Alice After Hours (9 page)

“
Thank you.” He settled into a chair no different from those in the other room. Alice thought Gabe had a rakish air. All he needed to do was to lean back and lift one leg casually over the arm and he could be Mr. Darcy or some other Regency Period hero.

The corsetière clapped her hands, and when a girl appeared between the sheer drapes, Alice's mouth fell open. A vintage corset clinched her waist and offered up her breasts as two delectable cushions.

“
Mathilde,” the woman was saying, “please ask our client what he would like to drink.”

“
Whiskey,” Gabe said quickly.

Alice could see he was impressed.

“
You can make her look like this?” he asked.

The corsetière waved a hand in the air, as if to imply he had dared to question her ability.

“
With the right garment ….” She shrugged.

“
Then do it.”

“
The bra,” the corsetière ordered.

Alice reached behind her back and unclipped it, biting her lip as—once exposed—her right breast was lifted and cupped, weighed and considered.

How could any woman remain calm during this procedure? Her nipple was more than erect. It was hard and demanding attention. God, this was embarrassing.

Now it was the other breast's turn.

Alice swallowed.
Please ….

Fingers were pulling and rolling the nub, which in turn was darkening and swelling even more under the attention.

“
Mmm ….” She couldn't help it.

“
I think nothing too high,” the woman said. “Perhaps something that gives you full access to these?” Though addressing Gabe, she was still handling Alice's breasts.

“
Perfect.”

“
Raise your arms, please.”

Alice stood perfectly still as the woman ran a critical eye over her. She didn't even glance in Gabe's direction when the girl returned, carrying a tray and his drink.

Lifting the dressmaker's tape from around her neck, the corsetière slipped it around Alice's back and pulled it taut over the upper part of her breasts. Checking the measurement, she lowered the tape an inch or so and checked again, and then gestured that Alice should bend forward so that the underside measurement could be noted. Her waist and two further checks on her hips followed, and lastly the length from breast to pubic bone.

“
Will she be wearing the garment every day?”

“
Three times a week.”

“
In that case, steel boning, I think. It will achieve the best results. I have something in mind.” She had already turned to the girl. “Bring me the black swan and the Marie Antoinette.”

Biting her lip, Alice shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the corsetière continued to circle her.

“
These.” Thin fingers tugged at the elastic of her panties. “Off.”

A glance in Gabe's direction yielded nothing more than a raised eyebrow, as if he were questioning her reluctance to comply. Slipping them off, she dropped them onto her discarded jeans.

The corsetière was looking at Alice's feet—no doubt at the vivid red nail polish.

“
Your shoes?”

Alice frowned. She was to put her ankle boots back on?

“
Madame
, I regret she has nothing suitable.” Gabe looked a trifle bemused.

“
Her size?”

“
Six,” Alice said quickly.

“
Mathilde, shoes. Size six. And stockings.”

“
Seamed, Madame?”

“
What else.”

Alice stole a glimpse at the two corsets Mathilde had returned with. One was black, as she had guessed, and the other was a beautiful ivory floral print. Which would he prefer, she wondered, already realising she had little choice in the matter.

The corsetière was considering the black, holding it up as if determining the fit. Loosening the laces, she unhooked the front.

“
This will reduce her waist immediately by some two to three inches.”

Alice felt a wanton thrill.

“
And if I want more?” Gabe asked.

The corsetière nodded, as if the question was perfectly reasonable. “That can be achieved. Of course permanent reduction takes time.”

Bent forward and easing her toes into the sheer stockings Mathilde had handed her, Alice was trying to control her breathing. She was nervous, yes, but she was also very, very turned on.

“
The shoes. Quickly now.” The corsetière was waiting.

Alice slipped on the patent leather court shoes and straightened. Her calf muscle stretched and tightened as she balanced on the five-inch heels, and when the corset was placed around her, the satin felt cold and unyielding against her skin.

“
Your breasts.” The corsetière indicated she should hold them up, and with the front of the corset re-hooked, the entire garment was then repositioned higher and lodged in the crease.

Alice found it strange to have her breasts uncovered and on display. They felt bigger, heavier. Perhaps it was because the corsetière was behind her, pulling the laces tight. She breathed in and felt her tummy flatten as her waist constricted. She stood taller, prouder even. Coming around to the front, the woman felt Alice's waist, lifted her breasts and checked the top of the garment. Ran her hands over Alice's bottom and tugged the garment down a little. Then she hooked the elastic and metal suspenders to the tops of the stockings.

Finally she made one more adjustment to the laces. Pulling and tightening them even further.

Alice could only image how she must look, and the heat rose in her face.

“
Turn around,” the corsetière ordered. “You will see,
monsieur
, how the laces are perfectly aligned. It is a good fit.”

Gabe stood. Lifted his finger and indicated Alice was to go to him.

She did, standing perfectly still as he ran his hands over her constricted body. It was an effort not to gasp as his fingers pulled on her hardened nipples, and even more so when they stroked over the top of one stocking and then slipped between her thighs and found her wetness.

“
Madame
,” he addressed the corsetière, “I would like to see the other one on her. I think a more feminine colour would suit her from now on.”

And leaning down, he placed his lips on hers.

T
hat evening he took her not to his bedroom, but to a bathroom—a high-ceilinged space of expansive proportions, glossy white porcelain and softly sheened marble. She sat on the toilet seat while he turned on the tap in the claw-footed bath. Then he returned and stood over her.

Alice understood. Wanted it even. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his belly while unzipping his jeans and easing them over his narrow hips. His undershorts were soft cotton, the designer's name on the waistband. Bending forward, she settled her mouth on the bulge of his cock, not kissing but caressing with her warm breath.

The hands that had been resting on her shoulders and settling her in place were slipping off his shirt. Daringly, she glanced up and took in the flat and tanned stomach, and the spread of soft dark hair emerging from his shorts. And then those same hands, fingers splayed, were on his hips. Clearly he was waiting. Curling her fingers into the elastic waistband, she drew his undershorts down, slowly, her tongue darting out to lick and taste each millimetre of freshly exposed skin, dark and matted and smelling of animal arousal. She buried her nose in his groin, inhaling its very headiness deep into the swirling morass of her being.

But not for long. Released at last, his cock had demands of its own. Grasping its length, she explored its hardness before easing back the foreskin and placing her mouth over the bulbous head. Her tongue probed, caressed, found the small opening in the tip of velvet smoothness and investigated.

She heard the gasp. Feeling his hips judder, she prodded again, this time while stroking the shaft. His cock jerked, and tightening her lips behind the ridge she sucked and licked while his hands, now on either side of her head, controlled and encouraged her rhythm. Then, as if needing to fully own her, they tightened fast behind her head. Held securely in place, she obediently relaxed her throat and slid farther down the hard shaft until her nose was once again in his groin. Now she was impaled, and it was all she could do to concentrate on her breathing and her gag reflex.

And then, with a telling groan, he was gone, leaving only her confusion and a fine string of drool connecting them.

“
Take off your clothes.”

The water was warm when he lifted her into the bath, warm and scented, and when he settled at the other end it rose and ebbed and rippled over her breasts, easing and comforting her. That alone was blissful, but there was more. He'd brought champagne, angled into an ice bucket, and reaching down to the floor, he poured two glasses of sparkling froth.

“
Is anything wrong?”

Having accepted a dewy flute, Alice was gazing into its contents.

She shook her head.

“
What were you expecting,” he asked as if guessing her thoughts, “a night of power play? That you would be dragged down to a dungeon in the basement and shackled to the wall while I forced myself on you?”

She took a long slow sip. “Perhaps not quite that extreme—”

Liar! That's exactly what you did think.

“
But yes. I did think it would play out in that way.”

“
Would you be disappointed if it didn't?”

Peeling a strand of wet hair from her cheek, she tucked it behind her ear. “I've no idea what I'm feeling right now. Probably more confused than anything else.”

“
Of course, it's not over yet.”

“
No.” Alice flushed, and looking around at the opulence, smiled a little too brightly “So how long have you lived here? You said this morning it was a lifetime.”

The water rose and fell again as Gabe reached down for his own glass and then settled back.

“
My family has owned it for years, and it's where for the better part I grew up. But my parents always had a preference for the country, and a simpler life. So, when they moved out I took it on.” He too was gazing around, but far more critically, as if wondering if it were time to replace the tap ware, or upgrade the colour scheme.

“
So where did they go?”

“
Cyprus. To a small-holding with a few olive trees and a very pleasant lifestyle.”

“
Sounds idyllic.”

“
I guess it is. For them at least. Is that what you'd like to do?”

“
What? Live on an island and go back to nature?” Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

“
Why not?”

“
I'm a city girl. I like my creature comforts. Plus I hate the thought of isolating myself from everything.”

“
Such as?”

She took another sip of champagne. Thought for another moment.

“
World events.”

“
And work?”

“
Yes. Work too.”

“
So if I asked you to come away with me?”

She didn't miss a beat.

“
I wouldn't.”

“
Why not?”

“
I don't do spontaneity.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
Because I'm here?”

“
Partly.”

Under the water his fingers were brushing her leg.

“
Touch yourself.”

Shocked by the unexpectedness of the command, Alice opened her eyes wide, and then with deliberate slowness, took another sip of champagne. Without lowering the glass, she moved her free hand to her breast. Though familiar, the caress was still intoxicating, and her fingers grazed over the pliable roundness, circling and meeting at the tip of her nipple to enable a perfectly shaped and painted nail to flick back and forth. As the rose-pink flesh puckered and the bud engorged, she closed her eyes and with a deep sigh let her head fall back.

“
Tell me what you're feeling.”

“
Horny.” The single word was low.

“
Tell me what you want.”

“
I want to be fucked.”

“
Still thinking of yourself, Alice.”

“
Nooo. I'm thinking of you too.”

“
If that were the case, you would have answered differently.”

Her manipulations ceased, and releasing her aching nipple, she let her eyes drift open.

“
I didn't tell you to stop.”

“
Teach me,” she said.

H
e dressed her in stockings, black and seamed, and her corset. At first she'd inwardly rebelled at his choice. The constricting ivory panels were embroidered with pink rosebuds and set off with delicate ribbons. Given the choice, she would have plumped for the black. Of course he knew that. But black would have given her a measure of power, as if she were the seductress and not the seduced.