Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (23 page)

“I appreciate your telling me. But we’re not engaged or
anything. I don’t have any right to stake a claim on him. I have no right to be
jealous.”

“You don’t expect me to believe you’re okay with this.”

Britt shrugged again. “What am I supposed to do? We’ve only
seen each other a couple of times. I can’t demand to know his every move.”

“Find out the truth, so you know.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him if he’s dating anyone else. Will that
make you feel better?”

“You know, I told you only because I care. I like Andre…er,
at least what I’ve seen so far. I want you to be happy.”

“I know.”

“When are you going to see him next?”

“Friday.” Britt slid lower into her seat and guzzled her
iced tea, knowing she wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep until then. Friday
couldn’t come soon enough. And until then she couldn’t get enough caffeine if
it was pumped into her veins through an IV.

By the time Andre’s car had pulled in Britt’s driveway
Friday night, Britt was again a miserable bundle of nerves. There was
definitely a pattern developing.

Although now she wasn’t afraid Andre would lock her in a
cage or mercilessly torture her. This time, her fears surrounded a more
delicate matter—one that involved her heart. She knew, in her current state, it
was far easier for her heart to be crushed than for her body to be.

Regardless of what she thought she wanted, it was too late.
She had developed feelings for Andre. Strong feelings she could no longer deny.
Not only was he a giving lover, warm and tender and sexy, but also seemed to be
a genuinely nice guy. He talked to her. He listened. He wanted to know how she
felt, what she thought. It was impossible to have a casual relationship with
him. He encouraged more, pulling her in.

She could see what he was doing, dropping bits of bait to
lure her closer, to gain her trust, but she couldn’t stop herself. The bait was
so…compelling.

He smiled as she opened the front door, his gaze wandering
up and down her form. “You look incredible. I have a surprise for you.” His
expression eager, full of childlike excitement, he reached for her hand.

Curious, she pulled the door closed behind her, stepped onto
the porch, and took his hand. “What kind of surprise?”

Taking long, quick strides, he pulled her toward the car. “If
I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Are you testing my patience again?” She sat in the
passenger seat and looked up at him, catching his gaze as it dropped to her
chest. Without looking down, she knew what he was staring at. The V-neck top
she wore provided a nice view of her cleavage. A warm blush settled over her
face.

He licked his lips. “Maybe. But you won’t have to wait
long.” Before she could respond, he shut her door, walked around the front of
the car, slipped into the driver’s seat and closed the door. The car’s engine
roared to life as he turned the key.

Shifting into reverse, he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re
a little quiet tonight. Is everything okay?”

This was it, her opportunity to bring up the topic of dating
other people. If she could just put aside that one worry, she could genuinely
enjoy the process of getting to know Andre better. She could maybe even let
herself fall in love with him. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous.”

“Again?” He shifted the car into first and hit the gas.
“What’s wrong?”

She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, knowing it was
likely to be the last deep breath she’d take in a while. Past experience
suggested when she was involved in a tense discussion, she tended to hyperventilate.
“I…uh…” She glanced down at her hands, noting a slight tremble. She tried to
remind herself that she couldn’t avoid asking the question that was weighing so
heavily on her heart. It was impossible. She’d go downright insane if she
didn’t. Things were moving too quickly not to know which direction they were
headed. “I just need to get something straight.”

He glanced at her then returned his gaze to the road. “Okay.
What do you need to know?”

“You said you’re looking to eventually settle down, but—”
She stopped herself.
This is stupid!
We’ve only gone on two, er,
three dates. What man would make a serious commitment after such a short time?
Why would I want that, either? I hardly know the man. He’s a free agent, and so
am I. We can date anyone we well want to, including beautiful blondes with
perfect bodies…that I’d love to hate.
“Oh, forget it. Let’s just go have
some fun. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Right? Just have fun and get
to know each other. No strings. No pressure.”

He stopped the car at a red traffic light and studied her
with narrowed eyes. “No strings? Am I going too fast for you?” The light turned
green, and he pulled away, smoothly shifting gears. First, second, third.

“No. You’re not going too fast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you bring up the no-strings thing? That’s not
something I expected to hear from you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we’ve been pretty intense—at least I thought we
have been. If you’re looking for something casual…hmmm…” He let his sentence
trail off unfinished and silently drove for a mile or two, and she remained
silent, too.

What should she say? How could she explain what was going on
inside of her? His words suggested he wasn’t looking for a casual relationship.
Did he genuinely mean them? Had her doubts been unfounded? Was she just buying
a lie fed to her indirectly through a friend? Was the woman from the club just
trying to scare her off? Andre’s actions spoke volumes. He never spoke of other
women. He never looked at other women when they were out. He never talked about
being free or wanting space.

Quite the opposite. He seemed to be focused on one woman.
Her.

The heaviness in her heart lifted slightly.

Moments later, he drove the car into a parking lot in front
of a small dance studio. As he exited the car and opened her door, his
expression remained friendly but lacked its former obvious glee. “I hope you
enjoy my surprise.”

“Are we taking dance lessons?”

“A close friend of mine owns this place. She offered to
teach us a few moves. I thought you might enjoy it.” He took her hand and
together they walked across the empty parking lot.

“That’s very romantic,” she said, impressed by his
sentiment. But as he pulled the door open for her, the rest of the compliment
she’d meant to say lodged in the middle of her throat.

There, behind the front desk, stood the blonde from the
club, decked out in a black leotard with a low scooping neckline that
emphasized the size of her ample chest.

Taken off guard, Britt stepped backward but was stopped by
Andre’s bulk behind her.

“Britt,” Andre said, “this is Stacy. Stacy and I have been
friends since college. Stacy, this is Britt.”

A genuinely warm smile on her face, Stacy stepped from
behind the counter and offered Britt her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you
finally. Andre has told me so many great things about you.”

“He has?” Studying Stacy’s face for some sign of deception,
Britt hesitantly took Stacy’s hand and gave it a quick shake. But as she tried
to pull her hand free, Stacy’s grip didn’t release. And then she realized
something very shocking.

Stacy was checking her out! And she seemed to appreciate
what she saw.

Britt didn’t know how she felt about that. Relief—knowing
Stacy wouldn’t be interested in Andre if she was gay—and discomfort. Maybe even
a little bit aroused.

“Are you ready to begin your lesson?” Stacy released Britt’s
hand and motioned toward a room to the right. “Follow me.” She walked in front
of Britt, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and swaying hips sparsely covered
by leotard, opaque tights, and translucent skirt. Only a few steps behind,
Britt had to admit that the woman did have a to-die-for body—not that she was
attracted or anything. In the center of the room, Stacy spun around
unexpectedly, and Britt nearly walked straight into her. “Andre suggested
ballroom lessons. Would you like that or something else? He said it’s entirely
up to you.”

Feeling very clumsy, Britt halted suddenly then staggered,
trying to catch her balance. “What other kinds of lessons do you offer?”

“All the usual. Tap, jazz, ballet. We also offer ballroom,
belly dancing—”

“Belly dancing? I’ve always wanted to learn to belly dance.”

Stacy gave her an appreciative smile. “Belly dancing it is,
then. Andre? Do you want to watch?”

“Hell, no,” he answered from behind Britt.

Assuming he was leaving, Britt turned toward him to thank
him for the thoughtful gift. But, as she faced him, she realized by the way he
was swinging his hips he had no intention of leaving.

And then his words reaffirmed that assumption. “I’m staying.
I want to learn, too. Sounds like fun.”

Stacy laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?” She walked
across the room to a small closet and opened the door, pulling out some fabric.
She shook out one piece then handed it to Britt then found a second one—a
lovely shade of bubblegum pink—for Andre. “Tie these low around your hips, like
a sarong skirt.”

Britt secured hers over her jeans then watched Andre
struggle to tie his over his khaki pants. Unable to stop herself, she giggled.
“Do you need some help?”

Andre lifted his hands in defeat, and in a mockingly
feminine voice he said, “They say these things are one-size-fits-all, but they
never are.”

That was it. Britt burst out in laughter, and Stacy joined
her. Between the two of them, they managed, between fits of body-quaking
hilarity, to tie the skirt around Andre’s hips. Then Stacy turned on the stereo
and the room filled with the sound of Turkish music.

Not surprising to Britt, the lesson went very quickly. Stacy
occasionally stepped up to Britt and laid her hands on her hips or stomach to
help her learn a movement. But the touches, which normally would bother her
because they were from a strange woman, had a very different effect. By the end
of the lesson, thanks to Stacy’s gentle strokes and Andre’s flirty escapades,
including a few maneuvers that reminded her of lovemaking, Britt was warm and
tingly all over.

And the heaviness in her heart had nearly completely lifted.

Even while in a room with a woman who looked like she
belonged on the cover of a swimsuit magazine, Andre’s eyes were on Britt only.
His playful smile was directed toward her only. His flirty innuendos were
whispered in her ear only.

More than that, Britt could see the depth of his feelings in
his eyes as he watched her dance. There was no hiding it. He didn’t even seem
to try. He was developing feelings for her.

When Stacy announced the lesson was officially over, a
flush-faced Andre thanked Stacy for the lesson, then turned toward Britt and
drew her into a hug. One hand dropped to her bottom. “Did you have fun?”

Fighting a shudder as he squeezed her ass, she forced out,
“Yes, I really did. I’ve always wanted to learn belly dancing.”

“You’re a natural. And you’re always welcome to come back
for more lessons—on the house,” Stacy offered.

“Really? Wow, thanks!” Moving carefully, hoping to avoid
making Andre release her, Britt pulled the knot at her hip loose and handed the
scarf-like material back to Stacy. “But I feel like I should pay something.”
Andre began trailing tiny kisses down her neck. Carrying a conversation with
Stacy while Andre produced goose bumps on top of goose bumps was no simple
task. “I…uh…”

“No way.” Stacy shook her head, her expression stern. “I
would never charge a…friend…of Andre’s. You’ll just have to come after hours.
Here’s my card. Call me and we’ll set up a time.”

“Okay.” Without reading it, Britt slid the card into her
back pocket.

Andre gave Britt’s shoulder a final bite then said, “Better
get going. Dinner’s ready at home. Hope you don’t mind a home-cooked meal.” He
removed his skirt then took Britt’s hand. “Do you mind if Stacy comes over,
too? I kind of offered it as payment for the lesson.”

“Oh, no! Not at all. That’s the least we should pay. Heck,
seeing you in a skirt was worth a hundred dinners.” She chuckled at the memory
of his comical attempts at a belly roll.

Andre kissed her nose, then whispered, “Just don’t tell
anyone. I’d never live it down.” He gave her cheek a final caress with his
thumb, then steered her toward the door by the shoulders.

“Who would I tell?” Britt called over her shoulder as she
headed out the front door first, followed by Andre, then Stacy.

She rode in Andre’s car while Stacy drove her own.

Warm all over, thanks to Andre, and energized from the
exertion of dancing, she turned to him as he drove. “Stacy seems very nice.”

“She’s been a very good friend for a long time. But I want
you to know, she’s gay.”

“I figured that out already.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No, actually, I’m a little relieved,” she admitted,
watching his face for a reaction.

His eyebrows rose in a classic illustration of surprise.
“Why’s that?”

“I thought you were dating her.”

He smiled and glanced at Britt. “A lot of people have made
that assumption. She’s a beautiful woman. And I admit we spend a lot of time
together. But I’m not her type and she’s not mine.” He turned his head forward
again. “I don’t date more than one woman at a time, anyway. I’m a terrible
juggler and an even worse liar.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Yeah. When I try to lie, I break out in hives. My throat
swells up.” He closed his hand around his throat to illustrate. “It’s not a
pretty sight. I’ve learned to avoid lying at all costs.”

“I can appreciate that. I’m a terrible liar, too.”

“Um, there is one thing I want to tell you about Stacy,
though.”

Unsure whether she wanted to hear what was coming next, she
reluctantly said, “Oh? What would that be?”

“Like I said, I’m a one-woman man, but Stacy would like to
play with us a little.”

One-woman man? A terrible juggler?
Yet you’re asking to
invite another woman into the bedroom with us?
Images of Andre and Stacy
fucking in front of her passed through her mind, and she immediately hated the
idea. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“I won’t touch her and she won’t touch me.”

“I guess I’m not sure what she’d do then. Oh!” A few pieces
of the puzzle dropped into place, and her face heated.
She’s gay.
“Wait
a minute. You mean she’d do stuff to me?” A warm wave rocketed through her
body.

“Only what you’re willing to let her do. She’s a slave. She
does as she’s told.”

Confused, but also intrigued, Britt turned and stared
blindly out the window.
Oh my God! Another woman? Me?
“I’ve never… I
don’t know.” She tried to imagine what it would be like to have Stacy touching
her breasts, her pussy.