by Penny Wylder
“I get that he’s busy, I just want to help.”
“He’s asked me not to let you in,” she says with a sympathetic smile.
A bolt of ice goes through me. “Excuse me, what?”
“I just think it might be better if you just went home.”
I straighten my shoulders, “I’m sorry, May.” I push past her and shove open the door to Matthew’s office, leaving her gaping. She follows me in and Andrew’s head snaps up as I open the door.
I put my hands on my hips and square off in front of him. “I get that this is probably one of the worst days of your life, but shutting me out of it is not going to make this better or easier for you.”
Andrew looks past me to May. “Give us a minute please, May,” he says softly. When she closes the door behind her he says, “I’m sorry.”
“What the hell is going on? And why are you trying to hide from me.”
He looks a little guilty. “A couple of reasons. I wanted to protect you from some of this. Connection to me right now only damages you. And second…” he hesitates. “I’ve said some things to you about wanting to push your boundaries and make you more than you are. I thought…I thought you might believe what they’re saying.”
I cross the room towards him. “I don’t believe them. And you don’t get to tell me that I matter and that I’m special without treating yourself the same way.” Yanking his face down to mine, I kiss him. “You’re talented and brilliant and there are tons of people who know that. Just tell me the truth about why she’s doing this.”
“I loved working with her,” he says. “She’s an excellent model, but she didn’t want to just be my model. And in the years that we worked together it was a constant onslaught of hints and suggestions that we should be together as more than just professional colleagues. I didn’t want that.” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “I didn’t want that with her. Then one day I came home to find her naked in my bed. I severed our professional relationship the next day.”
I press my forehead against his chest. “So she’s attacking you because you’re with me.” Guilt creeps up my spine. He could lose everything because of this.
“I don’t have any regrets about being with you. None.”
“Okay.”
Andrew lifts my face so that I’m looking at him. “I’m serious. This is not your fault.” He kisses me, and I allow myself to melt into him a little bit.
When we come up for air I ask him, “How bad is it?”
His expression clouds over. “Not good. People having been pulling out of meetings and stores are threatening to drop the line because of the article.”
I drop myself into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “But anyone who knows you and has worked with you knows these things aren’t true.”
“Bad press is bad press,” he shrugs. “With something out there like that, being connected to me is a liability.”
So,” I say, “they’re afraid of this article because Maya is a huge model and they don’t want to offend her, and they don’t want to lose sales by being in business with you.”
“Pretty much.”
I think for a second. “So all we have to do is get people who like you to spin the story the other way.”
“I think it’s easier said than done, but I’m open to ideas. What are you thinking?”
Smiling, I pull out my cellphone. “I’m thinking we have to move fast and you have to make me a queen,” I say as I dial. “Fleece, can you tell Barbara you have somewhere to be tonight?”
13
The gallery looks completely different from last time, but even with all the bad press, there’s a crowd waiting outside to come in. I can’t believe everything we did in the last twenty-four hours. I’m exhausted and nervous and I feel like I might throw up, but we have to do this.
Andrew comes up behind me, hands skimming my hips and lips against my neck. “Thank you for this.”
“Thank you for what you said this morning.”
He called a reporter this morning and submitted his rebuttal. A simple, short version of the story that bleeds truth because of its simplicity and confirmable details. But it was the end that took me completely off guard.
I have always prided myself on professional behavior. I have countless colleagues who could attest to it, but to ask them to put themselves at risk because of these rumors would be unfair to them. To those who know me, I hope you know that I would never behave in such a way. To those who don’t know me, you may make your own judgment.
Just recently, I did something for the first time that I would consider to be unprofessional. I crossed a line I have never crossed before. But I don’t regret it. I have found the love of my life, and if I have to live with these rumors for the rest of my life, I will. Because they don’t matter, and we know the truth.
I almost cried when I read that last paragraph, and then I kissed him. Now, he pulls me back against him, and I pull away. “Careful, you’re going to ruin the design.”
I’m completely naked, and just like he suggested at the restaurant, I’m covered in diamonds. Not real, but they look real enough.
“I look forward to removing every one of these later. Slowly.”
I laugh. “I’m looking forward to that too, but let’s do this first.”
We transformed the gallery into what looks like a royal throne room, the outside walls covered with giant photographs that we took yesterday. Andrew called in every favor he could, and his employees came and some friends, too. The photos are of the two of us in different situations, and in every one, I am a queen. I was right, Andrew is an amazing model, and even though we were frenzied, we had a good time. I want to do more of that when we have more time.
There’s a photo to match—and counteract—every accusation. A photo of me at a table of food eating a huge meal while Andrew has none. A photo of me locking him in a dungeon and throwing away the key. A photo of him sitting by my feet while I sit on a throne. Others too. It’s a strong statement, that I’m not only a queen but his queen. Something we hope will back up his words that appeared online this morning.
And then there are the final photos. Taken late last night after we kicked everyone out of the studio. Andrew worshiping the queen’s body. Pictures that are scandalous and verging on indecency, but they’re my favorite. I didn’t know that I could look like that.
And now, in a few minutes, I’m going to sit in the gallery in nothing but diamonds. We’ve agreed that Andrew shouldn’t be seen. That the work and his words should speak for themselves. That also works to my advantage, for the little addition I’ve added. Near the entrance to the gallery, a list of names. Hundreds of people who have worked with Andrew and Maya, and agreed that he is nothing like what she claimed. People willing to put their reputations on the line for him. It’s clearly labeled, and right at the front of the gallery so you can’t miss it.
“Okay,” he says. “Good luck.”
I lean up to kiss him. “We don’t need luck.”
Lounging on the throne, I hear the doors open and the drone of voices as people pour inside. I hear the shocked gasps as people see the list of names, and their impressed whispers as they enter the throne room. In the other shows I’ve done for Andrew, I’ve been moving. Not this time. I’m frozen on the throne, the diamonds on my skin scattering the light in patterns across the walls. I see cameras and microphones—the press are the first people in the door—and I hope that we’ve made a difference. I hope that this will stop the bleeding. Andrew’s reputation may never be spotless, but at least it won’t be destroyed.
People seem to like the exhibit, and as time wears on, I begin to relax. We set a limited time for this, just a couple of hours. We don’t need a huge audience, just the ones that will get the word out. There’s a commotion near the door, and I have to fight the urge to move as Maya walks in. I thought she might show up, but I was not prepared for the way anger rises up in my chest, threatening to strangle me.
Suddenly the air in the room feels tight, and the cameras and microphones are all on her as she approaches me. I meet her eyes, unsure of what she’s going to do. Unsure if I should break character.
There’s a mocking smirk on her face as she takes me in. She doesn’t speak loudly, but the whole room can hear her. “You pulled this together quickly. Did you even sleep?”
Slowly, I turn my head so I’m facing her more fully. “No, I did not. Neither did any of the other people who came to help.”
Maya’s smile falters. “No one would help that man, not after what he’s done.”
“Did you not read the sign at the entrance? There are hundreds of people willing to vouch for Andrew’s character.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her eyes narrow.
I take a beat, and then look away from her. “You know why.”
She stiffens, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her face fall. Just like that, I suddenly understand what she was hoping for. She saw us together and thought that since he had suddenly slept with a model that this was her chance. She wanted to drive me away from him because she’s still in love with him. Or what she thinks is love.
“You’ll never be as good as we were,” she hisses at me.
I let a tiny smile form. “Maybe not. But we’ll be happier.”
Maya turns on her heel and storms out. Half the reporters in the room follow her outside, no doubt to question her about the exchange. There’s something in my chest that’s released. It’s over, for now. The video of our exchange will be online, and it will take the sting out of her accusations. It’s enough.
Suddenly antsy, I can barely sit still for the rest of the time that the gallery is open. As soon as the doors close and the rest of the audience leaves, I spring off the throne and run to the back room and launch myself at Andrew. “Thank you,” he says into my hair. “This was perfect. You were perfect. You have no idea how hot that was.”
“I may have an idea,” I say, pulling him further into the depths of the studio. I see a rack of clothes and pull him behind it. My whole body is charged with energy, and I have his belt undone before he grabs me by the wrists. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” I raise an eyebrow. “We won, and I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. Right now.”
“Delia—”
“Andrew,” I say, reaching for him, “are you saying you don’t want to see me kneeling in front of you, naked, covered in diamonds, and sucking your cock?”
He groans, and lets me go. I grab his cock and pull it out, stroking it to full hardness—he’s already halfway there. I haven’t done this yet, and I’ve wanted to, so I take my time. I start with just my lips, kissing the tip and moving them up and down the length of him. I love the feel of him, smooth and hard, and I listen so the way his breath deepens when I kiss along his skin.
Now I use just my tongue to explore him, licking just under the base of his head, and downward. I cover him in long, broad, strokes that have his hands moving to my hair. I’d smile if my mouth weren’t otherwise occupied.
When I finally take him into my mouth, the sound Andrew makes sends a burst of heat straight through me. His fingers tighten in my hair and he pulls me closer. I love the way he fills up my mouth, the rich taste of him—I don’t need him to pull me closer for me to take him deeper.
“God, Delia,” his voice is hoarse, and I think that I should do this more often if it makes him sound like that. I suck back along his length, circling his head with my tongue before plunging down again. And again. I set up a steady rhythm, and I feel the way he’s growing tense, hear the way his breath intakes as I take him all the way down.
He’s speaking through gritted teeth now. “I’m not going to last.”
I blink up at him, and we lock eyes. His jaw is clenched and his gaze has that same fire it had on that first day. Slowly, I take his cock all the way while he watches me, and I watch him. That energy that began crawling through me during the show has turned into flaming arousal, and I’m so wet that I can feel the diamonds loosening on my thighs.
I speed up again, and Andrew goes utterly still. His hands are gripping my hair, and his breath goes shallow. I know he’s close, and I use it to my advantage. I tease him, sucking and licking, breaking up the rhythm so he doesn’t know what to expect, so he’s on the edge.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
His hips are moving, thrusting into my mouth, and I meet him stroke for stroke. With one last push I take him deep, swallowing him so my nose is against his skin, and Andrew comes, crying out my name. His cock jerks in my mouth and I swallow every drop of what he gives me, savoring the salty taste along with something that’s deeper—just him.
When he’s finished, he doesn’t move, hands relaxing in my hair as I lick him clean. “Shit,” he says, and I laugh, making sure he sees when I lick my lips. “I didn’t know that you could do that.”
“Maybe I’m just full of surprises.”
I let him kiss me, and wind my arms around his neck. “Now take me home and to bed, and fuck me before I fall into a long, long sleep.”
Andrew makes a noise low in his throat. “It’s funny, I’ve don’t think I’ve ever told you that the couch in my office turns into a bed.”
“Oh really?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”
He chuckles. “I think it’s a necessity, because after that, I can’t wait until we get home to peel those little diamonds off you.”
“Let’s go then.” I pull him towards the stairs.
“I hope you know I’ll be using my mouth to get those off,” he says lightly. “I intend to be very thorough.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
He stops me at the stop of the stairs, pressing me into the wall and kissing me deeply. “I love you, Delia. I knew it when you walked into that room. Everyone may think it was a stunt but you are my queen and I can’t even tell you how much I love you.”
Tears prick my eyes and I kiss him back. “I love you too.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
Andrew’s face is all innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just a normal runway show.”
Of course it’s just a normal runway show, except that Andrew, my new husband, convinced me it might be fun for me to wear a vibrator while I’m walking in the show. Of course he’s the one who has the controller.
He starts laughing at the look on my face. “I love you, wife.”
“I love you too, husband,” I say and give a mock sigh.
Despite the fact that I’m embarrassed, I’ve learned that Andrew has a strange way of knowing exactly what I need to fill in that exhibitionist streak I have, and this is only his latest solution. We’ve only been married a month, and already he’s found what feels like endless ways to get me off in public. And damn him, I love it every single time.
“This would be better if it weren’t lingerie,” I say to him.
“I disagree.”
Andrew’s new lingerie line has been a huge hit, and this show is the debut of the new season. There’s a lot riding on this show, and I don’t want to mess it up because I’m on the verge of coming while on the catwalk. He pulls me against him, hands cupping my ass and squeezing. “I think it’s perfect for lingerie. If you come, people will just think it’s a test run for the clothes.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Insatiable, maybe,” he says, taking my mouth in a kiss. “Now get out there and look sexy.” He gives me a wink and I close my eyes. The show has already started and the backstage area is crazy. My turn on the runway is coming up fast. My heart is pounding out of my chest, the way it always does when I walk a show. Even after a year of it, I’m not used to it.
The stagehand gives me the signal and I come out of the curtain with strong steps. The music we’ve chosen for this show is fast and e
dgy, and you can’t be shy about walking to it. About halfway down the runway, I feel the vibrations start, and I nearly lose my rhythm. I’m going to kill him, I really am. Or fuck him. The second one is more likely.
I’m wearing a gorgeous creation of red silk that leaves little to the imagination, and suddenly in my mind I’m thinking about what it would be like to take it off slowly for Andrew, which is I’m sure what he intended. On this runway with hundreds of eyes on me, that spark rises through me. Swift and fierce arousal that makes me so much more aware of everything around me. I pose at the end of the runway and give a little smile for the camera before heading off the stage.
The vibrations turn off as I’m whirled into the next look, and I pass Andrew on the way back to the stage. His arms are crossed and he’s trying to look innocent. I don’t even have time to say anything, I’m back up on the stage and the sensation is back stronger. God, it feels good. I’d never seen this kind of vibrator before, a little contraption that clings to my clit and vibrates.
Any stronger and I’m going to have moisture running down my legs. Not necessarily what I need on the runway. My third look is the most daring, and the last look of the show. Black fabric hanging over my breasts and my pussy held up by nearly invisible threads. It looks like the fabric is just floating around me. Andrew is standing right by the runway this time, ready for his curtain call. The grin on my face tells me that I don’t have a chance.
I nearly stumble as I walk on, taken aback by the intensity of the vibrations. Heat licks up my spine because I’m nearly naked and close to coming in front of a crowd of people. Damn my husband, he knows me too well. Striking the best poses I can manage, I get off the stage and glare at him as he takes his bow, and as soon as he exits I grab his hand and shove him into the utility closet.
