‘Leave the next step to me, Felicia,’ Valerie said, her voice laced with polite venom. ‘I know Richard well. I have a plan.’
Normally, Felicia would shudder at those words out of Valerie’s lips, but she certainly didn’t have a plan herself. And, in a strange situation like this, maybe Valerie’s weird ideas were just what they’d need.
18
One good thing about throwing an outdoor benefit in the southern California desert in summer: you could count on clear weather.
Felicia believed in counting her blessings, so she was clinging to that thought. It was the only completely positive thing she could think of at eight on Saturday morning while all hell was breaking loose around her.
‘I know the tents aren’t ready yet,’ she said to the irate man from the rental company. ‘The truck from the tent company broke down on the highway last night. They got here as early as they could this morning.’ Which meant she’d had to be on site at dawn so they could try to get as much of the chaos as possible settled before the day’s tourists began to arrive, but she doubted that would earn her much sympathy from the chair rental guy, who’d probably been at work that long too.
‘Lady, I’m sure they did. But I’m on a schedule. If that tent isn’t up fast we’re throwing everything in the courtyard and it’s your problem from there.’
‘Give me ten minutes.’ She got on her cell. ‘John, as soon as the restrooms are clean, get the cleaning crew over to help with the tents. And grab anyone else who looks big enough to be useful. I’ll meet you there.’
‘How about me? Am I big enough to be useful?’
Felicia wheeled around at the sound of the unexpected voice. It couldn’t be.
It was.
Gabe was rumpled from the top of his sandy hair down to his socks, which were sagging into his sneakers. His eyes were shadowed, he was unshaven and he was clutching a Starbucks travel mug like a holy relic.
He looked gorgeous.
‘I am too old,’ he said, ‘for two red-eyes in a week. But I hope I’ll be some help.’
And then he didn’t say anything else because Felicia (figuring Chair Rental Guy didn’t matter and everyone else was too busy to care) gave him something better to do with his mouth.
There was no awkwardness or hesitation. He folded her into his arms, pulled her close against a body that suddenly wasn’t sagging with fatigue – in fact, parts of it were jumping to attention – and everything was more than all right. Heat radiated out from her belly, setting her nipples alight, setting her juices flowing. Her whole body pulsed and throbbed with want, but at the same time she felt peaceful, as if Gabe’s body were her home and she’d arrived after a long absence.
There was no one in the office building. Even Katherine was outside dealing with setup. They could sneak in and fool around. The schedule for the day was too tight to allow time for anything very involved, but she could see herself sinking to her knees and taking Gabe’s cock deep into her mouth. She’d got off herself the night before with Mr Twitchy and thoughts of what she’d like Gabe to do to her. It seemed more urgent now to taste him, feel his come flooding her mouth.
Someone tapped her on the back. She jumped about a mile and turned to see Irate Chair Rental Guy, looking more irate than before. ‘Love is grand and everything, but I need somewhere to unload my truck.’
They pulled apart. ‘Come on,’ she said, tugging on Gabe’s hand. ‘Let’s go set up a huge tent.’
As they headed towards the tent, a woman in a Feehan’s Flowers shirt blocked her path. ‘I know you weren’t expecting us until later,’ she said, ‘but there’s this wedding in Braeburn that’s messing up our schedule.’
Felicia just laughed. It was easier to laugh now that Gabe was here.
While Felicia was still dealing with that, one of the volunteers ran up. ‘Some of the food’s being delivered. Where does it go?’
And her cell phone began to ring. Valerie Turner. She answered it while trotting towards the tent and grabbing a random animal care staff member to show the food service where the walk-in was.
‘Darling,’ Valerie exclaimed, ‘I was at a party in LA last night and sold another twelve tickets!’ The woman had too much energy. What was she even doing awake at this hour, let alone so perky, if she’d been at a party the night before?
‘Wonderful!’ Felicia forced a smile, hoping the muscle memory would make her voice sound cheerful. ‘We can certainly use the money.’ Even if it would mean she’d have to redo the seating chart for the fourth damn time. ‘May I call you later for the names? We’re in the middle of deliveries and I can’t grab a pen.’
Fortunately, Valerie seemed to understand, because she said, ‘You know I detest email, but I’ll give in to the twenty-first century for once and send them to you. Try to stay calm, dear!’
‘Hi!’ Sounding ever breathless, Debbie bounced up to her. Her very blonde hair was piled haphazardly on her head, and yet somehow it looked artful and casual. ‘Sorry to bother you – I know you’re absolutely insane right now – but the café’s locked; do you have the key?’
Felicia did, but it was on a keyring with about fifty thousand other keys to various parts of the Sanctuary, and she wouldn’t have handed them all over to her own mother at this point.
She glanced across the green. Gabe had apparently convinced Irate Chair Rental Guy that things would go faster if he helped set up the tent. Amazing.
‘I’ll unlock the door for you,’ Felicia said.
As soon as Felicia got the door open and the lights on, Debbie walked into the fridge. Felicia assumed she was checking on space, or the ostrich and steaks she’d left there a few days before. But then she heard Debbie swear.
‘What’s wrong?’ Felicia asked, peering in.
Debbie didn’t answer at first. Then she shook herself and said, ‘It’s so cold.’
‘It’s supposed to be!’ Felicia said with a laugh. But she couldn’t help but be reminded of Wednesday and Mel finding the circuit breaker thrown and the fridge door being blocked open. Could Debbie have been responsible?
No, that was absurd. Debbie was a caterer, for God’s sake! And a good one. Felicia obviously had suspect-on-the-brain syndrome.
‘You probably need to get set up,’ she said. ‘I’ll send someone over to help you carry stuff in from your van. Can I get you anything else?’
Debbie shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Let me know if you need anything.’
Her cell phone rang again, and she dashed out.
* * *
Everyone was running around like their hair was on fire. Lance knew the benefit was a big deal, but he didn’t understand getting that stressed about it.
His way of dealing with the mayhem was to stay calm, stay out of people’s way unless they needed something from him, and to get his work done swiftly and efficiently. So far, so good. José had praised him for the work he’d done cleaning out some of the cat enclosures, and José didn’t even trust him much.
Now Felicia had sent him to haul stuff for the bigtitted caterer – now, that was a welcome change from shovelling highly toxic cat poop! He pushed open the door of the café, and frowned. Where was she?
Then he saw that the door from the kitchen to the private walkway behind the building was ajar. He glanced through the opening and found Debbie.
She was smoking, the smell making him crave a cigarette himself. Already, there were several butts at her feet. He thought it might be a fire hazard – wouldn’t a fire be just the last straw today? – but then she dropped the cigarette she was holding and ground it firmly into the dirt next to the other ones.
He was sorry that she wasn’t wearing spike heels today. But he knew from working in a restaurant himself that there were rules about what kind of shoes you had to wear and, sadly, open-toed stilettos didn’t conform to those rules.
As he watched, unsure what to do (thanks in part to the woody that was already growing in his pants, because spike heels or no she
was still hot hot hot), she pulled out her cell phone and stabbed at it.
‘It’s Debbie,’ she said when the other person answered. ‘Yes, of course I’m here. We have a problem. They found out the fridge was turned off.’
Whoa. Lance eased back slightly so there was less chance he’d be seen. This wasn’t good. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but he knew that he should pay attention. Felicia would want to hear about this.
‘The stuff I left here didn’t go bad.’ Debbie tapped another cigarette out of the pack and juggled it, the phone and a lighter. ‘Yes, I know we have to do something else to fuck up the meal. Think of something? Yeah, well, I was hoping you might have a suggestion.’ She took a long drag on the cigarette, tapped out the ashes nervously. ‘Oh thanks, thanks a lot. It can’t be anything obvious. You know, I still have a reputation to uphold. What the fuck do you mean, you’ll ruin my reputation?’
Her voice had risen above its usual breathiness by the end, taking on a harsh, grating note, and Lance briefly wondered if she was going to punch the rough adobe wall.
‘Well, fuck you, too.’ She jabbed the phone off. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered. She dragged a hand through her hair, took one last suck of the cigarette and disposed of the butt.
Lance quickly tiptoed his way back to the front door of the café and eased it open a little. Letting it fall shut, he called out, ‘Hey, Ms Landstrom, you here?’
Debbie popped in the back door, all smiles and jiggles. He noticed she’d repaired her lipstick – brilliant pink to match her T-shirt. Which, he also noticed, was plain and basic, something you wouldn’t mind hiding under chef’s whites, but which still managed to show a boatload of cleavage.
‘Well, hey there, cutie,’ she said. ‘I was just grabbing a cigarette. Can’t smoke once I’ve started with the cooking.’
‘I’m s’posed to help you haul sh– er, stuff,’ he said.
‘Great!’
As they walked out the door, he added, ‘Um, I’ve been working over at Bella Lugosi – it’s the Italian place out on State. If you need any help today…’ If he could stick around, he could keep an eye on her, catch her in the act of whatever she was going to do to fuck up the food.
She regarded him with a mixture of surprise and shrewd assessment. ‘Really?’
He nodded.
‘Well, then, cutie, you are so hired. I’m short-staffed today and I could totally use another pair of hands.’
Lance trotted after her, admiring her butt encased in jeans so tight he could tell there was no panty line. No matter what else happened, at least he’d have a nice view for a while. Debbie might be evil, but she certainly knew how to look good doing it.
And, if everything worked out, he’d have another chance to make a good impression on Mel. Playing hero had helped him get lucky before. Saving a couple of hundred rich old farts from being poisoned ought to be good for some more hot sex.
* * *
Normally, Valerie wouldn’t have set up a scene in the early afternoon on the day of a big benefit. A good scene took time and concentration, and there was simply too much to do. But, instead of being at SCCS helping where she could, or even spending some quality time with her massage therapist and hairdresser, she was in her dungeon.
Priorities. Whatever help she could offer with setup was nothing compared to what she might be able to accomplish in this space of burgundy leather.
If she could pull it off.
Richard was in the clown costume again, this time in full Bozo face paint. He’d begged for it this time, naked and with his cheek pressed against Valerie’s booted foot.
If she hadn’t been so suspicious of him, she’d have been thrilled to see how malleable he’d become after only one scene. He obviously didn’t have a thing for clowns himself, but he was letting himself be guided by her desires. Exactly as it should be, in theory, but in practice it usually took more time to build trust.
So sad that the trust was one-sided – and probably misplaced. Today, she planned to blow 25 years of self-control and respect for other people’s boundaries right out the window.
If Richard weren’t really plotting against SCCS, he’d be entirely open to her after she finished with him, broken apart and vulnerable. After breaking him open, she’d owe it to him to take him on as a sub for a while. (It could be worse. The clown costume really suited him.)
And if he was up to something…well, he’d still be broken and vulnerable, but she wouldn’t much care.
So far, everything had gone well. Heavy verbal humiliation. Face-slapping. ‘Forced’ oral sex – she’d guessed he’d be especially enthusiastic if she tied him to the table and then sat on his face. (She’d been right. She hadn’t actually expected to come during this session, all things considered, but Richard’s clever tongue had sent rockets through her body even while her brain was considering the best way to deal with a traitor.) Moving him to the spanking bench, securing him again, and then spanking his ass to the limits of his tolerance. Red now, it clashed charmingly with the orange and purple stripes of the clown outfit.
And, now, it was time for the finishing touch.
‘Still with me?’ she asked.
Richard nodded, his eyes vacant, his expression fixed in a blissed-out grin. He was with her, but barely. Large parts of his brain had left the building.
Excellent.
She took the clown nose and wig off him and pulled a leather hood over his head. He made a startled noise, or maybe a questioning one, but didn’t actually say anything.
‘I believe in discretion,’ she said, an explanation that deliberately raised more questions than it answered.
She walked around him, letting her nails rake lightly over his sensitised skin. When she got behind him, she removed the butt plug and lubed him up some more. She began working her fingers in and out of him.
‘Danny’s been such a good boy lately, working very hard and putting up with a certain amount of neglect since I’ve been busy helping with the benefit. Don’t you think a good slave like that deserves some reward?’
Under the hood, Richard made a small noise that might have been a yes.
Here she thrust a little harder. ‘I want to hear you.’
‘You’re right, Mistress,’ he said in a small voice.
‘So glad you agree.’ She pressed the intercom button on the nearby wall. ‘Danny, please come downstairs.’
‘With pleasure, Mistress!’
The noise that came from under the hood was apprehensive, but it wasn’t a safeword or even a protest.
‘I told you he loves fucking older men.’ She drizzled more lube in the crack of Richard’s ass. The way he shivered, she surmised, was not because the lube was cold. ‘So I figured I’d give him a treat.’
Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Valerie grinned to herself. Danny could move quietly as a cat, but he was making sure Richard heard him.
Richard was twitching visibly. She checked his dick. Hard as hot marble.
Danny drew close. He grinned and winked at Valerie and said ‘Delicious!’ in a voice laced with far more toppy evil than Valerie would have deemed possible.
Valerie withdrew her fingers and let Danny position himself carefully, gripping Richard’s hips with his strong hands. Richard let out a strangled moan.
‘Are you ready?’ She waited for a safeword, a no, anything that sounded like a protest. Instead, Richard raised his ass a little higher.
‘This is going to be fun,’ Danny said, still in that unfamiliar evil voice. He spread Richard’s cheeks, letting him feel the large masculine hands on his flesh. Then, still holding him open, Danny inched to the side and let Valerie in with a good-sized dildo, the expensive kind with a fairly realistic texture. She’d been lubing it up and strapping it on while Richard was distracted.
Richard hit the roof as soon as the head nudged against his opening, pushing backwards against it and muttering a half-coherent litany of ‘Please, please, please. Fuck me. Please.’
She pu
shed inside him, finding no resistance. As soon as the dildo entered him, he began to cry, the painful choked sobs of a man who never allowed himself that release. For a second Valerie worried she might have gone too far. But even through the tears he was begging for more.
He didn’t seem to notice when the hands on his ass were replaced by small, female ones or when Danny slipped away. Some part of him, she figured, must register the truth, but, as soon as his mind and body gave in to his scariest fantasy, Richard started flying. Lights on, but nobody home.
She pushed, fucking him hard, working him with all the skill she possessed to push him right to the edge of explosion.
Then she stopped. And switched on the tiny tape recorder concealed in her bodice. She wasn’t sure the tape would be admissible in court, but at least she’d be able to prove he’d confessed to her – if he did.
‘Richard, what game are you playing?’
‘I…don’t know.’ His voice sounded far away. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘I want you to tell me the truth now. Does Lindsay own that real estate development company for you, the one that tried to buy the Sanctuary?’
Silence, broken only by a soft sob.
‘You can imagine how surprised I was to hear Lindsay was dabbling in real estate. It’s not her thing at all. So of course I guessed you had to be involved somehow, and you know how curious I am. You’ll tell me, won’t you?’ She twitched her hips, pushing deeper into him.
‘Yes,’ he answered almost inaudibly. ‘She’s so nice…helping with the taxes. Just have to slip her a little to keep her and Inge living in style.’
She felt queasy. Just knowing that all but confirmed her suspicions – if he hadn’t revealed he was involved with the company and abstained from the vote in the first place, he was already in such a legal and ethical quagmire that the rest didn’t seem like a stretch. But she pressed on.
She wriggled again, just to keep him on edge. ‘Why did you volunteer to do so much for the benefit? You couldn’t get it all done and we had to pull everything together last minute.’
Cat Scratch Fever Page 21
