Adrienne stared long and direct. “A blow job. Myrna Dunbar gives head now? Geezus.... but you two didn't fuck tonight. The man is all tied up, and you didn't take advantage of the situation? Why the hell not?"
"Just ... head,” Myrna announced, somewhat gleefully, unbelieving she could even divulge this to anyone. At one point in her life she wouldn't have dare. Yet, now reminded herself that this was Adrienne, not a co-worker at the library who would not only have raised both brows but might've fainted dead away in horror. “But I wouldn't let him come,” Myrna went on, as if she had performed an act of merit.
"The man must be going out of his ever loving mind"
Myrna giggled, pulling at that corset that was beginning to bind beneath her breasts. How anyone could wear this thing for any length of time, she had to wonder. “You think? I was going to ... finish him off ... after finishing this tea."
Adrienne down looked at the ceramic mug with a Precious angel depicted on the side. Grinning, knowing Myrna no longer fitted that description. She glanced over at the jar of honey sitting beside it with the dripping stick inside. “You were, were you?"
Myrna studied her friend's face. “I don't like that look coming into your eyes. I've seen it before, and it never meant anything good."
"Well, my sweet Dominatrix, I think you could use a few more lessons in the art of BD."
"What do you mean? What are you planning to do?"
"What were you planning to do?” Adrienne asked picking up the jar of honey, sticking one finger inside, slowly licking off the thick syrup from the tip of her middle finger.
"I don't know actually. That's why I came out here to have this tea, and to think. Do I finish him off, or what? Or do I let him stew for a while."
"See that's what I mean,” Adrienne looked at her—teacher to student. “You still have a somewhat limited repertoire in your mix. And why you need ... guidance. Watch!” Adrienne went over to one of the cupboards pulled out several packages of what appeared to be a dozen or so votive candles. “These always come in handy,” Adrienne mumbled, then grabbed bottled water and filled a bowl with ice cubes. “Flynt Adams came here to have himself fun. So let's not disappoint the poor boy.” When she spotted concern crossing Myrna's face, she added, “Oh, don't worry, we aren't leaving you out—not by a long shot. I think it's time you graduated to bigger and better things and learn what a threesome is all about."
Myrna remembered the possibility of that occurring with Adrienne and Art that night she had watched them making love. Suddenly, she felt learning how to do BD was like learning how to have sex all over again.
"Yeah. I think you are finally ready."
Myrna stared at Adrienne and suddenly felt more connected to her friend than she had in a long time as they were now finding more common ground. “And why not?” Myrna said standing, and following Adrienne, at the same time wondering what exactly was she ready for?
* * * *
The voices stopped. Jonathan struggled to loosen the blindfold by rubbing the back of his head against the pillowcase, but to no avail. She had secured it too tight, and the wideness of the blindfold now prevented him from seeing anything along the edges.
"Hello, Jonathan,” a voice greeted as if it were a typical Monday morning. The kind of voice he'd often used with his subordinates.
Instantly he knew it wasn't Myrna's. This voice embodied a natural forced sultriness—and hating to use the word—sounded far more dangerous.
"Myrna tells me you two have been having some fun while I was away. I feel really bad that I missed the party. But don't worry, the night is still young. I can still play catch up. We can still have more special fun. Isn't that why you came here tonight?"
Shaking his head, only a muffled sound came through the gag. Adrienne walked over to him. “What? I don't understand what you're trying to tell me.” Her tone was sweet and innocent. “Would you like me to remove this gag?” She looked over at Myrna who nodded consent.
Jonathan nodded.
Adrienne bent over his head, reached behind and undid the knot. Slowly she pulled the scarf away.
"Jonathan,” Adrienne's voice remained soft, “we can end this charade now or we continue. There are two of us here. You know what I'm talking about?"
Unsure, “No, what charade are you talking about?” he croaked, his tongue dry making it hard for him to speak.
Adrienne sat on the edge of the bed. She placed one hand gently onto his chest, moving in gentle circles, then over his abdomen doing the same. With her other hand she wrapped her fingers around and stroked his yet unresponsive cock.
"Well, we know all about the way you have tried to pull the wool over Myrna's eyes."
"Hey, I was the one who showed up at that fucking airport.” He paused, realizing her control, and his response to that control as his penis became hard. “Shit ... If anyone's a fraud it's you—"
"He's right,” Myrna couldn't help pipe in.
"Damn right, I'm right,” Jonathan interrupted. “You haven't changed a bit, Adrienne, always trying to get things done your way."
"My way, huh?” She stopped her stroking. “Well then if you want me to let you go, all you have to do is just nod your head. Otherwise, we continue here. Two women, one man all willing to push the limit."
Although still blindfolded Jonathan couldn't see the smile, but he knew by the tone in her voice, she was probably doing just that. Smiling and willing to push that limit. And he also suspected Myrna would obediently follow everything Adrienne dictated. Yet, he also knew that what both were promising, most men could only dream about. One day he would get his revenge on the two. Make both pay for this humiliation. Meantime, he knew if he ended this, he would never know where those dark fantasies could bring him.
"I'm thirsty,” he gasped.
"Yes, I surmised that you are,” Adrienne said, taking the bottle water, screwing off the cap, and carefully tilting it up to his lips.
Jonathan, feeling more like an invalid who's every need had to be met by another, greedily gulped down the water.
CEO of his company, he'd always enjoyed the ability to wield his power, never lean on anyone, and now here he was helpless to perform the simplest of tasks.
Placed in this role of submissive—bottom position—an earlier fantasy suddenly surfaced. And he knew he could not make that fantasy real until he was forced to give up the power.
He pictured Adrienne's wet cunt straddled over his face, her juices flowing, and her mousy roommate giving him head, sucking him dry.
No matter how much power he possessed, he knew that by releasing him he would never get the chance to live any of that fantasy.
He knew his answer. And he shook his head.
* * * *
Myrna watched as Adrienne lit candles and placed them in various locations so they cast a nacreous glow around the darkened room. She watched as her fiery redheaded roommate prepared herself. First, by removing Jonathan's blindfold, feeling it was important for him to see exactly what was going to happen at this point in the game. A game, Myrna reminded. Just a game. Yet she knew this game would have long term affects on her own psyche, because once they exited the room, once the game was played out, they would be changed by it. Especially where she and Jonathan were concerned, finding themselves unable to return to that former self.
She watched as Adrienne took one of the countless lit candles, held it up, and allowed drops to fall on to the underside of her forearm, each time holding it a bit higher.
She could see Jonathan carefully watching, his handsome face contorted with worry and curiosity—wondering what Adrienne would do next.
Myrna had gone as far as her expertise allowed, as far as her courage allowed.
Adrienne, so much more versed, knew just how far to push this particular envelope.
Adrienne placed the candle down. She turned to Jonathan and drew the side zipper down on her red skirt, letting it to fall to the carpet. She untied her halter-top, and let that join the skir
t. Wearing only a thong, she undid her hair, letting it cascade down her back. Suddenly Myrna, even in the black leather, felt incompetent and inconsequential.
Adrienne, as if reading her mind, looked over and smiled, beckoning her to come closer. Adrienne slowly untied the ties to the corset, loosening it enough so that it slid off Myrna's body.
Myrna stood, her breasts exposed, silently allowing her roommate to remove the rest of her clothing.
Jonathan watched as his cock, without any stroking, grew hard and ready.
Both women stood naked, their firm breasts begging to be touched by him, soft tender bellies, generous hips, and buttocks begging to be spanked by him. And that's when he vowed someday the roles reversed he would keep his secret promise to these two women.
Adrienne gave Myrna a lit candle, then taking a candle herself, wordlessly walked over to Jonathan and glanced down at him, smiling her sweet angel smile.
"What the hell are you going to do with that?” he asked, pulling at the cuffs, his cock swollen past the point of comfort, pointed upward at them.
"It is good he is tied down because there might be some considerable thrashing,” Adrienne said to Myrna, teacher to pupil, discounting Jonathan's presence.
"I usually begin dripping at a height of three feet, slowly, working my way downward, and that tells me how much they can stand."
"What the hell ... fuck, you're not going to drip any of that stinking crap on me,” pulling at his bonds.
Adrienne, ignoring the ranting, tipped the candle ever slightly. Myrna felt panic start to rise as she watched in horror.
Jonathan twisted his body, attempting to avoid the dripping hot wax that caught him on the fleshy part of one thigh.
"Shit!” he cried. “God, that's hot.” His body kept straining at his bindings. “Geezus, Adrienne...."
Adrienne looked over at Myrna. “Ask the poor boy if he wants me to stop."
Myrna, suddenly realizing this game required a deeper understanding of the psyche, looked over at Jonathan. Mutely, he looked back. They could stop at any time. Yet, Myrna was now beginning to realize this man actually welcomed what was happening to him, despite the pain. Despite the powerlessness. Because of that pain and that powerlessness, she knew inside he was living his own dark fantasy.
Again, Adrienne stepped closer and holding the candle a bit higher allowed a drop to fall and settled.
Again, Jonathan cursed at the top of his lungs, calling her friend every name in the book.
This continued for another several minutes, then Adrienne took the bowl of melting ice cubes and applied them to Jonathan's skin, to each place that held the dripped wax.
She took several ice cubes into her mouth, waited a few seconds and then climbed onto the bed, straddling the lower part of him, and bending over, took his cock into her mouth. Myrna's eyes widened into saucers at the low moan coming from him.
"Please don't stop,” Jonathan begged, his eyes closed, his body seemingly convulsing from his need.
Adrienne orchestrated the scene. Myrna suddenly again felt like the third party, as she did that night watching Adrienne suck Art's cock.
Suddenly, she went over to Adrienne. “Stop!” she cried.
"What?” Jonathan asked. “Don't tell her to stop. Keep going ... keep going."
"Stop, Adrienne!” Myrna held up her two hands, balled into fists, and then stretched her fingers outward as she pushed at Adrienne. “He's mine, Adrienne. You need to let me finished what I started."
Adrienne, cock still in mouth looked over, then slowly drew away. “You're right Myrna.” She dismounted and stood to one side. “He's all yours.” She smiled a wistful smile, seemingly sad to have to relinquish him.
Myrna assumed Adrienne's position and looked directly at Jonathan.
Taking his cock into her hands, she stroked it until again it was fully erect, and drew it into her mouth. Suddenly knowing how hot she was getting, needing her own ultimate released, she rose and guided him into her wet, wanting pussy, at the same time she looked over at Adrienne who was already masturbating.
Their groans blended into a frenzy of ecstasy, displayed further by the glow of lit the candles.
The crescendo of passion fully played itself out as simultaneously all three climaxed.
* * * *
Moments later as Myrna undid the cuffs; Jonathan realized his sweet torture had led to this one ultimate final act.
They had played out the charade to the fullest.
He suddenly knew that if he had to do it all over again, he'd change nothing.
And he knew nothing in his life would ever match this moment ... so fresh in his mind, there it would remain where he hoped years later he would still be able to grab on to and relive the moments step by step.
Life held a new dimension.
Life promised more.
It didn't matter how short life was, as many would say, still he felt a richness that he hadn't felt before the night.
He looked over at Myrna.
Sadness filled him. He cared about her, yet, wondered could they ever establish anything more between them after what had happened tonight.
Things would never be the same for them. Still, suddenly also, he could not conceive of living the rest of his life without her there.
No one said anything, keeping all emotions in check.
He dressed.
They dressed.
Wordlessly he left the apartment, but not before turning to Myrna. “I'll call you."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A week later at the crack of dawn Myrna woke to clear blue skies. She and Adrienne hadn't talked much, resuming their lives as usual, with her roommate working nights and Myrna back at her safe, somewhat dull life.
Neither talked about Jonathan, figuring they needed to give each other space to come to terms with what happened that night. Myrna sensed a difference in Adrienne, although she couldn't specifically say exactly what it was. That night had changed the both of them in ways that would probably not surface right away, leaving them less impulsive, less willing to venture into unknown territory.
A gentle breeze fluttered through an open window, along with the discordant blare of the doorbell. Donning her robe on the way, she ran to answer it without fully realizing she was awake. Opening the door, she blinked through her glasses at the tall man standing on the front porch wearing khakis, a knit shirt, a windbreaker, tennis shoes, and glasses.
"C'mon. I've got a real surprise planned for you today."
"Huh? What surprise? I thought ... I was never going to see you again."
"I said I'd call,” he reminded her. “Now don't go making some smart ass remark. Just humor me, Red."
"I'm not sure I can handle any more of your surprises."
"C'mon. Hurry and get dressed. Doesn't matter what you wear as long as it's not a dress. I've got the rest of what we need waiting for us."
"I'm not going anywhere until we've talked."
"Later."
"We need to—"
"Myrna, I think you owe me on this one! So just get dressed, or I'll haul you out of here just as you are."
Completely bewildered by his gruff voice and crooked smile, Myrna washed, then dressed in slacks and a cotton shirt and made it back to the door and him in record time. Who cared where they talked? Surely after past experience Jonathan seemed surprisingly nice and tamed. Maybe this meant that she had another chance. She hoped.
An hour later they turned off the highway on to a country back road. The morning sun had begun to brighten, and the pale sky was sprinkled with fluffy marshmallow clouds. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and the ground was covered with light dew. Jonathan hadn't said anything to her beyond an order to buckle up. He'd been whistling under his breath ever since. There was a relaxed air about him, that paired with the glasses, gave him a boyish look. Oddly enough she felt almost content and remained quiet, observing and enjoying her surroundings, and Jonathan's presence. She knew that she was fully taking
back her identity. Whatever happened, she'd handle it. In the meantime, she was determined to find pleasure in what little time they had left. The whistling stopped abruptly, replaced by Jonathan's voice.
"We make quite a team don't we, Myrna. Even when things don't turn out exactly as we planned. It's nice being around someone who can accept you for what you are. The way you have accepted me and my shortcomings."
This was a strange thing for this man to say, but she reminded herself not so strange really coming from Jonathan Wetherall III and not Flynt Adams. Myrna was about to pursue the subject when curiosity drew her into another direction. Jonathan had pulled up near an open field known to most of the locals as the Farmington Flats. Several people were milling about as if they were waiting for someone. She followed Jonathan toward the group. One man waved and shouted at them. “C'mon! We're almost ready to put her together."
"Great, because we're ready to go,” Jonathan yelled back.
"We? Go Where?” Myrna asked, feeling a sense of apprehension.
He ignored her. She didn't really need an answer anyway. She stood still in the center of the Flats, staring in wide-eyed horror at the mound of multi-colored fabric littering the ground like a deflated rainbow. She didn't need to see the grim purpose in his eyes to know that Jonathan was actually going to go up in that thing. Her mouth went dry and her hands became clammy. Then realized he was going to take her up there with him.
"That's one of those ... those balloons."
"You got it, Red!"
"Okay Albuquerque, game's over."
"The game was over a long time ago."
Again she didn't ask. She'd know soon enough if he had anything to say about it. Adrienne, Myrna knew, would act differently to all this, with much more enthusiasm. But hot air balloons had always been part of Myrna's daydreams rather than her reality. They were to be admired and gawked at. Oohed and aahed over from solid ground. People like Myrna did not try them on for size.
"Are you? We? Really going up in that thing?"
"Sure. Don't you want to see what it's like up there?"
She looked up there to where he was pointing just in time to spot a flock of geese. She, once up there, would be like one of those itsby bitsy teensy weensy dots in an infinite sky. Jonathan straightened, hands on hips and legs braced wide apart, watched her with a total lack of expression.
A Case of Mistaken Identity Page 11
