Page 12
Never saw that coming
T hirty minutes later, I’m riding up the elevator with a full stomach, giddy with the knowledge I’m about to sit down and play the two-and-a-half-million-dollar piano.
How is this my life?
I step out on the top floor and face the same intimidating red doors for a second time, but tonight I step through them without any hesitation.
Gwen isn’t going to believe this!
The bodyguard, Maxim, answers the door. He leads me to the music room, where my handsome savior greets me. Instead of sweatpants, he’s dressed in a tailored business suit and the same blood-red tie as the first night I met him.
“Please sit,” he commands, gesturing to the extraordinary piano.
I can hardly breathe as I sit on the red velvet cushion and rest my fingers on the keys. Looking up at him, I ask, “What song would you like me to play?”
“Musician’s choice,” he replies.
Looking down at the little bird painted on the fallboard, I announce, “There’s only one song appropriate for this moment.”
Taking a calming breath before I begin, my fingers dance over the keys as I play “The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks”, written by the composer Mussorgsky. The very man who was the inspiration behind this remarkable piano. The song is short, complicated, and has an extremely fast tempo, but it thoroughly captures the joyful activity of tiny chicks.
When I finish, I look up to see genuine admiration in the man’s eyes as he claps. “Bravo!”
I can’t stop grinning, swept up in the incredible high of this moment. Getting up from the bench, I make a simple request. “I would love to hear you play.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Sadly, I don’t know how to play piano.”
I’m surprised to hear he owns such an extraordinary instrument without the ability to play it. “I’d be happy to teach you. It’s what I do for a living.”
“Thank you for the offer, Miss Lane. Perhaps you and I can make an arrangement? An exchange of lessons, so to speak.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I believe you may enjoy a training course that Mr. Wallace is the head of. He mentioned that you two met the night of the New Year’s Eve event. I could gift the course to you as payment for the piano lessons.”
I remember Mr. Wallace fondly. I will never forget the Phantom’s kindness when I found out about Noah’s accident. However, the moment I think about Noah, it feels like a stab to my heart, and I struggle to keep it from showing on my face.
“I travel often, Miss Lane. If you are amenable to my chaotic schedule, I would enjoy learning to play this magnificent instrument with your help.”
“I’d be happy to work you into my schedule whenever you’re in town. What kind of training does Mr. Wallace offer?”
“It’s a course on submiss—”
Maxim walks in with urgency in his voice, “Gospodin, we must leave straightaway.”
“Very well,” he replies to the man, then turns back to me.
“I suggest you call Mr. Wallace.” I follow him as he briskly heads to the door. “He will answer any questions you have about the course. Do you need his number?”
“No, I actually have his business card in my purse.”
“Excellent. A driver will arrive shortly to take you home.”
Startled, I ask, “What about my car?”
“It will be returned to you in the morning. Good evening, Miss Lane.”
Watching him walk out the door, I cry out, “Wait! What’s your name?”
A slight smile curls his lips as he turns back briefly. “You may call me Anton.”
Finding his name charming, I call out, “Thank you for everything tonight, Anton.”
After they’re gone, I stand alone in the huge suite in stunned silence. Wanting to capture this moment, I take a selfie and text it to Gwen, adding, Look where I’m at!
Although she’s in the middle of rehearsal, I know she’s going to blow a gasket when she sees my pic.
When I arrive back at my apartment, I find I’m too strung out to sleep. Pulling out Mr. Wallace’s business card, I stare at it.
“Awaken the power within”
Mr. Todd Wallace, Director
STC of New York
Determined to call him first thing in the morning, I set on my nightstand and spend a blissful night dreaming about playing that beautiful piano at the New York Philharmonic. I wake up feeling incredibly refreshed and alive .
Heading into the kitchen to make coffee, I spy an envelope slipped under my door. Worried it might be from Noah, I pick it up hesitantly. My fears disappear as soon as I open it and see the stationery embossed with the Luxe Escape logo. It simply reads:
Your car has been repaired and returned to you.
I run to my window and see my car parked on the street below. I squeal in surprise, unsure how Anton managed that. I’m happy beyond belief, knowing I won’t have to cancel an y of my piano lessons this week.
After taking time to make myself a fancy breakfast to celebrate, I settle down at the kitchen table and stare at Mr. Wallace’s business card. I’m curious to find out what kind of training he offers based on the bold statement “Awaken the power within.”
I can’t decide if it’s a motivational class or a business course.
“No time like the present,” I state out loud, building up my courage to call. Punching in the number, I sigh nervously as I listen to it ring several times.
“This is Mr. Wallace speaking.”
Hearing him answer, I suddenly find myself tongue-tied and mutter, “Hi…this is…I’m Sophie Lane. We met at the New Year’s Eve party.”
I close my eyes, silently laughing at my pitiful phone skills.
“It’s good to hear from you, Miss Lane. What can I do for you?”
I smile, touched by the warm inflection in his voice. Deciding to speak plainly about what happened with Noah, I tell him, “I want you to know that your prayers were appreciated, and my boyfriend was not badly injured in the accident. However, we are no longer together.”
Worried he might ask questions about it, I’m pleasantly surprised when he says, “You sound well. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
His perfect reaction makes me feel even more interested in taking his class. “Last night I met a man named Anton. He recommended your training course and suggested I call.”
“Yes, I know Anton well,” he chuckles lightly. “And I agree that you would make a fine candidate for the program.”
Encouraged by his confidence, I ask, “What kind of a course is it, exactly?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he was rushing to make a flight and told me to talk to you.”
“Ah…” He pauses for a moment. “I believe in being straightforward, Miss Lane. So let me ask, what are your thoughts on BDSM?”
Unprepared for such a question, I’m momentarily speechless. “I…don’t really know much about it.”
“Is it something you’re interested in?”
Wanting to be upfront, I explain, “I’ve never been into bondage or whips.”
He chuckles. “That’s a simplified description of a nuanced and diverse lifestyle, but I respect your answer. I run a course that will expand your knowledge on the subject and encourage personal growth through well-structured practicums. Is that of any interest to you?”
I think about it before I answer. “Possibly…?”
“I feel I must warn you that the six-week course is intensive.”
Unsure about the subject of BDSM, I ask, “What if I end up not enjoying the course?”
“We’re committed to creating an environment where students can thrive, so you would be free to leave.”
“Well, that’s reassuring to know.”
“I’d be happy to give you the reference list of students who have graduated from the program, if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Curious to learn more, but still feeling hesitant about it, I add, “I’m not committing to anything.”
He laughs good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t want you to commit at this point. Taking the course must be something you actively desire. Otherwise, it would be a waste of our valuable time—and yours.”
My curiosity piqued, I ask, “When does the course start?”
“Enrollment is ending for the first session, which begins in two weeks. If you decide you want to be part of it, let me know as soon as possible.”
Relieved to hear I still have a chance to decide, I follow up by asking, “What day does the class meet?”
“We meet Monday through Thursday from eight o’clock to midnight. And on Fridays, we have a special session that begins at eight in the evening and ends Saturday at midnight.”
Surprised by the number of days, as well as the overnight session, I mutter, “Wow, you weren’t kidding about it being intensive.”
“It is a rigorous schedule for both the students and our staff, but it’s worth the time investment.”
Intimidated by the total hours involved each week, I mutter, “There’s no way I could make that kind of commitment for something I know nothing about.”
“I agree with you. Perhaps you would find it helpful to visit our website and look over the entrance forms. It might provide you with the clarity you need. I can include a password to access the application, if you like.”
Appreciating the suggestion, I readily accept.
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
“Not yet…” I chuckle.
“Fair enough. If you choose to apply, reach out to me once you’ve sent the completed forms, and I’ll let my staff know to expedite your application.”
I stare down at his business card after our phone call. On a whim, I decide to check what the letters “STL” stand for. Searching for the company name on a government website, I suck in my breath when I see the legal name of the school in black and white:
Submissive Training Center of New York
Researching further, I’m relieved to discover it is also listed in the Better Business Bureau. Now that I know the school is legit, I’m open to learning more.
I think back to that couple at the party…they captured my attention because of their obvious devotion to each other, and it left a lingering impression on me.
That evening inspired the one question that has caused a stirring in my soul ever since.
What would it feel like to experience that level of devotion and trust?