by Diana Hunter
“Nope. Just me tonight, Adora, honey. No tricks, no pretenses. Let’s just see what happens.”
“Who are you talking to?”
David grinned at Lissa’s towel-clad body. “Just myself. Although I could try my wiles on you, baby!” He raised his suggestive eyebrow and wiggled it at her.
Lissa laughed. “Not me, sonny-boy! I have other toys to play with tonight. Now out so I can dress in peace.” She scooted him out the door.
She had chosen her clothes carefully for the evening—a V-necked blouse that showed a bit, but not too much. A light muslin skirt that hid as much as it revealed, and simple, low-heeled sandals. Several times she had to remind herself that nothing would happen tonight. Conversation only. She would sound out Master Richard’s philosophies regarding bondage, Dominance, and submission. And did she have the nerve to bring up S&M? How many times had she imagined that flogger? No. Best to leave that hidden for a while yet. Stick with safe topics. What kind of Dom was he? What did he expect of her? And more importantly, did his vision of a D/s relationship match her own?
A car pulled into the drive and Lissa started. Her mind had gone off again, once more envisioning Richard’s strong hands closing over her breasts. With one last pull of the comb through her hair, she hurried downstairs to greet her guests.
* * * * *
Richard dressed in his customary color, black shoes, black pants, and black, partly unbuttoned shirt. All of it designed to set off his swarthy skin and mane of curly black hair, presenting a romantic look of power and authority.
Lissa’s visceral response to his appearance and authority made her stomach flip as she studied the dark goatee that circled those incredible lips. Damn, but the man was gorgeous! As Richard stepped into the house, Lissa tried not to stare at the mat of curly, black hair that peeked through his open collar. What would it be like to run her fingers through? But when their eyes met, she forgot his chest.
Latent power emanated from those sea-blue, gypsy king eyes; power that entranced, mesmerized. With difficulty, Lissa tore her eyes away when Adora entered behind him. Giving the woman a hug gave Lissa a chance to recover.
What was there about seeing two women exchange even an innocent hug that excited him so? David’s own eyes twinkled as Lissa and Adora greeted one another; for a brief moment, he envisioned them both on their knees before him. He exchanged glances with Richard and knew the other man had the same thought.
“A bottle of wine for our hosts.” Richard handed David a bottle of Rkatsiteli.
“I don’t know this wine,” David stumbled over the pronunciation.
“It comes from the Ukraine. Not easy to get here in this country. I found only one vineyard that grows it, Dr. Konstantin Frank’s in New York State. Incredible to have found it at all.”
“Thank you. Shall we have it now?”
“It is better as an after-dinner drink. It tends to be sweeter than the more available American wines.”
Lissa listened to the exchange, mentally shaking her head. Why wasn’t she surprised that Master Richard also knew about wines? But she remained silent and led the way into the living room. They were having pasta tonight and the water wasn’t quite ready. She would remain with their guests as she waited for the water to boil.
David directed Richard to the big easy chair, Adora took the stool by his side; David and Lissa shared the couch. As before, Adora said nothing, although either Lissa was getting better at reading the woman’s smiles, or Adora was hiding her meaning less; there was an impish quality to the goddess’ smiles this night and every one of them was meant for David.
He was not immune to them. Each time Adora smiled, the room grew warmer; soon it would be impossible to hide the growing bulge in his pants. The thought of someday having that woman’s lips around his cock…
Lissa stood, needing to check on dinner; very aware that Richard’s eyes were upon her every move. A small part of her wanted to be annoyed at his attentions; the man surveyed her as if she were on display. But another part of her was feeling naughty, so she waggled her hips a little as she took her wantonness into the kitchen to hide. Her courage only took her so far.
The dinner conversation remained neutral, the strong sexual tension playing counterpoint to the men’s discussions of world events. David sat at the head of the small, rectangular dining room table; Lissa sat to his right. Richard sat in the secondary place of honor opposite David; Adora smiled at Lissa across the table. Although his words were directed at her husband, Richard’s dark eyes constantly engaged Lissa’s. When she passed him the basket of rolls and their hands touched, she couldn’t help but let her hand linger a moment longer than she should have. While the man said nothing, his eyes searched into her soul until Lissa looked down and away, pulling her hands back to fiddle self-consciously with her napkin. The slight pressure from David’s knee on hers gave her reassurance that they were in this together.
As the dinner wound down, the conversation shifted. David opened and poured the white wine Richard brought; Lissa sipped it with caution. The pleasant taste lingered on her palate; obviously Master Richard had excellent taste in wines. The four of them remained in their seats, casually sipping the sweet, exotic wine and Richard mentioned he and Adora had been together for fifteen years; he smiled at his wife as he spoke and extended his hand, palm up toward her. The indulgent grin she gave him as she slipped her slender hand into his belied her quiet nature; Lissa glimpsed the untamed tiger that hid inside the woman. Did David see it as well?
If he did, David gave no indication. “Lissa and I have been married for seven years; long enough to know we are not compatible in all ways.”
And there it was. Out in the open for discussion. The elephant in the room had been given an introduction. Lissa glanced nervously at her guests, but their smiles had only deepened. Was she the only one with qualms?
Richard squeezed Adora’s hand and swirled the wine in his glass. “There is something to be said for having the courage to acknowledge your different needs.” Lissa watched from under her eyelashes as the commanding bearing of the Gypsy king emerged once more, his wine catching the candlelight and tossing it around the glass like little stars. “My Adora and I, too, have different tastes in one particular area of our lives.” His eyes looked meaningfully over the rim of the glass and straight at Lissa. No mirth emanated from those dark eyes, only raw power and lust.
“Lissa.” David’s strong tone caught her ear and she tore her eyes away from the challenge in Richard’s eyes, trying to focus on her husband on her right.
“Yes, David?” She gave herself a mental shake to refocus her thoughts on the fact that there were other people in the room.
“I would like you to accompany Richard outside; show him the deck while Adora and I clear the table.” Dealing with the dishes would give his hands something to do as he spoke with the goddess. When the blond turned and smiled at him, rising gracefully from the table, David calmed the sudden butterflies that rose in his stomach. Could he really tame her? Or would she end up taming him?
So intent on his own nervousness, he did not notice the exasperated look Lissa shot him as she, too, rose with grace and gestured Richard out through the French doors to the deck at the back of the house.
David knew it wasn’t exactly hospitable to make a guest clear the dishes, but he needed to give Lissa and Richard a chance to talk, just as he needed time to talk to Adora. Except that once in the kitchen with all the dishes, he wasn’t sure how to begin. Using the scraping of dishes to cover his momentary loss, he simply smiled at her when she brought over a dish to be scraped. But there was no mistaking the “come-hither” smile she gave him in return. Or the way she pressed her leg to his as he stood before the sink.
Her blue eyes shone in the kitchen light. Not the same blue as his own, however, more the blue of a cornflower on a hot summer afternoon that complimented the faint blush of her cheek; the blush of pale peaches against the cream of her skin. Words were unnecessary. He
leaned toward her and she met his lips with hers; full, luscious lips, ripe lips that tasted faintly of the strange, sweet wine. Her perfume filled his senses; the scent of a garden just coming to blossom.
And when they parted, David glimpsed just how to “tame the wildcat” Richard and Lissa had seen inside this woman. It wasn’t really taming she needed, but refuge. “Fiercely independent” Richard had called her before. That she was—any fool could see that. But David suspected a softer side; one that wanted somewhere warm and safe and comfortable. Her forwardness was just an act. He was sure of it.
He took the woman’s hands, turning them over, examining the long slender fingers, one pinky slightly bent as if it had once been broken. Gently, he raised the bent finger to his lips, kissing away the hurt. Her look of surprise touched his compassionate heart.
David led her through the small passage that connected the kitchen to the front foyer, then into the living room. Sitting her down on the couch, he kept his distance, while still holding her hand. Lissa would have recognized the look on David’s face at that moment: it was one she had seen often. She privately called it his “angel face.” Patience, understanding, wisdom from more than one lifetime all seemed to be wrapped up in his eyes. “Tell me?”
Adora could not resist. She saw the acceptance in his eyes. Unlike other men, she could tell him anything and he would not judge her. Could he, however, handle the whole truth? Here in his American house? Living his sheltered, American life? In the past, she shocked her lovers, dominating them with her story. This time she simply wanted to find peace.
Her voice halted at first, then grew in strength. “Here in America, your media praises women with blond hair and blue eyes. That was not so in the small town where I grew up. Or perhaps I should make that plural—the small towns. They tend to all get mixed up in my mind. There were so many of them. We would move into a small place, all five of us: my grandparents, my uncle, my mother and me. I didn’t know my father; my mother never spoke of him. It wasn’t until much later that I finally figured that part out.”
Bitterness crept into her voice, but David did not interrupt. Let her get the whole thing out. Only then could they deal with the pain she carried.
“My hair made it impossible for me to hide. Even when I was very little, people used to point at me and whisper things I didn’t understand. And then when I got older, the other children would make fun of me. Often the girls tried to pick fights with me. By then I knew it wasn’t just my appearance that set me apart, but the fact that we were Roma.”
She looked at David, expecting the same blank look she got whenever she told people that. Lissa had had that look the other night. But David didn’t. Since his conversation with Richard the other night, he had been online trying to find out as much as he could about the plight of Gypsies in their native lands. What he had learned had shocked and disturbed him. “Gypsy” was a term given the nomadic people by Europeans who thought they originated in Egypt. They hadn’t. The people preferred to be called the Roma, and near as he could figure out, much of their heritage came from India. Strict rules governed the Roma; rules Master Richard and Adora did not follow. Still, it was not in him to judge another person by rules he didn’t fully understand. The Roma were a persecuted people. Did Adora have first-hand knowledge of that persecution?
“Adora, I won’t pretend to understand why people behave so stupidly. It happens here, too. Only with us, it’s by race—black and white. Why your people are so persecuted makes as much sense to me as judging someone by their skin color. Which is to say, no sense at all.” When she did not immediately continue, David squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her.
Realizing that David knew more than she had given him credit for, Adora hesitated. The last thing she wanted or needed was pity. One trace of that in his manner and her walls would slam up letting the dominatrix take over. But his words made sense to her. She hadn’t thought of America’s troubles with race as a parallel to her own experiences with prejudice, but he was right. The details might differ, but intolerance was the same no matter what guise it wore. Perhaps he did understand.
“When I was fifteen, we moved again. By that time, my uncle was the only one supporting us; my grandfather had grown too old. My mother would sew in the shops when they would hire her, but her eyes were going bad—most of those places didn’t have good light.
“This time when we moved I refused to go back to school. There wasn’t much in the way of education going on anyway. Mostly it was a place for the local bullies to gather. Instead, I looked for a job, finding one with a fairly prominent family. They needed someone to watch their children for a few hours each day.
“It wasn’t difficult work, and I soon discovered little children don’t yet have their parent’s attitudes. They greeted me each day with open arms, accepting me for who I was. I did not try to hide the nomadic life my family led, having been chased from more than one town. But the mother didn’t seem to mind.
“I worked there for three months. It was bliss. She paid me well; I never saw the husband as he was working out of town. The children loved me; I loved them. The first people other than my family I came to trust.”
She fell silent again and David’s heart sank. He suspected this story did not have a happy ending.
“One day I arrived at my normal hour, but the house was empty. I called, wondering where they were. Everything seemed fine; the children’s toys were scattered as normal. I went upstairs to be sure they knew I was there, just in case the children were sleeping, but no one was home. I was on my way down the stairs again when I saw him.
“I had met the father only once before, the day I was hired. Why he was home this day, I never found out. I reminded him that I was the children’s nanny and that it was my usual time to work. He informed me that his wife had taken the children on holiday and that my services were not needed for the next several days. The casual relationship I had with his wife made me forget my place. To be without the money I made would mean difficulties for my family. He told me there were other ways I could earn the money.
“Life as Roma means nothing to most people. But we have our pride and I knew what he meant by the look in his eye. I told him no, I’d find work elsewhere.”
Her eyes narrowed, growing hard as she remembered that far-off time as if it were still before her. She would tell him all and he would understand why she was dominant and why he would bow before her. “He did not take my ‘no’ for an answer, David. He dragged me into the children’s room and raped me on the floor. And when he was done, he tied me to the crib and called in his friends.”
David wanted to put his arms around her; to hold her and tell her it was all right. But there was defiance in her eyes; he remained still. Her hand gripped his as she controlled her fierce anger and bitterness. “I want to know it all,” he growled as an anger of his own began to grow.
“There were four of them. Not one part of me was left undamaged. They shoved their cocks into my virgin holes and thrust their way to their own satisfaction. And when they were done, they left me tied, bleeding and crying, to the baby’s crib. They profaned the most sacred place in the world to me.
“I have no idea how many times that night they took me. Either time has erased much of the rest of that night, or I have removed it from my memory. My mother later found me collapsed outside our own house. We knew better than to go to the authorities. Instead we moved. And moved again when I was stopped one afternoon by boys who wanted the same thing. Their assault was interrupted, or I think I would not be alive today.”
A calm, matter-of-factness colored her voice now as the strong-willed woman finished her story. With a level gaze, she watched David struggle with the information she so brutally shared.
“You have told Richard all this.”
She nodded. “I met Richard after my grandparents died and my uncle finally fled. I don’t blame him. Family is important to the Roma, but how could he hope to find happiness and a wife of his own
when tied to his sister and niece? I was glad he escaped our poverty.
“My mother grew ill; I took her to a local hospital. But we had no money to pay the nurses or doctors and they would not look at her. I pleaded with them. That’s when Master Richard came to my aid. He bullied the nurse on duty into calling the doctor to look at my mother. But we had come too late, they said. She had advanced pneumonia. That night, she died in my arms in a hospital bed he paid for.
“By then I was eighteen. Old enough to accept the ways of the world. I offered myself to him in order to pay for the bills my mother’s death produced. He accepted.”
“He accepted? That’s slavery!”
“That’s business, David.”
“To demand you give him sex for paying your bills is a business that has a name in this country!” David’s anger grew again; and the target was just outside his house, talking with his wife.
Adora laughed for the first time since she began her story. “No, David, not like that.”
“What? I don’t understand. You said you offered yourself and he accepted.”
“He did. But he did not want me sexually. He told me he needed someone to help him in his work. Someone he could train in his methods. I would live in his home and help him. For the first time in my life I had a room of my own.”
Chastened, David nodded.
“When did you fall in love with him?”
“Long after he fell in love with me. He told me, years later, that he’d fallen in love with me the moment he saw me in the hospital, fighting with the nurse in order to get someone to examine my mother. We’d been together for almost three years before I looked at him one day and realized I loved him.”
