by Kiki Archer
Binding Devotion
by Kiki Archer
Copyright 2013 Kiki Archer
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For everyone who has supported me.
You know who you are.
Thank you.
This is for you.
xxx
Chapter One
“Just shove it in, sweetie!”
“I’m trying.”
“No. Not like that! You have to shove it in and out quickly, or it won’t work.”
“That’s what I did.”
“No! Shove it in harder!”
“I can’t. I’m all flustered,” said Melody, turning to look at the woman waiting impatiently behind her. “You try!” she said.
Zara ignored the command and slipped her fingers under the back of Melody’s loose blouse, reaching around for her target. “No, sweetie.” She squeezed roughly. “My hands are too busy.”
Melody gave a frantic glance up and down the carpeted corridor. “Stop it! Someone will see us.”
“They will if you don’t open that door!” urged Zara, increasing the pressure.
“What am I doing wrong?” puffed Melody, deliberately twisting her upper body and shaking herself free from the clamping fingers. She focused her attention, re-reading the diagrammatic instructions on the back of the shiny plastic card.
Zara ignored the warning and bit Melody’s exposed neck. “You, sweetie, need to relax.”
“Zara, please! Will you just let me focus?!” Melody turned the shiny card over, held it against the slot and pushed down firmly. The metal box of room 223 made a reassuring click and the illusive green light finally flashed.
Zara halted her teasing bites. “It’s green! Push the handle.”
Melody used her left shoulder to force open the heavy hotel room door. “And we’re in! Not that you’ve been much help!”
“You love it,” moaned Zara, pushing her conquest into the dimly lit room and pinning her against the wall. She kissed her full on the mouth and used her fingers to unzip the top of the fitted work skirt. She pushed down on the waistband and watched as Melody’s skirt fell to the ground.
Melody was about to kick off the skirt, when she froze at the sound of applause. She glanced around the small room, relieved to see the flicker of the television. “The TV’s on,” she said.
“So?” gasped Zara, in-between her heated exploration.
Melody tried to edge sideways along the wall to get a better look.
“Get back here,” commanded Zara, pulling at the buttons on Melody’s gaping work blouse. “They always leave the television on in these rooms.” She exhaled in success and yanked the blouse wide open, immediately pulling down at the black lace bra and exposing Melody’s super-enhanced breasts. “I’ve been waiting for these all day.” She thrust her head into the cleavage and sucked a huge muffled breath through her nostrils. “You’ve got incredible breasts, sweetie.”
Melody craned her neck once more and squinted at the television. “I bet you say that to all of your women.”
“No. Just you.” Zara reached down and pulled at the complicated hosiery, unable to unhook the expensive garter. “What’s this bit attached to? Give me a hand, sweetie.”
“With what?” Melody was still transfixed by the quiet television.
“Your suspenders. They’re sexy, but I can’t find the hooks.” Zara looked up at her distracted conquest. “Melody, come on! I’m in a tangle here!”
“Sorry, it’s...” Melody scanned the basic room for the remote, “...it’s the debate.”
Zara stood bolt upright and swivelled to look at the television. “Well that can go right off then! Where’s the remote?”
Melody kicked off the skirt that was still lying in crumpled heap around one leg, and shuffled to the bedside cabinet. “Got it. Let’s just turn it up for a second.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Zara’s tone was sharp.
Melody pressed the soft rubber volume button and sank down onto the hotel room bed. “No, she’s brilliant, and it looks like she’s winning.”
“I didn’t want to watch the debate, sweetie. If I wanted to watch the debate, I would have gone over to the studios and watched the debate. But I didn’t. So I haven’t. I chose to be here with you instead.” Zara pulled her poker straight black hair over her left shoulder and lifted her nose. It was one of those habits that everyone was aware of apart from herself. “Now turn it off, please.”
Melody turned up the volume once more. “Just give it a second. They’re onto the marriage bit.” She nodded officiously, pulling her double-D cups back up around her breasts and trying to look serious. “This is important for all of us.”
Zara tutted and turned herself towards the bright screen, not wanting to watch, but drawn in all the same. The articulate debate host was addressing the bright eyed young woman on her left. “So, Andi, are the Church right to be so vocal in their disapproval of gay marriage?”
The petite blonde woman, with a trendy pixie haircut and pretty features, smiled politely. “Can I just ask, once again, that we call this equal marriage, not gay marriage?” The woman’s tone of voice was soothing, yet firm. “And no, the Church continues to harm what’s left of its already tarnished image, with this constant preoccupation with gay issues.” The banner flashed across the bottom of the screen: Andi Armstrong – Proud Unity© – Chief Executive. The pretty woman continued to talk. “Under the current proposals, the Church will not be asked to play any part, whatsoever, in the new marriage laws. The new laws will simply extend the right of marriage to all members of society.” Andi Armstrong paused and looked directly into the camera with a confidence and self-belief that evoked trust and support in her army of enthusiasts. “Marriage strengthens society, so logically this is a positive move.” The young woman waited for the clapping in the studio to subside and focused, once again, on the lens. “It’s illogical for the Church to suggest the introduction of equal marriage will destroy the very foundation of marriage itself. It just doesn’t make sense.” Andi Armstrong lifted her hand to the host to indicate that she wasn’t quite finished, and made her final impassioned point. “Allowing people to fulfil their desire to commit to one another, is a good, just, and righteous addition to the laws of our Great Britain.”
Zara slammed the button on the side of the widescreen television, muting the rapturous applause. “She’s always doing that crescendo thing with her voice. It annoys me.” She crossed her arms. “And her eyes always look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets when she does her spiel of: ‘I’ve been married to my wife for seven years and our committed relationship is outliving many of our straight counterparts.’ Yada, yada, yada.”
Melody shook her head. “She’s inspirational.”
“Well, why aren’t you at the debate then, sweetie?” mocked Zara, narrowing her eyes and betraying the annoyance well hidden by her latest bout of Botox.
Melody stood up and seductively stroked her own chest. She spoke slowly. “Because you, suggested that we, should get this, out of our system before we end up exploding at work.” Melody smiled. “But actually, I quite fancy exploding all over your CEO desk, boss.”
Zara p
ulled her long black hair over her left shoulder and lifted her nose. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood anymore.”
Melody raised her knee and sank a black stiletto heel onto the bed. She parted her legs and licked her finger slowly.
Zara went to roll her eyes, but stopped midway with a jerk of her head, suddenly spotting something unexpected. She stepped backwards, bent down and squinted. “Melody! You’re wearing peepholes?”
“Of course,” smiled Melody. “I know you like to get straight to the action, so I thought I’d make it easy for you.”
“Nothing about chasing you has been easy, sweetie,” said Zara, lunging forwards and thrusting her hands greedily between the parted legs. “But I’m going to make it worth my while.”
Melody grinned, aroused by the sudden rush of power. “And it’ll be worth mine too,” she whispered.
****
Andi Armstrong raised her tall glass of Champagne and chinked it cheerfully against the outstretched tumbler of orange juice. “To us,” she beamed. “No, to you,” she laughed. “No actually, let’s toast to the impossible task of finding your replacement!” She smiled widely and sipped thirstily, feeling an immediate release of stress and worry. The debate was over, the sound bites were good, and she could finally relax - for a moment. Monday morning would come and the preparations would begin for her appearance on Question Time. She paused and pushed the intruding thoughts to the back of her mind, wanting to enjoy the current feeling of liberation and accomplishment.
Andi placed her Champagne glass back down and smiled at the friendly but exclusive surroundings, enjoying the buzz of the fellow diners and the temptations of the deliciously aromatic smells. She turned to her dinner companion and sighed. Her friend was fanning her face and sipping from her tumbler of orange juice; looking all together rather uncomfortable.
Stella was her PA, and very best friend, having worked together for the past eight years, taking what was originally a small group of like-minded campaigners, to what was now, the huge success of the nation’s number one lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender, campaigning and lobbying group: Proud Unity.
Andi felt a pang of compassion and was overcome with gratitude. “Oh Stella, I can’t thank you enough. Look at you! You’re about twelve months pregnant and here you are, taking it to the wire with me. I don’t deserve you and I’ll certainly not find a good enough replacement for you.”
Stella sighed and tried to arch her back. Every single movement hurt. From her ankles to her neck, she felt a dull pain, and the posh restaurant’s minimalistic style of chair was not helping. Patting her huge baby bump, she forced a smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Andi.”
“No, but I bet Sandy would.”
“Sandy? Who’s, Sandy?”
“Exactly! Your wife must curse me.”
Stella smiled. “Actually, Andi, she adores you. Just like I do, and just like the rest of the liberated female population do.”
“Stop it.”
“Seriously, you were great today.”
Andi waved her hand dismissively. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Well thank you.”
“Stop it, you dafty. We’re here so I can thank you!” She smiled. “So thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been the best PA I could have hoped for.” Andi glanced towards the restaurant’s entrance and checked her watch. It wasn’t quite 7.00 p.m. She turned her attention back to her heavily pregnant friend. “So just how much have we cut into your maternity leave then?”
“Four weeks.”
Andi frantically shook her head. “Four weeks? Are you mad?”
Stella shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “It’s okay. I’m not due until Tuesday.”
“This Tuesday? Four days to prepare! Sandy is definitely cursing me.”
Stella laughed. “Well I think your wife curses me too. She reminded me that I’d already sent a reminder about the reminder for tonight.”
Andi lifted her eyebrows. “You’re great at reminders and she needs it. Her schedule’s a nightmare.”
“That makes two of you then,” smiled Stella. “You’re a match made in heaven.”
“We are, actually,” nodded Andi, sweeping her short blonde fringe to the left side of her forehead. She took another sip of Champagne. “And can you believe it’s been seven years since our wedding?”
“It’s still the most beautiful wedding I’ve been to.” Stella grinned. “They should have covered it in Hello. Oh, I forgot, they did!”
“We had a tiny picture in the back of the events section and that’s only because of-”
“Yes, we know, your wife and the multi-million pound FTSE 100 Company she almost owns.” Stella drained the last of her orange juice. “But the picture did cover at least a page.”
“The picture was not a page! And she doesn’t own the company!”
Stella knew how to tease her boss. “You’re a popular power couple though, aren’t you?”
“Stop it, Stella! You know I hate talking about this.”
“You’re like the UK’s Ellen and Portia, only younger.”
“I wish,” laughed Andi.
“Well, your hair’s definitely rocking the Ellen do.”
Andi ran her fingers through her short blonde locks. “I like it cropped.”
“So do your legion of fans.”
“Seriously, stop it!” blushed Andi. “I’m just a happily married campaigner, living the dream.”
Stella winked. “You’re a hot campaigner, with a hot wife, and a Champagne lifestyle.”
“Oh please! It’s been non-stop and it will continue to be non-stop until equal marriage finally becomes law.” She lifted her glass and smiled. “And anyway, this is the first drop I’ve had since-”
“Since last Saturday at the Who’s Out Awards. I saw the pictures in Fierce magazine. You guys looked incredibly glam!” Stella noticed the approaching dinner guest and burst into a teasing smile. “And here she is now! Let me check my watch ... what’s this? She’s on time!” Stella did a quiet drum roll on the table. “It’s the wife herself. It’s Mrs Andi Armstrong.”
Andi’s wife rolled her eyes and spoke. “And always pleased to be in her shadow. Am I not even worth addressing by my own name now?”
Stella smirked. “No, I think Mrs and Mrs Andi Armstrong suits you guys best.”
Andi stood up and kissed her wife on the cheek. “Stella’s being cheeky. She’s officially signed off from work today and she’s seeing how far she can push it.” Andi pulled out the padded chair for her civil partner of seven years and reached for the bottle of bubbly. “Come on. Tell us all about your day. I’ll pour you a Champers.”
Stella tapped her finger on the table and frowned at Andi. “I don’t think so! I think your good wifey here should be asking you all about your big day.”
“Give me a chance,” came the eye rolling reply.
Stella leaned forwards, she couldn’t help herself; she was proud of her boss. “She smashed it! Your wonderful wife smashed it! She hit those bigots right out of the studio! Their arguments looked pitiful compared to hers!”
“I know. I watched it.”
Andi’s eyes lit up. “You did?”
“Of course I did. But I did worry that you were going to sing Rule Britannia at one point.”
Andi blushed. “I just get so fired up.”
Stella lifted her glass in support. “And so you should! Look at you, Andi. You’re the model lesbian, demonstrating the perfect example of how wonderful…” she winked, “…and potentially fruitful…” she winked again, “…in maybe a couple of years…” she did a triple wink and an exaggerated nudge, nudge, “…how wonderful and fruitful a same sex marriage can be.”
Andi couldn’t help but smile. “I like fruit.” She waited for her wife’s reaction. It was always the same when they had the children chat. She watched hopefully, but as her wife pulled her long black hair over her left shoulder and lifted her nose, she knew what was coming.
“Not yet, sweetie,” said Zara, draining the remnants of her glass.
Chapter Two
“Was it the fruit comment?” Andi spoke quietly to the back of her wife’s head.
Zara shifted slightly on the backseat of the black cab, but continued to stare out of the cold window at the glowing London skyline. “You clearly tell her everything, don’t you, sweetie?”
“Stella?”
Zara suddenly twisted around. “Yes, Stella. She’s spent more time with you over the past seven years than I have.” Zara shrugged. “I hate the idea that you dissect our relationship with her.”
Andi reached across the leather seat for her wife’s hand. She spoke softly. “You know that’s not true. Stella’s my PA. She has to be with me non-stop.”
Zara removed her hand and narrowed her dark brown eyes. “So you do then? You’ve told her all about our children chats, I take it?”
“I wouldn’t quite call them chats, would you?” Andi thought back to their last discussion, which had quickly turned into a heated row. There was no way she would ever admit such a thing to Stella. “I haven’t actually.” She turned to her own window and watched as Hyde Park flashed past on their left. Their cab was heading quickly through Mayfair and up towards the prestigious area of St John’s Wood. Andi tried to sit it out, but the sight of a young couple giggling and cuddling up for warmth on a damp park bench made her turn back around to her wife. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made the fruit comment.” She couldn’t help it. She was well aware of Zara’s ability to hold a grudge and knew the solution to all of their problems was often found in her own ability to admit defeat and offer an unequivocal apology.
Zara nodded. “Thank you. It felt like a dig and you know I don’t like being shown up.”
Andi frowned sympathetically. “Oh Zara, I never meant to show you up. I was just on a high from the debate today and I thought I’d be cheeky. I shouldn’t have said it in front of Stella and I’m sorry.” She reached out and squeezed her wife’s knee. “I know you’re not ready to start a family yet and I should respect that. I really am sorry.”
