Alice After Hours (8 page)

“
Then when?”

“
When I'm good and ready.” And curling his fingers around hers, he lifted her hand to his lips. “Today we're going to go out and have some fun.”

“
Okay,” Alice said, though a little warily.

“
Tell me, have you ever been a tourist in your own city?”

That stopped her. She frowned a little, turning her head to the side. “Why would I want to do that?”

“
To see things from a different perspective.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

“
And is this another lesson?”

Gabe laughed. “Of course.”

“
Hmm,” she said, still cautious, “so what are you suggesting?”

“
A trip down the river.”

Alice thought for a moment. It was true, she'd never considered the city as anything other than the place she lived. Historical, yes. Vibrant, defiantly. Multicultural even, given the wealth of ethnicities who called the place home.

“
Okay. But I need a shower first.”

“
Of course. And while you're doing that, I'll rustle up some breakfast. “

“
Wow, macho
and
domesticated,” she teased, widening her eyes in mock surprise.

“
Just until you get to know your way around my kitchen,” Gabe grinned back, “barefoot and subservient.”

C
lutching the cardboard cup of hot chocolate, Alice hunkered down into her coat and scarf and eased further into Gabe's bulk. The sun was surprisingly bright, considering they were well into autumn, but any warmth was offset by the decided chill factor of the wind. Especially out in the middle of the river.

“
I think the Tannoy system is broken,” she giggled, breaking away to lean against the pleasure boat's railings and look up at the large speaker attached to the bridge.

“
Could be a loose wire,” Gabe agreed.

“
Whatever it is, have you any idea what he is saying?”

“
I got the bit about the Romans, but then it went a bit distorted after that.”

“
I think he's talking about that place now.” She pointed a gloved finger in the direction of a structure covered in scaffolding and protective building-wrap.

“
Yes. Something about a theatre.”

Alice couldn't believe how much she was enjoying herself. First the trip on the underground—not that it was usually anything special but then she'd never travelled that particular route before, and certainly not with him. And then queuing for excursion tickets alongside a dozen or so genuine visitors to the city. That was when he'd whispered in her ear that he wanted her to pretend to be as much a tourist as the others. But it was the way he'd said it that sent a tingle up her spine. Almost as if he were demanding it of her. Recalling what he'd done to her in the early hours of that morning, she had of course complied, standing back while he made the arrangements and then allowing him to lead her onboard.

“
It suits you,” he'd said, when they'd found a sheltered spot on the forward deck.

“
What does?' Her cheeks had been pink, and not from the wind.

“
Being submissive.”

She'd wanted to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

Now he was leaning down. “If you're too cold we could get off at the next wharf and find somewhere to eat.”

“
Can you promise me a pub with a roaring fire and mulled wine?”

His lips were warm and sweetened by cocoa, and though they only lighted on hers for a moment it was enough to set her heart racing once more.

“
I'm sure we can find somewhere like that. And afterwards ….”

She caught her breath. “Yes?”

“
I'm going to fuck you.”

She had no idea what to say, other than “Oh,” for a delicious aching had flooded her breasts.

There was no one else nearby, since few others were hardy enough to venture more than a few steps from the steamer's main cabin. Even so, she pulled his head down until they were forehead to forehead.

“
Why not last night?” she breathed.

“
Because last night was about you.”

“
I still don't get it.”

“
You wanted gratification.”

“
But not that way.”

“
You didn't like it?”

“
Didn't
like
it?” Her head came up immediately. “It was unbelievable. Mind-blowing.”

She was recalling small details. His touch. The bindings. Even the scent of his sheets.

“
You gave up control.”

“
Yes, but—”

“
And your pleasure was intensified.”

Alice tried again, but he'd placed a finger against her lips.

“
You think I want to rule you? Keep you chained up and have you as some subservient little creature, always ready and at my beck and call? You couldn't be more wrong.”

“
But …” Alice managed, “the website ….”

“
I want to bend you, not break you. Allow you to experience a different side of yourself. The side you insist on denying.”

“
But that still doesn't explain last night.”

“
If we'd fucked, it would have meant nothing to either of us. Just a release. Selfish, yes, satisfying …?” For a moment his eyes twinkled. “Probably. In its own way. But that would have been that.”

She thought about it, knew he was right. She'd only agreed to turn up last night because she was as horny as hell and there was no other option in sight.

“
I want more,” he said. “I want to look into your eyes as I take you, and know you're centred on me, and on the moment.”

She was being drawn in, lured into his world. Wanted it, and yet ….

“
But the choice is yours,” he said.

“
You want me to submit to you.”

“
I want you to give yourself to me.”

“
There's a difference?”

“
Oh yes.” His cheek against hers, his lips moved against her ear. “I will own you, but it will be of your own free will.”

Shutting her eyes, Alice relived the exquisite pleasure she'd received at his hands. No one had ever taken her to such heights, and the truth was, she wanted more. It was as if he'd opened Pandora's Box and given her a glimpse of what might be. Though unlike her box, this one had contained nothing but wonderful things.

“
D
o you trust me enough to choose for you?”

Alice took a deep breath.

“
Yes.”

“
In that case, we'll have the rack of lamb, and a bottle of the Chãteauneuf-du-Pape.”

They weren't in the centuries-old tavern he'd promised, with a roaring fire and low beams, but in a chic bistro in Covent Garden.

“
Is this how it is to be?” she wanted to know, looking around at the elegant wood panelling and red banquettes.

“
Sometimes.”

She nodded.

It had been strange not to reach for the menu. In the same way she hadn't checked out the wine list. In fact he hadn't even asked if she had a preference of where she wanted to sit. Just placed his hand lightly on the small of her back and indicated a table to the side that offered a little seclusion.

And yet she couldn't say he was overbearing or inconsiderate, for at no stage had he talked down to her or treated her in any way other than with respect. In fact, all he had to do was look at her with that delicious challenge in his eyes, and she simply melted.

“
Do you have any stockings with you?”

Alice caught her breath, for their waiter was approaching. Surely Gabe wouldn't expect her to have such an intensely personal conversation in front of another man? But his eyes were dancing, and his lips only barely repressing a smile.

“
No,” she managed.

“
Then we must buy you some.”

Having offered the bottle and label for approval, the waiter was busy pulling the cork.

“
Black. And seamed.”

The heat rose in Alice's cheeks, and she had no idea where to look.

“
Okay.”

She was praying he wouldn't elaborate further. At least, not until they were alone again.

He didn't. And though thankful for small mercies, she guessed he would call in that favour at some stage.

“
So what did you bring with you?” he said, once they were alone.

“
Just the usual.”

“
And that is …?”

“
Clean bra. Two pairs of briefs.”

“
Do you own a corset?”

Alice nearly choked on her wine. “No.”

He was shaking his head, as if hardly able to believe what he was hearing. “Then that too will need to be remedied. Thankfully there is a place not too far from here where we can buy just the right type of thing.”

Alice had visions of herself, head to toe in skin-tight leather. Including a mask. It was a terrifying thought.

“
Isn't that going to a lot of trouble?”

“
You don't think you are worth it?”

“
I'm not sure.”

Placing one elbow on the table, Gabe leaned forward. “Think of the sex,” he said, softly enough for only her to hear. “More of last night, but even better.”

And once again, Alice found herself blushing.

T
he shop front was dark and narrow, barely fifteen feet wide, and set so far back in the lane it was practically Dickensian. There was no sign to announce the proprietor's name or trade, and the only indication this was a boutique specialising in the fitting and sale of waist-clinching corsets was the solitary example in the bow window to one side of the door.

A bell jingled as Gabe pushed open the door. He stood back, allowing Alice to enter, and she crossed in front of him obediently. And stopped. She had no idea what she'd expected, but it wasn't this. How could it be a shop? Where was the rails of lingerie, the glass case containing delicate bridal garters, the rack of packaged hosiery? Heavens, there wasn't even a counter at which to pay. Surely this dimly lit room was the antechamber of a boudoir—a place for a man to court his mistress.

She turned to Gabe, and he smiled, just enough to lift the corners of his mouth. His eyes, however, were commanding, and so she took a step forward, sinking into the soft plush carpet. The gilt chandelier pooling light at her feet was also casting shadows onto the black damask walls, while in the corner and between two antique chairs—tall-backed and buttoned—was a glowing table lamp. The heavily fringed shade perfectly matched the rich upholstery.

“
Bonjour monsieur.”

The woman was tiny. Alice had heard the phase
bird-like
, but this was the first time she'd ever seen anyone who fit the description.

“
Bonjour
,” Gabe said, tilting his head. His accent was flawless, at least as far as she could tell. Did this mean he spoke French? There was so much she didn't know about him.

Then it hit her.

The woman had not acknowledged her. It was as if she was of no importance.

“
I want her corseted.”

“
Mais oui
.
Bien sûr
.” The woman was indicating they should follow her through the sheer black drapes.

Alice had the strangest feeling, as though she were having an out-of-body experience—not that she'd ever had one. No longer Alice, financial analyst, she was in the process of being transformed into what she should have been all along.

“
If I might ask a few details?” The woman was addressing Gabe.

“
Of course.”

“
The purpose? Do you wish to train her waist?”

“
I do.”

Blood drained from Alice's face. What was wrong with her waist?

“
Monsieur
?” Her forehead puckered as if she were wondering how on earth he expected her to do anything with such proportions.

“
Madame
,” he replied, “I am in your hands.”

The corsetière reacted as if he had paid her the highest compliment and with a nod turned back to Alice.

“
Take off your clothes.”

Alice looked around in a panic. Where the hell was the changing room?

“
Ici
.”

Alice stared uncomprehendingly.

“
Here. Now.” The woman was pointing at the floor.

Alice reached up and pulled off her top. Then she undid her jeans and kicked them aside.

“
Monsieur
, if you would care to make yourself comfortable? And may I suggest something to drink while I continue?”