Knight Takes Queen

by C. C. Gibbs

  She stumbled on the dragging legs of Dominic’s pyjamas.

  He stopped, quickly kneeled and rolled the flannel material up over her ankles. ‘All we need is a broken leg to make the day complete,’ he muttered, coming to his feet.

  ‘Don’t be so grumpy. Now you’re sure what I’m wearing is OK?’ She couldn’t keep the elation from her voice. She had his word, his signature and soon – his baby.

  ‘I’m sure. You won’t be wearing it long.’

  ‘Tell me where we’re going.’

  He gave her a cool look. ‘Surprise.’

  Since the lower level at his house was in use, his garage was under the house next door where his security lived. He didn’t take his Tesla this time, but a car she didn’t recognize. It was a burgundy-coloured, low, racy sports car, the sound of the engine when he fired up, a low animal growl. Driving it up the ramp, they came out in the driveway, then onto the street so smoothly Kate murmured, ‘Wow. This has horsepower. What’s it called?’

  ‘A McLaren. Six-sixteen under the hood.’ He tapped the accelerator and the car shot forward.

  ‘Top speed? Gramps raced on the dirt tracks back home. Saturday night at the fairgrounds always emptied the town.’

  ‘Two-oh-four.’

  She glanced at Dominic with raised brows. ‘Ever take it there?’

  He gave her a quick grin. ‘Once or twice.’

  ‘You have to let me drive it. I used to race with Gramps once in a while. He let me do the demolition derby ‘cause I wouldn’t wreck his good car.’

  ‘We’ll see. You’re on my shit list right now.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Soon, baby.’ He took his hands off the wheel for a second and made a rude gesture with his fingers.

  ‘Jeez, you’re a sore loser.’

  He scowled. ‘And you’re living in some fantasy land where things always go right.’

  ‘Well, they can’t always go wrong. You know odds as well as I.’

  ‘This might not be about odds. It might be something else. Something that always goes wrong.’

  ‘If I didn’t want this conception to be as immaculate as possible, I’d say have a couple or ten drinks and relax.’

  He turned and gave her an insolent smile. ‘I have something to show you. After you put it on, I’ll relax.’

  ‘Good. At least there’s light at the end of the tunnel. What is it?’

  ‘Surprise,’ he said again, reached over, and patted her cheek. ‘It won’t be long, baby.’

  He was uncommunicative after that, answering her with grunts or nods or one-word answers until she finally said, semi-pissy, ‘Am I bothering you?’

  ‘Nope.’ He was weaving through traffic.

  The indifference in his voice only made her more angry. ‘You’re just being mean now.’

  He braked hard, the cars behind them on the city street hit their horns. He stuck his arm out the window, gave them the finger, then ignored the traffic jam building up in their lane, took her jaw and turned her head so she could see the fury in his eyes. ‘One last time, baby. I don’t want you to die. I’m not being mean. I’m fucking scared shitless and it pisses me off.’ Then he released her chin, stomped on the accelerator and closed up the open space in front of him. ‘Let’s not have this argument again,’ he said to the road ahead. ‘It’s getting tedious.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a tiny voice.

  He didn’t look at her. ‘You better fucking be.’

  Thoroughly contrite, understanding the extent of his concession to her, she fell silent.

  He drove to what looked like a hotel or apartment building. A liveried doorman stood outside polished brass double doors; otherwise, there was no sign to indicate the building’s function. Dominic parked in the alley behind the building in a no-parking zone, smoothly backing into a spot between two huge generators. Then sliding out of his seat, he walked around the car to help Kate out, his expression still forbidding.

  ‘Do I dare say you’re in a no-parking zone?’

  ‘They won’t tow me.’

  She wanted to ask why, but, mindful of Dominic’s grim look and her recent crossing of the line, she didn’t say a thing. He unlocked a heavy metal door, led her inside to a small amber marble foyer with a single elevator. Punching some numbers on a keypad on the wall, the doors slid open and he motioned her in. There was no control panel inside, and once the door shut, they rose for some time, then stopped. ‘We’re here,’ he said, as if she knew what here meant and waved her out.

  She almost said, Wow, but on her best behaviour after his blunt disclosure in the car, she remained mute. But the Roman mosaics on the walls and floor were real. That they were depictions of erotic scenes didn’t surprise her, but the fact that they’d been transported in their entirety was impressive.

  Dominic walked over and past the mosaics without notice and shoved open two large bronze doors that swung back silently on their hinges.

  Another flick of his hand to usher her in.

  The doors shut automatically behind them.

  ‘We’ll stay here for a few days. This way.’

  She followed him through a huge living room with a stupendous view of the bay, through a dining room that could accommodate a large dinner party, down a long hallway with several doors to the left of them, into a bedroom at the end of the hall with more splendid views. The Italian modern furniture, unlike his home on Cliffside, was designer coordinated in shades of grey and red, the sofas in muted grey suede, the large chairs upholstered in scarlet silk obviously down cushioned, an occasional accent piece in chartreuse the only bright colour in the very masculine decor.

  The atmosphere was one of lifeless perfection.

  Even in the bedroom. The large bed was set on a low platform, the dove-grey bedspread tailored in something uninvitingly sleek, the pillows simple white squares, the mirror on the ceiling framed in narrow chrome.

  ‘Do you come here often?’ she asked.

  ‘Not anymore. You can leave your clothes here.’ He stood in the middle of the bedroom, his shuttered gaze on her.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘You can leave your clothes here, Katherine. I believe we agreed you would oblige me in this project of yours.’

  It was a threat no matter how softly put. She reached for the metal buttons on her jacket.

  He watched her silently as she took it off, then untied the knot at the waist of his pyjama pants and let them slide to the carpet.

  ‘I forgot to ask,’ he said mildly, as though she wasn’t standing nude before him. ‘Are you hungry? Would you like to eat first?’

  ‘I’m fine. Maybe later,’ she responded, equally as coolly.

  He smiled tightly. ‘Very well.’ Another gesture, as though he were leading her to her table at a restaurant. He indicated a door, reached it before her, took a key from his pocket, unlocked it and swung the door open. ‘After you.’

  She came to a stop a foot inside the room, wide-eyed, a tumult of emotions racing through her brain: jealousy and resentment, apprehension, insult, incredulity. Then she turned and said, peevishly, ‘Really?’

  ‘We can stop this game right now,’ he said, softly.

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I would.’

  She surveyed the mirrored room, the chains hanging from trolleys in the ceiling, the manacled cross on one black leather-padded wall, the sex swing in violet leather, the marble table that wasn’t for a normal dinner, the upholstered metal bars in the form of an X, the padded red leather gym horses. The shelves filled with sex toys. ‘Is this supposed to frighten me?’

  ‘I don’t know, Katherine. This entire project of yours is a mind fuck for me. Ask me something else. I can’t answer that.’

  ‘Do you want me to get pissed about all the women who were here before me and walk away?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. I just want to stop. I want to go back home and do what we were doing. That’s what I want.’

  Kat
e softly exhaled. ‘You know what I want. You promised me.’

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘I did, didn’t I.’ His voice changed, cooled, his stance shifted as though he was fully in possession of his body in this room, the magnetic pull of memory intense. Raw. His expression darkened. ‘Let me show you your new toy.’

  He drew the door shut behind them and she heard it lock. Taking her hand at her small start, as if she might bolt or perhaps some before her had, he led her over to a black granite topped table on which a birchwood box had been centred and released her hand. ‘You might remember we talked about this before we left for London. Open the box. I had it made for you.’

  She lifted the lid and visibly caught her breath. Inside, resting on a white velvet cushion, was a gold mesh and colourfully jewelled chastity belt.

  ‘It’s a copy of a Saracen design. Velvet lined. Do you like it?’

  ‘Am I supposed to like it?’

  He smiled for the first time since they’d entered his apartment. ‘Probably not as much as me. Would you like help putting it on?’

  ‘This is impractical if I’m trying to get pregnant.’

  ‘Just put it on, Katherine.’

  ‘If I don’t?’

  ‘I’ll do it for you.’

  Her eyes were little chips of green glass. ‘For how long, Dominic?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t even know why we’re here. But I do know this isn’t open to negotiation.’ His voice dropped to a low growl. ‘None of this is – unless you want to leave. Now put the goddamn thing on.’

  She didn’t move for a few moments.

  He went still, wanting her to cancel, renege, give up this dangerous game.

  Then she took a step forward.

  He clenched his fists because he felt like hitting something.

  She lifted the hand-made girdle from the box, held it up briefly trying to understand the mechanism. Then she struggled with the supple gold mesh while he watched without helping. Until she finally had the jewelled belt buckled around her waist, had drawn the velvet lined metal strap between her legs and turned to him to lock the clasp at her back.

  He unceremoniously slid his hand between her legs, slipped his fingers over the pierced metal openings front and back, adjusted the requisite shield over her sex, then standing upright again, snapped the lock into place. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to have one drink. Would you like one?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, he left her standing there.

  She looked around for something to hit him with, but quickly suppressed the feeling. She could play this game of indifference for several days yet before reaching a crisis point in terms of her fertility. Turning around, she watched him from across the room, standing beside a small bar, pouring himself a drink. ‘What are my liquor choices?’ she asked, pleasantly.

  His glass in hand, slowly pivoting, he surveyed her as if debating the sincerity of her tone. ‘Anything you want,’ he said, finally, ‘so long as we don’t need a bartender.’ But his dick was less concerned with degrees of sincerity. One look at her voluptuous body, lush tits, shapely hips, her pussy locked up tight, his dick was fully aroused.

  She noticed the fly of his shorts strained.

  He saw she noticed. Fuck. It had been too long since he’d banged the hell out of that breathtaking body. But Katherine could help him out, take the edge off, take care of him with her mouth. With that thought in mind, by the time she reached the bar, he was marginally relaxed. Although his dick was still rocking.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any champagne,’ she said, when she reached him, glancing at the array of bottles on the mirrored shelves.

  He smiled. ‘I suppose I do.’ He lightly touched a portion of the mirrored wall, and it opened to reveal a refrigerator stocked with several dozen bottles of champagne.

  She pointed at a half bottle. ‘I don’t want to waste.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ he said, and pulled out a bottle of the Krug Clos d’Ambonnay ’96.

  ‘Really, Dominic, that’s too extravagant.’

  ‘I’ll help you.’ He poured her a glass, handed it to her, quickly drained his whisky, picked up the champagne bottle and nodded towards a nearby sofa. ‘We don’t have to rush, baby. We have three weeks.’ He smiled. ‘We can’t count today on the contract. It’s almost seven.’

  She smiled back. ‘I suppose.’

  He politely didn’t reply as they moved towards the leather sofa.

  ‘I heard that,’ she teased

  ‘I made sure you didn’t, baby. You wouldn’t have liked what I was thinking.’ He winked. ‘Round two coming up after a couple drinks.’

  He sat on the far side of the sofa, as distant from her as possible, and drank out of the bottle. ‘If you have any questions about any of this equipment, just ask. Most of it is self-explanatory.’

  ‘Did you ever worry about catching something?’

  He smiled faintly. ‘Something?’

  ‘An STD.’

  He shrugged. ‘You pay for health certificates and guarantees.’

  ‘Did you ever get involved?’

  ‘Every fucking time.’ He paused at her stare. ‘Sex is involvement, baby, no matter how you do it.’

  ‘God you’re a prick.’

  ‘And you’re breaking my balls. So I guess we’re even.’

  ‘Hostile sex. Is that what this is going to be?’

  He smiled, half lifted the bottle in his hand. ‘At least we have the right setting.’

  ‘So that’s why we’re here.’

  ‘You said that before and I told you I don’t know why we’re here. I still don’t, so save your breath.’

  ‘Is this a hotel?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I thought you didn’t like to stay in hotels.’

  ‘I own this one. The top floor is mine. No one has access except me.’

  ‘And your staff.’

  He did a little double take, registering his staff as a presence. Then he said, brusquely, ‘Right. Them too.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘How many what?’

  ‘How many staff do you have here?’

  He softly sighed. ‘If it’s important to you, Katherine, I’ll find out how many staff I have.’

  She sniffed. ‘You’re too rich.’

  ‘You are now, too.’

  ‘Am not.’

  He laughed. ‘Fuck, you’ll argue about anything.’ He waved the bottle in her direction. ‘Want more?’

  She shook her head.

  Raising the bottle to his mouth, he swallowed for a lengthy interval and drained it. Then he dropped the bottle on the floor and came to his feet. ‘Let’s eat dinner. I’m hungry.’

  Turning, he walked to the door, then swung back. ‘Coming? You can’t get in or out without a key, so unless this room fascinates you for some reason, I suggest you get off your ass.’

  ‘It’s going to be a long fucking three weeks, isn’t it?’ she muttered, rising from the black leather sofa and walking towards him.

  ‘The longest, baby. No shit.’

  When they entered the bedroom, he went to the closet, found a robe for her and handed it over. ‘Cotton,’ he said, so she’d know he’d bought it for her, that it wasn’t someone else’s.

  ‘Were you planning on coming here?’ She surveyed the row of cotton robes hanging in the closet.

  He was pulling open a drawer and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then these robes weren’t for me.’

  He swung around, a pair of grey sweats in his hand. ‘Ever hear of the phone?’ Without waiting for an answer, he jerked off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor.

  ‘That fast?’ The trip to this apartment hadn’t taken more than forty minutes.

  ‘As you see,’ he said, without looking up. His shorts and boxers discarded, he was stepping into his sweats. ‘We can eat dinner in the living room and watch TV. Decide what you want.’ Leaning over, he picked up his shorts, extracted t
he key to the locked room, slipped it into his sweats pocket and dropping the shorts, walked from the room.

  She followed him down the hall into the living room. The sun was beginning to set, the view out the windows stunning. ‘Nice view,’ she said, figuring that was a safe topic when nothing much else was.

  He looked at her for a moment, as if she’d suddenly sprouted two heads. Then his mouth lifted in a mannered smile. ‘So I’ve been told.’ Dropping onto one of the grey suede sofas, he reached for the phone on a nearby table. ‘Do you know what you want?’ he asked, leaning his head back on the sofa pillows, gazing at her expressionless.

  ‘Your head on a platter?’

  He smiled tightly. ‘Besides that. Would you like a menu? The restaurant downstairs has two Michelin stars. The food’s good. Otherwise, just tell me what you want to eat and they’ll make it. And don’t say chocolate cake right away because if this insane project of yours is for real, your desserts are going to come after you eat something decent.’

  ‘I just lost my appetite.’

  ‘Then I’ll order for you,’ he said, undeterred by her petulance. ‘Find us something to watch on TV.’ He hit a button on the phone and a moment later said, ‘Let me talk to Wes. Yeah, same to you. Right, it’s been a while. It’s good to be back. OK, catch you later. Hi Wes. What’s on the menu tonight?’ Dominic listened, said, ‘Fine, good,’ or ‘perfect,’ many times, then laughed. ‘I just happen to be starved. Funny. I’ll let you know. That aside, we’ll be needing three meals a day. Sure … hors d’oeuvre, why not? Now tell me what I have to do so you get that third Michelin star. Think about it. Give me a list. I’ll pay for it. You make it happen. OK, smart ass.’ Dominic was smiling when he hung up. ‘They’re going to cook something for us,’ he said, glancing at Kate who was standing by the flickering TV. ‘Really, you want to watch that programme? Hey, I’m just kidding,’ he said when she scowled. ‘Come on, baby, let’s not fight all night. Wes’s food is great,’ he waved at the windows, ‘the view is even better at night. And I have trouble staying mad at you.’ He put up a hand. ‘Not that I’m still not pissed about this whole deal, but just not now. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Kate sighed, then smiled. ‘I don’t like to fight either.’

  She was standing in front of a very large flat panel TV and looking small in contrast to the screen and the huge, high-ceiling room. Her curls were wild and unruly, framing her head like a filmy nimbus against the lighted screen, giving her an innocent, saintly air. ‘You OK with that – whatever … my new toy?’ he asked, as if saintly thoughts required instant redress. ‘It’s not uncomfortable or anything. Nothing rubbing? I told them your skin was delicate.’