Cassie's Chance

by Antonia Paul

  "Your girlfriend?"

  "Yup."

  He was silent a moment and the silence hung between them while she absorbed the number of ropes the girl had wound around her.

  "We were great," he said quietly, obviously reflecting. "But she went overseas. She wanted to travel and family keeps me here."

  He moved away. "I'll find you those boxers so you can have a shower."

  Was this what was in store for her? Who would allow herself to be tied like a captive? It surely wasn't legal. And what else was he into? A chill swept up her body. She couldn't go on with this. She had to get away from him. She'd ask him to drive her home.

  "Hey." He'd returned, and she jumped as he touched her. "Do not freak, Cassandra. Nothing will happen to you that you aren't totally ok with. And you will never be hurt by me.

  "Briar and I did nothing she wasn't happy with."

  He laid a pair of black boxer shorts across her left shoulder. "Here. Wear 'em, or not. I don't care. But be quick. Come out when you're done. Leave your bag here. We'll get it after." He walked outside.

  She took a deep breath. OK. If she could skinny-dip, she could shower. One step at a time.

  Afterwards, without the sticky salt feel, she felt a lot fresher. Her hair was still a mess, but at least it was salt-free. She folded her towel and swimsuit into her bag. And she had relaxed about the photograph.

  She wasn't his girlfriend. She was just on a dinner date, and he hadn't mentioned anything about ropes or tying. If she went to eat with him, she could lap up his voice for a few more hours and feel his fingers wrapped around hers. That was something much more interesting to focus on.

  He smiled. "You look a treat. Come." He held out his hand for her once more.

  She took it; the now-familiar jolt of electricity buzzed up her arm and she shivered in delight. She hoped she would find out more about him over their dinner.

  Her body was beginning to lust after him, and she was losing control over it, in the same way a parent is reluctantly dragged into a sweet shop.

  They retraced the way up to the road. More steps led to a small porch, and he walked her through that and into the restaurant. The interior walls were lined with varnished wood.

  "Uncle Stephen," said Rangi. "This is Cassandra."

  Rangi added details about how they'd fortuitously met. Stephen's eyes sparkled on seeing her, and he agreed she looked quite beautiful.

  She felt like someone special when Rangi introduced her, even with god-awful hair, and goodness, Rangi's baggy black boxers that she hoped didn't show.

  "But . . ." Cassie had an eyeful of Rangi's uncle and couldn't believe it. She had hardly met anyone in Marsden, but him she had.

  "You own a gallery down by the wharf?" She asked. Surely he didn't have a twin. She recognised his crinkled kind green eyes. They'd talked about paintings.

  Rangi looked from one to the other as his uncle chuckled. "You already met my uncle? Why didn't you tell me?"

  Cassie gave him a look. "How was I supposed to know he was your uncle?"

  "Tell him all about it," Stephen said. "Take a table by the view, and I'll find Michelle to get you a menu."

  Her holiday was one surprise after another. She massaged her lip nervously with her teeth as she followed Rangi to a table right by the glass and the view, wondering what was next.

  Dominating the conversation

  As they sat, waiting to be served, Cassie filled him in about her chance meeting with his uncle in the gallery.

  "Imagine if he'd known I was on my way to meet his nephew," she said, blowing Rangi a kiss. She felt a little daring, having been swept up off the boat and brought out to dinner without a bra.

  "If he talked with you, he likes you," Rangi said. "Have you got any work you can show him?"

  She nodded.

  "Already? You just got here. You must be good."

  She smiled. She was going to enjoy painting him even more now.

  Michelle, with her black hair pulled tightly back, explained a string of menu choices at breathless speed. They both ordered her suggestion; the chef's special tarakihi.

  "You don't drink, do you? Or do you only abstain on unplanned dates with men you just met?" Rangi grinned.

  She was equal to it. "Unplanned dates? You mean like this one?"

  "He laughed uproariously. "This was planned all right, just like an invasion."

  She thought silence her best riposte to that.

  Cassie told him she didn't drink; but he was welcome to have one. "You still have to drive me home," she reminded him.

  Rangi wanted her to talk more about her painting; she did. She described the visiting tui and why she'd been instantly drawn to capture it, and about other birds she painted. She told him she'd never exhibited, but was finding herself looking forward to showing his uncle her work.

  And she told him, cheekily, about a portrait she'd begun, of a guy she'd noticed on the beach while swimming there.

  "He's got great eyes," she said.

  "You spend most of your time on the beach looking at me," said Rangi. And then he got it, as she giggled.

  "Better make it a good one, girl," he said. "I'll hang it in my house."

  Why did he assume she'd painted it for him? Her exuberance died away as she imagined her portrait hanging by a photograph of the kneeling, tied girl.

  She wondered what she should ask. "Did you grow up with your uncle?"

  Rangi shook his head. "As I told you on the beach, I'm from Whangarei. My Dad has a big yacht chandlery; it's a family business. My mum works there, my koro, my brother Tom also. I did too, until my brother and I. . . well, my Dad called it a difference of opinion, eh?

  "Then his brother offered me a place for the summer, and some work, so here I am. After the season? We'll see."

  "Hey, Uncle," he called out, as Stephen passed near to their table, "bring me another beer, please."

  Cassie scowled. "That's not fair. How come your Dad let him push you out?"

  Rangi snorted in a sort of half-chuckle. He shook his head. "It wasn't like that. Tom was taking stuff. I told him to quit stealing from the whanau or I'd knock his fuggin' head off. Excuse my French."

  A smile crept along Cassie's mouth. Rangi's eyebrows almost touched when he got serious. It was very cute.

  "Anyway," said Rangi, "I had more free time after Briar went to England, and I wasn't hanging around home, so I came up here one weekend. Uncle asked if I'd stay over summer.

  He shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea. And it was, wasn't it? You turned up."

  "Having a good night?" Stephen had returned.

  Rangi rolled his eyes. "Where's the kai, Uncle? Look at Cassandra. She's getting thinner by the second."

  Cassie couldn't contain her laugh and was very pleased she hadn't quite taken a sip of drink before he'd said that. She put it down quickly so it didn't spill in her shaking hand.

  "Rangi does have one or two good attributes, Cassandra," said Stephen. He winked. "Rarely seen though, like the blue duck. Hang about, and you may get lucky.

  "Ahhh," Stephen continued, "here comes your dinner. Enjoy. And don't forget to bring me some of your work, Cassandra." With a brief wave, he went off to welcome some new arrivals.

  Cassie smiled. "He thinks quite a lot of you, obviously."

  Rangi nodded, as their plates arrived. "He's a good man."

  As they ate, Cassie became aware he was intensifying his gaze. Not an idle companionable glance, now and then, to accompany banter about the beer, the sunset or the fish; no, his eyeing rather suggested someone who was deciding on a serious purchase, who wondered if the product would outlast its warranty.

  Each time she looked up, he was watching her. He wasn't silent; he chatted personably in his alluring voice. She would have been happy if he hadn't stopped at all. But his intense regard unsettled her.

  "Are you staring at me?" She finally asked, after tension had built in her until she felt it would split her open.

  Rangi pu
t his fork down. He rested his hands lightly on the table edge. " I've been thinking about our relationship," he said.

  As her mouth opened and she drew breath to demand his reason for thinking they were any kind of 'item', he continued.

  "Do you know what a dominant is, or a submissive? If you do, what do you know of that lifestyle?

  Submissive?

  That did ring a bell. She remembered the book about the billionaire's belle, who did every kind of demeaning thing on command. It had been a hot topic at work for weeks until they'd all got it out of their systems, or at least stopped talking about it.

  She remembered asking Pete if he knew about 'that stuff', and he'd said he had no interest in demeaning her. Which had been fine with Cassie. She wouldn't have let him do it anyway.

  "Lights are going on, I see." Rangi sounded amused. "Tell me what you're thinking."

  I've heard a bit about what submissives have to go through," she replied, cautiously. "No interest myself."

  But he clearly did. His eyes glinted, and in a flash of insight she knew about Briar. God, she was naive. She should have understood instantly what the photograph portrayed.

  "I don't believe many people get to experience their nature until in the presence of their opposite," he said. "Cassandra, you bring out feelings in me I haven't had since I was with Briar.

  She hugged herself. Suddenly she had goosebumps.

  "Tell me about your past boyfriend," he said. "How come you split up."

  She was pleased he'd stopped focusing on her. But where did she begin?

  "Pete didn't want to take responsibility for stuff; he had an ok job, but he didn't want to choose what we did or where we went. He even got me to pick his clothes for him."

  She knew she sounded exasperated; the feeling had been constant during the last few months.

  "Rangi, I didn't want to organize his life. You know, I would have been happy if he'd organized a few things for me."

  "And in bed?"

  Cassie pushed her plate away. The fish had been delicious. "Are you trying to embarrass me?"

  Rangi shook his head slowly. "A lot of people don't understand what their partner wants. But the secret to great sex is knowing what turns you on, and having a partner who understands, and won't judge you for it. Whatever it is.

  She decided to be direct. "Do you want to get me into bed?"

  A slow smile surfaced on his face and grew wider until all his teeth were visible. It seemed she'd flushed him out.

  "Cassandra, I don't force myself on people. Do you feel I've forced you in any way? Tonight, sure, that was somewhat of an ambush. But you got in my truck, and didn't ask me to turn around. And so far it's only dinner.

  So far?

  "The question you need answered isn't whether I want to have sex, but whether you do. You must decide things like that for yourself, regardless of what other people want."

  She didn't know where to look. How could he be discussing this so openly and seemingly without interest. No, he hadn't forced her. She'd practically jumped on him when she'd seen him on the wharf.

  But if it wasn't him forcing her, something was. She'd never been so attracted to anyone, and she knew she followed his suggestions to come or stay, to strip or shower, as if ordered. She felt his hands around her body even when they weren't, and would have slept with him already if he'd pushed her. She knew she would.

  "What would you have done if I'd said no to skinny dipping," she asked, tentatively.

  "I think," he said, "by the time you'd walked under the wharf with me, you'd have taken me home and fucked me if I'd told you I wanted that."

  Damn him. Her dark skin didn't blush, just as well. But he certainly knew how to stop her dead."

  "However," he said. "What you're really asking is whether I would stop if you said no, am I right?"

  She nodded, mute, hand on her mouth, heart in it.

  His eyes bored into hers. "What do you believe, Cassandra?" he asked quietly, intensely, as everything around them faded from her consciousness and she realized he empowered her with the question.

  "I do believe you'd stop," she said. "You've given me no reason to be scared of you, and I'm not. But this, us, whatever this is; it's so different from what I've experienced. A world away from what I had with Pete. I feel I'm falling into the depths of something when I'm with you."

  Rangi nodded. He reached out a long arm across the table and curled his fingers around hers.

  "If you'd not taken my challenge to pull off your clothes and skinny dip, how would you have felt in the morning?" Rangi looked at her intently. "I think you took my challenge because you got a thrill from doing it.

  "I think if I asked you again, you'd comply again, too."

  "You have something else you want to challenge me with?" She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe I should challenge you."

  Rangi didn't say anything for several seconds. Or was it longer. It seemed Melanie could have brought the bill in the time his eyes gazed at her without moving.

  She started to feel uncomfortable. But before she could ask again, he squeezed her fingers.

  He broke out the extra wide smile she now knew meant he was going to poke fun.

  "You want to challenge me, Cassandra?"

  She tossed her curls. If he could challenge her, she'd give it back.

  "All right. You can," he said. "Let's go." He stood, and indicated she should too.

  "We're going?"

  "Dinner is over, surely?"

  Sometimes she felt like shaking him. She was not a toy to drag about and play with when you wanted.

  She confronted him across the dishes.

  "Tell me what's happening now," she said, a distinctive Australian whine appearing in her voice.

  "Now?"

  She nodded, suddenly fearful of what might be written on the invitation she'd just thrown him.

  "Now you come with me."

  He couldn't do that; he couldn't decide for her when and where. She should tell him she didn't like that plan.

  Her problem was: she did. The Cassie that soaked up his embraces and wanted more of them quite liked the thought of going home with him. It wouldn't have mattered who'd brought up the idea. And Cassie that had dreamed and played on the way to sleep last night thinking about his muscular chest wanted to go home with him too.

  But she knew it was too soon, that she wasn't ready to be overwhelmed.

  However, she couldn't debate it; he'd walked away! He'd turned for the door and was talking with Stephen. She saw his hand stretch out towards her, indicating hers was to dock in it.

  There wasn't anything else to do. She already wore his underwear. She was going home with him.

  Manipulation

  A mile of floor separated them. She started the journey, each step an echo of her increasing commitment to follow him. Her heart seemed to thump loudly in her chest.

  Rangi's slim figure had turned away from her, appearing fully engaged with Stephen. As she drew closer, she started to hear their conversation, something about painting.

  But she knew he focused on her; his fingers beckoned her and she came, drawn in as on a line. He pulled her close, and kissed her lightly.

  "It was lovely to meet you again," said Stephen. "I look forward to seeing your birds."

  Cassie smiled. "The fish was exquisite. I'm pleased Rangi brought me here."

  She felt his hand caress her fingers, teasing, barely-touching them, but the storm of sensation they brought tore her focus from his uncle.

  With pressure on her back, Rangi indicated she should precede him, and she walked out to the entrance, knowing his gaze was drinking in every flex of her ass. And she knew she had a nice ass.

  He stopped at the desk and spoke to Melanie.

  His challenge under the wharf had been startling and sudden. She wanted to prick his confidence with something equally in-your-face. But it couldn't be something she couldn't do, because inevitably she'd have to match him.

  Cassie
flicked her eyes to where Rangi leaned on the desk, as Melanie laughed. She didn't know his weak points yet, and she needed something to take that smile off. He didn't really know her. He claimed to. She could challenge him about that.

  Or could she? Her confidence started to sag. It had been dumb to suggest she wanted to challenge him. She started to wonder how she could wriggle out of it.

  She remembered her bag. She had to 'go home' with him to retrieve that, but she could tell him she'd decided to take an early night. She could play that card. Get-out-of-jail.

  Logically, she could. If she remembered to, when he came close and sucked her soul tight to him with his paua-colored eyes.

  She wouldn't remember anything under his gaze, she knew.

  Rangi was quite different from Pete, or anyone else she'd been involved with. He didn't seem to care if she liked him or not. She'd come to Marsden Bay in a mood to dismiss all men. But Rangi wasn't from the same mold as the others.

  When she wasn't with him, she was thinking of being with him. She wondered what he might do, and what she wished he would. Any more resistance didn't seem to make sense.

  Small lights glowed along the path in places to mark the way, but she had to walk carefully. It was very dark under the trees.

  He closed the door, and held her close.

  "Now, Cassandra, what is your challenge for me?"

  Not for the first time since meeting him, she irrationally wanted a cigarette. She'd given them up for the holiday, in the hope she'd stay off afterwards. But one right now would certainly calm her.

  Suddenly he kissed her, a long, lingering kiss on the side of her neck.

  "When I want something, I want it, Cassandra," he whispered. "Isn't that true for you too?"

  She froze, as his lips danced gently on her skin. A warm glow grew inside as he moved his hands down her back, tracing her spine.

  She wanted to stay, to give in, to let him do whatever, but her eyes flicked to the photograph on the wall behind him.

  "No," she burst out. She wasn't going to be forced onto her knees and tied up, and beaten and whatever else happened to girls who allowed that. She tried to tell herself to trust, but apprehension was overwhelming her.