The Unicorn

by Delphine Dryden

  “Oh God, no.”

  “Phew.” Delia led the way to the kitchen. Pie would make everything less awkward.

  “You have a beautiful house. I know everybody always says that but I mean really.” Mara ran her fingers over the molded archway framing before she stepped into the kitchen. “All those period details.”

  “Thanks. We got it for a steal. It was supposed to be a teardown, but Daniel said it had bones. And I’ve learned to trust him on that stuff. Just have a seat anywhere. Daniel will be right back, by the way.”

  “Cool. My ex would’ve totally done that, by the way.” Mara smacked her hand to her forehead as she sat in the chair next to Delia’s usual spot. “Not renovated a house, I mean ridden a bike over here.”

  Delia frowned as she tugged two paper plates from the plastic sleeve, wondering why she had ever worried about whether to use the china. “It’s probably the right thing to do.”

  “Totally. But it’s, you know . . .” Mara waved a hand toward the window. “Outside.”

  “Right, right. And a lot of effort.”

  “Sure. And sometimes there’s rain and snow.”

  “Are you sure you want pie? It’s apple. We also have this spice cake if you’d rather have that. The frosting is pretty much made of magic.”

  Mara grinned. “A little of both?”

  “Coming right up. Nice shirt, by the way. Daniel has that same one.”

  Mara looked down at Yoda, then nodded toward Delia’s chest. “I like yours.”

  Puzzled, Delia looked at her own shirt. She’d forgotten which of her many printed tees she’d worn that day. It was the Nagel-homage Princess Leia. “Thank you. You know we don’t call her ‘Slave Leia’ anymore.”

  “Hutt-slayer Leia! It’s a tongue twister but I’m still all in favor of it.”

  Because you are perfect. Why did she have to be so perfect? Delia put the full plate down in front of Mara and stepped back, feeling more hostess-y than she would have with most of her friends who already knew where the glasses and ice and soda were. “Would you like anything to drink with that?”

  “Maybe just some water?”

  “Okay. There’s also a ton of beer. And some wine already open.”

  “Wine would be great. Oh, unless we’re going to . . . I mean, if the invitation was for . . . activities. Then I shouldn’t. But if it was just for pie and wine, then . . .” She stalled out and looked up in an obvious silent plea for help. Her eyes were huge, almost luminous. Those anime sparkles again.

  Gulping, Delia put down the cake knife she’d been fiddling with and moved back toward Mara, taking her free hand and lifting it to her lips. “Which one is scarier to you?”

  Mara laughed, a short, almost sexual exhalation. “Pie and wine. Infinitely scarier.”

  “Right, right.” Delia pushed ahead on instinct. “But have you considered pie and wine?” Her heart pounded as she waited for a response.

  Mara breathed in and out a few times heavily and clasped Delia’s fingers more tightly before she finally answered. “I thought I’d fucked up somehow and that was what really scared me. And . . . that probably wasn’t just about what happened at the club, you know? So yeah. I have considered pie and wine. And other nonclub things. I’ve been thinking about that. A lot.”

  She stood abruptly, scooting the chair back, and kissed Delia. Not passion, not sex, just a need for connection. She cupped Delia’s face in her hands as if she were holding something precious. Mara’s hands were shaking too.

  When they finally broke apart, Delia opened her eyes slowly, almost afraid the magical pixie would have vanished. “I’m really glad you came over.”

  “Me too.”

  A deeper voiced added, “Me three.”

  They both jumped like scalded cats, and Daniel stepped back from the kitchen doorway in alarm, holding his hands up in appeasement.

  “Don’t do that,” Mara scolded.

  “Sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak up. Promise.”

  Delia picked up the knife again. “More cake, honey? Pie? We are having the pie and the wine. And Mara is also trying the cake. And I am having seconds. Do not judge us.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He fluttered his eyelashes, and Delia snorted, then started dishing up more helpings of dessert. While she worked, Daniel held out his arms to Mara. Tentatively at first, then practically rushing, Mara stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his midsection. He cuddled her, lifting her from her feet for a second, then pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he set her down. “No jump-scare. I’m really glad you came.”

  “Even if it’s just for dessert and booze?”

  “Oh, hell, especially for that. And hey, look at your shirt! Delia, did you see this?” He turned Mara gently by the shoulders to face Delia, and she couldn’t help but respond to their matching smiles.

  “I did. We’re thematically aligned. And the two of you almost certainly have a Bobbsey Twins day in your future.”

  A second of tension followed that, and she wished she could take it back—that stated assumption of a future. Who knew what Mara really wanted? Who knew what she and Daniel even wanted, or what might happen with the three of them? Thinking about things wasn’t the same as counting on them to happen.

  But the second passed quickly as they dug into their sweets and Mara explained about the missed texts.

  “See, somebody is always trying to make one cup of coffee at a time in that thing. But the scorching smell has always alerted people before this so the pot’s never burned through. It was probably only a matter of time and we’re really all lucky it didn’t actually catch fire. You’d think the very clear ‘minimum four cups’ and the thick indicator line on the water tank would be enough of a clue, but I guess not.”

  Delia couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “So you’re saying the reason you didn’t see the texts is that the coffeepot almost burned the building down.” She stared at Daniel, who blinked back, mouth slightly agape.

  “Well, maybe not literally,” Mara conceded. “But close. I know it’s far-fetched.”

  “No, no, I believe you. I told Daniel maybe that was the reason.”

  Mara stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You are shitting me.”

  Daniel shook his head, then turned it into a nod. “Absolutely true. In the produce aisle. She was picking out those apples.” He pointed at the piece of pie on Mara’s fork.

  Mara took a beat, then ate the bite, flicking her tongue out to swipe a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious coincidence.” Then her face grew more solemn and she cleared her throat. “I would’ve found out sooner if I’d just texted back. But I was being kind of an asshole. And I thought . . .”

  Delia leaned forward, wanting to take her hand again but not wanting to crowd her. “I could’ve called you or something.”

  “No. I . . . When you said your family was coming over, I thought maybe it was for the best. Like we want different things. Different expectations. You know, I don’t really do family. But you guys have all those factors to consider. In the club, it’s fine, but outside it’s a whole new set of issues.”

  It wasn’t an accusation, but it felt like one to Delia. An accurate one. “We thought the same thing. Well, I did. Like . . . it’s true, this wasn’t what I was expecting. I’ve spent a lot of years trying to make my life look a certain way, I think? Without really considering if that was the best way. But then Daniel, he was wise in that produce section.” She smiled over the table at Daniel, who waved back with his fork, then continued eating his cake, pretending at a modesty she knew he didn’t feel. Nor should he, because he really had been wise. “He said if this is the direction we’re supposed to go, it doesn’t really matter how we start. So maybe it doesn’t matter if it’s what we expected, either.”

  Mara pulled her fork from her mouth slowly, thoughtfully. For a moment, Delia was so distracted by the action of her lush lips over the metal that she almost missed Mar
a’s words.

  “We were planning for the secret club thing, and nobody would ever know. But what we got instead was pie and wine. And . . . pie and wine is really great.”

  Relief flooded Delia, making her almost dizzy. “Yes. So yeah, there are considerations. But if it’s what we need, we at least try it. We just try it. And see how it goes from there.”

  Daniel leaned forward and took her hand, then offered his other hand to Mara.

  She stared at it for a second, clearly debating. Then she gave a slight nod and twined her fingers through his. With her other hand she put her fork down, then brushed her hair back from her forehead and puffed out a sigh of relief. “Okay. So I think . . . I think that’s what I need too. To have club time and pie time with both of you. And then, the three of us . . .?” She screwed up her lips as if she were trying to decide whether that sounded right. Then a smile broke over her face, and it was pure magic. “Then the three of us figure out where to go from here.”

  It wasn’t a very smart precedent to set, subverting a fellow sub just days after their double-collaring. But in Mara’s defense, she had finally convinced Delia to try something Daniel had never gotten her to do. Not in years of dating and marriage. And it had only taken Mara two months.

  That was the first thing that came to her mind, anyway, when Daniel opened the door and found the two of them together. Naked except for their collars and sprawled out with their gear on the bed.

  She cast a longing glance at Delia as they stopped what they were doing, wishing they’d had a chance to finish before he caught them. They had been so close. But there was always next time.

  Daniel took his time, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket, hanging it on a hanger in the closet, clearly choosing his words carefully before expressing himself to the two recalcitrant submissives who now knelt side by side between the bed and the wall where the big-screen TV was mounted. The graphic computer feed currently displayed on it was paused in mid-action, as was the content on the screen of Mara’s laptop.

  At last, jacket and tie neatly put away, shirtsleeves rolled up, the master made his way back to the bed and stood looming over the two women, staring from one to the other in stony silence.

  Delia broke first. She hated the waiting, and he knew it. “Master, we’re sorry, we were just—”

  “I didn’t give you permission to speak, Dee.”

  “Sorry, Master.”

  Mara wanted to grab Delia’s fingers, squeeze them, tell her it would be okay. But she sat with her own hands clasped neatly behind her back, unmoving. She had never minded waiting, as long as she knew it would be worth her while in the end.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Mara. I know you were the one behind this.”

  “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “You will be making it up to me at the club later.”

  “Understood, Sir.”

  Daniel had to nudge some equipment and other stuff out of his way with his feet to clear space by the bed so he could sit at the foot of it and continue his looming more comfortably.

  The empty potato chip bag sounded particularly accusatory when it crinkled. Daniel’s toe caught Delia’s wireless mouse and it tipped over, winking its baleful red eye at her until he carefully righted it.

  “Food crumbs on the floor. All this extra gear dragged up here. You two not waiting for me in bed like you were supposed to be. And yeah, I know I was a half hour late getting home. There was a wreck on the interstate and traffic was backed up for miles and then my cell ran out of juice and I need a new car charger. But still.”

  He sighed, the deep and long-suffering sigh of a man with responsibilities, a leader whose followers have minds of their own.

  “But that isn’t the real point. The real point, ladies, is that if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times: The bedroom television is not for playing computer games.” He fixed them one at a time with his best, steely, eyebrow-enhanced glare. “The bedroom television is for watching porn.”

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  Delphine probably should’ve gone ahead and gotten that MFA and PhD to become an English professor like she’d originally planned. Instead she took a detour through law school, worked in special education for about fifteen years, then finally wound up working as a writer and editor and using neither of her fancy graduate degrees.

  Del now writes contemporary and erotic romance, steampunk romance, and the occasional piece of zombie or dinosaur-based fiction. When not writing or editing, she can usually be found binge-watching Netflix or dragging her kids to museums.

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