by Abby Gordon
“The Franklin Hotel.”
There were advantages, she sighed, to being recognized. The cab driver was beaming, eager to take her picture and asked for an autograph on the full page ad in a magazine he had in the front seat. Smiling, despite her heartache, Francine obliged him, tipping generously. Going inside, she went to the front desk.
“Yes?” the clerk asked, staring in disbelief.
“I don’t have a reservation, but would like a room. A suite if one is available.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young woman replied, typing away.
Half an hour later, after a hot shower had eased the tension in her muscles, she curled up on the bed and picked up the phone.
“Felicity?” she whispered. “I…”
The sobs came as she poured out everything to her older sister.
“Francine, you remember what I told you after Eddie?”
“Yes,” hiccupped Francine.
“Well, this case calls for something more drastic.”
“Like what?”
“Several stiff drinks. Now, I want you to go down to the bar, tell the bartender you want four or five drinks and then he is to have someone make sure you get back to your room safely.”
“Felicity, I can’t do that! I don’t…”
“I know, sweetie, but this occasion demands it. You’ll be fine. I know it hurts like hell right now, and I wish I was there...” she growled. “Hell, I wish I had that bastard alone for five minutes to teach him some manners. Doing that to my baby sister... Asshole!”
“I wish you were here, too.” Francine sighed. “Why can’t I find someone like Tom? You sure he doesn’t have a long-lost brother somewhere?”
“You don’t need Mr. Right, sweetie. Right now, you need Mr. Stud to burn up the sheets and blow your mind.”
“But Kevin said…”
“No! That man is a waste of oxygen, understand me?” Felicity exhaled in a whoosh. “Go down to the bar, get your drinks and when you get back in your room, dream of an incredibly hot guy who makes your every fantasy come true.”
“Okay,” sniffed Francine.
She would take Felicity’s advice. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to feel. She just wanted… Well, she didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew who she didn’t want. Splashing water on her face, she repaired her make-up and smiled at her reflection. She knew she didn’t want anyone like Kevin. Her fantasy man would be absolutely incredible in every way—attractive, physically strong, accomplished in life, smart, and the most fantastic lover a woman could imagine. He would sweep her off her feet and make sure she was sexually satisfied.
Dressed simply in trousers and a light silk blouse, Francine headed down to the hotel’s only open bar. Off the lobby, the dark-paneled room had booths around the walls and tables placed far enough apart that an inebriated patron wouldn’t have too much trouble walking through them. The widescreen TV at the end of the bar showed commentators discussing the first half of the basketball game. Sitting on a stool near the middle, she reminded herself of Felicity’s directives as the black-vested bartender came toward her. The man didn’t seem surprised at her requests and put a tall frosted glass in front of her. Idly, she sipped it while watching the Knicks’ game.
A couple drinks later, as she debated ordering from the appetizer menu, two men in exquisitely cut suits came in, black cashmere coats over their arms. One held a cell phone to his ear. They came toward where she sat. Great. The last thing she wanted to deal with was men. Even if they were incredibly good-looking.
They took the stools a few feet away from her. In front of the bartender. She smiled to herself and took a large swallow. Could she be more caught up in herself? The bartender was there, so of course they would go there. Focus on what Felicity told you to do, she reminded herself, staring at the neon pink parasol in her drink. That’s what you’re doing here.
“Mr. Franklin,” the bartender greeted with a smile. “Mr. Hancock. What can I get you tonight?”
Francine kept them in her peripheral vision as their whiskey was put in front of them. Sex fantasies, Felicity had said. She didn’t even know where to start on that one. She picked up the straw and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.
“Fantasies,” she whispered, tapping the straw against the rim of the glass. “What kind of fantasies? What would I like?”
“Problem?”
She looked over and saw that the man called Franklin was still on his cell phone. Hancock, with dark eyes and dark hair cut short, was studying her.
“Just following orders,” she told him. The effects of the alcohol had her focusing on her words. “It’s very important to follow Felicity’s directions to the letter.”
“I know all about following orders,” he replied. “Maybe we can help. What were her directions?”
“Four or five good stiff drinks, tell the bartender to make sure someone got me safely back to my room, and then dream about every fantasy coming true.”
“What kind of fantasy?”
Hancock gestured at Franklin and the two moved to flank her. Francine sipped on the frothy pink drink and studied the man on her right. He was handsome but she didn’t feel anything. And when he frowned, she realized she had said it aloud.
The other man laughed and spoke into his phone. “Ben’s not quite the lady-killer after all, Grant. He just got shot down at the hotel bar by Francine Lincoln.”
“Very funny, smart-ass,” Ben shook his head. “How about Bron?”
She looked at the man on her left. His dark blond hair was a bit longer and light blue eyes promised all sorts of adventures. But she didn’t feel anything. With a sigh, she took a big swallow.
“I guess Kevin was right. I am an Ice Queen.” She raised her glass. “All hail, Francine the Ice Queen.”
As she finished her drink, Ben shook his head. “Maybe he didn’t know how to fulfill your fantasies. Maybe the problem was him. Not you.”
She cocked her head to one side and considered that. Ben gestured to the bartender for another round.
“You think so?” she whispered.
“What are your wildest fantasies?”
“Oh, they’re too wild.” She giggled. “I mean, I hardly dare even think about them.”
“I doubt you could shock us,” Ben told her. “Unless you’re talking orgies to rival Rome at its worst.”
Francine’s eyes widened slightly and she blushed. “No, nothing that wild. At least, I…”
“How many men?”
“Just one,” she whispered as the bartender put another drink before her.
“What does he do first?”
“Well, he…” Francine chattered on, describing in detail her deepest darkest desires to two strangers.
“Grant,” Bron hissed into the phone. “You’re not going to believe this. Keep quiet while I put my cell on speaker so you can hear.”
In the middle of getting the security report, Grant scowled at the speaker phone on his study desk. He’d been distracted enough when Bronson had mentioned Francine Lincoln being in the bar. And now Bron was going to put her on speaker? Maybe she had a horrible speaking voice and that would help him deal with the sexual fantasies that were coming fast and furious. Ah, hell! He opened a drawer and pulled out the magazine, flipping out the double-sized layout of her body sprinkled with rose petals. He could feel his body reacting to the sight.
“You were saying, Francine?” Bronson said. “Finish your drink and tell us more about your fantasies.”
There was a pause and he heard a thud, as if someone had put a glass down.
“Um… Oh, what the hell.” She giggled. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be spanked. After I’ve done something I shouldn’t, of course. Like the man told me not to touch him somewhere and I did anyway, or had an orgasm when he wanted me to wait. I read about that once,” she sighed. “I’ve never done it though.”
Grant clenched his jaw. Her voice was clear and distinct. It woul
d have been too much to ask for her to have a shrill, harsh voice.
“Is that all you would want done?”
He heard Ben’s low words ordering another round.
“I read something once,” came the husky voice. “Oh, thank you, but this will have to be my last drink. What was I saying?”
“You read something?” Bronson prompted.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, hiccupping gently. “In the story, the woman was tied to a bench, and the man put things in her pussy and ass and spanked her until she had an orgasm. Then he made her take his cock in her mouth.”
“Oh, I like that one,” Ben groaned.
“And a friend told me that the most incredible orgasm she ever had was when her lover took her from behind, in the ass,” Francine whispered. “Kevin did that the first time. I thought I’d hurt forever, but when Jasmine told me about her experience I wondered if it could really be good.”
Grant felt his cock harden at her words. He took a deep breath and regained control of himself. Oh, yeah! He could definitely make those fantasies come true. He glanced down at the four year old ad. Did he dare? The sexiest woman in the world was describing sexually explicit scenes that he knew how to make real. Why the hell was he even hesitating? As one hand traced the woman’s delicate features on the glossy page, the other reached for the speaker phone. Even though he was in his own penthouse, he picked up the receiver.
“Bronson, pick up.”
“Yeah?”
“Give her a Club card. Tell her if she’s serious about what she just said then another card will be delivered with directions. And that every fantasy she’s had will come true.”
“You serious?”
“Totally.” With the ease from many years training, Grant slipped into what he called his ‘master frame of mind.’ He was her dominant and he was responsible for her. Right now, she was vulnerable. If anyone besides Bron and Ben got to her, she could get hurt. “You and Ben make sure she gets safely back to her room. It sounds like she’s had more than she’s used to.”
“Can do.”
“And, Bron?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, man.”
“Happy birthday, old man.”
Grant rolled his eyes as he hung up. His birthday wasn’t for another three months, but Bronson never passed up a chance to remind him of who was the oldest member of their group.
The next morning, Francine sat up, trying to sort out what had happened. She remembered going to the bar and watching the game. There had been two men, but after that her memory was fuzzy. What the hell had they talked about? She had an image of them bringing her to her room, but a quick glance around her told her that she was alone. With a sigh, she decided Kevin had been right. She really must be an ice queen in bed. She saw the glass of water with two small white tablets. Well, at least when she decided to get drunk she ran into chivalrous men. She hadn’t found Mr. Stud as Felicity had told her to, but her dreams had definitely been erotic. A low husky voice had told her to do things, but what? She frowned and felt the slight pounding in her head. Reaching out, she took the tablets and drank the water.
Pulling on her robe, she started the coffeemaker in the suite’s living room and stared out at the skyline. What was she going to do now? Not very many people knew that Kevin had actually proposed, so she didn’t necessarily have to deal with that humiliation, but she did have to deal with the fact that another model, younger and as sought after, had wasted no time in going after him. Delilah! Oh, the bitch’s action suited her name.
The knock on the door startled her. Frowning, she went across the room.
“Who is it?”
“Special delivery for Francine Lincoln.”
Peering through the peephole, she could see only a man in a dark suit holding a white shoebox-size container with a red bow. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she opened the door slightly.
“Who is it from?”
“I was told you would be expecting it,” he told her. “I am to wait for further directions.”
“Directions? Expecting it?” She shook her head and gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
She opened the door further and took the box. Her eyes fell on the card tucked in the ribbon. The memory of something similar being put in her hand came back to her. Who? The other man had called him Bronson. Bronson had put something in her hand and told her another would be delivered.
“Just a moment.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He nodded with a faint smile.
Closing the door, she read the elegant black letters on the ivory card.
To obey is to submit. To submit is to surrender. To surrender is to find ultimate pleasure. To find ultimate pleasure is the aspiration of all and the treasure of few.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. Embossed on the lower left corner was a set of handcuffs, with slightly wider cuffs. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be real!”
She rushed into the bedroom and froze at the foot of the bed. Pale and gleaming in the shadows, another card lay on the nightstand. Slowly she walked over and picked it up. The same words. Her legs grew weak and she sat on the bed. She remembered something else in Bronson’s hand. A cell phone. A cell phone he had placed on the bar as she’d told two strange men her sexual fantasies. Bronson, pick up. A deep husky voice. A voice that had been strong, decisive.
She closed her eyes. She had dreamt of that voice! In her dreams, that voice had commanded her to take her clothes off and wait for him in bed. To kneel at his feet. And whispered in her ear that she’d been a very bad girl and he was going to spank her.
“This is what happens when your reading goes beyond what your mother would approve,” she whispered. “When you wonder what else is out there.” She stared at the box. “I should shove this box and both cards back at the delivery man and tell him to…” She closed her eyes. “I’ll only ever get this one chance. Do I dare take it? See what it’s like to have a man do whatever he wants with me? What if the guy last night was right? What if it was Kevin and not me? Do I want to be more than the Ice Queen?”
Fingers trembling, she opened the box. On top of the tissue was another card.
Very good, my dear. If you truly want to find pleasure, then dial speed one on this phone. I will tell you what to do to prepare for surrendering to me. For twenty-four hours, I will make every fantasy you’ve ever had come true. Even those you haven’t imagined.
Francine lifted the tissue and took the phone. Hitting the buttons, she stared at the watercolor art on the wall. Was she insane? She had no idea who this man was!
“Francine,” came the same deep voice.
“Who are you?”
“The man to make your fantasies come true.”
“I mean, what is your name?”
“No names. This is for just twenty-four hours. No strings. No emotions. Just pure sex.”
Francine nibbled her bottom lip. He wouldn’t give her his name?
“I don’t know you.”
“That’s the way I want it.”
“This is crazy,” she said. “I’d have to be insane to even consider this. I mean…”
“I heard what you said last night at the bar. I don’t believe you’re cold or anything else that asshole said. Come to me, Francine. Submit to me. Surrender yourself and I will pleasure your body.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy.”
Francine worried her bottom lip again. The temptation was great. “What will happen?”
“You’ll be brought to a secure place. No paparazzi will be able to find you. You will be mine for twenty-four hours. After that, you will be brought back to your hotel room.”
Closing her eyes, Francine took a deep breath. And realized she was trembling. In need. With desire. Glancing down, the hard points of her nipples pushed against the silk robe. She reached inside and covered her breast. The small mound swelled in her hand, wanting the rough palm of a man
. He was arousing her with his voice!
“Think about it, Francine,” his voice told her. “You at my mercy, my sexual mercy, for twenty-four hours. Your body mine in every way. Imagine it—you’re bound, blindfolded, and gagged, waiting for me to come to you. Now, touch yourself. Put a finger inside your pussy.”
At his quiet command, she put her hand over her bare mound and dipped a finger inside.
“Are you wet?”
“Yes,” she whispered. How could he get her so wet by talking to her over the phone? “I don’t understand.”
“From what you said last night, I gathered that you’ve never been spanked or submitted to a man in anyway. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, master,” he corrected firmly. “From now on, you will address me as ‘master’ or ‘sir’. You will not know my name or…”
“You’re so sure I won’t recognize you or describe you to anyone?” She frowned. Maybe he was a reporter or someone trying to trick her. “Who are you?”
“I will be your master if you come to me.” His deep voice lowered. “I’m fairly certain you won’t recognize me. And I’m not worried about you trying to describe me to someone. They’d want to know how you knew me. What would you say?” A husky chuckle came over the line. “That I’d fucked you until you were exhausted? That you’d completely surrendered that incredible, sexy body of yours to me?”
Francine closed her eyes and couldn’t hold back the moan. She was going to be dripping wet if he kept this up!
“I…” She swallowed. “I see your point.”
“I thought you might. Now, regarding safety. I’m clean, but I will be using condoms.”
“I’m clean,” she whispered. “Kevin always used condoms. And I get a quarterly birth control shot because I have trouble taking pills.”
“Good. Now to give you a basic idea of what to expect. Two women will meet you at the car. They will gag and blindfold you. This will emphasize your helplessness and help you get in the right mindset. I will spank and punish you in various ways, but I will not do anything that would permanently mar that perfect body of yours. And,” his voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Before I let you go, I will fuck that heart-shaped ass of yours and give you the orgasm of your life.”
