Wildfire

by Priscilla West

  “I want your badge number,” Blake is telling one of the officers who is holding him by the arms propelling him forward. “I also want to know what judge signed these orders because I’m going to take him so far down he won’t even be able to see the bench, let alone sit on it!”

  I allow my eyes to take in every moment of this scene. In all my fantasies, never did it look as beautiful as it does right now. Blake scuffing his shoes on the parking lot, red-faced with spit flying out of his mouth. He’s doing a really job of making an ass of himself until he sees us standing by watching. He convinces the cops to walk him closer to us.

  “You backstabbing cunt,” he spits toward Valerie. I suck in my breath and attempt to hide how shocked I am that anyone would speak to her this way. “Did you fuck the judge too? I’ve got pictures, you two-bit media whore. I’ll tell everyone in town to watch out for your pussy, because we all know it’s not an exclusive.”

  “Oh, dear,” Valerie says, walking just close enough to Blake so she doesn’t have to scream her business for the world to hear. “Those pictures were removed from your custody before my deposition this morning. So I’m afraid you’ll be standing around with your dick in your hands. Or, more aptly put – holding on to nothing.”

  “Cunt!” He rages and lunges toward her only to have the officers yank him back as he nearly falls on the sidewalk.

  “Careful, Mr. Stone,” I say with a tone made of equal parts sarcasm and innocence. “When they zip tie your hands behind your back it really messes up your balance. Believe me, I know.”

  “You!” Blake roars, taking his eyes off Valerie and now charging at me as much as he can with a burly officer on each arm. “You did this. You think you won this game? I’ll be out in time for dinner and I’m gonna cook your ass and feast on your soul while you sob your apology.”

  “I’m not sure, Gentlemen,” Mark says to the officers. “But I think my brother just threatened Miss Sharp.”

  “I’m a witness,” one cop said while the other nodded.

  “You think this bitch is worth protecting?” Blake turns on the cops wide-eyed. “You should see her on her knees. I’ve seen her in her slutty clothes on her knees with her whore mouth open ready to suck my dick because it’s the only way any of these media sluts get ahead. Journalism isn’t made with pen and ink anymore boy, it’s written in cum, and that slut right there is the master of jizz soaked bullshit called news.”

  “Blake,” Mark warns.

  “Why don’t you come over here now, bitch? Come beg me like you begged the other night. Tell me how you’ll do anything I want to get back into your office. Open up that dress and wrap your whorish tits around my cock like you wanted to do the first time you came to see me.”

  I am so angry and ashamed my face flushes and I fear people will think I really did want to exchange sex with him for a hand out. And then I realize, even if the officers did believe it, all they would think is the only way Blake gets any action with women is to threaten or blackmail them. I’m pretty comfortable with that thought.

  “You know what, Blake? There are a thousand things I would like to tell you right now. I could tear you apart starting with your manhood, or lack thereof, and end with your lack of common sense in putting your little schemes together. I could laugh in your face, dance at your hearing and spit on your grave, but I won’t.” I have so much I want to say. I feel my emotions cresting, but I’m following Mark’s lead and I’m staying in control.

  “Won’t or can’t, silly cow?” Blake retorts.

  “Won’t,” I respond victoriously. “I have learned discipline, grace and strength from your brother. I don’t need to waste any more time on you.”

  I walk away on cloud nine. I did it. I managed my passion and channeled it into something appropriate, and powerful. I see by the look in Mark’s eyes he knows what a test that was for me and that I passed it with flying colors.

  “Learned a lot did you?” Blake says, seething. “Seems to me all you did was spend the last month learning to be my brother’s fucktoy while your father was on his deathbed. His demise was divine intervention wasn’t it? I’m sure every time you spread your filthy legs for Mark, your father prayed to die.”

  “CRACK!” The punch hits Blake so hard it causes the cops to let go of his arms, dropping him on the ground before staggering to stand him back up. I am as shocked as Blake seems to be. I never even saw Mark coming until he cracks Blake with a roundhouse punch right across the jaw.

  “That’s no way to talk to my lady,” Mark says roughly, still holding his fist up ready to punch him again the minute the cops stand him up.

  “What are you standing around for?” Blake kicks at the shins of the younger of the two cops. “Arrest him!”

  “I don’t think so, Sir,” the cop says, much to Blake’s’ dismay.

  “But he hit me! You saw it. That is a clear case of assault! I demand you arrest him!” Blake shouts at the two cops.

  “Didn’t see any assault. Did you, Steve?”

  “Nope,” the officer shook his head. “Must have gotten that bruise falling here in the parking lot because you were fighting being taken into custody.”

  “But you saw it,” Blake whines. “You saw him assault me at this very moment.”

  “That wasn’t assault, Sir,” the officer advises as they pull Blake away. “Just looked like a conversation between brothers to me.”

  “Well, that was sure worth the price of admission,” Valerie says to Mr. Clank who nods readily.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Mark says. “I shouldn’t have risked more chaos.”

  “Really? You’re sorry you hit him?” Valerie asks incredulously. They speak to each other like old lovers do—eyebrow lifts and subtle vocal tones to display meaning no one else will get. A small jealousy begins to rise in me. Will we ever speak like that?

  “Well, no.” Mark concedes as he reaches out to hold my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it long ago.”

  Jealousy abated.

  Valerie turns to leave then comes back to where Mark and I are standing. I’m afraid she’s going to make some snide remark about him dating another reporter as if I’m some kind of sloppy second to her. But, it’s me she addresses.

  “People talk all the time about the media and the things we do to get the story. But you and I both know there’s a hell of a lot of work that goes into making the cover and none if it gets any press because it’s not the interesting part. You did anything you’ve had to do. Put it away and move on. There are more stories ahead that need to be told.”

  With that, she turns and steps into Mr. Clank’s car as he invites her out to dinner.

  “Now, there’s an odd couple,” I say to Mark shaking my head.

  “Everyone is an odd couple, when you think about it.” He muses philosophically. “Look at us–a handsome, well-off, highly respected businessman dating some ragamuffin jailhouse wreck who actually ran through a courthouse barefoot.”

  He crosses in front of me and opens the passenger door to his car in a grandiose fashion.

  “Care for a ride, M’lady?”

  “With thanks, kind sir,” I respond. “But what I really need is a shower, and some food.”

  “I know just the place!” He smiles and gently closes the door behind me.

  ~~~

  An hour later I’m nestled in the lap of luxury on Mark’s couch. I’ve showered, and we had some of the best salmon I’ve ever tasted. He pours me a perfect glass of Riesling and takes me into his arms. We sit in silence a long time, just enjoying the peace of each other’s company.

  Naturally, it’s me who shatters the quiet.

  “What’s going to happen now? With Blake, I mean. Are we really done?”

  “Far from it,” Mark sighs. “Now the real dirty work begins. Word will get around quickly and I’ll be spending long days and nights explaining to investors that Sandstone is still a viable venture firm and it was Blake who ran aground, not the whole ship.”

&
nbsp; “That’s not hard to prove,” I add.

  “Blake will get bond from someone, even if Robert won’t do it. You’ll have to give depositions, make court appearances, and answer a lot of questions before the blessed day they haul him to jail. Financial crimes don’t create high sentences, but he’ll be away long enough for me to push him out of Sandstone for good.”

  “So, it’s really all about you?” I tease.

  “Then there is the question of you,” he smiles, putting his hand on his chin. “I was so proud of you today, Julia. You kept a cool head even in a chaotic situation. You allowed Robert to help you, Val to advise you, Paul to speak for you, and me to defend you. You didn’t have to do everything yourself and you opened up to all of us showing your love and gratitude.”

  “This is a question?” I ask, basking in his praise.

  “Our deal is done. Your month of submission is over. I have no more arrangements to make for you. But, I think there still may be some rough edges that need smoothing. Only now you’ll have to do it simply because you want to, not because you have to.”

  “And if I do?”

  “The world of dominance and submission is deep and wide. There is plenty more to learn, see and do. I’d say it’s time for you to move to the next level.”

  “I have been chastised and punished; taken over a desk, against a wall, and in a pool. I’ve been tied up, bent over, spanked red and stretched in my most intimate places. Frankly, Mark, I have to say the thought of the ‘next level’ scares the living hell out of me!”

  “So are you ready?” He stands holding his hand out to me. I think for a moment, toss the blanket off and set my wine down. Trembling I reach out and take his hand.

  “Quite.”

  He guides me toward the hall containing the bedrooms and I instinctively turn toward the door of his “playroom”, but his hand pulls me in another direction. We go down the hall to a final room at the end. Opening the door, I see it is his bedroom, the one he sleeps in every night. The one place I’ve been dying to go, but could never manage to get myself into because I had to wait for him to invite me.

  The room is elegant in his simple, straightforward style. An antique dresser with one of those men’s watch and cuff drawers built into the top lines one wall and the closet’s sliding door takes up most of another, revealing a walk-in roughly the size of my living room. His sheets and window treatments are a beautiful blend of browns, golds and highlights that make the room seem to pop with possibilities and satisfaction all at the same time.

  “I like your decorator,” I say appreciatively.

  “I like the decoration,” Mark replies leaning down to kiss me deeply. He opens the robe I borrowed after my shower and lets it drop to the floor. I stand there naked, open, and unguarded as he wraps his arms around me. I let myself go as he lifts me and places me on top of the bed.

  I feel this moment’s peaceful pulse and do nothing but watch as Mark unbuttons his shirt and discards his clothing. This time it’s him who seems in a hurry to get things done. He joins me on the bed and holds him in his strong arms.

  “You’re so beautiful, Julia.” He says again and again, like a mantra. “So beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful.”

  My mouth silences him as I turn over to kiss him. It’s a deep kiss so full of longing and desire it seems our very souls are flowing between our two bodies and I nearly cry when he pulls his mouth away. I’m appeased when it leaves me and makes its way to my breasts that he fondles and nuzzles and licks, his hand finding a path to the wanting slit between my legs.

  Our bodies move together in a supernatural accord. He shifts, I open. He licks and I rise. He lines himself up in the entrance of my core and I am wet, waiting and wanting his shaft to push forward – filling and fulfilling me. Our lovemaking takes on a life of its own with a heartbeat that accelerates as he slides deeper into my body, the folds of my flesh gripping and flittering against him. He moves slowly but intently back and forth creating a beat my body follows willingly and easily.

  I wrap my legs around his, pulling Mark further inside me as my hips surge and follow his thrusts. He continues kissing and whispering to me as I feel his shaft inside me, throbbing and ready to release. But he holds on, waiting until he can see by the look in my eye and the snap of my hips that I am almost there with him. My hands grip his back and I am lost in the thrusts that rock my body and soul so steadily. I see myself on that cliff again, my arms open and with no fear, no push, no thought at all, I lean into Mark and fly.

  I gasp as the deep tremors shake my whole body. Then the gasp grows deeper and more urgent and I realize it is his pleasure moan, with mine, making a unified sound that echoes through the golden room. I feel his seed buried deep in my body just as his heart becomes attached to my soul. We cling together riding out the wave of our pleasure until he must withdraw. He kisses and holds me until we both succumb to the power or the moment and the exhaustion of the day.

  We wake up sometime later, too early to be morning but too late to be night. I continue kissing his chest and snuggling against him.

  “You know what I need?” I ask seductively.

  “Hmmm?” He mumbles, clearly still waking.

  “I need some chocolate!” That gets his attention. He sits up directly and reaches for his cell. Within minutes he has a bakery on its way with treats, and he is getting ready to put some strong coffee on.

  “We’re not getting all the way up, are we?” I ask. I was hoping for a nice bedtime snacking session.

  “No time like the present! Things to accomplish in our brave new world,” he says cheerfully.

  “Oh my god,” I murmur. “You’re a morning person.”

  I manage to wake up enough to be good company for a time as we drink our coffee and eat sweets. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I sure know last night will stand in memory as one of the best nights in my life.

  “I don’t want to drag up old crap,” I say tentatively. “But, why do you think Blake started talking about my father yesterday. His death was a blow to me like none other, yet, I can’t imagine your brother knowing or caring about that.”

  “Blake was trying to dredge up your guilt. He knows guilt is one of the most powerful ways to get inside someone. If you can activate the guilt button, people will let you bother, control or harm them without defense.”

  “But that didn’t work.”

  “No, instead of pushing your guilt button, he just succeeded in pushing my anger button.” Mark laughed.

  “Well, I don’t feel guilty about dad. I miss him every day, but I know he would be really happy with the changes I’ve made in my life and I know his love is always with me.”

  “Good,” Mark affirms. “The less guilt you have in your life, the less people can get you down.”

  I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. He’s right, of course. Guilt will kill a relationship faster than jealousy, apathy or boredom. I let out a deep sigh that clues Mark in to the fact something big is coming.

  “I do have something I feel guilty about,” I say slowly, playing with my coffee stirrer and refusing to make eye contact. “I lied to you, Valerie, and pretty much everyone but Janice.”

  “About what?” Mark puts his coffee down and frowns my direction.

  “There really is a big story at Lynx I’ve been hiding. It’s a make or break story and I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t trust you and I thought you might be working for Blake or to get the story for Valerie. If Lynx folded I was going to use it to start over.”

  “Well, I knew that bullshit about a ‘source list’ was a lie, but I couldn’t figure out what you might be hiding and decided to let it go.” Mark concedes. “What’s the scoop?”

  “I hired a college kid who was going to intern at Tilden-Jennings. I figured that firm works with every other firm on Wall Street so I might find a story or two. Bosses tell interns everything in order to impress them, and I hoped I’d get lucky. Well, I hit the jackpot. By
then end of his semester my source was given information about stock colliding – where the firms pretend to be rivals but secretly pick a stock to dump and battle over it. Smaller, less experienced firms see the big ones fighting and snap up the inflated stock—”

  “I know what stock colliding is,” Mark says. “And I know it’s illegal. I also know the kinds of firms that get ripped off are the ones who handle retirement funds and small investors who can’t afford to lose the money.”

  “Anyway, I have names, dates, emails, and proof that Tilden-Jennings and three of the major firms on the street were engaged. They brought down a number of college endowments, pension funds, and new businesses. I’ve got it all. I wrote it at home and kept the payments, source and research out of the office to protect the source. They must have seen some messages from me about the “big story” because other than that I’ve been super careful.”