Deception

by Victoria Saccenti

  “Oh, okay.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Off you go.” Clasping her shoulders, he guided her down from the stool, then turned her around in the direction of the living room. He kissed her head and gave her bum a light slap. “Or you’ll be late.”

  “Yes, yes. I’m going. Where’s my tote?”

  “Right here.”

  He dangled the bag by the strap. She snatched it as she walked by.

  As Joe opened the door, the yard seemed never-ending; his driveway extended for miles, toward a street that blurred in the horizon. Hunter froze. Separation anxiety struck her with the force of a runaway train. The urge to dig her heels in and stay with Joe overwhelmed her. How could she explain this sudden panic, this fear of an impending disaster, when her throat ached so much?

  “Hunter?” His voice snapped her out of it. “Which is your birth month?”

  She exhaled as the panic slowly receded. “November.”

  “Good. Call me the minute you arrive at the shop. That’s your first order today. Do you understand? As the day progresses, I’ll have more for you.”

  Ah, yes. He’d given her a command. Others would follow. She had continuity. Structure remained. The centering tether he’d wound around her soul tightened. Despite physical distance, she was still attached and balanced. To her dismay, she realized she didn’t want to go on without any of it.

  The drive to Costa del Sol took Hunter five minutes. Or…was it longer? She didn’t quite remember. She’d floated in a cloud of contentment as she negotiated streets and morning traffic by rote rather than conscious action. She turned on Tenth Street and slowed the Mini Cooper while scanning Costa del Sol’s front window. The lights were on. Soledad had opened the store, but she hadn’t turned the Closed sign around yet, which meant Hunter was only a few minutes late. If she walked in making a big fuss, Soledad might ignore or, better yet, forgive her tardiness. She parked, grabbed her tote, and jogged to the store.

  “Goodness,” Hunter exclaimed, pushing the door open. “Why are you here? What time is it? I’m not late, am I?”

  From her position at the display case—elbows resting, hands casually folded, and chin propped on top—Soledad flicked a side-glance at her watch. “You’re about two minutes late.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Hunter grimaced. “I promised I would open today.”

  “And I’m messing with your mind. I couldn’t sleep, so I got here early.”

  With a soft swish of her long skirt, Soledad came around the display case, clasped Hunter’s shoulders, and gave her two quick kisses, one on each cheek.

  “Did you have a nice weekend? How was dinner in Orlando?”

  Hunter gaped. “Wait a second. How did you know? I never said—”

  “Calm down.” Soledad whirled her hand in the style of Spanish dancers, showing her roots. “Do you honestly believe Kelly wouldn’t have told me about your date? We both care about you. She keeps me informed.”

  “Oh. I had no idea… Yikes! Hold on.” She held up a finger. “Be right back, I need to make a phone call.”

  Hunter strode quickly to the privacy of the back room. She tapped her phone’s keypad.

  “About time,” Joe answered at the other end. “Rule number three. Never, ever keep your dom waiting.”

  “Soledad was already here. I had to say hello. I’m calling right away. Please forgive me?”

  “Hmmm…let this be the first and last time.”

  The tone was curt. She trembled, thinking of his expression.

  “Yes. Won’t happen again, Sir.”

  “How was the drive? Did you pay attention?”

  Hunter swallowed. The man had psychic powers. For all she knew, he was sitting in the back seat, watching her drive with her head in la-la land.

  “Your silence is revealing,” he snapped. “At least you didn’t try to lie. That’s progress. And for that, you deserve a reward. Where are you now?”

  “In the storage room.”

  “Go to the bathroom.”

  “But what about Soledad?”

  He chuckled. “Excuse yourself and go.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Hiding the phone against her hip, Hunter walked past Soledad. “Nature break,” she explained, hoping her nerves wouldn’t betray her.

  Soledad lifted her head from her work and nodded. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

  Hunter slipped inside the restroom and locked the door.

  “Okay. I’m here.”

  “Put me on speaker and lower the volume so only you can hear me. I don’t want the neighborhood in on this. Close the toilet lid and sit.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her hands trembled so much, she had to tighten her grip on her phone as she followed his instructions.

  “Are you sitting? Talk to me.” His seductive tone wrapped around her. The hypnotic trance began.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now lean against the tank and take off your jeans and your panties.”

  She was forced to let go of the phone. Carefully, she placed it on the widest edge of the basin.

  “Talk to me.” His voice dropped. His tone thickened. The trance intensified. “Are you undressed?”

  “My clothes are off.”

  “Perfect. Your obedience makes me hard. Tilt your hips up and spread your legs. Is your pussy open?”

  “It is,” she barely whispered.

  “Touch your clit. Squeeze it for me.”

  “Yes…yes.”

  “That’s my girl. Now pinch one nipple. Rub your sweet clit harder. Feel my hand on you.”

  The situation had her reeling: his voice, the phone, the bathroom, the shop, and Soledad close by heightened her arousal. Excitement heated her. Her sex throbbed. Her sheath contracted. She’d come on his command. She panted as softly as she could.

  “I hear you. You’re so close and so wet. I can taste your honey on my tongue.”

  “Ah… Ah… So good.” Her voice shook with her motions. Her sex pulsed and contracted. “I’m…going…to…climax.”

  “Let go. Raise those legs, open wide, and make yourself come.”

  Leaning her head and shoulders against the tank, she lifted her knees. Splaying her sex and using both hands, she rubbed her sensitive nub like a madwoman. The climax took her. Her mouth opened with breathless pleasure. One second, two, three…

  “Oh,” she exhaled at the end.

  “That was beautiful. You’re gonna repeat that in front of me. Can’t wait to see how you do it. Talk to me, gorgeous. What are you feeling?”

  Hunter glanced at the phone in amazement. He had a way of being present even when he was miles away. His constant urging to share her emotions and state of mind cemented the bond and what she needed most: the tether to structure, his control of her.

  “I’m calming down. I feel a little…embarrassed. What if Soledad heard me?”

  “There’s no shame in pleasure. You were focused on my orders and me. You pleased me. I won’t ask you to do anything that might harm you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do. Sort of.”

  “Okay, love. You need to compose yourself before you exit the bathroom. Get dressed.”

  Still in a sensual daze, she bent to pick up her panties from the floor and straighten her rolled jeans. She dropped her butt back on the toilet seat to dress.

  “Hunter,” Joe interrupted her. “You’re not talking.”

  “Sorry. I’m about to put my panties on.”

  “Stop,” he snapped. “Those are mine now, and they go in your purse. Put your jeans on, and forget the panties.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m dressed now.”

  “Good girl. Call me when you have lunch, and say hello to Soledad for me.” He ended the call.

  Hunter rearranged her clothing again, ensuring her garments were in place, then turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on her flushed face, and toweled dry. Slowly, s
he walked out, measuring her tentative steps as her thighs trembled from her climax, her mind in a hazy cloud. When she came around the hallway to the showroom, Soledad looked up from her ledgers briefly, and returned to her work.

  An hour passed as Hunter cleaned and dusted the shelves. A potential new client came in. She browsed the colorful boxes of soap displayed by the front window, and Hunter rushed to assist. Her jeans rubbed her bare sex—a quick reminder of her bathroom activities.

  Damn. She snickered under her breath. Even now, he’s seducing me.

  The conversation with the client diminished part of the sensation between her legs. As it turned out, Hunter was inspired and full of information about the different aromatic herbs along the European coast. She held the lady’s interest for a long while. The customer left with her hands full of shopping bags.

  “Way to go, Hunter,” Soledad exclaimed as she slammed the cash register drawer closed and returned to her record keeping. “The lady’s name is Janet. She took several cards and is bringing her friends this weekend.”

  “I tried to help and answer her questions.” Hunter shrugged.

  “Don’t be so modest.” Soledad jotted in her open ledger. “You were brilliant. What brought it on? Was it the hot weekend or the bathroom thing?”

  “Soledad.” Heat singed Hunter’s face. “I didn’t—”

  A pleasant-looking young man pushed the front door open, interrupting her words. He held a clear vase with a huge bouquet of red roses and accompanying greenery. Hunter snapped her mouth closed.

  He pulled out a card from somewhere within the flowers. “Hunter Gee… Giordano?”

  “That’s me.” Wide-eyed, she answered, then turned to Soledad.

  “For Pete’s sake. Don’t stand there, chica. Move,” Soledad protested as she slammed her ledger closed and hurried to the deliveryman. Shaking her head, she took the vase between both hands, rushed to the coffee table between the two conversation chairs, and carefully placed it down.

  “Forgive my friend. She’s an idiot,” she muttered. “Do you need a signature?”

  “Please.”

  He presented a receipt. Soledad scribbled something. He nodded and left.

  “My, my, my.” Hands on her hips, Soledad stepped slowly back from the coffee table. “What did you do to Joe Reid?” She glanced at Hunter over her shoulder.

  Hunter covered her nose and mouth. “I have a better question. What did he do to me?”

  Flabbergasted by the vase and flowers, Hunter flopped down on one of the chairs. Soledad passed her a small envelope, then grasped her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

  “The roses are stunning and one hell of a statement for a very private man. You know that, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Hunter murmured.

  “Who gave you flowers last, querida?”

  “No one has.”

  “No one? Ay, Dios.” Soledad took the chair next to her. “You don’t have to go into details, but we must talk.”

  “I don’t know if I can say anything, Sole.”

  Soledad frowned.

  “What the hell does that mean? Did he forbid you to talk? Kind of weird for a man who sends not just flowers but red roses.”

  “No, he didn’t forbid me.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I just feel I should ask permission first.”

  “Permission?” Soledad stiffened and looked away. Hunter could tell Soledad had donned her thinking cap and her mind was churning at top speed. “Óyeme, chica. Yanira and I socialize in many circles. A few are pretty far out. Some people would call those groups fringe and others extreme.” She held up her palms. “I’m not criticizing or judging. Just explaining that we both know what’s out there. And that word, permission”—she paused to make quotation marks in the air—“is used in fetish and BDSM groups.”

  Hunter rubbed her face with both hands. “Sole, I’m trying to adapt and understand things about me I didn’t know at all. My tastes, my needs…my desires. It’s all so new. And Joe… Well, let’s say he’s tapped in to that part of me, unlike the other men in my life. He touches me in ways no other man has. It’s beautiful, marvelous, and frightening.”

  “That was the long way of saying Joe’s a dominant and you’re a closet submissive.” Thoughtfully, Soledad tapped her lips.

  “Closet submissive?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Soledad smiled at her. “The huffiness and distance, your anger with guys, the lack of respect and dissatisfaction have camouflaged your need for dominance and control. You poor thing. It’s the consequence of your hidden pain. You’ve been sailing adrift, searching for a safe port and never finding one. It took someone like Joe to hear your silent screams. Hell, it went right by me.”

  “You?”

  Soledad studied Hunter in silence. Seconds passed as she hesitated.

  “Here goes…” She exhaled. “Would it surprise you if I told you Yanira is my sub?” Soledad batted her eyelashes.

  “Say what? Sunday night, I walked into the Twilight Zone and haven’t left yet. I swear I feel like the planet has flipped upside down.”

  “That happens with knowledge.” Soledad chuckled. “Anyway, Yani and I are not full time D/s. We play. Have our scenes. She needs it, and I’m happy to oblige. Sometimes we switch.”

  Dropping her hands to her sides, Hunter slammed back against the chair. “Huh? This is too much. Switch?”

  “Okay, okay. Some couples swap roles.” Soledad shrugged. “Some never do. I become her sub and she dominates me. We think it’s fun. And that’s what this is all about. Having fun.”

  “Sole, please. I never revealed—”

  “I guessed.” Soledad tapped her chest. “I did. Not you. And that’s where it stays, between us. Fair warning. Do not speak to Kelly about this.”

  “Why?”

  “Kelly adores you. She’s a true friend who’ll support you through the worst. But not everyone understands or accepts this lifestyle.”

  “Really?”

  “Hunter, listen.” Soledad grasped her forearm. She spoke in earnest. “Kelly and Pete are vanilla. That’s a term we use for outsiders, folks who enjoy sex without the trappings and role play we use to excite us. There’s nothing wrong with their lifestyle. But huge misconceptions have formed around ours. If she asks, and she will, tell her about Joe. Don’t go into detail. If you need to talk about the life, Yanira and I are here for you. Okay?”

  “Ay, Sole. Am I in over my head?”

  “I don’t think so, doll.” Soledad patted her arm. “I can’t vouch for Joe, ’cause he’s sort of an enigma. His mom is a great lady. If he’s anything like her, you’re in good hands. He might be the one for you. The guy who’s gonna make you happy. I mean, look at those gorgeous roses. Nevertheless, Yani and I will watch him very closely. He fumbles, he’s dead.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Hunter opened the small envelope she’d been flipping between her nervous fingers. The message read, “Call at noon.”

  Yes, Sir. Too late to walk away.

  Joe parked his truck on East Wellbourne Avenue, around the corner from Park, clambered down, and headed north at a fast clip on Center, a smaller side street running parallel to Park—the heart of Winter Park. Midblock, he turned into an artsy shopping complex full of trendy boutiques. The Perfect Piece was his objective. When he pushed the door open, the silver-haired gentleman behind the display case glanced up, his expression polite and steady. A moment passed, and he smiled in recognition.

  “My goodness, Joe Reid. How long has it been?”

  “A while, Julian,” Joe answered. “I came during my last leave. Things have changed since.” He tapped the eye patch band.

  Julian frowned. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Thanks. It could’ve been worse.” He pressed his lips together, pushing the painful memory away. “Others lost more. Anyway.” He leaned in to study the shiny items displayed on the top shelf. “I came seeking your talents.”

  “What can I do for you? Do you need something for Br
enda, or is this for a special lady?”

  “Yes.” Joe eyed Julian.

  “Ah-ha. Kink jewelry. Is that right?”

  He laughed. “Astute as always.”

  “Tell me about the metals, gold, silver, plated… Are you in collar mode?”

  “Not yet. It’s tricky. I prefer gold, except it can be weak. And silver…” He shook his head. “Tarnishes in Florida.”

  “Gemstones?”

  “Definitely. November stone.”

  “Okay, take a seat.” Julian pointed at a short armchair. He searched behind the counter and pulled out a black folder and pencils. “What are we talking about?”

  “I’d like a complete set of clamps.”

  “Nipple and clit, I assume.” Julian opened the folder to a large blank pad. As he spoke, he sketched a woman’s body in large strokes. Joe had always admired Julian’s discerning eye.

  “Correct.”

  Julian continued designing without looking up. When he finished, he turned the pad over to Joe as he pointed with the pencil.

  “See here?” He circled a stone holding together a triple waist chain with cascading loops over the figure’s hips. “That’s a rather large citrine and your control piece. You will use that to pull and relax the clamps.” He dotted two extending chains from the belly button up to each breast. Both chains ended with a small crocodile-like clip.

  “The jaws will be smooth to avoid breaking the skin, and the tips will have tiny pads inside,” he explained. “I’ll set smaller citrines on the outside edges for decoration, and at the base, you’ll have the standard screw that adjusts the clamp’s tension.

  “Moving on,” Julian murmured. “A larger adjustable chain will extend from the main stone to the lady’s clitoris. I’ll fashion that clamp upside down, unlike the others, so you can have intercourse or other internal activities without interference.” He placed pencil and pad down and steepled his fingers, waiting for Joe’s approval.

  “Will the chains be sturdy enough?” Joe asked with some doubt.

  “I’m going to use a heavy curb-style link on a ten-carat gold chain. That’ll give you what you need. It’ll be both pretty and strong.”

  “I’m sold,” Joe exclaimed. “How soon can you have it ready?”