The Playboy's Proposition (6 page)

Numerous times, Ron reached over and squeezed me with one of
his giant hands. The sheer size and girth of his hands was erotic, and seeing
them covering my breasts, and remembering them squeezing another woman’s
breasts ... I had to admit it excited me, while at the same time upset me. It
was different, being touched as well as watched by someone else. I was excited,
but uncomfortable, too.

Michael was aware that I was becoming aroused by this play.
I suspected he was becoming smug about it, but that may have been my
imagination.

Nonetheless, he was clearly growing more heated. His pinches
became harder and his smile more sexy-evil every time I gasped from him
tormenting my tender nipples.

Soon, Ron joined in the tormenting games. He picked up a
spoon, reached across the table, and smacked me on the top of my breast with
the smooth back of the utensil.

They delighted in my attempts to smother my cry of surprise.
They commented happily on how quietly the spoon had struck me, and wondered how
much harder Ron could strike me without the spoon, or me, making too much
noise.

Ron struck my other breast, harder this time. It stung, but
it was bearable. I looked to Michael. Was this something he wanted? I was
feeling unsure, myself. This was treading into an area I still wasn’t sure
about.

Michael was staring at my breasts intently. When Ron struck
me again, Michael pinched the hell out of my other nipple. I was barely able to
keep from crying out. That had stung pretty badly, both the smack and the
pinch.

Michael and Ron seemed entranced by the game they had
created. I was feeling increasingly panicky. Michael picked up his own spoon
and nodded at Ron.

Michael said, “Let’s see what two spoons can do. The top of
her tits, on the count of three. One ... two ... three!”

The both flicked their wrists and smacked their spoons onto
the top of each of my breasts. I couldn’t believe how much a couple of little
silver teaspoons could hurt, and I couldn’t control my cry. Michael quickly
covered my mouth with his free hand, stifling the sounds of the remainder of my
cries. To my credit, I managed to keep my own hands clasped behind my neck, as
I had been told, though it was hard to fight the natural instinct to cover my
breasts.

I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. Both men
seemed so huge and menacing, and their eyes so intent on my helpless breasts. I
began to quiver involuntarily. Was this excitement? Was this fear?

Michael uncovered my mouth, and leaned over to whisper in my
ear. “You’re doing beautifully, my sweet. I know this is hard for you. It
pleases me that you’re doing it. You’re so sexy you’re driving me crazy.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the low, soothing tone of
his voice. I concentrated on slowing my breathing.

He said, “Just a few more minutes and then we’ll stop, I
promise. Just a few more minutes. You can bear this for me, can’t you? ”

The quivering had died away, and I took a deep breath. I opened
my eyes and said, “Yes, I’ll try.”

Michael looked at Ron and asked, “The sides?”

Ron said, “My pleasure.”

Michael covered my mouth with his hand and said, “Just in
case. Now, one ... two ... three!”

His hand squelched my cries. Tears sprung up in the corners
of my eyes. The pain wasn’t unbearable. Certainly, I had been hurt much worse
by many other things in my life. But it wasn’t just the nasty stings of the
smacks that were affecting me. To sit here and allow this in public was
difficult, and had it been more painful, I doubt I could have withstood it.

Michael said, “Lovely. What fun. Top again?”

Ron growled out, “Top, yes.”

“Then one ... two ... three!”

I fought tears while they enjoyed their little game. They
struck me four or five more times.

Then Michael said, “One last one, together. You know where.”
He laughed low. “One ... two ... three!”

And they smacked the hell out of my nipples. It stung, badly
and I let out a squeal, loud even though Michael’s hand still covered my mouth.
I don’t know how I wasn’t heard. Maybe the other diners did hear me, but
regardless, no one investigated.

Both men dropped their spoons and reached out and massaged
my nipples and around my breasts. Michael uncovered my mouth once I stopped
moaning and with a napkin, dabbed around the corners of my eyes where a few
tears had spilled over. He told me to lower my arms and relax against the back
of the booth.

They both murmured about how I was beautiful and how much
they enjoyed themselves, and how pretty my breasts looked with red marks
dotting the white flesh.

Ron gave my breast a final pat then leaned back into his
seat. “You did very well, Miss Crawford.”

I thanked him, which I imagined was the proper thing to do,
then took a drink of the water Michael handed me. The two men had rubbed away
most of the pain of my breasts, though my nipples still stood out hard and
throbbed every so often.

Michael said, “Yes, you did very well. I enjoyed it.” Then
he reached down and pushed his hand between my legs and shoved two fingers into
the folds of my pussy. He smiled. “And if what I’m feeling here is anything to
go by, it wasn’t altogether unenjoyable for you either.”

I didn’t comment and was grateful when Ron said, “Finally!
My better half is here!”

Michael rapidly removed his hand and pulled out another
handkerchief to wipe his fingers on, while I quickly covered myself.

Elaine blew into our space all fresh and breezy, her manner
friendly as ever. She looked lovely in a light, empire-waisted dress that
showed off her ample breasts and shapely legs to advantage. Both Ron and
Michael complimented her until she whacked them on their shoulders and told
them to stop flattering her.

We greeted each other and clasped hands. She didn’t say
anything to me about the texting, which I appreciated.

She apologized for being so late, said she was starving and
demanded a menu immediately. There wasn’t a waiter alive who would dare ignore
her. The service was snappy, and we soon placed our orders and only had now to
wait.

 Elaine said to me, “They haven’t been too hard on you,
have they? They can be a couple of tough taskmasters, believe me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just tried to smile and shook
my head in the negative.

A wry expression on her face, she looked over at Ron. “I can
only imagine what you two have been up to. There’s no way you could resist a
pretty little thing like Nonnie. Admit it.”

Ron said, “Admit what? Yeah, we had some fun, but I don’t
think we did anything too bad.”

Michael said, “She’s fine, Elaine. Truly. Aren’t you,
Nonnie?”

I said I was, which was true. Shaken but fine.

Ron said, “Dammit, Elaine. What makes you think we’d do
anything to hurt that girl?”

Elaine stopped him by holding up her hand. “I’m just giving
you a hard time, that’s all. And I want to make sure you remembered she’s new
to this.”

Ron straightened in his seat and said in a firm voice,
“Woman, I’m invoking scene rules right now. No speaking unless spoken to. Do as
I say. You know the rules.”

Elaine grinned. “Okay, fine, darlin’, I’ll back off.”

Ron said, “I’m serious. Scene rules, right now.”

Elaine sighed and said, “Okay, but wait a minute first. What
exactly do you two have planned here tonight?”

Ron said, “Just some fun, right Weston?”

Michael was reclining back in the booth in that casual way
he had, one arm resting around my shoulders. “That was the plan.”

Ron said, “Hell, I forgot to ask for carrot sticks with my
appetizer. You brought my special carrot stick sauce, didn’t you, Elaine?”

Elaine barked a laugh and swatted the big man’s shoulder.
“Alright. Scene rules it is. But first, Nonnie and I need a run to the ladies
room, don’t we, dear?” She looked at me.

I agreed.

After some shuffling around with the handkerchief underneath
me, and adjusting my dress to make sure I had myself covered before getting out
of the booth, Michael slid out of the booth and allowed my exit. Ron did the
same for Elaine. We headed to the ladies room, which Elaine said was in the
front of the building near the maître d’s podium and the entryway.

I ignored the balls inside me that began their torment the
second I started walking. I was grateful when I could relax in one of the
stalls of the beautiful and pleasantly-perfumed restroom.

By the time Elaine and I met again at the vanity to wash our
hands and futz with our hair and make-up, the only other occupant of the room,
an elderly, refined-looking woman, had left. We were alone and could talk
freely.

Elaine said, “So, tell me the truth. Are you okay?”

I told her I was.

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I really had planned to be
here, but you know how it goes sometimes. What have they done with you?”

She was an easy person to talk to. I had no problems at all
giving her a quick rundown of what had happened before she arrived. She didn’t
say anything while I spoke, just fiddled with her lipstick in the mirror.

When I was done, she said, “You got a little overwhelmed,
honey, that’s all. It’s not a bad thing, just a little scary sometimes. You
were safe though. They took it pretty easy on you. I’m proud of ’em. I just
know Ron would have been tempted bad to do more than that. He’s a scoundrel
sometimes and can forget when he’s dealing with new girls. It’s my job to
remind him what’s what.”

I gave her a long look, then said, “So it really doesn’t
bother you, Ron being with other women, even your friends?”

“Nope” she said easily. “He always comes home with me. Take
tonight, for instance. As pretty as you are, as sexy as you look in that dress,
and because we’re in public and he can’t do much about it, by the time we get
home tonight, he’s gonna be keyed up enough to make me a very happy woman for
good long time.”

If it worked for her, then who was I to say anything to the
contrary? I wondered if I were in love with a man, if I could share him with
other women.

She continued, “And it’s not just me letting him be with
other women, you know. I get to be with other men, when we’re both of a mind
for it. So it’s fair, like it should be.”

She noticed me shifting uncomfortably from one foot to
another. She laughed. “Oh don’t tell me. Michael’s got you wearing Ben Wa balls
too.”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep. Well we’re a pair and a couple, aren’t we. They must
have got together ahead of time on this. Who knows what else they have planned.
Ought to be a fun night. Oh, and if you feel like you’re being pushed into
something you don’t want, you just give me a look and I’ll slow things down.
Let me take the heat. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Elaine. I might need that. Michael already got mad
at me once tonight, and I don’t want to have to tell him no again.”

“No problem, honey. Now let’s see if we can get all the way
back to our table without embarrassing ourselves and coming in the middle of
the dining room.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I was still smiling when I pushed open the door and walked
out into the front of the restaurant. I took only a few steps when I looked up
and saw three people standing by the maître d’s podium. I abruptly stopped and
stared. Elaine nearly collided into me from behind.

He stood there, not ten feet in front of me, proud and tall
as ever, looking stately in a tailored black suit and tie. As if he sensed my
presence, he turned and faced me. He smiled and nodded a greeting.

A tendril of recognition curled in my belly, and I nodded in
return ... to The Businessman, Gibson Reeves.

Chapter 5

Gibson said something to the men accompanying him, and while
they followed the maître d’ into the restaurant, Gibson walked toward me.

Elaine slipped up beside me and said in an undertone,
“That’s some bad timing there, honey. He’s comin’ over. You get rid of him as
fast as you can, and I’ll make some excuse to Michael.”

She smiled and nodded at Gibson then walked away quickly. I
stepped forward to greet Gibson.

He took my hand and smiled at me. “What a nice surprise. You
look stunning.”

“Thank you. It’s, uh, nice to see you. You look good too.”
Understatement, I thought. He looked better than my memory of him, even better
than my voyeur fantasy of him.

“Are you here on a date?” he asked, and glanced around the
front of the restaurant.

“No, I’m not,” flew out of my mouth.

“Good,” he said.

In a few quick strides he pulled me into the nearby deserted
coat check room and yanked the velvet curtain closed behind us. He wrapped one
arm around my waist, put his other hand behind my neck and pulled me into a
hard kiss.

It happened so fast, I was given no time to say yes, no or
whatever. His mouth slanted hot over mine, and his tongue thrust into my mouth.
I automatically opened for him, giving him all the access he could want, and
soon my arms twined around his neck and I returned his passion in kind.

His hands strummed down the length of my naked back. When he
discovered the extent of my bareness, he stiffened, then his hands slid on down
over my ass cheeks. He squeezed and, with his fingertips, raised the hem of my
dress higher and higher.

Oh no, I thought, a wave of giddiness rising in me. Will
this be like the bar that first night? If we continued on in this fashion much
longer, I wouldn’t care how far this went, and who knew what might happen in
that little room.

Perhaps Gibson thought the same, or perhaps it was just his
cool control, but he soon broke our kiss, pulled my arms from around his neck
and gently pushed me away from him.

I stood there panting slightly, while he turned me around
and glanced at my naked back, then turned me to face him again.

He said, “You’re beautiful in that dress, but it’s far too
revealing for a conservative place like this. It’s not appropriate.”

That was a cold splash of water in my face. I stiffened and
said, “I apologize if I’ve offended your code of decency.”

“It’s not my code. I was being helpful.”

“Maybe I was trying to get on the Trashiest Dressed List.
Did you ever think of that?”

Gibson looked at me quizzically, then said, “It doesn’t
matter. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” His face cleared and his dark
eyes grew intent when he said, “Why haven’t you called me? I expected your call
by now.”

A few flippant answers zipped through my brain, but I chose
to waffle instead. “I’ve been really busy. Work, and things.”

“Work and things,” he repeated. “What things? Is everything
okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just stuff. Life happens, as they say.”
Well, that was lame, I thought.

He cocked an eyebrow. “When do you think this ‘stuff’ might
clear up so you can call me?”

“Umm,” I hedged. I rapidly calculated the time I had
remaining with Michael. We still had three meetings to go. Of course, I didn’t
know Michael’s timeline. Could be three days, could be a few weeks. I had no
idea. “Umm ...”

“Are you seeing someone else?” Gibson asked.

“Well, umm ...” Damn. This was ridiculous. I clearly wasn’t
very good at subterfuge of this type. And anyway, we were both adults here.
He’d just have to accept the truth.

I said, “I can’t say exactly when I’ll be free, because ...
because I accepted Michael Weston’s offer. You know, the five nights thing I
told you about. I don’t know when those’ll be over.”

The instant I said Michael’s name, Gibson flinched back in
what I can only describe as surprise with a healthy dash of disgust. He
actually took a step back from me, and I got the impression that I was sullied
somehow.

Gibson asked in a harsh tone, “You’re with Michael Weston?”

I was confused and offended. “Kind of, for now,” I answered.
“I thought I’d take my five nights with Michael, and if it didn’t work out and
turn into something more permanent, then maybe I’d call you.”

He appeared utterly scandalized by my answer. “I don’t
understand. I warned you about him. I told you that you had to choose, that you
couldn’t have us both.”

“I figured you just meant that I couldn’t be with both of
you at the same time. Besides, I’m not a wilting virgin, you know. I get to
have options if I want them.”

“And you used that option to choose Weston?”

“Why are you so shocked? Michael is sexy and hot, and any
woman would want to be with him ...”

An unexpected voice broke into our conversation. Michael
pulled back the curtain and leaned casually against the side of the doorway.

He said, “Thank you for the compliment, my sweet. But
surely, ‘any woman’ is a tad of exaggeration.”

Oh no, oh no, I thought. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good
at all. I wondered what would happen if I just walked out of this stupid, cursed
restaurant and took a cab home and never spoke to any of them again.

I blurted at Michael, “How long have you been out there?”

At the same time, Gibson glared at me and said, “You told me
you weren’t on a date.”

Michael said, “I got here in time to overhear you
complimenting my hotness, Nonnie. The bigger question is, what were you doing
in here before I arrived?”

I looked at Gibson, who scowled at me. Then at Michael, who
was wearing his little half grin, but I could see tenseness under the glib expression.
I looked back at Gibson.

I said, “Technically, I’m not on a date. Michael, explain to
Gibson how this isn’t a date. I can’t remember your line of reasoning on it,
but it was pretty convincing.”

Okay, I thought, that was probably a stupid thing to say. I
brushed it aside with a wave of my hand and looked at Michael. I said, “And
before you got here, we were just talking, obviously.”

Gibson seemed to have gotten himself back under control. He
drew himself up, and his face went blank, his handsome features even, his
expression impenetrable.

He said to me, “I should rejoin my party, but it was nice
seeing you again, Miss Crawford. Good evening.”

I mumbled a weak, “You too. Bye.”

As Gibson brushed past Michael, Michael said, “Enjoy your
meal, Reeves.”

Gibson didn’t respond or glance at him, only walked smoothly
away.

I was alone with Michael. He didn’t say anything, but his
expression had changed with Gibson’s exit. Now his anger was obvious. Well
damn.

He said, “I think your peccadillo here has put something of
a damper on the evening, for me at least. I’m going to make our excuses to the
Hoytes. In the meanwhile, since you obviously can’t be trusted out and about,
you’ll go straight to the ladies room and wait for me there. I’ll knock on the
door when I’m ready to leave.”

He held back the curtain for me to exit. I stared at him. I
had no doubt that he was serious with his demand; my only doubt was whether or
not I’d obey him. We stared at each other, a silent showdown.

I was the first to blink. I caved, mostly because, deep
down, I felt that I probably deserved the blame on this one. I walked past him
and headed to the restroom. Stopping inside the doorway, I looked back. Michael
stood there, scowling, watching me, making sure I obeyed him, I presumed. I
scampered into the ladies room.

The split second I had taken a few steps out of the coat
check room, I felt the pressure of those damnable Ben Wa balls still rolling
around inside me. The sensations could not have been more unwanted. Beyond
inappropriate. Once I was in the bathroom, I settled into a stall and managed,
after some fumbling around, to grasp the chain and remove the toy. I blew out a
sigh of relief. At least here was something I could control.

I risked dashing to the vanity sink and washing the balls
quickly, praying all the while that no one would enter and discover what I was
doing. Wouldn’t that be a kicker to the evening, I thought.

Luck was on my side, for a change, and I managed to get the
toy cleaned, dried, wrapped and tucked away in my handbag. I applied some lip
gloss to replace what Gibson had kissed away. I pushed aside that memory, but
man, he really knew how to kiss a woman.

I fussed around with my hair, then sat down on the
beautifully-upholstered bench that was positioned against one wall of the room.
There were some magazines arranged on the side table, but I didn’t bother with
them. I wouldn’t have registered a thing I read or saw, anyway.

Where was he? How long did it take to say you have to leave?
I didn’t dare stick my head out of the door to look around.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse. I snatched it up. It
was a text. From Elaine.

Elaine wrote: “Holy crap! U ok?”

I responded: “I know. Caught red handed. But fine. Where’s
M? Is he still with u?”

Elaine was quick with her reply: “Arguing with Ron about
paying bill. Both want 2 pay. Not noticing me. M said u r sick. RU sick?”

I wrote: “In a manner of speaking. M is furious. G is gone.
FML.”

She wrote: “Get ready. M&R worked it out. M is heading
your way. Good luck.”

I entered, “Thx, TTYL,” just as Michael’s knock sounded on
the door. I dropped my phone into my purse.

Michael didn’t say anything when I came out of the restroom.
He only shot me a stern look, then with his hand on the small of my back, ushered
me out of the building. We only had to wait a few minutes for the valet to
drive the car around. I managed the fine art of entering small sport cars
without embarrassing yourself much more easily than before. Practice made
perfect, I presumed.

Michael peeled away from the curb and we zipped off into the
night. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t dare, really. I wasn’t certain what he
had overheard between me and Gibson. It was best to wait and see what he would
do.

It didn’t take long.

Michael asked, “Are you sleeping with Gibson Reeves?”

“No, of course not,” I answered.

“How do you know him?”

“I think I mentioned when we first met that I knew him.”

“Ummhmm. But I don’t think you were honest with me that
night. You knew him, you do know him, better than you said.”

“Okay, you’re right. But I think you weren’t honest with me,
either. How well do you know him?”

Michael exhaled loudly. “We’ll get to that later. Right now
I want answers from you. Honest answers.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine.”

“So how do you know him?”

“I met him about a week before I met you. We had an ...
encounter. Then I saw him one more time, when we had another encounter. That’s
it. I haven’t seen him since then, until tonight. And we only spoke for a few
minutes, you know.”

Michael held up a hand. “We’ll get to that. I want to know
what you mean by ‘encounter.’ Did he fuck you?”

“I don’t know that I’m ever going to get used to this
crudity, Michael. I’ll admit that sometimes it turns me on, but right here, in
this context, you’re being extremely crude.”

“Okay then. How about this ... has Gibson Reeves ever
inserted his penis into your vagina?”

I sniffed to let him know that I didn’t appreciate his
sarcasm. I said, “It’s not actually your business who has and who hasn’t
inserted his penis in my vagina, you know. Shall I make a list of everyone I’ve
ever been with? We can go over them one by ...”

He interrupted me by slamming his fist down violently on the
steering wheel and proclaiming angrily, “I don’t give a damn about any others!
Just Gibson Reeves! Has he fucked you?”

His ferocity made me shrink back toward my door. I watched
him warily. He was driving too fast. Way too fast. This was making me nervous
now.

I said, quietly, “Calm down, Michael. I think you should
pull over. You’re driving too fast. Please.”

Michael turned his glare on me for an instant. Then with a
hard jerk, he downshifted and turned the car into the parking lot of a chain
drug store. My head clunked against the window of my door when he whipped into
a parking space and slammed on the brakes.

“Happy?” he growled.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, rubbing the side of my head.

Michael’s hands were clenched tight on the steering wheel.
He stared straight ahead, his features hard and taut, illuminated by the glow
of the lights from the drug store.

I waited in silence. He took a deep breath then exhaled
loudly. He reached down, put the transmission in neutral and pulled the
handbrake.

Running his fingers through his long black hair, he tucked a
few escaped strands back behind his ears. He took another deep breath then
turned to me.

He said, “I apologize for that, Nonnie. I was out of line.
And you were right, I shouldn’t have been driving so fast. Thank you for asking
me to stop. I wouldn’t ever want to endanger you.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

His pale blue wolf eyes nearly glowed. He seemed a little
sad when he said, “The fact is, none of this is really about you, or what
happened tonight, at least not all of it. It’s about something that I don’t
speak about often because ... because it’s private family matters, and I don’t
think one should say negative things about one’s family.”

I said, “Of course not. I understand. You don’t have to
explain to me. I ...”

“No,” he interrupted. “You’re different. I thinks it’s okay
to talk to you about this. I trust you.”

“Okay,” I said.

“How to start,” Michael said,
pondering while he looked out the windshield. “Well, first of all, I do know
Gibson Reeves. I know him well. He’s my cousin. Our fathers were brothers,
half-brothers, actually.”