Double-Crossed (14 page)

“The truth is, I felt understood for the first time in my life. I had a little chat with a few different people. My friends in the sex shop weren't surprised that I would enjoy that kind of play. They had me pegged all along. Therefore, I talked with them. Then I went into some chat rooms and some munches on the Net and chatted with other new submissives.”

“Other new submissives? This is how you've defined yourself?”

Marianne blushed at her presumption. “I understand we played a game, and I know that I wasn't the Dominant in that game.”

Peter reached a hand forward and touched hers as it rested against her wineglass. “Are you comfortable with that role? How does it make you feel?”

“Exhilarated! A little scared. Mostly I feel excited about the possibilities and the world that can be discovered.”

Peter leaned forward as if he were about to tell her a great and terrible secret that no one else in the universe could know. “It's a very large world, Marianne, and there'll be possibilities for things that go way beyond anything you may have thought of. It's my fervent hope we can explore that together.”

Marianne needed to ask one thing that niggled at her. She felt like she would melt into his eyes, and she had the weightlessness of falling again. It's the girliest question in the world; nevertheless, she had to ask. “Peter, do we play that game all the time? Am I going to be one of many women? It doesn't mean that I won't play with you, I just need to know if I can use my heart or not in these matters.”

Peter's eyes exuded warmth deeper than Marianne had yet seen. He seemed about to say something, and then he stopped. Still watching her, he thought for a minute, starting up again only when he seemed to be under control.

“That's a good question, and it does show that you've been reading and thinking about all of this. I hope I don't disappoint you, Marianne, but I am a one-woman man. I may get you to do some things in the future for our mutual pleasure that involve others, but I will always be present, and there'll be no other submissives for me.”

“As for the first part of your question, the answer is no. We'll work out between the two of us when and where and how we play, but we'll be lovers too, and we'll be in a normal relationship as well. After all, I still want vanilla sometimes.”

Marianne laughed aloud as relief flooded through her. She relished the reassurance of his commitment, alongside the heat of his passion. From this response, she had no reason to think that he felt differently from her about everything. He looked forward to a proper relationship between them also.

The talk then turned to what she'd discovered on the Internet. They flirted and teased each other playfully. Marianne gave him every gory detail, even down to the conversation with The Blue Sub and the human mannequin. Peter listened intently and respectfully, teasing her where appropriate, questioning her when he needed clarification. She couldn't remember ever being happier. Peter told her about people she would meet and laughed at her mock horror when details were forthcoming. He told her she would get a tattoo eventually, his design of course, and Marianne felt wild and excited. They talked and talked during their time together. Peter ordered them a small pavlova with lime cream and seasonal fruit bonded with a passion fruit stew, topped off with a macchiato each to go with it. The dessert tasted perfect, the best Marianne ever had. The night felt light and happy. Marianne played joyful witness as the world transformed before her eyes.

Soon Peter glanced at his watch. It was 8:30 p.m., and he wanted to be getting on. He paid the bill, and they walked happily toward the car. Peter didn't reach out for her, not even to hold her hand, and although Marianne thought it odd, she remained determined that nothing would spoil this night or ruin her mood. Plus there were those little prying eyes coming from all directions.
Get a grip, Marianne. He has to be well behaved
.

They leaped into Peter's car, movements inhibited because of the eyes in the night watching their every move. He pulled out and headed straight for Kings Cross.

Unfortunately, it took them no time to get there. The end of the night drew near, unavoidably. He parked out the front of her building in Victoria Street and walked her into the lobby. Once inside, Peter pulled her away from the view of the street.

“I hope you understand, my beautiful one, but I'm not going to walk you to the door tonight.”

Marianne's heart sank, and she felt strangely crestfallen.

“It's just that we have to behave ourselves before the hearing starts. It's important none of this goes wrong. This is our big opportunity to be together sooner rather than later. I was reckless last night, and I may have gotten away with it. However, I won't get away with it again. Please tell me that you understand.”

“I can't say I'm not terribly disappointed. You turn me on so much”—here she blushed—“but I agree with you. Being sensible will bring us together faster, and that's what I want also.”

Glancing over his left shoulder toward the door, Peter pulled her to a small alcove to the right of the entrance. As soon as he had her there, he placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her lips into his, hard. The forceful passion of his kiss weakened Marianne's knees and forced her pussy to convulse. It sent ripples into the depth of her. He caressed her tongue and forced her lips to open and close with his own.

His other hand naturally ran down the back of her dress and stopped at the lower curve of her ass. With his fingers curled into the very top of her thigh and caressing her outer lips, he pulled her into his hardness so that she feared the force of it might bruise her. His dick felt so hard, and her aching softness wanted it so much. She longed to engulf him completely.

Finally, he stopped kissing her and let her withdraw into her own space. She felt like she'd shrunk back into herself. He looked at her with hot passion still in his eyes.

“God help me, Marianne Ferguson, if I don't break every promise I've made today and take you to your room and make love to you. However, I cannot. I have promised to be good. I'll call you in the morning.”

Then, alone in the foyer of her building, she wondered whom he had made promises to and how fast she could get into her apartment to masturbate.

* * *

Watching Marianne safely into her elevator, Peter walked around the corner and met Alan in the laneway to the left of the building.

“Good shots?” Peter asked. He hated this. It felt like betrayal, even though his friend Alan did a good job for all the right reasons. It's a betrayal to Marianne, not anyone else. Already he belonged in her corner, not behaving clandestinely behind her back. Enjoying secrets that were theirs alone. Peter just wanted to start building the connection between them.

“Yeah. They are fine. Real friendly.” Alan watched him very carefully. “How are you? Still reckon you can handle this?”

Peter didn't want to get into one of those things now. “Yeah, yeah. I said so at the meeting, and I meant it.”

Alan grabbed his friend on the arm. “Peter, I've been working with you for fifteen years. I've seen you come in to the firm as a punk-faced kid who knew everything, and I've seen you turn into the best lawyer in town. Nobody could ever pin you down. You had it all under control.”

Sensing what came next, Peter looked at him evenly, not saying anything. “But I've never seen you like this. Today's screwup wasn't amateur; it was downright reckless. You're strategic. You take massive calculated risks, but never have I seen you reckless.

“I know a bit about this client now. I've been watching him for almost a month. And let me tell you, he ain't gonna like this little thing you got going on the side. You may make it through the hearing, but I can't see this getting you anywhere positive. That girl's cute, but she's trouble. Serious trouble. More trouble than I think you know about.”

Peter stared at his friend. He resisted the sound truth behind these words, the same words that were going around and around in his head ever since he'd met Marianne.

As much as he hated to admit it, Alan was right. Peter wasn't ready to give up the case, and he couldn't confide in Alan, because Alan would do his job perfectly and report him to the firm, as he should.

He shook his arm free from the grasp of his old friend.

“Alan, you're a damn fine detective, but let me tell you, you're wrong here. I'm in control of this situation, and I know what I am doing. Don't start accusing me of my heart ruling my head.”

Alan's hand sat there suspended in space as if it still cradled his friend's arm. His eyes grew wide, and he looked more worried than ever.

“I never said nothing about your heart, Peter. It never occurred to me you might have feelings for this girl. Now I'm really worried.”

* * *

Later that night, Peter stood in his robe looking into the fogged-up mirror in his bathroom.

That girl's cute, but she's trouble. Serious trouble. More trouble than I think you know about
.

As if it weren't bad enough, he'd exposed himself by revealing he had feelings for Marianne. Alan's words moved, windmill-like, around his mind.

Now I'm really worried
.

Could it be that the situation stood beyond his control? Alan could sense it, for sure. Peter knew his feelings were disproportionate. He knew the extreme nature of the situation, and he wasn't used to the conditions. Perhaps he didn't know what to do exactly. Could he be caught off guard that much?

He just couldn't give her up, though. The feelings were getting stronger by the hour. Nothing could remove the desire he had to get to know Marianne better and solidify their relationship.

Peter stared into his own eyes. He started to think. Would this behavior put Marianne in more danger? And what of Joe? How could that situation resolve itself? He didn't have the answers to any of these questions.

Peter thought of how she looked at dinner that night, and his heart skipped a beat. When he saw her with his mind's eye, nothing else mattered.

I'll have to trust myself and manage this a step at time
, he told himself. Thinking of her trust and her own dilemmas with their situation helped. He saw a deep kind of strength flow into his eyes. The strength came from Marianne herself.

“I know I'm doing the right thing,” he said aloud to the face in the mirror.

* * *

Marianne had a glorious evening. She went upstairs and immediately ran herself a nice, lukewarm bath. The steamy Sydney night lay in her hair and all over her skin, and she didn't want any more of its stickiness.

She needed tepid water, soft breezes, and breathing space.

Now, undressing, hanging up her clothes, and preparing to get into her bath, the solitude comforted her. Being alone gave her the time to think the next phase of this through. She didn't want to leap into the BDSM thing tonight. She wanted the divine feminine. She craved the thrill of her own magnificent company.

She lay in the bath, the bubbles rising up under her chin. She felt delicious, feline, and alive. She lifted her legs one at a time, lathered them in soap, and ran her razor up each leg, making hairless tracks of soft skin. She put a conditioner in her hair and wrapped it in a hot, wet towel as she scrubbed her face and then applied a mask. She removed old nail polish, and when out of her bath, meticulously applied more. While the mask and the conditioning treatment were working, she read
Australian Vogue
and felt completely like a movie star.

After her pampering, she wore a sheer silk robe and made peppermint tea. She took her latest book
The Story of O
, the
Vogue
, and her soft, pampered body to bed. The warm, musky scent of Peter hit her first, and the lovemaking that had gone on earlier in the day. Then she settled down into her fluffy white sheets, threw her fat duvet off the bed, and got the ceiling fan going on a low, constant breeze. Sitting against the headboard, with the smell of Peter in her nostrils, Marianne flicked through the
Vogue
again. Fantasies of dressing beautifully for Peter, what she would wear, where they would go, danced through her mind. She saw herself as one of the women in the glamorous magazine. With Peter, the fantasy didn't seem out of reach. Sophistication tempted from few experiences away.

The smell of Peter tantalized her, however, and soon her pussy made demands on her body. She thought of him sitting opposite her in the restaurant tonight, flirtatious, suggestive, and keen to make her belong to him. Marianne let the magazine fall to one side and slid farther down into the bed. Slipping her arms out of her robe, the sheets felt cool on her flushed skin. Spreading her legs wide in automatic response, she wished she could fit Peter in there now.

Marianne glanced over to her side and spotted
The Story of O
sitting next to her. With her legs still spread, she reached for the book.

Marianne flicked through the pages. O being bathed by André and Jeanne, their slippery, soapy fingers moving over her body; O being led around on the chain by Pierre, her nakedness available for all to see, her discomfort, her lusty humiliation; O being kissed in front of Sir Stephen by Rene, and the declaration that Sir Stephen had a fondness for habits and ritual.

The eroticism in the book took hold of Marianne. Her hand wandered between her legs as she read. Soon her fingers were more insistent, playing with her labia and idly tapping her clitoris.

Marianne reached over to the bedside table, slipping out her favorite vibrator. The book fell to the bed, as she switched the vibe on, and ran it down between her legs. She pressed it onto her outer lips. It hummed magically against her clit as Marianne pressed the base of it onto the outer muscles of her hole. With her fingers spread over it, holding it in place, Marianne reached for the book again with her other hand.

Marianne imagined herself as a slave girl, robe draped over her body, being offered to Peter's associates as a pleasurable distraction. Letting the book fall, Marianne saw herself facing Peter and his friends, servile, eyes lowered, the feel of their lusty gazes caressing her, making her pussy wet.