gentle circles. It appeared he was soothing him, but they both knew the truth.

Blair relaxed into the embrace giving himself to his lover. Perhaps, he needed gentle reassurance of his presence. He felt those fingers gently tug his head back for that devastating kiss.

Jim's physical dichotomy always amazed Blair. He wondered how such a hard and seemingly unyielding body was so wonderfully comfortable to be pressed against. And for all the power in those dense muscles and the lust raging in his eyes, those hands were very gentle; his kiss was insistent but not bruising. The Guide allowed himself to be taken upstairs. There he was stripped naked and spread out on top of the comforter underneath the light from the skylight.

Jim was very quiet as he touched Blair's skin. He caressed it and simply felt it as if it were something completely new to him. He did the same with Blair's hair almost feeling each and every strand on his head. This wasn't exactly unusual. Jim had mapped Blair thoroughly on his senses before. Those times came after a separation or some sort of threat. Blair didn't know what to think save that he was going to lose his mind before his near painful erection got any attention. And he was right. Despite his undulating and moaning under the Sentinel's maddening fingers, Jim could not be dissuaded from this exploration.

Blair thanked all the Guide deities that he was not tied down. Jim hadn't even weighed him down with his body. He was just driving Blair crazy with those softly questing caresses across his heated skin and through his hair. But Blair wanted more and even the occasional possessive and demanding kiss from Jim's talented mouth was not enough to satisfy the growing need. Frustrated, Blair took Jim by the shoulders and gently but firmly propelled him lower along his body. Fortunately for the younger man's sanity, Jim complied. Then the nuzzling and scenting and licking were focused on the heat and hardness of Blair's erection. Blair lost all thought when Jim latched onto that heat with his mouth and took him deep inside. He also lost consciousness when he came. The last thing he remembered was having no voice to scream.

When he awoke hours later, Jim was holding him draped over his body. Again, Blair was puzzled. He was toasty and content, but still puzzled. He was certain Jim hadn't come; yet he was contently and deeply asleep. And though they slept entwined or spooned together, they didn't sleep like that unless there was some trauma. At those times, it was as if Jim couldn't get enough contact with Blair's skin. He thought about the stroking of his hair and the reverent caressing of his body.

"Body worship?" Blair wondered sleepily. He's had to look into it in the morning. Jim had taken a lot out of him. He couldn't stay awake.

Blair's hypothesis gained more weight when Jim insisted on helping him dry off and comb his hair. Since this didn't include their morning romp, the Sentinel almost made them late meeting Forbes at the latest crime scene and he didn't get to come. He was exasperated and still aroused when they finally got into the truck. There wasn't anything he could think of in connection with the case that could have produced this new kink, but he needed to get a handle on it and his lover before the man drove him crazy.

It took going to the crime scenes to give Jim some sense that he was in control of himself. He knew what to do and what to focus on there. It gave his mind and his body time to rest from the onslaught of cravings he'd had since meeting Special Agent Nelson. Jim didn't like feeling out of control. He was almost scared of the way he needed to be close to Blair's skin. It was as if some other person's obsessions had possessed his will. He thanks the heavens again for his Guide. As certain as she was about as the sun coming up in the morning, the Sentinel knew that his Guide had a handle on what was happening to him. His beloved even had the thoughtfulness of sparing him the theory.

"It must be a lulu," Jim thought wryly as he went over the inventory of the first crime scene. Though it would have to be to cover this current behavior and explain the thing he'd had for spiked heels a few months ago.

Jim was still mortified at the cross-dressing incident. He sure as hell never wanted to know that such an array of garments for men was available in his own backyard. And they weren't oversized sackcloths either. It was damned near haut couture. Made him seriously wonder about the residents of the city he'd sworn to protect. It wasn't just that he had this nearly overwhelming need to wear the garments, he desperately wanted Blair to find him pretty in them. He fretted over color and fabric and fit all the while worried that this would be the thing that would send his lover fleeing from the loft never to return.

But the Commander took things easily in hand immediately restricting the times when he could wear the clothes which prevented him from appearing in Major Crimes with the nifty blue silk suit he found that reminded him ever so much of Bette in her glory years. Blair was a find, no doubt about that.

Jim still didn't care about the reasons for that particular behavior. He was just glad that it was gone. Cascade was a city, but not that big of one. He was very certain that it was just a matter of time before someone he knew would see him in those clothes or buying them. He could handle the label of a dirty cop, but Jim couldn't bear the thought of being a laughing stock. Yet he couldn't help the compulsion. He just had to be in satin panties -- even at work. The gods were with him then. Jim never got into an accident that would have required a hospital visit.

Throughout all of that weirdness, Blair was there. He turned the compulsion into wonderful play with the Commander. That made Jim relax and really get into it. He just had to find the best cross-dressing dressmaker in the state. And that man led him to Natasha. Blair didn't really bat an eye when the compulsion came on and he adjusted once it was over. It was during those times Jim realized the truth of how much of a soul mate Blair was to him. No one else on earth would have embraced that sudden kink. He couldn't even imagine what Carolyn would have done. Then again, he did know. He'd still be in a straight jacket.

Blair would tell him why he needed to touch his skin. And he would make some wonderful sessions out of it. As always, Jim couldn't wait until the Commander's return.

As crime scenes went, this one wasn't bad. The body and the more gruesome aspects of the scene were gone. What remained looked like an apartment of a messy co-ed. Blair found her library right away.

The bed where young Gina Bartle lost her life was a four poster queen size made of cherry. It was a thrift store purchase, but a very nice piece of furniture nonetheless. Gina had the literature but no equipment. She had been tied to the bed with her own silk scarves. The room had lots of fat candles about for ambience. It was the candles burning that concerned a neighbor across the way. They had been burning for so long, she'd feared someone had left them unattended. More candles decorated the bathroom which had a great claw footed porcelain tub. There was a little shelf above the tub where a colorful array of bath salts and scented oils were kept along with the body washes and shampoos. Jim took it all in. He didn't sense anything that was missed...any errant hairs or unusual residues or scents. The kitchen told him a lot. Even for a woman who obviously liked to cook; there were lots of spices and herbs and very fine cookware, no one needed as many kitchen gadgets as she had. There was an entire second set of large wooden spoons, meat tenderizer and some other odd items in a box in the pantry. He also noticed an unusual amount of saran wrap for an individual living alone. Blair's gaze lingered on these items as well. When they met each other's gaze, they had the same expression in the eyes.

"Let's go on," Jim said. "We've seen enough here."
 
 

For his part, Nelson was content to quietly watch them. Since they said little upon entering the scenes, he assumed that the questions and answers would wait until they were finished viewing all of them. Ellison was fascinating to observe. Even if one didn't believe the fantastic notion in Burton's thesis, it did seem that he was very attuned to minutia and was using all of his senses to process what was in the room. Sandburg's large eyes seemed to miss nothing either. He looked sadder and more wistful than his partner about the life that was brutally lost in any of the given rooms, but he was every bit as analytical. His earlier agitation with Ellison had passed quickly. Then, he was all business.

For the most part, the two worked alone in different parts of a scene. Nelson couldn't help but think that Sandburg was keenly aware of not only Ellison's presence, but also what he was thinking and feeling. Occasionally, the younger man would leave what he was looking at to go to his partner's side. There he would gently rub the small of the man's back while murmuring something in his ear. Nelson had not noticed that Ellison was in any distress and he certainly never saw him beckon to his partner. Sometimes, Sandburg would go to him and he hadn't even been looking in the man's direction. They were a fascinating behavioral study. Unfortunately, that wasn't why he was with them and they would never permit it. He needed answers more than he needed to satisfy idle curiosity. By noon, they had seen all of the victims' apartments. Afterward, they sat grim faced in a secluded diner just outside of Cascade to finally eat and to compare notes.

They sat in a booth across from Nelson. More accurately, Ellison had Sandburg pinned in the booth in such a way that his whole right side was glue to his partner's. The younger man didn't appear to mind. He had the same exasperated expression of that morning, but he continued chatting in his normal fashion.

"We're certain that all of the victims were dabbling in the lifestyle," Ellison said in quiet tones. They were alone in the diner as far as customers went, but they still had to be mindful of the employees there. Nothing can send a killer undercover faster than an ill-timed leak.

"The first place we went, the woman had a lot of silk scarves...more than she could ever wear. Then there was the cooking utensils and all that saran wrap," he continued.

"Saran wrap?" Nelson nearly squeaked.

"Oh, Yeah," Sandburg smiled. "It's a great binding and you can't beat it for mummification."

"Okay," Nelson said. He made a mental note to ask questions about the generalities later when they'd finished with the particulars of the case.

"Often, when someone wants to experiment at being a Top, they won't rush into buying the equipment," Ellison said. "It's expensive, it's hard to explain if someone vanilla runs across it and it's intimidating. Even though the first vic was using found utensils, she still felt compelled to hide them. She was still a little ashamed of anyone finding out."

"Yeah, imagine a bag o'dildos falling out of the closet when Aunt Mary came to visit," Blair said. "Some people, once they've accepted that as part of themselves, get nice cases or trunks to keep their stuff. Ours is locked to keep out snoops, but it's a nice piece of furniture we keep in the living room."

Nelson was startled both at the sudden sharing of information and that he had been sitting his beer on the toy chest the night before. Sandburg appeared to read his thoughts. He smiled saucily at him.

Ellison kept on track however. "I'm thinking that your perp is someone they were experimenting with who is either in the lifestyle himself or more accurately thinks he wants to be."

"He was a Master wannabe and it got out of hand?" Nelson asked. That seemed too simple.

"I don't think so. Guys who are wannabes set up their own dungeon ASAP and go all out with equipment…collars whips..." Ellison said.

"Capes," Blair added with a wince.

"Oh yeah....I remember him...he even had a title....Wulgar the Bitchmaster or something like that," Jim found himself chuckling. "Tried to get to see the Mistress....we should have let her fillet him..."

Nelson was nearly derailed by the sudden mirth. The chemistry between those men skyrocketed. He focused on his questions.

"So because we saw no marks that could have come from leather restraints or implements of punishment, we know he didn't bring them," he said. "He came there to be topped."

"Or that's what he thought he wanted," Blair said. "A lot of men have this image of a Dominatrix as someone who will parade around nearly naked for them, paddle their ass a little, maybe tease them with a cockring...but in the end, she'll fall into his arms and be the whore of his dreams...a tamer Exit to Eden. I mean, that's what I thought before I met the Mistress."

Nelson was quiet and thoughtful. This was really good. "What happens when a Dominatrix runs into this sort of guy?"

"A lifestyle Domme won't even let you have a session until she knows you well. Some of the higher priced pros are the same way. They make a potential sub correspond with them for a while before they even talk on the phone. Then it's a while longer to meet them and it's always in public. A lot of men who seek Dommes fall into this category," Blair said.

"It's a waste of her time at best," Jim said. "And at worst, you have a bad scene on your hands when that fantasy doesn't go the way the so-called sub planned."

Nelson thought a while as the waitress set them up with water then took their food orders. "What sort of man would these women be looking for?"

"I think he's going to be as young as they are and reasonably attractive," Jim said. "They don't seem sophisticated for someone that's interesting but ugly."

Nelson was satisfied for the moment. Jim knew that he had a lot more questions percolating, and it was impressive that he was willing to wait for the appropriate time and circumstances.

"I'm going to write up my notes and think about the scenes in the light of what you've told me," he said. "Can I call you with questions?"

"Sure," Blair replied.

They parted company then. Jim saw Nelson off while Sandburg paid for their lunch. That was one of the better perks of Blair's new gig...Blair's new cash.

"Jim, can you drop me off at the copy spot on the way to the office? I have a quick errand to run."

"Sure," he replied. "How long will you be. I could wait."

"That's okay. Simon will keep the bellowing down if he sees one of us at the desk," Blair said. "I won't be long."
 
 

Jim wanted to press Blair further, but something about his lover's expression quieted him and thrilled him. He had to brief Simon about what went on and the crime scenes anyway. Normally, this would bring no anxiety to Jim. He'd done it countless times, but in light of some of the ways they'd solved recent cases, he found himself a little apprehensive. Captain Banks listened to Jim's version of the morning events quietly. His face was grim.

"I had hoped something would leap out you," he admitted. "I wanted this gone before it crossed the city limits."

"Me too, Sir," Jim replied with equal grim. "It isn't helping that this loon has quickened his time table."

"I'm already feeling heat from the Mayor," Banks said with a sigh. "Have you ...felt...anything about this case?"

"Sir?" Jim knew what Simon meant. He just hoped he didn't. They had to tell Banks about the cross-dressing in order to explain how they came across that dressmaker. It was lucky for all concerned that Boris turned on Natasha and they each ended up copping a plea. Simon may have been wondering what frightening thing about his Detectives Jim may be compelled to testify about in court.

At least the Captain had the decency to be embarrassed by asking. That helped a little, but not much.

"You know... feelings... urges... that may be connected to any of this."

Jim's face was on fire, but he had to answer anyway. "There is something, but it's nothing that I can put my finger on right now. Blair's gonna help me get a handle on it."

"Keep me informed," Banks said. "But not too informed."
 
 

The envelope came just after Jim returned to his desk. A messenger brought it this time. Jim found himself trembling as he set down his coffee cup to sign for the envelope. All sound disappeared save for that of the envelope opening and the paper unfolding. This time, in addition to the orders came a letter of commendation from the Commander.
 

To Jim Ellison:

At this time, the Commander would like to acknowledge your impressive progress. You shave shown great courage in thrusting this Commander to focus your training in the best way for your needs. You still struggle when your boundaries are stretched, but I am satisfied that you have truly surrendered yourself and remain open to all that I have planned for you.

Review the attached orders. As always, complete obedience and discretion are expected and demanded.

The Commander

The letter was signed in the flamboyant hand of the Commander. Jim shifted the papers to look at the orders. He almost fell off his chair. The start date was immediate and the term was indefinite. The service was bath slave in training. He was to take inventory and make purchases to attend to the Commander's body and pamper him completely. He was also to cleanse and ready himself in the usual manner. He would be permitted no clothing while performing his service which would begin in the evening promptly after dinner (exceptions for police duties would be made). He was instructed to be creative -- find the kind of preparations that would please the Commander most and not to limit himself to the bathroom for atmosphere. He should expect to be used vigorously throughout training.

Jim got instantly and painfully hard. The phone ringing almost put him in a zone.

"Ellison!"

"I'm sorry to trouble you, Detective," Nelson said responding apologetically to Jim's tone.

"Not at all. What can I do for you? Jim asked. Nelson's cool, efficient tone helped blunt the heat and ease the pain.

"I was hoping for a little more of your time this afternoon," he said. "I have some specific questions."

Blair was coming toward him then. Jim asked Nelson to hang on and asked Blair if he wanted a snack on the Bureau."

"No can do," Blair replied. "I have to give a deposition. Why don't you go? Afterwards, you could get those errands done."

It was then Jim noticed the solemn appraisal in Blair's eyes. That almost brought the erection back.

"Nelson? I can meet you in … 30?" Jim asked.
 
 

This time they met in a noisier place. It was near the industrial district and had great chili and sandwiches. No one would hear them in the small booths. They waited until the food was served and the waitress was busy elsewhere to begin.

"I'm making headway with the profile thanks to you and your partner," he said.

"But you still need a personal insight into the lifestyle," Jim offered.

Nelson nodded. "In some quarters it's thought that the Zodiac killer was never caught because the investigators didn't understand the more esoteric aspects of Math."

"Fire away."

"You are the sub, aren't you?"

Jim's brows shot up on their own. He was surprised and very impressed.

"How did you know?" Jim asked. "Almost no one gets that right."

"You've been deferring to Blair in this whole matter," Nelson replied. "And you're too much of a cop's cop to do that just out of sensitivity to your partner. There had to be more."

"Fair enough."

Nelson looked frustrated as he searched for the right words. "What do you get out of it? Is it the pain or humiliation?"

Jim sighed thinking. "It's not about just the pain or humiliation -- it's all about sensation. Do you surf?"

Nelson almost lost his coffee at that. "I can barely dog paddle."

Jim smiled. "How about skiing?"

Nelson nodded.

"It's the same such as taking on a mountain… straining every bit of your physical and mental strength just to hang on for the ride. And always you're wondering will it please stop… please don't let it stop," Jim began. "You can know a lover well, and there is a great deal of comfort in that. I love it when Blair and I are just us. But a good top is very hard to know. They always see something you didn't see… didn't want to see. And he makes you look at it…and accept it… and even love it."

Jim met Nelson's eyes for the barest moments and was surprised to find comprehension. The man even gave him a few moments to compose himself before the next question.

"What makes a good Top?"

Jim shrugged. "That is an individual tastes. Some like the stern and unyielding; some like the nurturer. I don't like rigid personae -- I need a little of all the types depending on circumstances. Basically, a good Top is compelling either physically or mentally. Definitely must be creative. The individual is someone special that makes the sub crave the undivided attention and focus.

"Is it easy to find the right Top?" Nelson asked.

"I don't think so. I've met some Tops in my Vice days…real Leathermen types," Jim said. "That was a turn off for me. I've met some through the Mistress we know. I had no interest save for the Mistress, then Blair. I think it's a lot like finding that right relationship -- a matter of luck and timing. That will increase if the sub is actively looking wherever they may be found."

"Do you separate play from home?" Nelson asked.

"We used to keep it completely separate," Jim replied. "Sometimes, we still go away to really focus on it. But we've done more and more at home. I suppose that once we accepted that play was a part of our lives, it became easier to integrate it at home."

Nelson closed his note pad then and finished his coffee. "Thank you Detective Ellison. I should let you go. I'd like to speak with Detective Sandburg."

"As soon as possible," Jim concurred. "He'll be available tomorrow. I'll have him call you."
 
 

Nelson left Ellison in the parking lot. He was a little shaken by the interview. The Detective surprised him with his willingness to be so vulnerable. He had allowed Nelson to see the need he had for such play.

"He's obeying Blair," the agent realized with a jolt. On his own, Ellison may have been cooperative but not to such an extent.

The Detective had given him a lot beyond answers to specific questions. He actually demonstrated the power and trust at the core of these relationships. He found himself chuckling. "I wonder what the boss will say when he gets my proposal for BDSM 101 at Quantico."
 
 

Jim had told Simon that he would be with Nelson for a few hours, yet he was free with hours to spare. He took that opportunity to get some shopping done. The store hadn't changed much since Blair dragged him there years ago. It wasn't the same helpful, perky clerk who'd help them find the Switchman, but she was a similar type. Her expression was one of charmed amusement. This was common with female sales clerks who thought a man was doing something unusually considerate and sweet.

All he said was "I want to set up a home spa for my partner," and she was extremely helpful. He stayed away from perfumed products and chose a lot of natural aromatherapy scents for the bath salts and oils. She also suggested a scrub for smoother skin. Jim thought about how rough his love's hands would get after working in around the house. He accepted that.

"And of course you'll need a moisturizer," she said with bottles in hand. Jim frowned at that, but she was already squirting the substance on his hand. "It's very light and it absorbs quickly with no greasy feel. All skin types need a little moisture -- even moi macho skin."

Jim smiled at her ruefully, but bought the item anyway. He received even more gushing attention at the beauty supply/nail salon. When he announced that he needed stuff to do manicures and pedicures, he thought the clerks would swoon. They gave him some booklets and advice on how to do the procedures. But that wasn't enough for Jim.

"Show me," he said. "Both procedures."

He smirked to himself as the women almost melted into the floor. It was well worth the time and money, because he wouldn't have gotten the nuances from a diagram. He tipped the grateful women and headed for home to prepare.
 
 

Blair called at 5:30. Jim had just put dinner on to simmer and was heading for the shower to clean himself up. The deposition was running late. He wouldn't be home until after seven at least. Jim thanked him and hung up. The Commander was being careful of him. If he had been delayed with no word, Jim would have assumed it was something he had done wrong. He centered himself with a deep breath, turned off the oven, and then went to take a shower.

By the time his beleaguered lover returned home, dinner was again warming, the fireplace was smoldering. Jim met him at the door taking his coat and his bag without a word.

"Thanks man," Blair murmured. "I thought those lawyers would never shut up. How many different ways can you answer a question?" He sighed when Jim put the glass of wine in his hand. "How did the interview with Nelson go?"

Jim smiled a little. "I got through it. Gave him what he needed…probably surprised him. He surprised me."

"How so?"

Jim moved to the kitchen table to set out the food. "He knew I was the sub."

"Wow," Blair replied. "He doesn't miss much, does he?"

"And he hears even more," Jim said. "I'm in danger of respecting the FBI again."

Blair chuckled. They settled down to eat. Jim had to quell the butterflies in his stomach. Blair would want him to eat and eat as he normally would despite his growing anticipation. And Jim wanted to obey, but it was hard to be interested in his pasta when exploring that body awaited him. He ate slowly and carefully concentrating on how the food tasted and how pleased his love seemed to be.

After a half an hour of amiable conversation and good food, Blair put down his fork then sighed. "Very nice meal, Jim."

"Thank you, Commander," Jim replied. "May I undress you? I have a robe for you to relax in while I prepare the water. You can have a glass of wine by the fire."

The Commander nodded. Jim then led him to the livingroom where he deftly and reverently removed his clothing. Jim then slipped on the newly laundered robe, which had been kept warm by the fire. The Commander sighed as the sash was tied and he was wrapped in the robe's warm embrace. He sat allowing Jim to put his feet up. The wineglass was placed in his hand. Jim then undressed dropping to his knees beside Blair's chair.

Blair placed the collar around Jim's neck and fastened it. "You may proceed."

Jim nodded and moved about the room lighting candles before going into the bathroom. There he ran the water and added the bath salts to the steamy stream. He readied the bath tray with part of the manicure and pedicure equipment, a bath sponge, shampoo and conditioner. The room smelled of lavender and a faint hint of eucalyptus. It felt calming to him. All was ready.

"Commander," Jim said softly. "It's ready."

The Commander extended his hand to Jim and allowed himself to be pulled up. Jim led him into the bathroom where he slipped off the robe then helped him into the tub and settled him against the back. A bath pillow was positioned for ultimate comfort. The Commander sighed in pleasure.

"I've put a glass of cold water on the tray if you need it," Jim said.

There was a murmured assent. Jim got to work with the scrubbing cream. He gentle rubbed it against his love's elbows knowing just when he had reached delicate skin. The knees then received the same treatment. And then the soles of his feet. Once the joints were smooth, Jim worked his way slowly from the Commander's shoulders downward using the fragrant lather to gently cleanse and sooth the skin. When Jim reached the waist, he switched to the feet and worked upward. He would save that delightful midsection for later.

"I need to work on your cuticles," Jim said softly.

The Commander arched a brow then opened one eye to consider Jim. "You want to give me a manicure?"

"Yes, Commander," Jim replied. "And a pedicure."

A smile ghosted his lovely lips. "Proceed."

The hot water had done a lot to soften the cuticles. Jim only had to push them down with the orange stick and the excess skin came away cleanly. Then he began to clean his guide.
 
 

From where the Commander sat, this was a compulsion that he could live with. He was, in fact, blissful. The water was warm silk on his skin. The scents soothed his mind. And the hands on his body were incredible.

"Some standing orders are definitely a plan," he thought as Jim removed the warm cloth from his face. This allowed another opportunity to view his slave.

From where the Commander sat, this was a compulsion he could live with. He was wrapped in warm silk. The water never grew too hot or cold. Jim removed the warm cloth covering his face allowing a view of his slave. He was beautiful bathed in candlelight. His pet was both getting into and getting off on his work. The long graceful fingers were gentle and sure; his attention was focused and thorough and he sported a rigid and leaking erection.

Somehow, his clever pet had managed to wash his unruly curls, rinse and slather them in a thick conditioner without getting anything in his eyes. That was a feat rarely accomplished by the owner of the mop in question. And the pleasures continued. While the hair was in the thick conditioner, Jim finished cleansing his face with great care.

There was no point when a part of his body was neglected. This touch was reverent and methodical -- not overtly arousing which was fortunate. Jim's technique allowed the Commander to stay in a semi-meditative state, which was the only way he could remain in control. There were certainly moments like when the diabolical bath nymph had him stand to cleanse what was hidden below the waterline. It was only Jim's earnest expression -- so obviously trying to be perfect -- that kept the Commander's focus from shattering.

Jim lathered his cock and balls with deft hands as he did to the cleft in his ass. The Commander took long, slow breaths through that. Then, all the suds and the conditioner was rinsed away in a shower that was perfect in temperature and spray.

The rinsing was not a reprieve. Jim resumed the maddening contact when he toweled the Commander dry. The movement was gentle -- more like patting the damp skin to absorb the water without rubbing the skin. Jim used his strength to maneuver the Commander without manhandling him to get a towel wrapped around his head. Blair started to reach for his robe and issue orders to begin the night's entertainment, but apparently Jim was not finished. He turned toward Blair with a bottle in hand. The label stated that it was a moisturizer. Again, Blair found himself raising an eyebrow, but he nodded his assent. The application was not the slow torture that both had been. After warming the lotion in those big graceful hands. Jim efficiently spread it over his warm, slightly damp skin. It felt great and smelled nice. Blair was surprised. Jim sensed his love's pleasure smiling a small smile as he helped the Commander into his robe.

"Permission to speak, Sir?" Jim asked softly.

"Granted."

"Thank you, Sir," he replied. "I can comb your hair by the fire to let it dry. Then, I'll finish the manicure and the pedicure."

The Commander nodded then found himself wrapped in the robe and comfortably reclining on the sofa with pillows to support his back. His head nearest the fire. A fresh glass of water was placed him his hands.

"What a handy thing to be a Sentinel," Blair thought languidly. "It sure helps him untangle hair."

Jim was using those knowing fingers to carefully move through the short damp curls effectively freeing all tangles and potential knots without one strand being pulled. A couple of quick passes with a comb and the Commander settled back on the cushions while Jim worked on his hands and feet.

While Blair was fairly sure that manicures were not likely what Madge of the Palmolive commercials would have him believe, but he was certain that they could not be the erotic roller coaster he was experiencing under the hands of his Sentinel. The man made clipping toenails a knuckle whitening experience. His fingers had been massaged to nearly liquid. He almost came from the foot massage. The man was exhausting the Commander and he hadn't even HAD him yet. Finally, when the Commander and Blair could take no more, there was a brush of warm lips followed by the velvet feel of a freshly shaved cheek on his insoles. Then the touches receded.

"I am finished, Commander," Jim said in a soft solemn voice.

The Commander opened his eyes to find Jim kneeling close by. From the way his pet's erection was straining and leaking, he could tell that the torture had not been one sided. That placated the Commander -- though not by much.

"Do you have supplies?" he demanded. His voice was softer and huskier than he'd intended, but there was no help for it.

"Yes, Commander."

"Prepare yourself carefully, because I can't wait. Then present so that I won't have to move much to fuck your brains out," he snapped.

"Yes, Commander!"

It was not easy, but somehow the Commander got his watery muscles to move his body so that he was sitting upright on the edge of the sofa. Meanwhile, Jim got up on his haunches, his legs spread wide. He then coated his fingers with lube reaching behind to open himself.

The Commander watched as Jim's face relaxed after the addition of the second then the third digit. He was very obedient taking the time he needed to loosen that tight pucker. The Commander's erection grew stiffer in anticipation. Finally, Jim sighed.

"Lube your cock as well." The Commanded said. "Then, present."

"Yes, Commander," Jim replied breathlessly. "Thank you."

"Don't you dare come."

"No, Sir."

Jim slicked the hard shaft then was in position. It would be awkward for Jim, but the Commander was too tired to move. Not only did Jim not seem to mind; he eagerly positioned himself with knees wide and cheek spread. All the Commander had to do was thrust upward to fill the tight heat. He drew in a ragged breath then stilled them both for a moment.

"Ride me, Jim." he demanded. "Slowly."

"Yes, Commander," Jim gasped.

It was times like that when Blair wished that they were into video. Jim was beautiful spread wide undulating up and down on his cock. His head was thrown back was arched. He moved as though he could ride all night riding on the edge of control. The Commander didn't want that. He'd seen too much control in himself and his slave that night.

"Ride harder!" He snapped punctuating the demand with a thrust upward.

Jim sobbed with need. He couldn't find the breath to assent, but he did move faster and harder nearly slamming himself on the Commander's erection. The Sentinel was becoming unglued. His breath was coming in pants; his skin was covered in a sheen made golden in the candlelight. Blair could stand no more. He reached around, grasped that slick cock then angled his pelvis so that with the next thrust, he hit the magic spot. Jim roared and sprayed his own chest. Blair cried out making up for all the sounds he hadn't made all evening.

The next thing he was aware of was Jim cleansing him. Most of the candles were out as was the fire. But even in the dim light, Blair could see a hint of worry in Jim's eyes.

"I'm fine -- better than fine," Blair smiled. He took the glass of water anyway. That pleased Jim.

"Kiss me, Jim," The Commander murmured after the drink.

"Yes," Jim replied softly.

He gathered Blair against his naked chest then gently assaulted his lips taking all the young man would yield. It was a pure Jim Ellison kiss -- possessive, passionate and reverent. And it was Blair's undoing. In that relaxed sate, the spa treatment caught up with him. He drifted off to sleep before the kiss was broken.

Blair woke alone the next morning though Jim hadn't been gone long. He could still feel his warmth in bed and the coffee smelled freshly brewed. As the young man stretched, he remembered that Jim's turn at deposition was that morning at 7:30. The clock read 7:00. There was a note on his pillow telling Blair about the coffee and bagels below. It also reminded him to call Special Agent Nelson.

Blair stretched with a smile. He didn't know how he looked, but he felt gorgeous.
 
 

Agent Nelson greeted Blair Sandburg warmly at the downtown upscale coffeehouse. The young man was smiling brightly. He was very happy and content.

"I haven't eaten out so much in like forever," Blair laughed.

"These road trips are hard on my physique," Nelson quipped. "But I enjoy spending the Bureau's money."

Sandburg stretched in his chair slashing the waitress a saucy smile. She grinned back ignoring Nelson. The young detective had a very good night, Nelson figured. He was almost glowing. He was relaxed…almost languid. The expression in his eyes was provocative as if he was still having an intense erotic experience. The man exuded sexuality that morning. It was like he could have anyone in the room he wanted -- it was probably true.

They sipped their coffees for a moment.

"Did Jim tell you what we discussed?"

"Not in detail," Blair replied. "What would you like to know?"

"What do you get out of… of…"

"Topping?"

"Okay."

"The power is easy to understand," Blair said. "Everyone enjoys feeling powerful. But I also feel potent and irresistible when I'm topping someone I consider powerful and that I respect."

"Like Jim?"

Blair smiled. "Yeah. It still throws me that someone like him who's more experienced and much stronger physically trusts me so much. I don't typically inspire trust from someone of his background."

Nelson chuckled at Blair's wry expression remembering the longhaired grad student. "No, I suppose not….So what's it like for you?"

"It's the same story of scary thrills as being a sub is. But instead of wondering what sort of diabolical scheme I'll have to endure, the questions, fears, dreads surround how he will respond. Will I have to punish or deny pleasure? What will be the unexpected struggle this time?"

"Fear?"

Blair nodded. "Will I inadvertently do some damage? Will the scene be a disappointment."

"There are risks on both sides?"

"Oh, yeah."

"What's it like when it's a good scene?"

Blair inhaled deeply. The breathed out fixing a stare on Nelson that spoke of a very powerful erotic presence. "When he breaks down. When he stops fighting and is splayed out in front of you begging for any kind of touch. I could do anything to him then and he'd take it just so that I will give him release that can only come from me."

The young man shook himself briefly. Then he sipped his coffee. Nelson did the same trying to compose himself for the next question.

"What makes a good sub?"

"Ultimately, it's an individual call," Blair replied thoughtfully. "But there are some general traits. There has to be a genuine need to submit to the will of another. Openness, for one. Curiosity is another. I find honesty is essential, but other Tops believe that enough questions and observations will give them insight into even the most stubborn and elusive sub. I think that's reckless, but that's me."

"With regard to the UNSUB - unknown subject, he doesn't have that need?"

"No, he's just in his own strange fantasy and figures the Domme shares it," Blair said. "Your UNSUB is an un-sub."

"How is he finding these women?"

"It may be via the net through any number of web pages or chat rooms. It may be through a phone line, newspaper ads or even a club," Blair replied.

"How would he get them to consent to a scene?"

"He must have a flawless presentation," Blair said. "Or one that seems flawless to a novice. He would know how to keep his demeanor and he would be able to tell her things she wants to hear. He probably claims to have been trained and that the relationship ended. He would be absolutely respectful. He would make her feel powerful and desirable."

"Would a Domme, even a novice, settle on one guy?" Nelson asked.

"It depends on what she's looking for," Blair replied. "Some seek a harem. Some seek that special person to share the lifestyle -- like Jim and me. Were the victims dating a lot?"

Nelson nodded. "The term is 'active social life.'"

"Then it's the harem," Blair said. "It may be more of a thrill to get someone who has other subs in her orbit."

"Is there a place that would attract these women?

Blair was thoughtful. "There is, but it's not a B&D club. The owner would attract them - in droves. What do you have in mind?"

"I'm reaching, but since there are so many different ways he could be meeting them and he's probably using all of them to enhance his chances, if we could get this type of woman and possible our guy in a room…" Nelson said. "Maybe get some photos. Guys like this have done things before moving up to killing. He may have a record."

"It's worth a try," Blair said. "We can also shake him up by getting in his way."

"How? Publicity?"

Blair smiled a saucy smile. "We put someone in that room who is powerful, handsome and vulnerable and makes a flawless presentation."

"Jim?" Nelson said with a start. "Would he do it?"

"It would just be conversation," Blair said. "I'm sure he would."

"What do we have to do?"

"You coordinate with the Sheriff. I'll brief Jim and Simon," Blair said. "I'll give you can call when I've set up a meeting with The Mistress. Oh, can I have another look at the case files?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

Blair shrugged. "Something in them is sticking in my head, I can't put a finger on it. I saw something."

"Okay, I'll bring them along."

The young man bounded off leaving Nelson to wonder about the powerful pull of that lifestyle. He had been in the minds of some men with amazing compulsions, but this was the first time one had an appeal to him in any way. He had even heard statements similar about sex and power by men who had frightened and repulsed him, but not Sandburg. The consent and trust and love changed everything. He was almost afraid to meet the Mistress.
 
 

Jim caught up with Blair at the garage elevators in Police Headquarters. They were blessedly alone waiting for the elevator car.

"Thanks for breakfast," Blair murmured.

Jim smiled at him looking especially handsome in his dark blue suit. "You're welcome. And you were right about those lawyers. Idiots."

The door closed without anyone joining them. Tension crackled between them. They stood close to each other but would not touch. One caress or the briefest of kisses wouldn't be enough, and they couldn't risk losing control.

"Missed you this morning," Blair said softly.

"I didn't want to leave," Jim replied.

"I know."

Then they were in Major Crimes, and the tension eased to the background. Jim felt a lot better since the session the night before. The need to touch Blair's skin subsided to a manageable level.

Simon listened to the progress, if it could be called that. He liked the idea of taking a more proactive role in the investigation.

"Nelson can get a clear enough profile to pick possibles out of the crowd?" Banks asked.

"That they show up makes them possibles," Jim said. "He wants to get them in a room and watch their behaviors. And if I'm in the guy's way, he may get agitated enough to stand out."

"Are you comfortable with this, Jim?" Banks asked.

Jim shrugged. "As comfortable as we can be."

"What about Ms. Arnaud?" Banks asked tightly.

"She's intrigued," Blair replied. "Which is better than her being annoyed. Which means that she'll do it after rattling Nelson for a while."

"Don't tell me anymore," Banks muttered. "Just let me know what kind of man power you need."
 
 

The Sheriff was not very impressed with Nelson's direction in the investigation. He could have sworn the man was annoyed that the killer could be leaving his bailiwick. Nelson wasn't surprised at the attitude. Rivalry between agencies was all too common.

Sandburg called just after that meeting ended. They would meet Arnaud at Club Retro at 4:30pm, just as happy hour began. Of course, Nelson had chapter and verse on Genevieve Arnaud. Hers was a storied life in law enforcement circles. He had hoped to observe her during that trip, but because of the tightrope she walked between the law and the underworld who patronized her business, Nelson was certain he'd never be allowed near her by Ellison and Sandburg. And she would have never seen them without their endorsement. He was pleased and surprised to have earned their trust.

Nelson arrived at the club early, so he took a seat at the far end of the bar where he could see the whole club and waited. Sandburg and Ellison arrived at 4:10. Nelson had barely sipped his drink. They were so engrossed in conversation, his presence went unnoticed. They ambled over to the VIP lounge off the opposite side of the dance floor. Sandburg was chattering away gesticulating for emphasis. Ellison was smiling at him in amused exasperation.

The younger man quieted as soon as they were in the relative solitude of the lounge. His posture even changed slightly was he gently but firmly pushed Jim onto one of the push seats. He then stepped between the man's thighs, tilted his head back and planted one serious liplock on him. No one even looked up as this amazing kiss went on in front of them. Nelson was mesmerized. When they finally parted, they rested their foreheads against each other communing in some non-verbal way.

The pair parted suddenly. Jim seemed to be reacting to something he heard. And then she was in the room. Nelson found himself sitting up and taking noticed. Arnaud was even better looking than her photographs and they were stunning. She was diminutive in height but walked in as though she owned everyone in the room. She wore a red silk dragon dress with slits up both sides and her hair was a riot of dark curls that flowed past her shoulders.

Arnaud approached them individually. She held each of their faces in her hands and studied them. Then, she hugged them in turn for a long moment during which she whispered something. Whatever she said made them smile. They seemed to be catching up, so Nelson gave them space until the appointed time arrived. Sandburg spotted him first as he crossed the floor. He smiled expectantly waving him over. As he reached them, Arnaud turned fixing him with an amused green-eyed stare.

"You must be quite extraordinary for my Dear Ones to bring you here," she said softly. He could swear she was purring. "Blair, bless him, will always give the benefit of the doubt, but my Jim trusts virtually no one."

She indicated a chair and looked at him as though he should explain himself. "I was honest with them," Nelson shrugged.

"There's the difference," she exclaimed. "How clever."

Nelson didn't know how to respond to that, which was, he believed, the point. She gazed at him levelly with a wry smile on her face.

"My pets tell me of your wish to understand the lifestyle," she said. "Are you very sure? I think you find the pull surprisingly strong."

Suddenly, Nelson felt naked. He had been the subject of some very insightful gazes before who saw some of the darkness in him that he didn't want seen. But never had he felt that what he was thinking was written clearly on his forehead. He hadn't a prayer of fooling her. And he could see where an individual would want to tell her anything just to remain in her company. Arnaud seemed to read that as well. Her eyes twinkled at him over her fluted glass of champagne. Nelson swallowed hard.

"Have pity on the man," Blair laughed softly. "He's one of the good guys."

"Very well. We can play later," she sighed. "What I have been told troubles me deeply on so many levels. I would be pleased to be of assistance. What did you have in mind?"

"I thought a fetish dance," Blair said. "If you hosted it personally, it would bring out every wannabe in the county."

Arnaud sipped her champagne with an arched brow. "I suppose saving lives does require some sacrifice of dignity. When do you need it?"

"As soon as possible. I can beg and plead with the free weeklies to put an ad in today," Blair said.

"No need to plead. I have a very lucrative contract with them. It will be done. How about this Thursday?" she suggested.

"Do you think enough people will hear about it?" Nelson asked. "This may be our only shot at something like this."

"The community here is small," Jim said. "A few well placed e-mails and the ad will have us hip deep in leather without any effort. Mistress, they want me to try to deflect attention away from this suspect."

She smiled at that. "Oh, that will be lovely. You can be so delicious with your eyes cast down and that blush on your cheeks… the women will swoon."

Ellison blushed furiously at that. Sandburg and Arnaud looked upon him with almost predatory glee. Nelson shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Then you shall be with me that night, my Beauty. I don't want you to distract him," she said.

"My pleasure as always," Blair murmured.

"I'd like to keep someone with you," Jim said recovering himself. "In case this nutjob thinks you are attainable."

"Oh let him," she flashed. "I will save your taxpayers much money."

Nelson believed her. "May I ask, Ms. Arnaud, what did these women do that you would not?"

"They are too impatient wanting to try out the power," she said. "Most of the game is in the hunt. I would have put them through many paces --even with a recommendation that I require. If they are unwilling to write some letters and spend evenings talking, how can they expect to endure what I require? How do they know that I am the right one for them? It is all very silly and frivolous."

Nelson understood. He likened it in his head with police officers or even FBI agents who wanted to profile just out of the Academy. She was pleased with his understanding.

"You do see a lot, Mister Nelson. No wonder you have been successful," she murmured. "Darlings, I feel very comfortable with this one. Why don't you run along and put out those e-mails. I'll put the ad in and Mister Nelson will join me for dinner and a long chat."

"Mistress?" Jim asked.

"Don't fret, sweet one. I'm not trading in my constables. This one has truly come to understand things, and I sense that you have plans that I very much want you to pursue, n'est ce pas?" she smiled smoothing Ellison's furrowed brow.

"Yes," the older Detective replied gazing at Blair.

Again fixing that stare on the agent, she smiled. "Don't worry. You won't be expected to do anything…that you don't want to do."

She laughed then. It was naughty and melodic and Nelson knew he was in trouble.

"We'll be going then," Blair said. "Oh, Dennis. Did you bring the files?"

"Yes, forgive me. Somehow, they slipped my mind," he blushed. "Here you go."

"I'll return them tomorrow," he replied. "Let's go, Jim."

It was a different tone than his normal one. Jim looked at him. All of his focus was on the young man.

"Goodnight, Mistress," Blair said standing.

Jim gave her an absent goodbye making her chuckle. They disappeared into the crowd of dancers leaving Nelson to feel like a deer in headlights.
 
 

"The Mistress is wise," Blair thought with a sigh. He would have gotten all wound up and involved in planning for the fetish night and wouldn't have been able to come down until late in the evening. "And I would have missed all of this…"

Blair was once again soaking in a perfectly hot tub of aromatic, sudsy water. His freshly washed hair was in a towel. A warm razor blade glided skillfully over his skin. Blair was being shaved by candlelight -- something he'd only allow a Sentinel to do. And he was in heaven. Jim was using some sort of rich, botanical oil based gel that made the straight razor move with slick ease.

Blair was glad they left when they did. Jim had gone through a lot of effort to make things ready for that night, and the only time he could have done it was early that morning while Blair was still blissfully oblivious. The stir-fry makings were at the ready, so dinner was on the table in the time that it took to cook the rice.

Jim insisted on doing the dishes while Blair took at the case files. It was daunting and depressing reading, but Blair knew that Jim would keep him from getting morose.

Jim presented himself after the second file. Blair was relieved to put them aside for being lead to the candle lit bathroom. The torture was not as endless as the night before. Shaving did not take as long or involve as much manipulation as the manicure and pedicure despite Jim' infinite thoroughness. And the Commander knew what to expect. The impact was very pleasurable but not as devastating. This night, he had control.

"What am I to do with you?" The Commander asked softly. I want very much to pound into you even harder than last night."

Jim trembled closing his eyes as Blair ran a hand across his shoulders. "I know you'd let me, but rending you in two wouldn't leave much fun for the rest of the week," he continued.

"We both need to come down a little from all this stimulation," he said thoughtfully. "I know. You be my footstool while I finish these case files. By then, I'll figure out how to enjoy you."

"Yes, Commander. Thank you."

Blair caught the surprise in Jim's eyes. He had yet to do something like use him for furniture. The Commander wasn't analyzing his motives, but Blair knew that he needed to clam down before he went after Jim hard enough to hurt him. Jim needed to come down off the intense erotic buzz he was enjoying or the next round would end as soon as he was touched. But Blair also knew they still needed some sort of physical contact. He hiked the robe up so that the backs of his legs rested on Jim's broad, muscular back.

That worked well. Blair absorbed the reports, though what he was missing in them still eluded him. And they were both able to throttle back their painful erections and breathe normally. The reports were set aside after an hour. Blair looked at his buff footstool. Jim's eyes were closed. He was relaxed despite holding his head level for all that time.

"Stand and stretch," Blair said after swinging his legs off his slave's back.

"Yes, Commander."

Seeing that magnificent form stretching in the golden light of the candles and fireplace was almost enough to send the Commander back over the edge. But he clamped all that down for the moment.

"I know what I want to do with all of that," he thought with a wicked smile. "He looks so…tasty."

"Get a pitcher of cold water," Blair said giving him a quiet once over. "And a bottle of red wine."

He inclined his head inquisitively, but responded without hesitation.

Blair barely had time to get up the stairs and set up the soft leather shackles on the hook above the bed before Jim was there. His pale eyes flashed at the arrangement, but he didn't waiver from the task of setting up the refreshments. Once again the Guide was glad they added some play aids to the loft once they decided to bring the scene home. Sometimes, the bed's lack of headboard was an inconvenience. Certain positions were just hard to hold without support -- even for someone as strong as Jim was. And he loved watching their lovemaking in the freestanding mirror. This would be perfect.

"Kneel with your legs together, get comfortable," Blair said. "When you're ready, raise your arms."

"Yes," Jim sighed.

Soon that sleek body was suspended in place. Blair made sure that the shoulders were relaxed before moving on. He had a sip of wine not intending to rush the experience.

"As much as you love touching me, I love looking at you," Blair murmured. "You don't let me do that often enough. You don't know how beautiful you are."

After enjoying the finely chiseled form in the golden light, Blair set his glass down and pulled out the lube. Before touching his love, he slipped a cock ring on his growing erection.

"Tonight, I will ride you," he said softly. "And you will watch."

"Yes," Jim hissed.

That night, Jim got to watch Blair prepare to ride. That beautiful ass up in front of him so that he could be tortured by the view and helpless to do anything about it. Blair heard Jim's very soft gasp when he opened himself up. He wouldn't dare moan out of fear of pressing his need. The Commander glanced backward with a wicked smirk adding the next two fingers.

Blair took his time prolonging the exquisite tension of the moment as well as really readying for Jim's impressive cock. With a final deep breath, Blair turned to prepare that straining, leaking member. The coolness of the gel barely changed the heat of the velvety skin. Blair wanted his kiss, but didn't dare. They were both too close to wait.

"Watch us, Jim," he whispered.

Blair turned straddling Jim's thighs. He rubbed his bottom against those abs provocatively for a brief moment before slowly lowering himself onto that erection. The preparation was worth it. He slid slowly but easily until he was resting against Jim's hard body.

The image in the mirror was amazing. Both men looked on with hooded eyes as Blair wrapped one arm back behind Jim's neck and braced the other hand against one thigh and undulated slowly against him. The Detective was reminded of a lap dance, so sensuous was the movement. Blair's head was thrown back though he still watched the mirror; his lips were parted temptingly. He seemed unconcerned about coming. His hands weren't moving to touch his rock hard erection. They grew slick with sweat where their bodies connected. Jim was having trouble breathing, but he didn't care. He loved being him the heat and grip of Blair's body. And he loved the look on his beloved's face that riding Jim was a slice of heaven.

Blair was in heaven. He loved being literally a part of Jim for as long as he could, but his need was building beyond control. Watching Jim in such pleasure was rapidly eroding his control. He increased the rhythm, pulled off the cock ring and braced himself.

"Take me, Jim!"

Jim growled thrusting into the heat leaning his head against Blair's inhaling his scent, sensing his whole being. They were slow close. A slight change in angle did it. Blair gasped then cried out. During his clenching orgasm, Jim came hard inside him for what seemed like hours. Afterwards, he didn't even care if he dislocated both shoulders. He didn't think he could move to free himself.

Blair could. It was slow and halting, but he managed to disengage from Jim then release the shackles. He promptly fell over to one side barely awake. After a moment or two, Jim was able to clean them up, extinguish the candles and lock up. He was asleep shortly after gathering Blair in his arms.
 
 

Nelson was proud that he didn't flee Club Retro in terror. It had been an incredible evening for him in the end -- well worth the embarrassment he endured. Arnaud gave him the answers that made a profile possible on the UNSUB. Ironically, both parties were looking for the fiction of the fantasy. This was an inadequate male with a fear/fascination /hatred of powerful women. He grown up with one or more and was likely abused emotionally and/or physically by her. In dominating a Dominatrix, he could feel like a man. He would succeed with a woman he hated and desired. He did as the fantasy required at a level that could be called perfection, but does not succeed. He's met with a female who not only does not capitulate in the fashion he expected, but also takes control of the scenario. She may have even attempted to make him confront something about himself that he can't stand to face. Ms. Arnaud made him see some rather startling things he would have preferred not see, and he felt almost compelled to thank her. A man like the UNSUB would be enraged. Violence would surely follow.

Jim getting in his way could make him anxious -- more desperate for another chance at the fantasy. He wouldn't be as smooth. He might make himself more noticeable at the Club. Nelson was finally optimistic -- and in need of a call to his wife.
 
 

Blair awoke to an empty bed with a sizeable erection. He was also annoyed. There was no proof that Jim was trying to manipulate the Commander. After all, morning activities were not a part of the orders. And Jim was meticulous in how he obeyed them. Still, Blair has suspicions that this was another in the myriad examples of Jim Ellison's subtle willfulness. If he kept the Commander hungry, he would have a night as explosive as the one before. And it was a very good call. Blair was going to nail that hard body to the mattress at the next opportunity. The Guide suddenly felt a flash of anger at the UNSUB. He could have all he desired and more if he used that patience and care to play the game.

Blair sighed. There was no help for it. He had to get up. There was breakfast warming and coffee waiting. After that and a shower using the products Jim purchased for the sessions. He felt great despite the lack of morning maneuvers.

Others noticed his polish as well. Megan gaped at him for a full five minutes after he sat down at his desk.

"Sandy, what on Earth have you been up to?" she demanded.

"Same old same old. Why?"

"You look like you've been on vacation or on a visit to a spa," she replied. "Your skin is gorgeous."

Blair thanked her vaguely, but his mind was suddenly somewhere else entirely. He reached for the case files and finally found what had been bugging him. He was on the phone with Nelson when Jim walked up loaded down with copies from the Xerox room.

A short while later all three were at the County Coroner's office with Emily Trask, the deputy coroner who had autopsied two of the victims.

"It's the notation 'very well groomed' on one and 'recent trip to a spa' on the other," Blair said. "What does that mean?"

"Well, there's the grooming that goes with a person who cares about their appearance. Then there is full blown hair, nails, skin that has been polished and moisturized and pampered," she said pausing to scrutinize Blair who promptly blushed -- as did Jim.

"I thought it would be important if two of the victims went to the same spa."

"What about the other two?" Jim asked.

She shook her head. "The first one was found too late for that kind of observation. The second one was done by the head coroner, Frank Lozano."

"Most men wouldn't have picked that up," Nelson conceded.

"It may be that they got the treatment from the same person," Blair said.

Trask snorted. "It would have to be one hell of a guy to pull that off..."

Jim's blush got deeper. Blair sputtered.

"And if you find him, send him my way," she said.

Out in the parking lot, the Agent turned to them.

"Well?"

"This guy is good," Blair said. "He's giving them the full bath slave treatment."

"That's why we found all those specialized personal care products in their homes. He probably matched them individually to type..."

Nelson was excited. "If we can get a name or a face, we'll have places to run him down."

"Right," Blair said with relief. "So do you want to tell us about last night?"

Nelson laughed. "Do you want to tell me about the bath stuff?"

"Point taken," Blair chuckled.

"We'll see you at the briefing," Jim said staring Blair toward the truck.

But for all of his apparent anxiousness to leave, Jim didn't drive off. He sat there flexing his hands against the steering wheel.

"I'm sensing this guy," he said. "Or something about this guy."

"Yes, I believe so," Blair replied.

"I sensed Natasha," he continued glumly. "Am I going to want to act like every freak we come across."

"Calm down, Jim," Blair said gently. "When we were on that task force, you didn't act like the suspect. You needed to be focused so that you could see with your conscious mind what your mind's eye was telling you."

"But Blair," Jim sighed. "You've put up with so much in dealing with my...gifts...what if I need..."

"You can't hut me, Jim," Blair said quickly and with certainty. "It's just not in you as a man and as a Sentinel, you're hard wired against it. If the compulsion is dangerous, it'll manifest itself another way."

The Guide squeezed the bigger man's hard thigh and looked him deeply in the eyes. "Don't you know how much I'm enjoying this week? "

Jim relaxed. His eyes were glittering. "I love you."

"I've noticed," Blair smiled. "I love you, too."
 
 

Despite the short notice, Nelson was surprised to find a line of people in leather, rubber and PVC almost an hour before Fetish Night at Club Retro was to begin. There were a lot of young women for whom Ms. Arnaud was an influence. It could be seen in their choice of attire. The Mistress was understandably appalled. Nelson found her to be charming even when vexed.

Banks was briefing his people. He had a couple of men identified as Detectives Rafe and Brown and a woman named Megan Connor. All three looked great in their leathers. They were obviously fascinated by the assignment, but were even more curious about Sandburg and Ellison's expertise in it. Since the pair was resolutely ignoring them, it increased the amusement factor almost to distraction.

"Let's focus people," Banks said patiently. "You're only here to mingle with your little body cameras and get some clear shots of the men in the room. Unless there is trouble and we don't expect any, leave Jim to do his thing. And when I say mingle, I mean move through the crowd with enough chitchat to be credible. No trawling for conquests. Understood?"

There was a grudging acknowledgement of the order.

By the time Banks was finished, Arnaud was glowering at him. He wished his men good luck, told Ellison and Sandburg to check in with him as soon as it was over, then he beat a hasty retreat.

Nelson was planning on mingling as well. It was a golden opportunity to observe at least a facet of the lifestyle up close. However, he couldn't cope with a full leather or rubber outfit. He did as Sandburg suggested -- leather pants and a black silk shirt. In between giggles, his wife asked him to get a picture.

Sandburg was in black leather pants and a tight black silk knit T-shirt. He was better built than all that flannel belied. Ellison was still in a coat, but Nelson could see that he wore black leather pants as well.

"I'll be up in Genevieve's office. When it looks like everyone is settled in for the hunt, I'll make my entrance," he said.

"Good luck, man," Sandburg replied.

Genevieve hugged him. "You'll be irresistible, pet."

He nodded at them with a small smile, then left.

For the time being, Nelson, Sandburg and Arnaud would relax in the VIP area and watch the proceedings. At some point, presumably to shake things up, The three would also go fourth and mingle. At least he was sure that he and Sandburg would. Arnaud was staring in stunned silence at the group filing into the room. She summoned a nearby cocktail server.

She held up a fluted crystal champagne glass. "Your job today is to keep that filled," she said dryly.
 
 

There was more dancing than Nelson expected. It was very apparent that the majority of the room was there to be seen in their provocative outfits and not much else. Some action was developing on the fringes of the dance floor at the bar and the surrounding cocktail area. Arnaud noticed Nelson's interest in that area.

"It will take them well over an hour to begin to figure out who's into what," she replied without a trace of irony. "If they ever do."

Blair smirked at the remark, but his mind was clearly on Ellison.

"Drink your drink and at least pretend to enjoy my company, pet," she drawled.

"Sorry, Mistress," he replied sipping his beer. He managed to focus on her again.

Nelson was a little anxious for his arrival as well. He wanted this hunt to be done with and without another casualty. And he was also intensely curious about just what the detective would do.

Nearly an hour passed and the second round of drinks had arrived. The agent hadn't spotted Ellison when he arrived. He did notice the man in the barely there, leather muscle shirt. Half the bar did as well. A goodly part of his nicely cut torso was there for interested eyes to appreciate.

When the man turned around, Nelson felt his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drop open. Of the pair, he'd guessed that Sandburg was the one who was more openly sensual. If that was the case, he didn't think he could take the younger man turning loose. Ellison was very at ease in the close-fitting leather and he knew how to move his body. He was graceful but every bit masculine. Nelson could only describe him as a sensual animal.

The Detective bought himself a drink then perched on the stool with his back to the bar watching the room. When he demurely lowered his eyes against some bold stares, he became very popular with men and women.

"What just happened?" Nelson asked.

"Jim has very eloquently communicated that he is there to serve not be served," Arnaud said. "Someone with his looks and bearing would be sought after."

And was he ever. The men were dispatched quickly. It was clear even from this distance that he had closed himself off from masculine attention. The message filtered through the crowd quickly. The men focused on other candidates though some still watched him openly.

Nelson shifted his attention to the other men there. There was a bell curve in the attractiveness scale. But even the really good looking ones -- ones younger than Ellison does -- weren't getting this kind of open appraisal.

"What are those other guys doing wrong?" The agent asked.

"Be specific, dear. With this crowd, I could talk for hours," Arnaud said.

"The ones who could compete with Ellison aren't doing well," he replied.

"Look at him," Sandburg said almost wistfully. "He's being very demur and circumspect, but he's carrying himself with a lot of confidence. He's exuding power and control while seeking submission."

"Exactly," Arnaud concurred. "These other ones lower their eyes prettily enough, but their posture speaks of insecurity. Even these novices know innately that they want someone who's ready to play -- not someone they have to build into a playmate."

When an attractive woman approached Ellison, Genevieve decided it was time to mingle. Nelson agreed. And Sandburg had been straining at the bit since the first man hit on Ellison.

Sandburg had to have been going through hell, Nelson thought. He'd occasionally chance a glance in their directions just to get a bearing on where they all were in the room. Each time he did, the agent couldn't help but notice how pensive the young man was about the situation. Ellison was in no immediate danger. He was probably better protected at that moment than any time he was on his way home, and his partner knew that. It was that strangers were getting to see what was reserved for them alone. It struck Nelson once again what a sacrifice both men were making. Jim had to let a room full of potential freaks see him being vulnerable and needy and Blair had to stand by and watch as woman after lovely woman vied for his attentions.

For her part, Arnaud viewed it as clinically as Nelson was -- perhaps more so. She was sizing up each individual who approached and carefully watched the men who hovered in the orbit around the action. Nelson would bet that given the profile he already had, she could pick the killer out of the room full of men and be dead on.

Another hour passed. Ellison spoke to three different women who chatted with him, exchanged numbers then moved on to the rest of the room. There was one very attractive young woman who had been holding back. She was at the bar behind Jim who still had his back to it except when he ordered a drink. There had been a couple of men flitting around her during the evening. She had a great flair for disdain or frosty, remote interest. She wasn't in the same league as Arnaud, but she certainly had something. When a particularly goth-looking blonde undulated away from Ellison, the woman gracefully rose and made her way over.

Then, Nelson saw something interesting. A man who had been talking to that same woman for the better part of the hour came back from the men's room just in time to see her slide onto the seat next to the Detective. He was of average height and looked to be in good shape. His has sandy blonde hair and an attractive if ordinary face. Were they not actively looking at faces in the bar, the agent would have glossed over his. Nelson was close enough to him to know that the man was agitated. Now it could be that he thought this woman was the love of his life, but the Agent's gut told him something else was at play there. He had the same feral look that Nelson had seen in many a prison interview. It was an expression of barely suppressed rage,

Arnaud noticed him, too. She looked a little concerned whispering something to Blair. The man in question was oblivious as Sandburg glided his the Mistress past and took his picture. Jim talked with the woman through a few more songs. He smiled and blushed and allowed her to tilt his chin up and study his face. All the while, the man across the bar waited. His eyes never left them. When she finally moved away, he intercepted her at another corner of the bar. Nelson moved up to hear what they were saying.

"Mistress," he gushed. "I thought we...I thought we had an understanding..."

"About what and don't call me that," she replied smoothly. "I am not Mistress to you. It's presumptuous."

"Forgiveness, please," he replied quickly. "I'm a little nervous."

"You're also a little pushy," she quipped.

"I know. It's just that I've wanted this kind of relationship for so long," he said with a shy smile. He looked boyishly charming.

"So I understand," she replied. "Look, I told you, we can have dinner and talk further, but I need to know you better before I let you into my house. And you have to understand that I'm not looking for a 24/7 or a commitment to one sub."

"I know, I know," he said quickly. Too quickly. If the girl were a little older, she would hear the desperation in his voice. "I'm very practiced at caring for a lady's personal needs. I just want a chance."

"We'll have dinner," she said firmly. "Here's my card. That's the work number. If you are willing to serve, you'll be willing to wait. Now, I'm going to mingle."

Nelson turned as they passed by him. It was then that he noticed Ellison watching him, too. From his intent, concerned expression, the Agent could swear that Jim had heard everything. Then the odd look was gone and Jim returned to the attention of yet another woman grinning at him.
 
 

Blair was in hell. Oh, hell came with a great microbeer and an incredible seductress on his arm, but it was hell nonetheless. It was worse than the undercover assignment in LA. There he had direct control over Jim's body and could communicate very clearly that the beautiful man belonged to him alone. There Jim was on display supposedly for the taking. Not that even the remote possibility existed that would be interested in any of them. They were basically kids. Very beautiful ones, but kids nonetheless. It just galled him that they were -looking- and some were even touching the hard muscled beauty. And he was beautiful -- the walking embodiment of sexuality. Blair would have knelt before him and gave him anything looking like that. But that wasn't what Jim needed or wanted right then.

His Sentinel was tuned into a lot of things in that bar, so occasionally he was anchoring himself on Blair. It took at lot of control, deep breathing and a fine microbeers to keep the Guide from allowing his inner anxieties to show in anyway. The little voice was yelling in his brain, but his body seemed at ease. When his love looked for his steady heartbeat, it would be there. And the Commander's eyes would be calm and in control. Arnaud helped as well. Her touch to him was like his was to Jim. She kept focused on his role and that made it easier to maintain. She even made things fun by whispering things to Blair that Jim would hear like how his flesh straight from the leather would be wonderfully sweaty and would sting under a paddle. Jim would blush at such statements delighting whomever he was talking to.

So Blair endured it. Then, the reason for his sacrifice was brought into sharp relief when the Mistress and Nelson apparently locked onto the same guy across from where Jim was entertaining another pretty woman in a corset and bustier. He didn't seem like a bug- eyed crazy, but Genevieve insisted that there was something not right about his eyes. Blair got a better look when they moved in to take the photo. He glanced up at them briefly. The man had kind of dead eyes. There was no mania or anger. There was nothing that he could see. It was strange, but Blair didn't join in the concern until he noticed Jim's expression as he watched the man talk to the woman he had been chatting with. The man was very attractive and did nothing to put him on edge. But Blair knew that expression well. He was then alarmed for that young woman and others in the room.
 
 

Jim was glad to finally get away from Club Retro. He had grown weary of entertaining the notions of the young women who vied for his attention. And while he was pleased that Nelson though they had a promising prospect, Jim was in no mood to continue in anyone else's company but Blair's for the rest of the evening.

He knew that the evening had not been an easy one for his lover. Blair had to watch him being handled by other people who thought he was available. Coupled with that, his Guide had to remain a calm anchor for him in that raucous setting full of noise, scents and other sensations that could derail his focus. To his credit, Blair hadn't faltered. His heartbeat was calm and steady, his voice never wavered. Not once was the Sentinel distracted from his task.

It was only when they were at a quick debriefing in Genevieve's office that Jim had an inkling of how vexed his lover was. Blair was gazing at him with a measured appraisal. The expression on Blair's face thrilled and frightened him. He was barely acknowledging the proceedings around him so focused were his attention on Jim.

The heat and heaviness of the gaze made Jim want to scream at Nelson and Simon to let them leave that second. But he somehow made sense when answering questions.

In fact Blair said very little until they were alone in the truck. It seemed to Jim that he was holding himself in check and it was not easy. As soon as the seatbelts were in place, he turned on Jim.

"Your services as bath slave are suspended for this night," The Commander said. His voice was quiet, but it had an underlying intensity that quelled the more serious objection he might have raised.

Jim merely nodded. "Yes, Commander. Permission to speak?"

"Proceed."

"Have I failed you in some way?"

"No, you are an excellent bath slave. And you will be once more," Blair replied as he studied his possession in the darkness. "It's late and I need to establish my ownership once more."

Jim was confused. He swallowed hard. Had he done something to make the Commander doubt his commitment? He felt Blair's warm, sensitive fingers stroking along his jaw.

"Stop torturing you jaw," he murmured. "I need to claim you the way you love to be claimed. I need to blot out all those hands and all those eyes that were upon you this night."

Blair's tone was thrilling him to the core. It was a hungry, almost angry tone. It spoke of need and lust. He could barely keep his eyes on the road. Would Blair reign in his anger before touching him? That would mean a slow fucking until Jim was near the brink of insanity. If he didn't, it would mean a hard, explosive ride that Jim would barely survive. Either way meant incredible pleasure and an intense connection. He couldn't wait.

No words were spoken on the way into the loft. Once they were safely inside, Blair turned solemn blue eyes to Jim.

"Take a thorough shower," Blair ordered quietly. "Then go and wait on the bed while I meditate."

He would take control of his anger, Jim realized. He murmured his assent with a trembling voice and headed for the bathroom. The temptation was to finish the shower in record time and signal that he was ready as soon as possible. But the Commander made it clear that he needed and wanted time to compose himself. Pushing would result in no release at all. Jim took a deep cleansing breath.

The shower was long and very thorough. He felt a little tired and heavy limbed climbing the stairs. Jim had paused for the barest of moments to observe Blair meditating in the candle lit living room. Blair's face was serene. His breathing was very even and deep. There was no tension in his shoulders. Jim smiled. It wouldn't be much longer.

And it wasn't though Jim didn't know exactly how much time had passed. He actually dozed lightly while waiting. His wrist had been raised over his head and secured to the rail with the leather cuffs before he realized that Blair was beside him.

"I'm amazed at just how much you trust me," Blair chuckled softly in Jim's ear.

"Yes," Jim sighed.

The Guide moved over him touching him with his own sensitive fingers then with his tongue. Everywhere they looked, he touched and savored taking back the flesh he loved. Jim was whimpering when Blair finally got around to his cock.

"I couldn't have stood it for anyone to see this or touch this," he whispered before engulfing it with his mouth. Jim arched off the bed into the hot wet suction. His Commander, his love, sucked him to the brink then brought him down showing his mastery over that hard flesh over and over until Jim thought he would go completely crazy. He could swear Blair was smiling into his tortured cock. Unable to hold it in any longer, he let out a strangled cry. Blair finally took pity on him he sucked harder working the entire shaft. Jim finally came shouting Blair's name to the skylight.

The Sentinel was barely sentient at that moment. It took a while to realize that his clever Commander had used the relaxed state to lube him and push inside. He was being thoroughly pounded by the time his brain caught up enough to enjoy the activity. Gone was the serenity of earlier that night. Blair was all raw passion thrusting as deeply as he could.

"You. Are. Mine!" he rasped in release.

"Yes," Jim sighed in the afterglow. "Always yours."
 
 

Nelson's early optimism faded with the sunlight. The man that had tripped Nelson's radar at Club retro did not spark any recognition from the neighbors of the murder victims. He could have been one of their visitors, was the consensus. It seemed he looked like any number of guys that passed through the doors of these women.

Since the suspect from Club Retro, and Nelson hesitated to even call him that could not be connected to the victim, they couldn't use any of the prints they'd gathered from the glass he used. Until someone gave the Sheriff more than an uneasy feeling to go on, any invasion of privacy risked losing the case further down the line. There was no encounter worse in the Agent's mind than facing a family after screwing up a chance at conviction. They needed more. He wondered how the Cascade detectives were faring.
 
 

Jim was having a great morning despite the inability to sit comfortably. He awoke with Blair blanketing him contentedly. The cuddly man persuaded him for more lovemaking in the morning and they still had time for a very nice breakfast. And fortune smiled on him again that morning. He was dismissed from court early putting him near the specialty fragrance shop with some time to kill before returning to headquarters. About a block away from the shop, he was sure that he spotted the suspect from Club Retro. It was a brief glimpse, and since the man was on his mind anyway, he couldn't be certain that it wasn't wishful thinking.

The clerk was not in evidence when he entered. Jim heard movement in the back room that indicated a search for stock, so he busied himself looking at moisturizers. When she surfaced a few minutes later, the Sentinel was sniffing Shea Nut Butter. He met her eyes with a grin.

"I understand this is good for rough patches of skin," he said.

"Yes, it's great for elbows and knees," she replied smiling back. "Did you see a guy in here?"

Jim put the item on the counter moving toward the shampoos. "I thought I saw someone leave."

She sighed. "What a jerk. He has me go looking for this particular brand of myrrh, then doesn't hang around to try it."

"I'm sorry," Jim said. "What is it?"

"A massage oil," she said. "Very soothing, and it has a light fragrance."

Jim took a sniff, but not out of pity. A massage was something they hadn't tried yet and the idea of re-touching all the skin he was cleaning appealed to the bath slave. "I'll take it."

"I was going to say that your attentiveness was spreading to other guys, but that guy was too much of a jerk to really care about anyone but himself. All that talk of 'his lady needed the best.' I didn't buy it for a second. He's probably just trying to score," she muttered. "I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to vent."

"Don't worry about that," Jim said quietly. He pulled the photo made of the subject the night before. "Is this the man?"

She only looked at him a few seconds. "That's him. Why do you have his photo?"

"Cascade PD, ma'am," Jim said showing his badge. "Did he leave any kind of contact information?"

"He sure did," she replied. "Signed up on the mailing list. What's he done?"

"We're not sure, but if he comes back in, be very careful. Call this number and ask for Captain Banks or tell the officer responding that he was here, but only do it after he's left and you're safe, got it?" Jim said pulling out his cell phone.

"Got it," she replied. "I knew there was something wrong with him."

Jim phone Nelson then Banks as he headed for the car. They had a name to place with the face.
 
 

Justin Tyler Baker fit the profile in many ways. He'd had a rotten childhood, which included an abusive mother and aunt; stints in county care and foster homes as a child. He had a record of youthful offenses. Somehow, Tyler managed to get into college where he was charged with a number of assaults and one rape. As is the case with many college campuses, intervention of campus police and administration saw these charges reduced or dismissed entirely. Nelson could only guess that a number of incidents weren't even reported. He had relocated to the Northwest for a job that he promptly lost due to downsizing. He was making a living as a temp.

A check of credit card purchases revealed another specialty skin care shop. It had delivered a gift basket to one of the victims. That gave the Sheriff probable cause to get a warrant. In turning over the small apartment five miles outside of Cascade city limits,

Nelson and the sheriff found souvenirs from the other victims and the name and address of the next one on the list.

While Nelson and the sheriff tracked down Baker, he had Banks send Sandburg and Ellison to intercept the victim at work. Later, Ellison reported that Susan Gray's reaction to their appearance at her job just as she got off work was "her lucky day." When they

sat her down for coffee and a talk, she realized how very right she was. They then took her for a long chat with the Mistress on the finer points of finding a playmate.

Banks took them out to dinner the night before Nelson was to fly back to Washington, D.C. The chief and Mayor were very grateful that this particular nut didn't get inside the city. And that the bust was made without any unduly embarrassing things coming out about his Detectives. For that he was truly grateful.

Nelson raised his glass. "To real interagency cooperation."

"Here, here," Sandburg said with a smile. "It was quite an experience. I learned a lot."

"Me, too," Ellison concurred.

"I want to thank you. This experience and your interviews will help a lot of law enforcement personnel," he said. "You were very brave."

"You have a lot of insight," Sandburg said solemnly. "This couldn't have worked without your intuitiveness. And you were very brave, too."

"Amen to that," Banks muttered. "Spending all that time with that crazy woman. I don't know how you did it."

Nelson shrugged. "After Jeffrey Dahmer, the Mistress is a walk in the park."

Ellison smirked. "Don't ever let her hear you say that. She has a reputation to maintain."

Conversation eventually went to the more mainstream. There was a nice comradery with those men, and it was pleasant for Nelson to just enjoy the company of fellow officers. He left that strange city with a real feeling that he made a connection. Though he never did find out how Ellison came to be in that boutique on the same day as Baker. It couldn't have had anything to do with his senses. He wondered if they would ever tell.
 
 

Simon's gratitude continued into the next day. He gave Blair and Jim a long weekend to rest up after the case. While they had done hardly anything remotely as strenuous as their typical cases required, neither man would look that tall gift horse in the mouth.

When Jim awoke Friday morning, he found the familiar envelope on his pillow. The commander had released him from daily service as a bath slave, but left standing orders to return to that duty on each weekend as their schedules would permit. He was to keep up with the proper supplies and continue to strive for innovative ways to serve in that function.

Standing orders began that night. There were instructions to meet Blair at a downtown hotel by lunchtime with all the supplies necessary. Clothing was not amongst the items mentioned. It seemed the Commander planned to hunker down in that fancy bunker for the duration of the weekend. Jim smiled at that. After sharing so much of themselves publicly that week, he looked forward to the solitude. And he would make sure that their cell phones remained off.

Hours later, Jim was in bath slave heaven. He was lounging in a sunken tub for two filled with fragrant, steamy water. Blair was in his lap leaning against his chest while the Sentinel played absently with his chest. There had been a lot of mutual lathering which moved to some very focused stroking. They were relaxing in the afterglow, enjoying the fresher water.

"I guess your theory was right," Jim murmured.

"Seems so," Blair replied. His voice was mellow and content. "I sure enjoyed this manifestation."

"So did I," Jim smiled. "I still do."

They were quiet for a time. Something was nagging at the edge of Jim's mind. "What if the next one isn't so great."

"What if?" Blair yawned. "We'll deal with it like always."

"And you won't leave," Jim sighed hugging his Guide close.

"No way," he replied. "You've got standing orders."

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Siren Saga 17: Order Out of Chaos