by Tawny Taylor
What disaster would it be this time?
“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to torture me?” Britt asked when Mary didn’t say a word after at least five minutes. Mary was never quiet for that long. Not even in a movie theater.
Mary peered over the menu and blinked. “I’m not sure how to tell you this.”
“Quit hiding.” Britt pulled the menu away from Mary’s face. “You look like a lost kitten. What are you scared of?”
“Nothing. Well, that’s not true either. I’m worried. I’ve never seen you go so crazy over a guy before. You spent the night with him last night, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Britt tried to look nonchalant as she stirred her iced tea, but she knew she was failing. Mary knew her better than she knew herself. And even Britt knew she never spent a work night with a man.
“You’re serious about him, aren’t you?” Mary pulled the menu back over her face, leaving only her eyes and forehead exposed again.
“Would you quit doing that? And no, I’m not serious about him, yet. It’s too soon.”
“I don’t believe you. And I’m afraid you’ll go a little berserk when you hear this.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, just spit it out. I’m not married to the man. If it’s something important, I need to know.”
“Okay.” Mary lowered the menu and leaned forward. “There’s another woman,” she whispered.
“Really?” Britt wasn’t convinced. Surely Andre—Mr. Let’s-be-honest and I’m-looking-to-settle-down—wouldn’t have kept something that important from her. Heck, when did he have the time to see the other woman? “What makes you say that?”
“I talked to her at the club.”
The club? A little twinge of suspicion slid up Britt’s spine. “Maybe she’s lying.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe she isn’t. I had to tell you. I figured you have the right to know some woman—and let me tell you, she’s gorgeous, not that you aren’t—is running around saying she’s involved with Andre.”
For the most part, Britt didn’t believe what Mary said, but a very small part of her had some doubts. She recalled that first night at the BDSM club, the buxom blonde in latex who’d tapped Andre on the shoulder. He’d known that woman, hadn’t tried to hide it. What if all that talk about settling down and commitment…and my soul…and trust…was just talk? I haven’t known him for long. Am I being a fool for trusting him?
“I appreciate your telling me. But we’re not engaged or anything. I don’t have any right to stake a claim on him. I have no right to be jealous.”
“You don’t expect me to believe you’re okay with this.”
Britt shrugged again. “What am I supposed to do? We’ve only seen each other a couple of times. I can’t demand to know his every move.”
“Find out the truth, so you know.”
“Fine. I’ll ask him if he’s dating anyone else. Will that make you feel better?”
“You know, I told you only because I care. I like Andre…er, at least what I’ve seen so far. I want you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“When are you going to see him next?”
“Friday.” Britt slid lower into her seat and guzzled her iced tea, knowing she wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep until then. Friday couldn’t come soon enough. And until then she couldn’t get enough caffeine if it was pumped into her veins through an IV.
Chapter Eight
By the time Andre’s car had pulled in Britt’s driveway Friday night, Britt was again a miserable bundle of nerves. There was definitely a pattern developing.
Although now she wasn’t afraid Andre would lock her in a cage or mercilessly torture her. This time, her fears surrounded a more delicate matter—one that involved her heart. She knew, in her current state, it was far easier for her heart to be crushed than for her body to be.
Regardless of what she thought she wanted, it was too late. She had developed feelings for Andre. Strong feelings she could no longer deny. Not only was he a giving lover, warm and tender and sexy, but also seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He talked to her. He listened. He wanted to know how she felt, what she thought. It was impossible to have a casual relationship with him. He encouraged more, pulling her in.
She could see what he was doing, dropping bits of bait to lure her closer, to gain her trust, but she couldn’t stop herself. The bait was so…compelling.
He smiled as she opened the front door, his gaze wandering up and down her form. “You look incredible. I have a surprise for you.” His expression eager, full of childlike excitement, he reached for her hand.
Curious, she pulled the door closed behind her, stepped onto the porch, and took his hand. “What kind of surprise?”
Taking long, quick strides, he pulled her toward the car. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. You’ll just have to wait.”
“Are you testing my patience again?” She sat in the passenger seat and looked up at him, catching his gaze as it dropped to her chest. Without looking down, she knew what he was staring at. The V-neck top she wore provided a nice view of her cleavage. A warm blush settled over her face.
He licked his lips. “Maybe. But you won’t have to wait long.” Before she could respond, he shut her door, walked around the front of the car, slipped into the driver’s seat and closed the door. The car’s engine roared to life as he turned the key.
Shifting into reverse, he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re a little quiet tonight. Is everything okay?”
This was it, her opportunity to bring up the topic of dating other people. If she could just put aside that one worry, she could genuinely enjoy the process of getting to know Andre better. She could maybe even let herself fall in love with him. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous.”
“Again?” He shifted the car into first and hit the gas. “What’s wrong?”
She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, knowing it was likely to be the last deep breath she’d take in a while. Past experience suggested when she was involved in a tense discussion, she tended to hyperventilate. “I…uh…” She glanced down at her hands, noting a slight tremble. She tried to remind herself that she couldn’t avoid asking the question that was weighing so heavily on her heart. It was impossible. She’d go downright insane if she didn’t. Things were moving too quickly not to know which direction they were headed. “I just need to get something straight.”
He glanced at her then returned his gaze to the road. “Okay. What do you need to know?”
“You said you’re looking to eventually settle down, but—” She stopped herself. This is stupid! We’ve only gone on two, er, three dates. What man would make a serious commitment after such a short time? Why would I want that, either? I hardly know the man. He’s a free agent, and so am I. We can date anyone we well want to, including beautiful blondes with perfect bodies…that I’d love to hate. “Oh, forget it. Let’s just go have some fun. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Right? Just have fun and get to know each other. No strings. No pressure.”
He stopped the car at a red traffic light and studied her with narrowed eyes. “No strings? Am I going too fast for you?” The light turned green, and he pulled away, smoothly shifting gears. First, second, third.
“No. You’re not going too fast.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you bring up the no-strings thing? That’s not something I expected to hear from you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we’ve been pretty intense—at least I thought we have been. If you’re looking for something casual…hmmm…” He let his sentence trail off unfinished and silently drove for a mile or two, and she remained silent, too.
What should she say? How could she explain what was going on inside of her? His words suggested he wasn’t looking for a casual relationship. Did he genuinely mean them? Had her doubts been unfounded? Was she just buying a lie fed to her indirectly through
a friend? Was the woman from the club just trying to scare her off? Andre’s actions spoke volumes. He never spoke of other women. He never looked at other women when they were out. He never talked about being free or wanting space.
Quite the opposite. He seemed to be focused on one woman. Her.
The heaviness in her heart lifted slightly.
Moments later, he drove the car into a parking lot in front of a small dance studio. As he exited the car and opened her door, his expression remained friendly but lacked its former obvious glee. “I hope you enjoy my surprise.”
“Are we taking dance lessons?”
“A close friend of mine owns this place. She offered to teach us a few moves. I thought you might enjoy it.” He took her hand and together they walked across the empty parking lot.
“That’s very romantic,” she said, impressed by his sentiment. But as he pulled the door open for her, the rest of the compliment she’d meant to say lodged in the middle of her throat.
There, behind the front desk, stood the blonde from the club, decked out in a black leotard with a low scooping neckline that emphasized the size of her ample chest.
Taken off guard, Britt stepped backward but was stopped by Andre’s bulk behind her.
“Britt,” Andre said, “this is Stacy. Stacy and I have been friends since college. Stacy, this is Britt.”
A genuinely warm smile on her face, Stacy stepped from behind the counter and offered Britt her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you finally. Andre has told me so many great things about you.”
“He has?” Studying Stacy’s face for some sign of deception, Britt hesitantly took Stacy’s hand and gave it a quick shake. But as she tried to pull her hand free, Stacy’s grip didn’t release. And then she realized something very shocking.
Stacy was checking her out! And she seemed to appreciate what she saw.
Britt didn’t know how she felt about that. Relief—knowing Stacy wouldn’t be interested in Andre if she was gay—and discomfort. Maybe even a little bit aroused.
“Are you ready to begin your lesson?” Stacy released Britt’s hand and motioned toward a room to the right. “Follow me.” She walked in front of Britt, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and swaying hips sparsely covered by leotard, opaque tights, and translucent skirt. Only a few steps behind, Britt had to admit that the woman did have a to-die-for body—not that she was attracted or anything. In the center of the room, Stacy spun around unexpectedly, and Britt nearly walked straight into her. “Andre suggested ballroom lessons. Would you like that or something else? He said it’s entirely up to you.”
Feeling very clumsy, Britt halted suddenly then staggered, trying to catch her balance. “What other kinds of lessons do you offer?”
“All the usual. Tap, jazz, ballet. We also offer ballroom, belly dancing—”
“Belly dancing? I’ve always wanted to learn to belly dance.”
Stacy gave her an appreciative smile. “Belly dancing it is, then. Andre? Do you want to watch?”
“Hell, no,” he answered from behind Britt.
Assuming he was leaving, Britt turned toward him to thank him for the thoughtful gift. But, as she faced him, she realized by the way he was swinging his hips he had no intention of leaving.
And then his words reaffirmed that assumption. “I’m staying. I want to learn, too. Sounds like fun.”
Stacy laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?” She walked across the room to a small closet and opened the door, pulling out some fabric. She shook out one piece then handed it to Britt then found a second one—a lovely shade of bubblegum pink—for Andre. “Tie these low around your hips, like a sarong skirt.”
Britt secured hers over her jeans then watched Andre struggle to tie his over his khaki pants. Unable to stop herself, she giggled. “Do you need some help?”
Andre lifted his hands in defeat, and in a mockingly feminine voice he said, “They say these things are one-size-fits-all, but they never are.”
That was it. Britt burst out in laughter, and Stacy joined her. Between the two of them, they managed, between fits of body-quaking hilarity, to tie the skirt around Andre’s hips. Then Stacy turned on the stereo and the room filled with the sound of Turkish music.
Not surprising to Britt, the lesson went very quickly. Stacy occasionally stepped up to Britt and laid her hands on her hips or stomach to help her learn a movement. But the touches, which normally would bother her because they were from a strange woman, had a very different effect. By the end of the lesson, thanks to Stacy’s gentle strokes and Andre’s flirty escapades, including a few maneuvers that reminded her of lovemaking, Britt was warm and tingly all over.
And the heaviness in her heart had nearly completely lifted.
Even while in a room with a woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of a swimsuit magazine, Andre’s eyes were on Britt only. His playful smile was directed toward her only. His flirty innuendos were whispered in her ear only.
More than that, Britt could see the depth of his feelings in his eyes as he watched her dance. There was no hiding it. He didn’t even seem to try. He was developing feelings for her.
When Stacy announced the lesson was officially over, a flush-faced Andre thanked Stacy for the lesson, then turned toward Britt and drew her into a hug. One hand dropped to her bottom. “Did you have fun?”
Fighting a shudder as he squeezed her ass, she forced out, “Yes, I really did. I’ve always wanted to learn belly dancing.”
“You’re a natural. And you’re always welcome to come back for more lessons—on the house,” Stacy offered.
“Really? Wow, thanks!” Moving carefully, hoping to avoid making Andre release her, Britt pulled the knot at her hip loose and handed the scarf-like material back to Stacy. “But I feel like I should pay something.” Andre began trailing tiny kisses down her neck. Carrying a conversation with Stacy while Andre produced goose bumps on top of goose bumps was no simple task. “I…uh…”
“No way.” Stacy shook her head, her expression stern. “I would never charge a…friend…of Andre’s. You’ll just have to come after hours. Here’s my card. Call me and we’ll set up a time.”
“Okay.” Without reading it, Britt slid the card into her back pocket.
Andre gave Britt’s shoulder a final bite then said, “Better get going. Dinner’s ready at home. Hope you don’t mind a home-cooked meal.” He removed his skirt then took Britt’s hand. “Do you mind if Stacy comes over, too? I kind of offered it as payment for the lesson.”
“Oh, no! Not at all. That’s the least we should pay. Heck, seeing you in a skirt was worth a hundred dinners.” She chuckled at the memory of his comical attempts at a belly roll.
Andre kissed her nose, then whispered, “Just don’t tell anyone. I’d never live it down.” He gave her cheek a final caress with his thumb, then steered her toward the door by the shoulders.
“Who would I tell?” Britt called over her shoulder as she headed out the front door first, followed by Andre, then Stacy.
She rode in Andre’s car while Stacy drove her own.
Warm all over, thanks to Andre, and energized from the exertion of dancing, she turned to him as he drove. “Stacy seems very nice.”
“She’s been a very good friend for a long time. But I want you to know, she’s gay.”
“I figured that out already.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, actually, I’m a little relieved,” she admitted, watching his face for a reaction.
His eyebrows rose in a classic illustration of surprise. “Why’s that?”
“I thought you were dating her.”
He smiled and glanced at Britt. “A lot of people have made that assumption. She’s a beautiful woman. And I admit we spend a lot of time together. But I’m not her type and she’s not mine.” He turned his head forward again. “I don’t date more than one woman at a time, anyway. I’m a terrible juggler and an even worse liar.”
“That’s
good to know.”
“Yeah. When I try to lie, I break out in hives. My throat swells up.” He closed his hand around his throat to illustrate. “It’s not a pretty sight. I’ve learned to avoid lying at all costs.”
“I can appreciate that. I’m a terrible liar, too.”
“Um, there is one thing I want to tell you about Stacy, though.”
Unsure whether she wanted to hear what was coming next, she reluctantly said, “Oh? What would that be?”
“Like I said, I’m a one-woman man, but Stacy would like to play with us a little.”
One-woman man? A terrible juggler? Yet you’re asking to invite another woman into the bedroom with us? Images of Andre and Stacy fucking in front of her passed through her mind, and she immediately hated the idea. “Oh. I don’t know.”
“I won’t touch her and she won’t touch me.”
“I guess I’m not sure what she’d do then. Oh!” A few pieces of the puzzle dropped into place, and her face heated. She’s gay. “Wait a minute. You mean she’d do stuff to me?” A warm wave rocketed through her body.
“Only what you’re willing to let her do. She’s a slave. She does as she’s told.”
Confused, but also intrigued, Britt turned and stared blindly out the window. Oh my God! Another woman? Me? “I’ve never… I don’t know.” She tried to imagine what it would be like to have Stacy touching her breasts, her pussy.
Her body’s instant reaction was impossible to ignore. Her heartbeat raced, her body tingled, her pussy throbbed. Uncomfortable, thanks to the heat radiating from between her legs, she shifted in her seat and opened the car window a crack. I’m not a lesbian. Why does the idea of this turn me on so much? “
It’s your decision. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she agreed, knowing already what the answer would be.
