The Dom's Diary: Maisu

 Abyrne really has a talent for  building tension doesn't he?  Have your ice handy to cool down with, it's a scorcher!

The Dom's Diary:  Maisu

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Maisu

                Within five minutes the meeting was set and the call with Maxim was ended.  Jenner, his driver, would pick me up in the lobby at 8:10 prompt, and take me to where he and I could have a more candid and lasting conversation.  He assured me that all my questions would be answered and any lingering doubts alleviated, thus I agreed to the get together.  I paused long enough to contact my sub for the evening and reschedule for several hours later than planned.

                Walking out of the elevator a few minutes early, I was somehow not surprised to see the driver already waiting.  Jenner was a tall wiry man with something about him that left no question about the seriousness with which he performed his duties.  I was escorted to a pristine, late model, deep wine colored, convertible Mercedes; 1960’s if I had to guess.  The car shouted luxury without the pretentiousness of being flashy.  I didn’t realize until I was getting in as Jenner held the door, that the car was outfitted with one-way glass.  I was impressed.

                I watched our route wind up Lakeshore Drive before it cut back towards I-94.  We were going north away from the city, well past the established suburbs.  He turned off, taking me thru a pleasant area, past golf and other recreational places, before turning in and gliding thru the security stand of a gated community with nothing more than a wave.  I saw no houses, instead only sprawling lawns, trees and manicured gardens.  Paying closer attention, it wasn’t a gated community.  There actually were no houses, it was an estate.  There was one house, and it was a big one.  What I had mistaken for landscaping was actually camouflage for the high fences buried between rows of arbor vitae that surrounded the property.  Someone wanted privacy.

                Pulling to a stop, but not parking, I was surprised that the owner of the voice from the phone call did not greet me.  I was also not let out by Jenner.  Instead, a tall woman whose skin wore the myriad shades of the islands complete with bare feet that belied warmth that wasn’t here opened the door.  She was covered enough to be considered clothed, though her sheer sarong left nothing to the imagination, just as the collar at her throat and the nipple rings marked her status and position.  She did not speak, instead motioned me forward up the stairs to the entrance.  Once inside, she gestured me father thru the foyer to the large double doors beyond and across the floor on the far side.

                She knocked twice before turning the carved wooden handles and stepping back to let me into a very elaborate study.  The wood paneled room was impressive, not because it was wood paneled but because, if I was correct, it appeared to be paneled in Monkey Pod.  For so much of the Hawaiian wood to be lining a single room so far from the islands here in the Midwest spoke volumes about the standards of the owner.  The walls were covered with war and weapons memorabilia complete with a full suit of armor in the corner.  It was a man’s room; a man I nearly missed standing behind a surprisingly modest desk as I inspected my surroundings.

                Hearing my name caught my attention, this was the owner of the voice from the earlier phone call.  Maxim was tall but not bulky.  Judging by the jacket over the sofa arm and the cut of his trousers, he liked precision and wore it well.  His olive skin, dark eyes and canted brows made his heritage difficult to pinpoint, mixed perhaps.  There was something very familiar about him that I could not name.  He waited patiently for me to approach and accept his extended hand, a large smirk playing across his features.

“Hawthorne DuFoe; we meet at last.  My name is Elias Maxim.  My friends call me Maxim.”

“Call me Thorne.”

                Gesturing to the woman who had escorted me in but stood just out of my line of sight, formal introduction was made.

“This is my wife, Naobi.  Would you care for a drink?”

                We nodded to one another, but remained silent.  My mind was still trading the baton back and forth in a relay I was running with myself; a drink was a pretty damn good idea.  Having seen the full bar complete with crystal decanters along the far wall, I was fairly certain I could have nearly anything, but stuck to my usual order.

“Single malt please, neat with a twist.”

                He nodded to her.  She nodded back, commenting so quietly I barely heard her, ‘Yes Maisu’.  She disappeared briefly and returned with my request a moment later before stepping back out of my line of sight, but staying well within his.  He steepled his fingers and smiled broadly before speaking.

“I must say Mr. DuFoe, Thorne… I am most impressed by the level of reclusion you manage to maintain.  I had thought I was alone in my pursuit of privacy for the world we share.  I had arrogantly believed we would have had the opportunity to meet before now.  I had hoped for it actually, but we had not crossed paths.  How fortunate for me that Yessenia was out last evening, has a watchful eye and spotted you and your reaction to the new Dungeon.”

I must have worn the confusion I felt on my face as he continued to smirk through the next bit of his tale.

“I have been an admirer for quite some time.  The design and specifications for the cross you ordered and contracted for through Custom Helotry was inspirational.  If you’ll have a walk about with me shortly, I believe you’ll see the influences of your design in the piece I have here.”

With the revelations of the latest bit of commentary, a light bulb went off in my brain.  When I had placed that order, the counter clerk had asked if I minded if he shared my design.  As I had the piece I wanted, I didn’t care.  Maxim must have been who they had intended to share with.  The association that had not been immediately apparent was announced.  Maxim knew not only what I was, but he was familiar with some of my tastes in the world too.  I understood now the connection he had referenced on the phone.

“I wondered who the clerk wished to share that design with.”
                His laughter was a quiet chuckle before he stopped to explain further.

“No, no…Custom Helotry is mine.  I made your cross.  I came to appreciate some of the specifications you had asked for and wanted permission to build off of your design.”
                I was impressed by this.  He could have done so without my consent and I would have been none the wiser.  I appreciated his integrity.  The room where we sat took on a new dimension in that moment too.  Had he done the work?  It was obviously done by someone of great skill who had passion for the wood.  I shifted my drink to my left hand and stood, extending my right to shake the hand of the master craftsman before me.

“Thank you for your efforts.  The cross is beautifully made, exactly as I wanted it.”

“The pleasure was all mine.  As I said, you inspired me.”

                I was more relaxed as I sat back down.  Before me sat a kindred soul of some degree who had known of me and out of respect or propriety left me to enjoy our world without our meeting.   

“You said on the phone you had a proposition for me?  Care to share?”

                His grin was brilliant and mischievous all at the same time.  Had I known I was going to get the keys to the city, I might have sat a bit taller.