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That knowing smile could sink ships. Like the one capsizing in Monique’s stomach right now. “I think you know you’re beautiful. Women who are beautiful always know that they are.”
“Meanwhile, handsome men need constant affirmation.”
“Can you blame them?”
“No. And can you blame me for trying to get to know you better?”
“Ms. Warner, may I remind you that you sent me a silver and diamond collar? That’s not getting to know me better. That’s…”
“A friendly BDSM way of sayinghello there gorgeous, I know.”
She said it so flippantly that Monique snorted into the back of her hand before giving herself over to overflowing laughter. Her voice echoed in the gardens below, bouncing off the topiaries and rousing a flock of birds into the air. “What do you know of BDSM, Ms. Warner? I mean, truly…”
Helen wasn’t laughing. “A lot more than you figure I do.”
Monique stopped guffawing and rested her hands on her stomach. Her pie was still untouched. “Do you practice?”
“No, I don’t practice.” Helen grabbed the half-empty wine bottle and refilled her glass, then Monique’s, a set look of determination flickering in the growing lantern light. “That’s definitely not the word I would use.”
“What word would you use?”
This time, she did not take her hand. Monique didn’t even know what Helen was doing beneath the table until she felt something touch her knee, Helen’s delectably warm palm and fingers curling around bare skin. Shots of desire, both welcomed and menacing, plotted a wavering course up Monique’s skin and straight to her groin. Or maybe those were Helen’s fingers, treading dangerously close to Monique’s thighs and a warmth she kept to herself.
She didn’t push Helen away. Nor did she tell her to stop or change her ways. Deep down, Monique wanted Helen to touch her intimately, to know what her body felt like beneath another’s touch. God knew it felt good.
“Rather experienced.”
Monique concentrated her breathing, a practice she hadn’t used since the days she was driven to the edge of orgasmbut forbidden from indulging in it until her Mistress gave permission. Deep breathing meant she could stave off her pleasure… it also meant keeping a level head. “So you tell me now. Here I thought you were bumbling along.”
“No, you didn’t. You never thought that. I told you, Monique, you know who I am. Do I really have to tell you who and what I am?”
She shook her head, eyes darting between Helen’s stern visage and the hand tightening on her thigh.Just a little farther, and I won’t be able to resist her anymore. The closer Monique let this woman get to her intimately, the harder it became to deny her. “I know who you are. What surprises me is that you knewmeso quickly. How many subs have you had?”
Helen withdrew her hand and straightened her sweater. “Trick question. I’ve dallied with submissives, but I’ve never found the one for me.”
“So you’re shopping around, and somehow think I can fulfill your needs.”
“I don’t assume anything. All I know is that I am intrigued by you and want to get to know you better.”
“Until now, I wasn’t sure what you meant by ‘get to know me.’ Now I think I do.”
“As long as we’re on the same page.”
“We’re not. As I told you, I’m not ready for something like that yet. And you still made the mistake of assuming I was up for patronage. Like a harlot.”
“Then what are those other women? Are they harlots?”
“Excuse you. What they want and what I want are completely different. They aren’t lifestyle submissives like I am. This is a job to them. I’m careful to not hire lifestylers. They get too attached to their clients and cause a mess for me and them.”
“That is wise.” Helen removed her hand, clenching it on top of the table. Still, neither of them ate their dessert. “You do havea good head for business. It must help that you have a lot of experience in this line of living.”
“If only you knew, Ms. Warner.” That was not an invitation.It is. It truly is.Monique pushed away her plate of pie. “Come. I want to show you something.” She stood up, shoved in her chair, and turned resolutely toward the door.
Helen attempted to follow, but the look on her face expressed that she had no idea what Monique’s intentions were. “You already gave me such a great tour last time.”
Monique touched the handle and looked over her shoulder. “Not of my room, I didn’t.”
That certainly got Helen’s attention. She moved to hold the door open for Monique, and the moment the madam stepped back into the Manoir she told the maid to give the pie to anyone who wanted it, and that she and Helen were not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.
