by Adira August
He looks sad. Avia thought, as she put one hand over his on her upper arm and agreed.
“Okay.”
He relaxed and rubbed her arms gently where he’d been gripping them.
“I'm sorry I don't have time to show you around. And we’ll save movie night for when I get back. Go get dressed for dinner, you only have an hour. You’ll stay here tonight. Tomorrow, whenever you’re ready, Eustace will be waiting out front. He’ll take you to the hotel. Just leave everything here.”
He let go of her. She nodded.
"By the way, a package came for you at the hotel. Did you tell anyone you're going to stay there? Like J.J.?"
"No," she said. "That's weird. What kind of package?"
He wanted to talk to Devers before their evening started. "We'll discuss it at dinner, if you want. Get dressed."
She went to her door, but stopped. “Ben, why didn’t you just put me in your bedroom? I mean, you have every right to walk into your own room without knocking.”
“Think about it,” he said and disappeared into his bedroom.
Avia showered and dried her hair at breakneck speed. She wanted time to call her sister Talia, before she faced Ben, again.
“Hey,” Talli answered. “You’re early.”
“Sorry,” Avia said. “But I’ll be at dinner later, and this is my only chance to talk tonight. Tomorrow we can take all the time we want, but -”
“What’s wrong? It’s the guy, isn’t it?”
The sisters themselves weren’t sure if their keen intuition with one another was always some form of psychism or they just knew each other so very well. She could hear the TV on in the background and Talli's husband, Roland, speaking to the children.
"Talli, I need us to be in sister mode."
There was a moment of silence, then she heard Talli tell Rolly she'd be in his study. A few seconds later, the background on Talli's end was quiet.
"Go," she told Avia.
"I have to ask a question. You usually know the answers to these things. So, remember I was on the Hartlines website the last time we talked? For my story?"
"Yeah, I remember."
Avia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Rip off the band-aid. "I interviewed the C.E.O., Benedict Hart. He's the man I'm involved with. I'm considering what they call a D/s relationship with him," she finished in a rush.
The silence was longer this time. Avia waited, giving Talia time to process.
"Okay, go ahead," Talli said.
Avia explained where she was and what happened when Ben had walked into the bedroom, what happened afterward, on the terrace.
"All right. I think I'm up to speed. So what's the question?" Talli asked.
"What do you mean? That's the question, what I asked him: why didn’t he just put me in his bedroom where he has every right to walk in without knocking?"
"Been a while since we did each other's homework," Talli said. "Look, you know this answer, but it'd take you like a week to get there. So here it is: If he put you in his bedroom where he has the right to walk in without knocking, he can't experience walking in on you without knocking."
"What the high fuck in a banana tree does that even mean?" Avia asked.
"God, Avi, how can you be so good at words and so bad at people? … Look, a truly Dominant guy doesn't get off on controlling, per se. I mean, he's not a rapist, is he? He gets off on experiencing submission. You do have a safeword, right? You can stop him?"
"Yes," Avia said, not sure how that related.
"If you're already in his bedroom, and he walks in, big yawn. You haven't submitted, you're just there. It's his room, he gets to come in. But if you are in your room, with the ability to lock him out and you don't, if he can walk in any time, and you don't object, what does it mean when he does? In that moment, if you can stop him and don't, what are you doing?"
"Submitting," Avia said with something like wonder in her voice. Hang on … "Wait a minute. Wouldn't that mean, I mean, does that mean he can have sex with me any time he wants?"
"Not only any time, any way. Usually. But you should be negotiating that beforehand. Hasn't he mentioned any kind of contract? Gone over limits?" Talli asked.
"I've known him four days!" Avia said. She caught sight of the clock. "Crap. I've got to go, or I'll be late. Thank you, Sister."
"Any time, Sister. And call me tomorrow, I'm dying with questions, here!"
7pm to 10:30pm
Avia found one outfit hung in the closet suitable for a black tie dinner. She smiled when she found a lingerie bag attached the hanger with bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. The panties were the tear away type. Of course.
Good thing, she thought as she laid the outfit on the bed and slipped out of her robe. She didn’t have another clean pair. As she pulled the panties on, it occurred to her, again, that she and Ben were quite alone in the Keep. She used the remote to unlock all the doors, then opened the inside door, wide.
She considered the patio doors. It was too chilly now that the sun had set to leave them open. She adjusted the blinds so that anyone on the patio could see in.
After she dressed, Avia found a black, ribbed bottle of perfume on the dresser top. Black Orchid. She applied a light spray across her bosom, happy to discover she loved the scent. She assumed Ben did, too, or he wouldn't have left it. Stepping back, she checked herself one last time in the mirror.
Her outfit was black, worn with the earrings he’d given her that did sparkle through her hair. It was just a skirt and sweater, but both made of a silk and wool blend French challis, soft and clinging.
He’d included a matching shelf bra. The lacy top edge was visible across the bottom of the plunging “V” neck of the snug sweater top. A silver floral pattern was worked into the sweater's fabric.
The bias-cut skirt clung smoothly to her hips, draping into into deep ebony folds that swirled when she walked. She'd never worn anything like this, before. Not something this well-made, that fit perfectly, with fabric that felt so wonderful.
She'd never worn anything this sexy, cut this low in the front. The shoes he'd left her, higher heels than she'd ever worn, made her bottom jut out and her hips rotate when she walked, in a way she'd never experienced before. She might turn herself on just walking, she thought and giggled.
In fact, she'd always hated the idea of wearing such an outfit. Of drawing men's stares to her body. It was a vast surprise to her that right now, she couldn't wait for Ben to see her. As she twisted in front of the mirror to check the back, she discovered she didn't have to.
Ben Hart was leaning against her doorjamb, watching her. He wore a three-piece black suit, the rich fabric giving off a subtle sheen. His shirt was snowy white. The cuffs that peeked out below the sleeves of his dinner jacket were fastened with heavy gold cufflinks with a checkerboard pattern formed by inset onyx squares.
The double breasted jacket was open, revealing a vest that hugged him tightly, the dark grey and black shadow plaid of the fabric just discernable. Avia realized she was barely breathing. He's so beautiful.
His eyes ran over her, drinking in every inch, openly appreciating her body. A slow smile brought his lone dimple into view as he stopped on her face.
"You're ready?" He asked.
She crossed the room to him, taking his question seriously. He straightened; his smile fled.
"No, Ben, I'm not," she told him. "Once, I wanted to go paragliding. I wanted to take off from the side of a mountain like an eagle. I wanted to climb thousands of feet in the air, be free and soar. Stay up for hours."
She reached for his hands. He took hers, instead, and raised them to his lips, kissing her fingers briefly, holding her hands to his chest.
"But I couldn't," she said. "I wasn't ready. I needed to learn, to take lessons. I had to wait until I felt safe enough with myself to take the leap. But that didn't mean I didn't want to, long to, so very much."
She gently pulled one hand from his grasp and laid it along the side o
f his face. "I don't think I lied. I think I told you what's true in my heart. I want you so much, whatever you are. I want so much to just let go with you. I'm just not ready to take the leap. Is that - is that okay?"
He put his hand over hers against his face and turned his head, sliding his lips into her palm. She felt him suck and scrape his teeth over her skin and everything inside her clenched and heated. She gasped and reflexively tried to pull her hand back, but he held on. Kept on. She stopped fighting him. Her hand relaxed, her clit heated. She wondered if he could make her come like this.
He lowered her hand to his chest, to join the other. "It's time for you to accept this: I want you. Whatever you are." His smile was back, along with his dimple. "C'mon. I'm hungry."
He dropped one hand and led her out of the room by the other.
The Dinner
“Oh my gosh,” Avia moaned, her eyes closed, head thrown back in a moment of pure sensory delight. Her palm pounded the polished wood countertop. Her throat worked as she swallowed the deep fried stuffed mushroom cap. She opened her eyes, reaching greedily toward the source of her pleasure Ben now held just out of her reach.
“You were supposed to put the platter on the table, not snatch food off of it like a starving street urchin," he said. "That was very naughty. You need to learn self control.”
Avia’s eyes widened at his use of the word “naughty.” Ah, that got her attention, he thought.
“I thought teaching me was your job,” she said, holding out her hand for the platter. He raised it higher. “And I am starving.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Besides, you said tonight you were going to give me everything I want.”
"Giving you what you want, doesn't mean giving you what you expect." He picked up a bottle of pinot noir. “I’ll decide what to teach you and how. Right now, self-control is the topic. Put your hands behind your back, I don’t trust you.”
Ben wanted very much to give Avia all the time she needed to be ready. But he was leaving and it was very possible someone was taking an unhealthy interest in her. He didn't have the time. He needed her total submission, and he needed it before he left.
He'd changed his plans for their evening. Popcorn would wait. Things were about to get very intense. But she didn't need to know that. Not yet.
He picked carried the platter past her, keeping it high.
Avia put her hands behind her back, squaring her shoulders, her breasts lifting. The deep V of her sweater exposed a lovely expanse of creamy skin and swell of cleavage. The clinging fabric revealed the fullness of her round breasts.
She smiled coquettishly at him, swaying back and forth slightly, with her hands behind her, enjoying putting on a show for him. It was very sexy. And he was sure she knew it. He was also sure this was new behavior for the usually modest young woman, done only for him. The thought went straight to his groin.
He was equally sure she didn’t suspect that, if aroused, her breasts would swell, her nipples harden and extend, rising above the lacy horizontal border of the shelf bra to poke and rub against the natural fibers of the tight pullover top. He imagined the result. Wool and silk. Excited nipples. Hands behind her bound in soft leather, just as she wanted. His cock stirred.
He looked away. That was for later.
He set the platter and wine on a small dinner table, covered with a white linen cloth and a single crystal bowl of water lily blossoms. Three candles emerged from among them, their flames glittering on the surface of the water.
He pulled out her chair. “Ms. Rivers, will you join me?”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Hart.” She took her hands from behind her back and slid into the chair he held, scooting her up to the table. She tilted her head back against his abdomen and smiled up at him.
Someone wants to play, he thought, looking down into her enticing cleavage.
He whispered in her ear, “A little more decorum, Ms. Rivers. Good girls don’t tease their dates.” He noted with satisfaction that her hips shifted, and her fingers clenched around her napkin.
He unbuttoned his dinner jacket and took the chair across from her, filling her wine glass. Offering her the platter of appetizers.
Avia took a sip of wine and leaned back, swiveling side to side on the leather covered barstool at the cool stone kitchen counter, watching him clean up. He'd thrown his jacket over a chair and dropped his cufflinks into his pants' pocket before rolling up his sleeves.
“Don’t use actors,” she said,“You’ll just end up with boring guy porn.”
“They make special porn for boring guys?” he asked, sliding the empty platter into the dumbwaiter, piled with the dinner plates from Berthe’s steak au poivre.
She giggled. “No, but they should.”
Avia was a bit tipsy. The two glasses of wine she’d drunk flushed her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. And made his lame attempts at humor funny to her. Another sip from her glass.
“Maybe actors, but not porn ones," she said. "Couples that are actually together having actual sex.”
“How is that different from porn actors?” He asked, putting the empty wine bottle into a recycling bin cleverly concealed next to the dishwasher. “They have actual sex.”
“They have actual body parts that rub together. But they simulate real sex. The women aren’t turned on, no matter how much they moan and clutch at their hair. I don’t know what the men do, maybe Viagra? There are always these close-ups of his penis going in and out and in and out …” she droned. “And she’s moaning and stuff, but her labia are all flaccid and floppy and dry.
“No clit. Where’s her clit, Ben? Is some of that flat floppy skin supposed to be her clitoris?" Another sip as she shook her head mournfully. "Boring guy doesn’t care, does he? Doesn’t care if a woman’s turned on. Never cared. Doesn’t even know how a hot, aching pussy should look.”
Ben didn’t answer, but her words and demeanor, even though she was a bit tipsy, disturbed him. Was it someone specific that didn’t care about her? Just the general sad state of sex between the genders?
He did what he did because he knew very well that when women got screwed, they often got screwed. He was no philanthropist. Women controlled most of the disposable income in America. Women had deep-seated sexual needs and frustrations. There were a plethora of inept or just clueless Delta males creating a market for his products. And their women, or former women, were making his Alpha male ass richer by the minute.
But Ben Hart also loved what he did because he truly liked women. Their minds worked so differently from a man’s, their stamina was greater, their ability to survive under the most heinous conditions astonished him. The delicacy of their secret flesh enchanted him. Their amazement at their own responses and their ability to respond aroused in him a deep desire to give them all-consuming orgasms.
And he very much liked this woman. He desperately wanted her to join him in a moment of transcendental ecstasy. He wanted to share that, not just with someone, anymore, but with her.
Avia held her glass in both hands as she continued to swing back and forth in the chair. Her waist twisted, her sweater tightened and loosened over the sweet curves of her breasts and the outline of her nipples, still below the braline. She tilted her head at him.
“But you know, Benedict Hart. You know just what a woman’s pussy should look like,” she said, her voice softer, thicker. “You know how to make it that way.”
Blood rushed to his dick. He pushed images of her swollen wet vulva out of his mind and took the glass from her hands.
“Hey,” she pouted. “I wasn’t done.”
He poured it out in the sink. “Drinking some wine makes us more receptive. More sensitive. Too much makes us dull.”
He came around the counter and stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other caressing her neck, tilting her head back against his vest. She leaned against his palm and looked up and him.
“You should make like, a real movie, you know? With scenes. … You know about scenes.” She
licked her lips with deliberate provocation and his breath hitched in his throat.
Oh yes, Avia. I know about scenes.
“Wait a minute,” she stopped. “How do you tell the difference?”
“The difference?” He asked. Though he knew what she meant, he wanted to hear her say it. To get used to talking about things sexual between them. He massaged her shoulders with both hands.
“You know, between a scene and a thing that seems the same but isn’t?” The wine had made her bold. “I mean, how will I know if I’m going to like it or hate it?”
"It?" He asked.
"You know …" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "When you spank me."
His cock heard her and pushed against his thigh. “You won’t have to worry about that tonight.” He slipped his fingers inside her top. "Whatever happens tonight, it'll be exactly what you need."
She turned her head, rubbing her cheek against his body. He slid one warm hand over her clavicle and down over her silky, fragrant skin under her sweater. The swell of her breast filled his hand, and he palmed her gently.
With his other hand, he slid her top off her shoulder and down her upper arm. It slipped off her breast, exposing it. He cupped both breasts, kneading. She moaned and pressed her cheek harder against him, her hands against the edge of the counter, pushing her back for more contact with him.
He nuzzled her neck and ear, one side and then the other.
“You've been a naughty girl, tonight, Avia. You flashed these at me all evening,” he whispered, his fingers tightening, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. “ ... at the table … twisting in the chair … ”
“No, I ...” she panted. “I was just …”
“Teasing?” He asked.
She squirmed and shook her head, eyes large with uncertainty and excitement.
“Yes, you were,” he said. Her breasts swelled and heated under his hands, her tight, furled nipples over the line of her bra. “You were teasing. That’s what naughty girls do.”
