Double-Crossed (11 page)

What was I thinking?

There'd be no way in the world he could avoid difficulty with this one. Even if there was no legal case and no ex-boyfriend like Joe, this would be trouble. To top it off, he had to face the fact he'd fallen apart professionally; the connection between them encouraged a destructive recklessness. Peter shook his head and then continued down the stairs. He tried to remember where he'd parked his car the night before. He had to get himself to the parking lot and work out how much he owed the attendant for leaving his car in the lot all night.

Then Peter remembered the way Marianne looked in the bed as he left, and his cock started to thicken, and everything seemed to make complete sense.

He'd placed his entire firm at risk, not to mention his whole life, with his unethical behavior. Meddling with a woman who wasn't free and would never be, no matter what her thoughts were on the subject, wouldn't win any ethics prizes. Yet, his behavior seemed wise—to himself, deep down. Remembering her as he left her there, tousled hair, large, soft breasts, and her body still warm from making love, it all fell into place.

Peter knew. He'd been waiting for Marianne. Of course, she hadn't turned up just as he expected, but he'd hoped, or rather, longed that someday she would. Now, after one night, he knew she'd arrived. And she'd changed his life in twelve hours.

These were outdated notions. No one thought in terms of “the one” anymore. Peter had never admitted to anyone that he felt that way. The knowing deep inside had nothing to do with being romantic. He'd always known he wasn't normal; “vanilla” they called it in the BDSM world. He knew that that he had extreme tastes and that any woman who came to him would have to be very special. She'd have to be brave and ready for just about anything.

He'd always demanded a great deal from the women he dated. He couldn't help it. Lovemaking for him wasn't just about sex. Feelings took a place of high importance, but his emotions were not the end of the story, either. It had to be, in a strange sort of way, for her edification. She had to expand into the lovemaking, as if she were achieving. It needed to be as if she were becoming a new woman, shedding her unnatural, self-imposed constraints and evolving into freedom.

He felt struck by what he could see in Marianne. It would take them a long time to evolve her into the full potential he'd witnessed the beginnings of last night. He knew she had fears; these were borne of protections developed because of her upbringing. Joe had told him about her horrible upbringing and those neglectful parents. They tried to sell her and her special qualities, rather than cherish them. However, Peter did know what to do with her, and he would never do the wrong thing.

Peter had kissed many frog-ettes, and he knew profound luck had led him to this princess.

Facing this dilemma head-on, Peter realized he wanted nothing to get in the way of this. He also accepted that the odds were against them. It now stood as a question of balance. How could he keep his job and forge a relationship with Marianne? Maybe he could make both happen, but at the end of the day, he wanted her more than anything he could remember. It had taken so long to find her. So long that he had almost decided his standards were too high.

Peter finally found his car and drove directly for his home in Waterloo. He glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty already! In just over six hours, he was expected at the meeting. He had to get some work done. The team would be around at three-thirty for a couple of hours to prepare for the hearing. The original plan of dinner with them would have to be canceled, because he'd told Marianne that he wanted to eat with her, and it was better for the case, anyway.

Driving into the underground parking of his apartment, he waved at the door attendant, who gave him a welcoming smile. It felt good to be home where he had a better chance of his thoughts falling into place.

Peter dived out of his car, racing to the elevator before the door attendant could follow him up and ask questions about where he'd parked the car and why. He took the elevator to the fourth and highest floor, and walked down the cream corridor to his harbor-view apartment.

Moving straight to his bedroom, Peter emptied his pockets on the immaculate bed and hung his suit in the section of the cupboard ready for dry cleaning. He changed into casual shorts and a T-shirt, then rifled through the papers that were in his pocket. He tossed most of them into the paper bin in his room, but kept the note that Marianne had read. This he took with him as he strode into his home office shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Marianne lay on the bed after hearing Peter leave and deeply inhaled the scent of lovemaking lingering in the room. With so much to think about and digest, she welcomed some alone time. She'd only slept one night with Peter, and already they were talking about a relationship and making sure that they could be together. Yesterday, she had no idea when she left for Joe's place that she'd be waking up with a new lover the next morning. It felt so sudden and almost too much. Almost.

Stretching lazily, she stood up at the edge of the bed, and reached for her robe. Padding out to the kitchen, she put the electric kettle on for a cup of tea.

What a lover he'd turned out to be. Marianne had a lot to come to terms with here. She felt thrust into a new relationship but also into a completely new world. This man had brought so much into her life in just a matter of hours.

Compared to Joe, it's a whole new world
.

It had never mattered to Marianne that she'd only been with Joe in her life. The unusual nature of the relationship meant she'd never had a crisis of experience, those moments people go through when it occurs to them they are missing out because they'd only slept with one person. Joe had always been more than a lover, anyway. Joe was her benefactor.

The whistle of the kettle roused Marianne from her thoughts momentarily. Setting leaf tea in the pot, a morning ritual that had been a part of her life for so long, she let her thoughts slip back to time with Joe. Now, finally, that stood behind her, free to become a faint memory over time.

She poured a mug of hot tea, watching the milk swirl, settle, and mix. Tingles ran up her spine at the thought of a mutual positive end to her time with Joe.

Their relationship had been many different things and none of them terribly healthy. He wanted her sexually at a young age, but once she'd hit twenty-two years old, he'd lost interest and pursued girls in their late teens. At first, Marianne had resented this. It wounded her pride, and she felt compelled to do something about it. After a while, her biggest problem wasn't the humiliation. It felt so much worse to be lonely. She'd always known she didn't properly love Joe, but because of her history, she'd assumed love to be the alien thing she'd never have. It was not to be. She felt that what she had with Joe was as good as it got, but when his sexual interest in her waned, she found herself wanting and hungry.

Mug of tea in hand, Marianne padded her way back to the bedroom, grabbing a favorite magazine as she walked. Setting the tea on the nightstand, she cuddled back under, naked, inhaling the beautiful scent of Peter still heavy on the sheets.

She flicked through the magazine, sipping at her tea, but her thoughts were a whirlwind, and turned her every which way, always back to the resolution of her problems with Joe.

Every now and then, Joe had slipped up, and she would catch him in bed with someone. Usually, in the bed she shared with Joe. At twenty-seven, Marianne insisted they have separate bedrooms. Joe barely protested. He must have thought it a relief to get her out of his room. He even allowed her to continue her bookkeeping studies. However, he still insisted no man touch her.

Then the desire to leave Joe rose like a tide inside Marianne. If she could leave by her thirtieth birthday, she'd achieve her biggest goal. She had her bookkeeping and extending this to accounting saw her tipping her toes at the shoreline of her dreams.

After that, Marianne set up her life. She knew one day Joe would come for her, but until that time, she did everything she could to create a separate world from him. This included her sex life. Toys, lingerie, and, of course, The Pleasure Chest were all a part of her solo sexual existence.

Men were not a high priority while she tried to get herself independent from Joe, and besides, most of the men Marianne met bored her. Something special always seemed to elude her, and she'd always assumed it to be a natural fussiness. After last night, Marianne thought she'd finally found out what bored her about the other men.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

She leaped up and got dressed. She had to eat at some point, and there were plenty of places to eat in the Cross. Today required other sustenance, however. Some information to feed her mind. She left the bed in its crumpled, sexy mess, knowing she had that to look forward to when she got home.

Once out on the street, she crossed from Victoria Street again over to Darlinghurst Road. She headed straight for The Pleasure Chest, reliably always open, 24-7.

“Morning, Marianne.” Bill grinned from the same place his wife had made trouble for Marianne the night before. “I heard you had quite a visit in here last night. Please tell me you took Peter home, and your pussy is so sore you can't watch films today!”

Marianne laughed. “I will tell you that, love. Then can you pass the detailed info to your cute wife who made the whole thing happen.”

“The way she tells the story, Peter wanted to make you 'happen' whether Jen was there or not. And he's a lawyer! Don't let this one get away, girl. You deserve a great break like this. We've seen him a little around the hetero scene, but we've never met or played together. We don't know much about him, but the word is he's a good guy.”

Marianne smiled a warm smile into his eyes. They both really cared about her, she could tell. She badly needed that caring friendship this morning.

“Actually, Bill, I loved the sex so much, that I'm here to get some…err…educational material.”

Bills eyebrows shot up. “Nothing here you don't know about, hon.”

“What about…BDSM?”

Bill's eyes widened.

“
Please
tell me that is what he did to you when you were alone and that you loved it!”

“That is what we did when we were alone, and I loved it!”

“Jen was right. There is nothing bad about this story. So what are you looking for? Info?”

“I need to know how I play my part properly. And I'm confused as to why it may have turned me on so much. I'm probably talking to the wrong person for that one.”

“Well, first things first! I have just the book for you. Actually, I have a few for you. Are you able to spend up today?”

“I haven't been spending on anything else.”

“Then come with me.”

Bill walked her to the back right-hand corner of the store, behind the door she normally walked through to the viewing booths. There were books on the shelves here that Marianne had not bothered with before, because they were for couples. Or so she thought.

“Oh. This is essential reading,
Different Loving: the World of Sexual Dominance and Submission
, and then we have another classic,
The Story of O
. That's something you'll find helpful. This'll give you solid start-up info.”

Then he turned, and with warm eyes, looked at her thoughtfully.

“As for why you are turned on by this, I can't tell you that one. The jury's out. Pretty much everyone thinks that it's part of an overhang from the Catholic Church, but personally, I think that's crap. An awful lot of Japanese love this stuff, and there is nothing Catholic about them.”

Bill carried the books back to the counter, and Marianne walked over to the DVDs. She took one off the shelf about women submissives and male Dominants, and headed for the counter.

On the way there, she spied a dark leather whip. It had a long, plaited leather thong on the end of it that had little knots tied all the way along. A nasty and inviting piece of work, Marianne imagined Peter standing over her, her arms chained up high, and him lashing her repeatedly until she screamed with pain. Then he would stop and fuck her hard. The image frightened Marianne, but enticed her as well. A response to this vibrated deep in her soul. Something in her had always known, but until now, never recognized.

However, it wasn't for this series of purchases. She didn't want to push the envelope. Today she needed education, and she required some information before she met with Peter again tonight. Even if he didn't make love to her this evening, she wanted a better grasp on what she went through last night.

She put the DVD on to the counter with her other informational purchases. Bill let out a low whistle. “Man, talk about getting into the heavy stuff. But, darlin', I'm not surprised. Jen and I sort of took you for this kind of gal.”

“What? Really? What made you think that I was into this sort of thing? Because up until last night, I didn't know it myself.”

“Sometimes it takes a trained eye, love, and we're experts at determining people's fetishes. We could tell because of a couple of key things. Your relationship with Joe… definitely a misplaced BDSM one, your love of skin flicks and coming here alone to watch them, certainly a sign of a bad girl, and then finally, your disinterestedness in other men. You are way too choosy for a vanilla girl.”

The second time Marianne heard that today, and this time her ears pricked up. “Vanilla girl?”

“Yeah. See, this is how the BDSM community talks. Life is like an assortment of flavors in the ice cream shop. There are the folk who like vanilla. Now they choose vanilla every time. It is their flavor, and they don't want to try anything else. They just love vanilla. Then there are the folk who want to try many different flavors, no matter how scary or confrontational it may seem. The BDSM community likes to think of themselves as that. They are the ones who try lots of flavors.”

“So you deduced that I must not be vanilla because I'm too fussy?”

“Yeah. Even intuitively, you don't want just any guy. You were waiting for something deep inside of you to respond. That's not very vanilla.”