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"He does that sometimes."
"Claude, you can't very well expect her not to worry."
"Of course I can. I told her not to."
"Seriously, Claude – "
Our voices around the table. We all sounded more like siblings than an old married couple and a temporarily separated Master and slave.
There was nothing that said Claude had taken her as his. That was strange. During one long exchange between Claude and Chloe I leaned over and asked Annie if she was all right. The look she gave me was distant and either cold or scared, I wasn't certain which.
Next instant she smiled and everything seemed okay again.
After dinner Claude ordered the women to serve, clearing the dishes and bringing back sorbet for the gentlemen and coffee for everyone. Seated next to Annie, it seemed natural to feed her bites of sorbet. When one fell onto her naked breast, it seemed natural to catch it in my palm and mold it to her nipple, holding it there until it had melted into warm syrup.
Annie held still and said nothing, so I fished an ice cube out of her water and held it there until pain showed on her face. She said nothing, didn't protest, didn't say no.
Didn't safe word, either.
Perhaps leaving her with a more masterful Master was working.
For her. For me, I just felt diamond hard and with very definite and unconfused thoughts about what I wanted to do to her. Take her home and fill her orifices with ice cubes. Take her home in that dress and make her kneel on my dining table as I slid it up her ass and took her there, maybe in the ass, something I'd never done to her.
Holding her across my lap and using the paddle I'd seen in Claude's living room, holes drilled in its surface.
Chloe's bottom was mottled.
Annie's was pristine.
He wasn't using her.
Why?
34
Annie
Guess who's coming to dinner?
Seeing St. Martin was confusing. He was still beautiful. That sideways smile, the way his eyes glittered when he got ready to do something. He had a definite tell. Just, it didn't do me any good since I couldn't flinch away from whatever it was he was going to do after the smile.
It wasn't the lock, stock and barrel contract he thought I'd signed in good faith.
It was refusing to back down.
Naked dinner. The main course was fine, fillet steak that was buttery and delicious, with salad every bit as naked as Chloe and I. As someone who hates salad, not having to gak down dressing helps. Dessert was sorbet. St. Martin's interest in what cold would do to my body parts was mild in comparison to what I might have expected.
After dinner Chloe and I served. Whatever I expected after, the most that happened came at the end of the evening.
I was getting bored. The desire to go lie on the couch beside St. Martin and put my head in his lap was almost irresistible except he hadn't changed. Of course he hadn't. I'd only been gone a couple weeks. He was still mad about whatever was driving the extreme violence in him
"Claude, thank you for the evening. You cook an amazing steak."
The scent of barbecue still hung in the house. The lights were on and the windows all open and Chloe and I were still naked but for once it didn't matter all that much. I hated it, yes. I would always hate being undressed, especially against my will and in the company of others. Come on, it's not like there's anything that can make a human more vulnerable. But naked with the windows open in his house didn't matter; the only thing that might be watching us was a coyote. Maybe an owl. Were rabbits nocturnal? None of them cared.
I still cared. But briefly I'd heard St. Martin talking to Claude about me and I knew he wasn't going to take me back yet.
Then I needed to put a deadline in place. Back before July 1 or I walked. All the way back to Seattle. Figuratively. And there I'd carry out my self sufficiency plan.
