Chapter 54


    Dr. Solomon Xavier picked up the magazine someone had left on the seat. He’d forgotten to take his


    phone charger with him when he went to the hospital and the battery had died at some point while he


    was in surgery. A young woman he’d aided in getting asylum in the US had undergone reconstructive


    surgery on her hands, which had been smashed by her “husband”—a term he used loosely because


    she’d been thirteen when she was married.


    He still had admitting rights at major hospitals in D.C., Anta, and L.A. but rarely had opportunities like


    this to actually be a part of the surgeries he helped arrange. There were days he missed the simplicity


    of surgery—taking a problem and fixing it. After Bandesh, his life had changed in more ways than he


    could count. The most visible was the scar on his face, but the most meaningful was him walking away


    from a promising career as a transnt surgeon. He’d gone from havingplete control over his


    professional environment to facing issues and situations that he was nearly powerless to fix.


    He flipped through the glossy magazine out of boredom as the train took him to his hotel. He’d be in


    D.C. for another day, then he was off to U.N. headquarters in New York for a fundraiser and some


    meetings, before returning to the Philippines to do an assessment of the medical facilities and


    infrastructure that the U.N. had helped put in ce after the floods.


    Frowning, Solomon—Sol to his friends and family—flipped back a few pages to one of the ads.


    A well-endowed blonde was posed with her ass to the camera as she twisted to look over her shoulder.


    She was naked except for a pair of pale greence panties with a ridiculous bow on the butt and gold


    heels with bondage-stylecings up the back. The caption read “these are my big girl panties.” There


    was a small logo in the bottom corner of the page—the stylized outline of a red-headed woman with the


    name “MissyMaven” under it.


    Solomonughed softly and traced his finger over the logo. “Hello, Red.”


    * * *


    “Dr. Xavier, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”


    Solomon picked his whiskey up off the table and followed the trim young staffer from the sponsoring


    organization. At the moment, he couldn’t even recall what group was putting on the g fundraiser, but


    the beneficiary of the proceeds was a health organization that set up vine clinics in rural areas


    around the world. He’d worked with them in the past, and agreed to attend the fundraiser. He was both


    cynical enough to know that his “tragic” past, coupled with his family connections, made him an


    excellent spokesperson for health issues, and pragmatic enough to not care that he was being used.


    As long as the money got where it needed to go he’d do whatever was needed.


    Owned by N?velDrama.Org.


    “Who is it?” he asked, experience having taught him it was better to know who he was about to meet so


    he could tailor his response.


    “A new donor. Her contribution was unsolicited, but big enough that we made sure to rush her an


    invitation to this event. She asked specifically to meet you. I think she heard that radio piece you did


    last week.”


    They approached an elegant woman in a floor-length white gown. Most of the women here tonight were


    in ck, while the men wore tuxedos. She was a dove among ravens. There was almost no fabric


    along her back, the garment instead held together by dozens of small gold chains, a hint that there was


    more to her. Ruby-red hairy loose over one shoulder.


    Solomon’s steps slowed. He set his ss down on a table they passed.


    “Excuse me, Ms. Block?” The sponsor representative raised his voice to get her attention.


    She turned, and Solomon found himself face to face with the woman he loved.


    “Thank you for waiting.” The slim young man was smiling in a way that meant the donation had been


    veryrge indeed.


    “Oh, I’ve never been good at waiting.” Her lips were glossy cherry, catching the light as she smiled.


    Solomon’s mouth went dry.


    Their gazes met, and nothing else signified. Every reservation he had—aboutmitting to someone


    when his job was both dangerous and taxing, about mixing his life as a Dom with what he did outside a


    dungeon—melted away. How stupid of him not to realize until that moment that none of it meant more


    than her. She was the only thing that really mattered.


    “Oh, well uh, Ms. Block, this is Dr. Solomon Xavier. Dr. Xavier, this is Ms. Maven Block.”


    She held out her hand—not to be shaken, but with her palm facing the floor. Xavier took it, bowing


    slightly. For the first time in a week he felt whole. For a moment her gaze dipped and her fingers


    trembled in his. He squeezed her hand and she looked at him through hershes.


    “Ms. Block.”


    “Dr. Xavier.”


    “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He kept the words formal and polite while inside he ached to kiss her.


    “And you.”


    “Would you care to dance?”


    “I’d like that.”


    * * *


    Beth wrapped her fingers around the metal bars of the cage. Madame Cat had said that today they


    were going to y the checklist game. Since she was cored, Beth had known who her partner would


    be, but she’d harbored a small hope that whatever her letter was would include things that might be


    more interesting and pleasurable than her normal y with Madame Cat.


    Those hopes had been dashed when Madame Cat had put her into the cage.


    She knew from conversations in the Subs’ Garden that most of her fellow submissives didn’t remember


    what was on checklist. She did.


    And C had a very long list.


    Beth sat curled in the cage repeating the “C” list in her head.


    Cages


    Caning…