The Plume: The First Anthology (5 page)

When Joanna got home that night, there was a package in her mailbox. It hadn’t come by mail because it had no postage and it had no return address. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t have fingerprints either, and swallowed in recollection of the Countess’s velvet-clad fingertips sliding down her throat.

She’d been thinking about the Countess a lot. About her full lips. About her kiss that was both firm and soft. About the little pinches she gave Joanna to show her disapproval. About the feel of her tongue on Joanna’s nipple.

About the way Joanna had kissed her back.

And liked it. The memory made her tingly and agitated. She avoided it all day long, but at night, when she was alone in bed, she thought about that kiss. She thought about fantasizing about Mike during that kiss and she felt a whole lot more confused than she had in a long, long time.

One glance at the mysterious parcel made her heart pound, right on cue, right in the middle of a bunch of neighbors picking up their mail. Did any of them belong to the Plume? Did any of them have erotic fantasies? Joanne licked her lips and tried to act as if she got such parcels all the time.

She carried the parcel upstairs to the apartment, her mind filled with speculation. What could be in it? It wasn’t that heavy. She set it down on the kitchen counter, then abruptly pulled the curtains before she opened it. She had ten minutes until Louise got home.

The brown paper crackled when she tore it open. There was a shoe box inside, the end printed with her size. Lucky guess? Or did she have feet the same size as the Countess? It made her hot inside to think she had anything in common with that exotic creature.

How much did they know about her?

The contents of the box were wrapped in turquoise tissue paper, a single peacock feather across the top. Joanna set it aside and unfolded the tissue. Inside was a pair of shoes, higher and blacker and pointier than any shoes Joanna had ever owned.

In her size.

Her first thought was that they were fetish shoes. Or hooker shoes. But they were beautifully made, not cheap at all, gleaming black with leather soles and leather linings. Just so high. Could she even stand in such shoes? She didn’t wear heels at all, because they were so impractical.

On impulse, she tried them on. They arched her feet high and she felt ten feet tall. But she felt her calf muscle tighten, felt like her legs were long and sleek, and took a few test steps in them, holding on to the counter.

They made her feel sexy, sexier than she ever had before.

Joanna returned to the box and looked through the tissue, still wearing the shoes. There were also black silk stockings, stockings so sheer and smooth and elegant that she couldn’t help stroking them. There was a black satin garter belt, too. She tried it, not really surprised that it fit perfectly around her waist.

She thought of the Countess turning her in that seat, sliding her across the velvet, trapping her in the corner, locking her hands around her waist.

Measuring.

Assessing.

Testing.

Joanna’s mouth went dry.

Beneath the garter belt was a black satin scarf, a bottle of body wash and an envelope.

At the very bottom of the box was a black velvet domino mask, embroidered with a gold feather. Joanna fingered it, feeling her anticipation rise.

She’d passed the test. She tugged the mask out of the box, her breath hitching as she tried it on. The world narrowed to the view through those two holes, and the wide elastic band felt secure around her head. She felt both confined and disguised, and a little bit daring. She walked carefully to the hall mirror to look at herself.

She’d become another woman, a dashing reckless one, the mask and shoes changing everything even the appearance of her practical skirt and shirt. She smiled, as if she truly were bold, and saw a little bit of the Countess in the curve of her lips.

She should get some lipstick.

Joanna tugged off the mask and kicked off the shoes, remembering that this was just a game to get a story. She returned to the kitchen, unable to completely control her rising excitement and opened the envelope.

Inside were two things: a notecard and a folded sheet of paper. The notecard had a time and date written in a flamboyant hand. This Friday. Nine. Joanna stood in the tidy white apartment kitchen and sniffed the card as if it was a guilty pleasure, closing her eyes at the unmistakable scent of the Countess’s perfume.

Her clitoris tingled, as if it had been trained already to respond to the scent.

The Countess was coming for her.

She unfolded the paper and found a list of instructions for preparing her body.

And an appointment card for a complete depilatory.

Joanna slapped the card down on the counter, shocked. She was to have all of her pubic hair removed. She didn’t even get bikini waxes. She caught her breath and turned over the card again. Thursday. Right after work. Prepaid.

Joanna heard a key in the lock and gathered everything in a hurry, tugging off the shoes and racing to her bedroom.

“Home!” Louise shouted from the foyer. Joanna shoved everything into a drawer, her hands shaking with her fear that her roommate would see. It was just a story. She could have explained it.

But it was feeling like a whole lot more.

* * *

On Friday night, Joanna knew she had never felt so naked in her life. Her clothes rubbed against her body in a new way, her naked sex touched by her underwear with an intimacy that jolted her over and over again. She’d never thought much about her hair, other than shaving her legs and underarms, but without her pubic hair, she felt exposed.

As soon as Louise left for her date, Joanna stepped into the shower, following the instructions to the letter. Would the Countess know if she cheated?

The way her eyes had glinted through the holes in her black velvet domino mask had both terrified and aroused Joanna.

That she now had a matching mask and was only moments from being collected made her heart pound.

It was the mystery and the uncertainty.

Not her own desires. She had those under control.

Joanna lathered herself with the body wash. It had a beguiling scent, one that was both spicy and sweet. When she looked down at herself, her skin was rosy. Tingling. Sensitized – or awakened.

She dried herself, moisturized with the supplied lotion, and blew her long hair dry. She left it loose as she never did. The weight of it swinging around her shoulders, brushing against her skin, was unexpectedly sexy. Joanna felt her excitement rising. She was preparing her body for a ritual, according to the precise instructions.

Preparing for surrender.

Rituals always created anticipation. It had nothing to do with her personal desires – the owners of the Plume simply understood psychology.

Joanna put on the lipstick she’d bought, thinking it looked redder and more bold than she’d expected. She rubbed some on her nipples, as instructed, and felt wanton.

Desirable.

What would Mike think if he saw her now?

He probably wouldn’t recognize her.

The black garter belt fit snugly around her waist. She liked that it was plain, not lacey. The sheer black stockings felt like decadent, luxuriously silky. Forbidden. She drew them up her thighs with care and fastened them, aware that her sex was beginning to throb.

Rituals worked.

She slipped into the black shoes with the towering heels and strode to the mirror to look at herself. She could have been another woman.

Maybe one who owned a riding crop that wasn’t for horses.

That was all Joanna was allowed to wear under her black raincoat. It felt strange to tug her coat over her shoulders, to have the lining brush against her bare breasts. Her skin was alive and sensitized, tingling everywhere it was touched. She put the silk scarf around her neck, knotted it, let the ends drop down between her breasts.

Joanna could have walked down the street like this and no one would have known that her breasts were bare, her sex was exposed, her skin was sizzling and her cunt was hot. She swallowed and tried to control her racing pulse.

Joanna’s heart skipped a beat when she picked up the black velvet mask. She slipped it into the pocket of her coat, and picked up only her keys from the hall table.

She looked out the window, watching as a dark limo pulled up to the curb and parked.

Joanna checked the clock.

Her ride was right on time.

* * *

The driver got out of the car to open the door for Joanna. He was dressed all in black, and was wearing sunglasses even though it was dark. He wore black leather gloves and a high-necked jacket that did exactly nothing to disguise his athletic build. His jaw was square, the visor of his hat pulled down over his forehead, almost touching the rims of the sunglasses. What she could see of his hair was dark blond. Joanna was sure he checked her out, because he smiled as he opened the door for her.

A waft of the Countess’s perfume wafted out of the car and Joanna nearly tripped at her reaction to the scent. The driver caught her elbow. His fingers wrapped around her arm, tighter than they needed to be, sending a surge through her. She glanced up and saw the glint of his eyes through his sunglasses, noticed that his smile had widened. His teeth were white and straight, startling against his tan.

“Thank you,” she said and her voice was more breathless than usual.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, his voice deep and sure.

Joanna was sure his thumb slid across her elbow, sure she felt a caress even through her coat. She climbed hastily into the car, surprised that the interior light hadn’t come on when the door was opened. It was as black as midnight inside, with leather seats and darkly tinted windows.

But she could feel the presence of the Countess, sitting in the far back corner. As Joanna’s eyes adjusted, she could see her. The Countess still wore her mask, and her smile was as coy as ever. Mounds of taffeta surrounded her, shining with the luster of silk, falling to her ankles like a ball gown. The front of the skirt was slit open, giving a view of her legs and thighs.

The dress was tightly fitted through the bodice, the neck opening sweeping down wide and low to leave her breasts exposed, the corset below rising to cup those pale orbs as if displaying them. The dress had no sleeves, her fair skin glowing like moonlight in the darkness, but she wore gloves that rose past her elbows.

Velvet again.

And boots. High leather boots with stiletto heels and pointed toes, peeking from beneath the front of that remarkable dress. As before, she wore the peacock pendant.

“Thank you, Rafael,” she said and he firmly closed the door beside Joanna.

Rafael.

The Countess indicated the seat beside her, watching with a smile as Joanna took her place. The silence stretched between them as driver strode around the car, got in, and started to drive. Joanna knew she heard the doors lock and she pleated her coat nervously. What exactly would happen tonight?

The silence seemed charged. Joanna felt that she couldn’t quite catch her breath, well aware that the Countess was watching.

The silence between them pressed against her ears, made her mouth go dry.

Was Rafael watching her in the rear view mirror?

The car slid through the night, the ride smooth and the engine quiet. They drove along familiar and busy downtown streets, streets where Joanna might have been if she hadn’t been surrendering to a night of erotic passion. Joanna felt apart from the view outside the windows, the people lining up for restaurants, those walking who tried to peer through the tinted windows.

They turned a corner onto a darker street and she feared they had arrived.

The Countess straightened. “The mask now, please.”

Joanna pulled the black velvet domino out of her pocket. It had a thick elastic on it, and she had tried it on several more times, feeling that same dark thrill every time. She put it on now, and was certain her nipples tightened. The view through the small holes was constrained, but she felt disguised.

Maybe she’d become another person.

A more uninhibited one.

The glass between the driver and his passengers slid down. Even with his sunglasses, it was unmistakable that Rafael was observing them both in the rear view mirror.

“And now reveal yourself,” the Countess said softly.

Joanna was very aware of Rafael’s interest.

Play along.

She unfastened her coat and took it off in a graceless rush, hesitating for a moment before she sat back down on the leather seat. It felt cold against her bare skin, exciting and forbidden. The Countess folded Joanna’s coat and set it on the opposite seat.

Then she leaned over and unfastened the silk scarf around Joanna’s neck. She seemed to touch Joanna more than was necessary, her velvet-clad fingertips slipping over Joanna’s breasts and shoulder. Joanna found herself wanting another kiss, just to prove to herself that the Countess didn’t really have any sensual power over her.

She’d just been surprised.

The Countess smiled, twisting the silk scarf in her hands.

“Hands behind your back,” she instructed, an edge in her voice.

“But…”

She caught Joanna’s chin suddenly in her hand, compelling her to meet that steely gaze. “I knew you were a naughty one,” she said. “Lucky for you, we like naughty. Right, Rafael?”

“Absolutely, Countess.”

“Hands behind your back,” the Countess repeated, her tone more harsh.

Joanna did what she was told. Her wrists were quickly bound together with the satin scarf and she felt the knots tighten. She caught her breath, uncertain about the reality of her first bonds. She struggled instinctively, but couldn’t work her hands free. She stomped down on her panic, reminding herself that it was part of the agreement that no one could be physically injured at the Plume, even in the pursuit of pleasure.

Everything was consensual.

She had selected
bondage
, as well as insisted that she wanted to be captive.

She had to play along.