by Adira August
"I waited until all the other students had left and walked right up to him, just totally invading his personal space and looked up at him. I swear, Avi, I was so - if he'd locked the door and wanted me under the desk, I would have been a-okay to go." She smiled at the memory. "His very first words to me were,'If anyone finds out, I'll be fired.'"
Avia blinked. "Just like that?"
Talia nodded. "I said, 'I have to go drop the class, write down your address.' He did and I walked out and dropped and went to his house and, we barely got the door shut before the clothes came off. We made it to the front room sofa. Avi - "
Talia turned herself around to lie on her side and be face-to-face with Avia. "He proposed to me five days later. He said that's how long it took him to pick out the ring or it would have been sooner."
"But," Avia shook her head. "You guys were engaged for a whole year."
Talli nodded. "Yeah. Once he had me and I had him, it was like we could relax. Besides, he wouldn't until I graduated." She took Avia's hand. "I'm just saying that it sounds like Ben is your version of Rolly. So, you know, I get it."
Avia pressed her forehead to Talli's. And for the first time since she met Benedict Hart, her two worlds, him and everything else, connected.
Talia drifted off on the big bed and Avia left her there, after folding half the bedspread over her. Settling on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, her laptop open on her knees, Avia finally reviewed all her notes from the Madigan investigation and went over the material J.J. forwarded to her.
Eustace had given Avia the envelope the messenger dropped off. Ben insisted, saying it was addressed to her.
J.J. had checked around to see if any other press people had gotten similar badges from the Sheriff's Department. That was a "no." The card inside simply stated to wear the badge for admittance to the courtroom. She put the badge back into the envelope and handed it to Eustace with instructions to get it to Devers or whoever when he had the chance.
After uploading an edited version of her original story and preliminary coverage of the trial for the Sunday night update and Monday morning edition, Avia stretched and took a walk through the penthouse, to get her blood moving.
She went to the kitchen and wondered if it was too close to dinner to have a little piece of strudel. Yes, stop it. She stepped out into the cool evening air on the terrace with a mug of hot tea. It was close to six and getting dark.
Her cell sounded a text alert. Ben.
LAPTOP. PRIVATE.
PACKAGE ON FOYER TABLE.
She went through the "museum," as she thought of the big square room that led to the foyer and elevator. It was full of antique furniture and classic Western paintings.
On a tall console table in the foyer, she found an oblong package about seven inches long and two wide wrapped in plain brown paper with a sticky note that said, "Mr. Hart asked me to bring this up to you. - Eustace"
It was easy for him to do without her knowing. He only had to lean out the open elevator doors and set it on the table. He didn't even need to get off. Avia knew the elevator was the only access to the penthouse. And that the elevator only worked if you had the code.
Wait a minute. How do I get out? She wondered and looked around. There was a normal elevator button. Well, she was about to talk to Ben. She'd ask him.
She shook the little package next to her ear. Did she hear a faint rattle? Then, she shook her head at herself. Did it occur to you it could be something breakable?
She took the package and looked in on Talli who was snoring a little. Crap. Do I snore now? Avia wondered.
She grabbed her laptop from the sofa and found Ben's bedroom. She figured she'd have privacy even if Talli woke up. She turned the lock in the knob and settled on his enormous bed with a headboard and footboard that looked like they were made of railroad tracks. Sitting up against the tracks against several pillows, she booted up the laptop, and texted him back on her cell.
OK.
The video call chime sounded and Ben appeared. He was sitting at a desk in front of a rounded window. An airplane window.
"You're in my bed," he said and she could swear she saw his pupils dilate.
"I am. I like it here. Nice headboard. Handy if the express comes through." She cocked her head and licked her lips.
"Are you teasing me?" He asked, eyes narrowing.
"I hope so," she said. "Otherwise I'm just making an ass of myself." She shrugged. "Talli's in my bed, napping."
"There's a guest room," he said.
"I know. I put her suitcase in it. I imagine she'll sleep there. Now, are you seriously pissed at me about this or just hating the twenty-two hour flight and spilling over on me?"
He sighed. "I hate not being there if someone is - well - a threat to you. And I wanted to play, but the toys are in your bedroom."
"You need toys?" She asked.
"I had a plan," he answered.
"Ah! Sexual frustration and control freak frustration. Will you be awake at eleven my time? I'll be in my bed then. With the door locked. Thinking about you." She unbuttoned the top button on her blouse. "You want a preview of -"
"Stop that, you're killing me, here!" He growled. He shifted in his chair and his right hand disappeared below the desk. "Save it for eleven."
She wanted to defy him, but they'd quickly entered sexual territory and she'd promised to obey him in that arena. Which reminded her of a question. She rebuttoned.
"Can I ask a question?"
"About eleven o'clock?"
"Sort of," she said. "After last night, do you want me to call you … you know."
"Do I?" He asked, eyebrow cocked.
"It's not a secure line," she said.
"Do you need me to start counting, Sub?" He wasn't joking.
Her thighs clenched and she was immediately wet.
"Say it," he ordered.
"Do I call you Master, now?" Avia's voice was thick and soft. One hand slipped down between her legs and pressed her aching pussy through the layers of skirt and panties. Dammit.
"Both hands on the laptop, Sub." He waited until he she complied. "Do you want to call me Master?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think I do but … I might, sometime. If you do certain things and I get to that same place like last night."
"Oh, how I wish we had time right now for me to hear what the certain things are," he said, a wicked gleam in his eye, his dimple making an appearance.
"I told you what you call me is up to you," he said. "At least for now. So far, I like your choices. As for 'Master,' do as you wish. But - I can accept you saying the word by itself. I can accept you saying 'no, Master' or 'please, Master,' but I'll have to draw the line at 'yes, Master.'"
"Okay," she said slowly, trying to figure that out. "Can I ask why?"
"Because my giggling will ruin the moment when you remind me of Marty Feldman in-
"-Young Frankenstein!" They finished together and broke into a fit of giggles.
The sexual tension evaporated. They tried to harmonize to Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life and discovered neither of them could sing worth a damn and they didn't know a single lyric past "at last I found you."
Ben regarded her with what seemed to her more than affection.
"Avienne," he began and her heart lifted in her chest. "About the package. Open it in private. Decide if you want to accept it. Remember that it's always your option."
She picked up the package and held it in her hands, smoothing the paper, suddenly knowing what it was.
"I won't know exactly what it means," she said. "Unless you tell me."
"It's a symbol of where we are right now. It means that outside of all the passion, in reality and not subspace, it's still what you want. But you said you wanted the option to change your mind. I think …" He sighed and looked determined. "I think you should wait until you know whether you want things to be as we left them, or you want to take back what you said."
"But it's my choice?" Sh
e asked.
"Of course. I made my choice or I wouldn't offer it to you."
"Does it - does it have a time limit? ... I mean, is it permanent?" She asked, and wondered at how hard it was to keep the tears at bay.
"It signifies we've reached a structure, a … configuration in our relationship that's permanent. Or at least, from which we will not move backwards." He reached out as if to touch her, his hand dropping to the desktop before he touched the screen.
"Avienne. When we're permanent, it'll be a ring."
When? She could see her face, her eyes huge and … frightened? ... in the box at the corner of the monitor. She hugged the package to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll keep it safe until I'm sure."
There was a knocking from his side of the screen and she heard a muffled man's voice.
"Okay. One minute." He waved the person out of what she assumed was an office of some kind on the plane.
They just looked at each other for a few moments, happy to be together.
"We might have to wait until tomorrow to play. I'm sorry."
She grinned at him. "Go. Do billionaire things. Make a lot more money so you can keep me in the style to which I insist on becoming accustomed."
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered. The screen went blank.
MONDAY
The Courthouse
The stone front steps of Denver City and County building were worn down in the center over so many decades by so many feet, the rock itself seemed to be sagging.
As Avia entered the chrome and glass modernity that was the Lindsey-Flanigan Courthouse, two blocks away, she wished they'd put the traffic and misdemeanor and civil cases here, and kept the felony cases at the venerable old building with the gold dome and the sagging stone stairs.
It seemed to her that such weighty matters as determining if someone would be incarcerated for the rest of their life, or, have their life taken from them, was more suitably done inside marble and oak instead of aluminum and polyester.
She walked the four blocks, telling Eustace that unless he played racquetball and found a court, she needed all the exercise she could squeeze in. He replied that he did, indeed, play and as a guest of the hotel, she had free access to Denver Sport and Health, the most exclusive facility in the city, as did Mrs. St. Clair. It took Avia a second to realize he was referring to Talli.
"Leave me out of it," Talli said. "I have three-year-old boys. Lack of exercise is not my problem. I'm going to lounge around in luxury, raid the DVD collection, eat what I want and then - nap."
"You're going to meet me at the courthouse for lunch," Avia reminded her. "By the sculpture."
Avia insisted on walking, anyway, saying if Eustace reserved a court for six-thirty the next morning, she take the ride, afterwards.
"Oh, wait," she'd remembered something. "I don't have my workout stuff or my racquet here."
"It seems unlike Mr. Hart to miss that," Eustace said.
A quick run to the dressing room the size of her bedroom in her condo revealed her gym bag, with racquet and shoes, on a shelf in the massive closet. She also found one drawer of workout clothes, old and new.
Talli stood by examining the month's worth of designer label outfits. "I have to get Rolly to invest in something. This billionaire boyfriend thing has it's perks," she said.
"Pick out something," Avia told her. "Or many things."
Talli snatched her hands back from fondling a silky knit top. "No! Kidding, okay? All my clothes get yogurt pops dropped on them."
"Talli, he ordered these in bulk, and a lot of them aren't anything I wear. Look … You wear pencil skirts, not me, take this one, it has a darling asymmetrical jacket to match." Avia held it out, Talia backed away horrified.
"Talli! Since when do you hesitate to steal my clothes?" Avia looked around. "Take those ballet flats, too. Look great with this, very toss-away chic."
"Avi - holy - those are Roger Vivier. That's my food budget for a month."
"I know. It's … shocking at first," Avia said. "But, if this all came from T.J.Maxx you'd have snatched it out of my hand, already. You have to ignore the money, Tal. You have to, or it makes you crazy and … Look, he won't take this stuff back and I won't wear some of it."
Avia smiled at the memory as she stopped at the Clerk's office to check in and pick up press credentials. She'd finally got her sister to come around by asking for her help. A man with not much women's clothes savvy, (unless it concerned easily removeable panties) had hung the clothes randomly in the closet. Business and casual, separates and dresses, all jumbled together.
She asked Talli to go through them and take out whatever she knew Ava wouldn't wear. And could she sort them by type so Avia could grab an outfit in the morning without searching through everything, like she had that morning? Finally, she told Talli to either keep what was left or pack it up for Goodwill.
Talli had the pencil skirt outfit clutched to her chest. "I'll give Goodwill my old clothes, when I get home," she said.
Avia hugged her and warned her to say nothing to Ben when they met or she was liable to go home and find a year's worth of designer suits with pencil skirts waiting on her stoop.
"And I should warn you, there's a gift basket of sex toys waiting for you at my place," she said.
A lot of people and press hung around in small groups along the hallways outside the courtroom. Avia greeted a few friends and ignored nasty looks from jealous competitors. She knew that Eustace and at least one other Hart security person were nearby. She deliberately didn't look around for them. Not only did Avia want to remain focused on the job at hand, she didn't want to give away to anyone else that she was being watched.
Inside the courtroom, she found a seat at the end of a bench in the press section. At the prosecution table, she recognized Assistant District Attorney Diane Natani, in the first chair. The Navaho prosecutor was tough, smart and relentless in her pursuit of a conviction. She was seated next to Natalie Denholm, another A.D.A.
Avia knew Denholm from a previous meeting with J.J., where they'd refused under any circumstances to reveal Avia's sources for the story. Denholm didn't seem too put out. The information Avia had made public, Madigan's vote-buying and pay-offs to get City Council to chose land he owned to erect a new sport stadium, was enough for a successful investigation.
J.J. leaked the story to the District Attorney's office forty-eight hours before it was published. Madigan was served with search warrants as the public was informed of the story.
Around the defense table, Avia counted five attorneys in suits Talli would probably know the designers of. ("I go out to dinner at a pancake house. I get to read W and dream, don't I?") One, a striking-looking black woman in her twenties, looked straight at Avia across the heads of people finding seats. She said something to a blond man next her, who looked back at Avia and nodded to the woman.
Avia had expected some attention. She didn't want to become part of the story, but in this case, she doubted she had much choice.
The blond from the defense table was making his way around the edge of the room. Avia realized he was coming toward her. To her. The journalist in her was glad, any contact she had would give depth to her story, even if only to the descriptions of the players.
But as the originator of the investigation leading to Madigan's arrest, her defenses rose. She had nothing to say to any of the lawyers.
She stood as he approached her, wanting to be on as equal footing as possible. He gave her a charming smile. He was tall, handsome and filled out his suit very nicely.
"Avia Rivers, am I right?" He held out his hand. "Preston Shore." He gestured toward the side of the room. "Could I have a moment?"
She shook his hand briefly, letting go before he was ready, but returning his smile, charm for charm. "If we can have it here. I'd hate to lose my seat."
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A young man Avia assumed was a junior associate in a not-so-designer suit hurried over.
"Yes, S
ir?"
"Bennett, sit in Ms. Rivers' space until she returns. Don't leave it for any reason." He gave the order with enough force for the kid see he was serious.
Avia shook her head, inwardly. These power men, always molding the world to their specifications.
Outwardly, she let herself look impressed and followed him to the side of the room, up near the rail. She kept her bag with her, slung over her left shoulder. Her right hand remained in the pocket of a skirt she had chosen precisely because it had pockets.
She waited patiently for him to speak. He waited for her. It seemed to occur to him, finally, that she wasn't going to become uncomfortable and speak first. He chuckled and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, I know how this will sound but, the picture on the website, it doesn't, I mean .." he seemed flustered and actually blushed.
He is good, she thought.
Shore cleared his throat. "You're very lovely." He waited for her to respond.
"You asked to speak to me," she said.
Something flickered behind his eyes. "That was quite a comprehensive look at erotica, you just did. I can imagine you must have done some very ... in-depth investigating." She waited. She was very good at waiting. And at ignoring slimy innuendo.
"I understand Hart records every meeting he takes. Phone, video, in person, at his office and at home," he said.
Avia was never more grateful for years of schooling herself into impassivity when interviewing someone or viewing a crime scene or an autopsy. She cocked her head slightly and allowed him to see curiosity about where he was going next.
"Did he record your meetings with him, Avia?" He asked in an intimate whisper.
"I think I'm going to enjoy watching you work, Preston," she said and made her way back to her seat, shooing the nervous associate out of it. When he was gone, she took the digital recorder out of her pocket and sent the file to her Week email.
