Hook, Wine and Tinker

by Mardi Ballou

  Stupid to keep resisting. “Thank you, Mr. Laredo,” she said, starting to shrug it off when he stepped behind her. He caressed her neck lightly as he removed the cape, starting a riot in her bloodstream. She tried not to wobble on her heels.

  “My friends call me Dominic,” he said. “I consider all my guests to be friends.”

  “Dominic,” she repeated shyly.

  “You do Tinkerbell proud,” he whispered.

  “You really are very kind.” Taking the cape off didn’t cool her off a bit. Even in her skimpy costume, she could have sworn she’d landed in the middle of a heat wave. “I hate to put you to any inconvenience.”

  Dominic shrugged. “The party’s in full swing. I’m sure no one would miss me for the few moments it’ll take to escort you to my quarters.”

  “I really don’t want to impose…”

  “You’re not,” he assured her, steering her lightly through the throng to a nearby door. She longed to lean into his hand, which felt strong and hot at the small of her back.

  Once out of the party room, Dominic took her to the deck, where some couples were taking advantage of the moonlight and the relative mildness of the night for more personal pursuits. Not wanting to disturb any of them, Gwyn followed Dominic in silence.

  He led her through another door to a large cabin dominated by a huge bed. He indicated she should sit in an armchair and put her feet up on a footrest while he hung her cape carefully in a closet.

  Gwyn looked around. The cabin was decorated in a style she’d label elegant masculinity, with many built-in cabinets of a dark wood like mahogany—and many mirrors. She saw herself reflected back, looking like a doe frozen by oncoming headlights as she perched at the edge of the wine-red leather chair with her bare feet extended on the matching footstool.

  “You feeling any better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Tell me which cab company you called, and I’ll cancel for you.”

  “That’s all right,” she said. “I can do it.” She took out her cell and contacted the company. When that was taken care of she asked, “Is this where you live?” As soon as her words were out, she bit her lips. She couldn’t believe how inane she must sound.

  “Sometimes.” Dominic sat on the edge of the bed near her and reached for her hands. “I love spending time on the Bound for Pleasure. Must have had some seafaring ancestors. Alas, it’s not practical for full time residence. So I have homes in New York, London, and Honolulu and, of course, here in San Diego. That’s in addition to having small residences at all seven of the resort sites.”

  She raised her eyebrows at this. She’d known he was rich, but having all those homes made the information concrete. “As a travel agent, I send many clients to Fantasia Resorts.”

  “I knew I had a good reason for being grateful to you,” he grinned. “Perhaps some day you’ll take a holiday at one of our resorts yourself.”

  “I dream of doing that—some day,” she admitted. She didn’t mention that she’d have to hit a lottery jackpot before that could happen.

  “Let me know, any time. I’d see to your accommodations personally. In fact, we can talk about your holiday ideas tonight or the next time we’re together.”

  That’s how he’d gotten so rich, Gwyn thought. He was very good at what he did, so easily reading her mind as to what she wished for. And too sexy. She drew back. He was talking about some other time. As if the two of them would ever see each other again after tonight. A sense of unease began to battle with her growing desire for him.

  She put her feet on the floor and started to stand up out of the armchair. “Maybe I should be getting back to the party. Pete is probably looking for me.” He probably wasn’t. She’d have to figure out another way to get home, especially after she’d cancelled her taxi.

  “Of course,” he said, rising, “if you’re feeling better.” He gazed at her and suddenly appeared to get a new idea. “Maybe you’d like to see my real hook before you go. The one I’m not wearing tonight. May I show it to you?”

  She raised an eyebrow in surprise. She’d thought he’d been joking about the plastic hook taking the place of a real one. She shivered deliciously at the prospect of a real hook.

  “You actually have one?” she asked, giving a little nervous laugh.

  “I take role play very seriously, just like all my other play,” he said. “You need to be sure you have all the props and whatever else you require for it to work.”

  “I guess I’d never thought about play that way,” she said.

  He studied her for a moment. “I think you have,” he said softly. “Or maybe that’s just my imagination working overtime. Come, my Tinkerbell. Let me show you my captain’s hook.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But then I really need to leave.”

  “As you wish.”

  Trembling, she let him take her hand and lead her over to one of his cabinets. He turned a small white porcelain knob and opened a door. Gwyn gasped. Inside was a sheet of dark wood with many hangers displaying a diverse collection of gleaming metal. Gwyn saw various hooks and also what looked like handcuffs and other implements she couldn’t name. Her heartbeat accelerated and she swallowed hard. As she surveyed the highly polished contents, Gwyn couldn’t help wondering what all those things were—and if they had any use aside from show.

  From one hanger Dominic took…a hook. The metal arc was attached to a piece of wood. Gwyn touched it gingerly with a kind of horrified fascination. “Is this a real one?”

  He smiled. “Do you mean is this what Captain Hook might have used in place of his missing hand?”

  She nodded, running her fingers over the cold surface of the metal and the polished wood.

  “Be careful, Gwyn. It’s very sharp at the point—and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She pulled her hand back.

  “You can touch it again,” he said. “Just be careful. And yes, this is the kind of device people used to use.”

  “Why do you have it?” she asked, her mouth dry.

  He chuckled dryly. “Curious, are you?”

  She nodded.

  “I found it at one of my favorite antique shops in London. Felt I needed an authentic Captain Hook hook to add to my collection of goodies. So far, I’ve never used it in any play. Can’t quite figure out how to hide my own hand and carry the hook without injuring people around me.”

  “Oh,” she said. “But why would you especially want a Captain Hook hook? Almost everybody roots for Peter Pan.”

  He nodded. “But Gwyn, I’ve never been one to root for everyone else’s favorite. Not without a good reason.”

  “You go your own way, then?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “I’m always fascinated by the dark side of the story. Sometimes that’s where the true heroes reside. Or at least the really fascinating characters. I think that may be the case for the Peter Pan story, don’t you?”

  Gwyn had never thought that way. Captain Hook as the hero—or at any rate, the most interesting character—of the story? A little scary, but definitely…tantalizing. But she didn’t want to let him know the direction of her thoughts, so she tried to pull back to some more neutral conversation. “Your collection is quite impressive,” she said, indicating the other implements displayed.

  “Thank you.” He put the hook back in its place and looked at her as if to ask if that was all she was going to say. After several beats of silence, he asked, “Anything else you’d like to look at?”

  Despite her better judgment, she pointed mutely to a pair of handcuffs.

  He took them down and held them out to her.

  “Why did you pick these?” he asked, as she reached out to touch them. The cool metal bit into her fingers with electric heat. Despite her shock, she maintained the contact—almost powerless to remove her fingers.

  Gwyn couldn’t tell him, this man she’d just met and who was her boyfriend’s boss, that she’d always had fantasies about handcuffs—though she suspecte
d he knew. In addition to wanting to jump his bones, she was starting to feel she could say anything to him, tell him her deepest, darkest desires, and nothing she could say would surprise or shock him… Maybe making people feel like that was at the heart of what he did for his business. She could very easily imagine describing her fantasies to him—not to mention living them out.

  Reality check time, she reminded herself. Being here with this man was so not her. But she’d probably never again in her life be alone with a man like Dominic Laredo. Heck, they were ships passing on a moonlit Halloween night. So maybe she’d confide a little of her fantasy to him. He’d probably heard it all, lived it all.

  “They’re antique, aren’t they?” she asked as she continued to caress the cuffs with her fingers. They really were quite beautiful, more ornate than the utilitarian ones she’d seen in movies and on TV.

  “They are pretty old,” he said. “But you didn’t answer my question.” He dared her to tell him her thoughts.

  She sighed. She’d go for it, at least a little. Why not? “Sometimes I’ve thought about how it would be to be handcuffed with my lover…” she said, feeling her face flame red.

  Dominic Laredo was now so close they were practically touching. She could feel the heat from his body reaching out and searing her. “Would you like to try that out now?” he whispered, and her body resonated like a bell in a windstorm.

  She was going to protest that her lover wasn’t there, but her mouth couldn’t form the words. At this moment, the only possible lover on the horizon was Dominic Laredo. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely rising above a whisper. However, mustering some reserve of inner “Aunt Nora” strength from deep in her gut, she put the cuffs down and picked up her cape. “But I won’t.” She took a deep breath. “I really need to leave. Now.”

  She saw a flicker of surprise—or was it disappointment?—cross his face. But he didn’t object or try to change her mind. Instead, he picked up the handcuffs and held them out to her. “Allow me to give you these as a gift.”

  Right. Like she could accept a gift from him, one that would keep her thinking of him for the rest of her life. Not to mention they were probably expensive—and a lady didn’t accept expensive gifts from men she didn’t know. “Thank you. But I couldn’t.” She clutched the cape so as to have something to do with her hands. “You’ve already shown me too much kindness, and I’m taking you away from your party.” She slipped the cape on over her shoulders.

  He moved away from her. “I suppose I should put in an appearance there. But Gwyn, why don’t you stay here a bit longer, rest up. If you want, you can play with the handcuffs while I go fill my hostly duties.”

  She hesitated—and felt her resolve begin to melt away. “I really shouldn’t” she said, her voice without conviction even to her ears.

  “That’s a word I’ve banished from my vocabulary,” he said.

  “What is?” she asked, curious.

  “Should,” he said, making a face. “And its evil counterpart shouldn’t. By simply getting rid of those two words, I improved my life several hundred percent.”

  She laughed. “You’re making that up.”

  “No,” he said, looking very serious. “But if I still did allow myself to use that word, I’d say ‘Gwyn, you should stay. I want you to, and I think you want to also.’”

  He spoke, and her clit vibrated. He couldn’t know that, could he? Dominic Laredo and his amazing handcuffs. How could she turn her back on this? But no way was she going to let him know what he was doing to her. So she willed herself to look cool. “All right,” she said. “Just to try out those handcuffs for a bit because I’m curious about them.”

  He nodded. “And Gwyn, whenever you want to go home, if Payne is unavailable I’ll have my driver take you.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, feeling herself begin to relax as he left.

  The handcuffs were amazing. She slipped her hands in, first the left, then the right, being sure to keep them open.

  The cool metal around her wrist sparked a fantasy of being with Dominic Laredo, who looked a hell of a lot like the man in her fantasies. Though the warning voice inside her head that still used the word should insisted she leave now, she silenced it and gave in to her desire to linger.

  * * * * *

  Dominic did not want to leave Gwyn, but he forced himself to. He figured that if he left her alone for a bit, she might unwind enough to follow her instincts—straight to him. And he did have an obligation to spend some time at his party with his other guests.

  When he returned to the main room, the party was in full swing, people laughing and talking, the food and drinks flowing. Dominic spotted Payne in conversation with men in Super Hero costumes. He wondered if Payne had even noticed that Gwyn was gone. How could anyone take for granted having a lady like her in his life? Dominic realized he should say something to Payne about Gwyn. He went over to the group, chatted with them all for a bit, then asked Payne to step away from the others for a moment. “Payne,” he said. “Your friend, Miss Verde, is feeling unwell.”

  Payne/Peter Pan scowled. “She have one of her headaches?”

  Dominic shook his head. “She hasn’t told me the exact nature of her distress. She’s resting right now.”

  “Okay,” Payne said. “Whatever. As long as she’s ready for the costume competition later. She looks dynamite, doesn’t she?”

  “I’ll tell her what you said.”

  Dominic almost relished the idea of being Payne’s messenger. It would give him a good pretext to get back to Gwyn quickly.

  Everyone seemed to be having a great time—without him. He took some hors d’oeuvres on a plate for Gwyn. Fortunately he had a fully stocked bar in his cabin.

  * * * * *

  Despite her best intentions, Gwyn had managed to get herself locked in the handcuffs. Great, she thought. Dominic Laredo would think she was a major klutz. Not that it mattered what he thought, she kept reminding herself. It was a fluke that she’d met him at all. Even though he spoke of their being together again, she knew being with him was a once in a lifetime event.

  According to the vibes she was picking up, he found her attractive. She wasn’t sure why he was paying so much attention to her. This guy was used to having any woman he wanted. Despite her self-affirmations, she had to admit she was ordinary—certainly not a movie star or supermodel type like he was used to. The thought of possibly spending time with him, having him as her lover… A fantasy worthy of his resort. Too rich for her blood. She needed to get the cuffs off and get her butt out of here. With or without Pete.

  Her inner psychoanalyst chimed in with accusations. Maybe she’d locked herself in the cuffs for some deep psychological reason. Maybe it was her evil twin taking over, the part of her that wouldn’t let go of the French film. For now, thanks to her stupid mistake, she was dependent on Dominic Laredo. Alone in his cabin. Handcuffed. She should be horrified, but somehow that was an emotion she couldn’t come up with. Excited, yes. Twitchy with need, yes. Horrified, no.

  She missed him, wanted him to return—fast. She could admit that much to herself.

  And then she heard his footsteps in the hallway outside the door. She blushed when he came through the door and saw her, sure he could read her thoughts. It was too embarrassing to admit she’d locked herself in the cuffs—and also too delicious. Dominic Laredo was carrying a plate loaded with food—for her. When she saw him with the food, her traitor stomach grumbled. But more than the food, the moment she saw him again, she knew beyond any hesitation that she wanted him. She wanted to know what it would be like to make love with a man who had antique cuffs in his personal collection. More than that, she wanted to know what it would be like to have him inside her when her hands were inside those cuffs. And she wanted to feel herself all over him when he lay cuffed beneath her. Even if it was only once in her lifetime.

  “Please help yourself to something to eat,” he said, putting the plate down on the small table next to her. He
sounded so normal, being polite to her when her fantasies had him wild and primitive. Was it possible that the attraction was all one-sided and she was only imagining he wanted more than to be a polite host? If she was the only one getting overheated here, it would be even more embarrassing than getting stuck in the cuffs.

  Well, no help for it. She had to show him her cuffed hands. Rolling her eyes, she held up her bound wrists and waited for him to laugh. He didn’t.

  Instead, he touched her gently. “I should have warned you about those cuffs. They lock so easily, people get caught all the time.”

  She raised her eyebrows. He used these cuffs all the time? Man, was she in over her head with this guy.

  “I’ll get the key,” he said. He went over to a small drawer in his night table and took out a key. His left hand braced her elbow as he started to unlock the cuff with his right.

  Gwyn could scarcely breathe, both from his touch on her arm and from her growing desire. Blushing harder, she whispered, “No. Not yet.”

  He looked at her like a starving man at a banquet, then removed the key and put it down.

  “As long as I’m in the cuffs already…” Her eyes pleaded with him for what she couldn’t find the words to ask for.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “Please take me in your arms,” she said, amazing herself at how hard it was for her to say the simple words of what she wanted from him. Her thoughts flickered to Pete, and she wondered if she was as unable to communicate what she really wanted with him as with Dominic Laredo.

  “You want me to hold you?” he asked, the plate of food now long put aside and forgotten.

  Still holding her cuffed hands up in front of her, she nodded mutely.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said hoarsely. “As long as you’re sure…”

  “I am.” Her words sounded quavery to her.

  He took her in his arms, and the world disappeared. “Is this what you want?” he asked, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close as she held her imprisoned hands up above her.

  “Yes,” she said, nearly cross eyed with the wonder of having him hold her so close.