Hook, Wine and Tinker

by Mardi Ballou

  Gwyn gazed up at him in wonder. Could he possibly be thinking of them being together beyond this one night? Or was his talk about a possible future just a ploy to get to her? Like he needed any ploy. In the immortal words of someone she’d seen in a forgettable movie, she was a done deal. He’d done her several times already, and she wasn’t going to object to more of his lovemaking. Far from it.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t anybody’s fool either. Maybe despite all his apparent good qualities, he also got off on raising people’s hopes and then disappearing. Well she wasn’t going to give him the chance to ruin her once-in-a-lifetime night with any asshole moves. She wouldn’t let the word future take root anywhere in her heart. She was in this for the here and now, period.

  It was time to change the subject again. She’d go back to his question. Who did she want him to be? Heck, she’d had her shot at being Cleopatra. She’d just tell him she wanted him to pick who to be next—and how to play out whatever scene he had in mind. She owed him that. A slight shiver trickled down her spine. She couldn’t help thinking he might now go ahead and use the cuffs on her. How would that be? She’d loved using them on him, wasn’t so sure how she’d feel being more bound than she’d been before. Or what if his secret fantasies were really kinky? Maybe she had a potential Mr. Hyde lurking below the surface of the apparent Dr. Jekyll? She shivered in anticipation of the unknown.

  Well, one way or another, she was in for a night to remember. So though she could chicken out, her curiosity overruled any red flags of warning waving on the horizon.

  “Your turn to pick,” she said from her nest in the bed. “Tell me, Dominic,” she purred in her most sultry voice. “Who do you want to be?”

  His eyes glittered in what she could only describe as a wolfish leer. For a moment, she thought he was going to be a wolf and want her to be Little Red Riding Hood. Or would he want her to be Hood’s grandmother? She smiled to herself remembering that the wolf had eaten the grandmother. Oh those sharp teeth and that tongue…

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said, now widening the massage to include her whole torso, from under her breasts to just above her love triangle.

  She shook her head. “It really is your turn, Dominic. More than anything, I want to hear who you want to be.”

  His hands slowed in their movements, lingering more now in each spot. “Having started the evening as Captain Hook, I feel tonight is the time for some of my darker heroes.”

  Gwyn raised an eyebrow. Perhaps they were going to delve into deeper, stranger waters than felt right to her—at least her conventional self. “Which dark hero?” she asked hoarsely.

  “How about Al Capone?” he asked.

  “Al Capone?” Somehow not at all what she’d imagined. “You feel like being a criminal bootlegger who machine guns people down?” she asked moving slightly away from him.

  He shook his head. “That’s not the aspect of Al that interests me when I’m with you,” Dominic said. “Nor am I interested in exploring the glories of tax evasion tonight. Rather, did you know that Al Capone was a major ladies’ man?”

  Now he was rubbing her legs in a massage that simultaneously relaxed and aroused her. “No, I didn’t know that,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, never losing the rhythm of his strokes. “And I believe he would have fallen for any flapper who looked like you. How could he have resisted? Did you ever think about the sex appeal the clothes of the twenties had? Those women looked so amazing with their short dresses and bobbed hair, I don’t know how Al or anyone else had time for speakeasies and crime. What do you say? Will you be a flapper for my Al Capone?”

  Like she was going to resist when he put it that way. Especially happy that nothing he had in mind involved machine guns, Gwyn let Dominic lead her out of the bed and over to the cabinet.

  He opened the door. “Would you like to look in?”

  For some reason she couldn’t express even to herself, she hung back and said she was just as content to have him take out whatever they’d need. After wanting to look in the cabinet all night, she’d just chickened out.

  “You sure?” he asked, grinning.

  “Maybe later,” she said.

  “Whatever you want. I have a gorgeous dress for you,” he said, taking out a padded hanger holding a lace-trimmed sky blue silk chemise that she guessed would fit her perfectly. Gwyn touched the fine silk of the dress and quickly realized this was a beautifully made, expensive garment just like the robe she’d worn as Cleopatra. Dominic also pulled out fine silk hose and beautiful shoes to match the dress. He handed her a pale blue silk garter belt, a long string of cultured pearls, a periwinkle blue cloche hat, sapphire earrings, and gold bangle bracelets. Everything was of the finest, most expensive cut and materials available. “Don’t forget the makeup this time,” he said, handing her a kit. “Glamorous flappers out to seduce Al Capone wouldn’t be seen without full makeup. And how about being a redhead this time?” He handed her a wig of beautifully blended shades of red hair in a bob.

  Gwyn felt like she was playing dress-up in Neiman Marcus or some other department store that was way beyond her budget—and probably would be for the rest of her life. She inhaled the fragrance of the cosmetics and clothes, willing herself to be fully in the moment. She’d have to pin her hair up to fit under the bob, which was much less full than the Cleopatra wig. She got started.

  Dominic didn’t stint on his own outfit either. As conceived by Dominic, Al Capone would have made the most exclusive of the best-dressed men’s lists. He had an elegant white silk shirt, a three-piece black suit of the finest wool, a black derby, and even spats.

  They both took lots of time to put on their costumes. Not needing to deal with cosmetics or fuss much with his hair, Dominic was ready before Gwyn. He watched her as she put on her makeup and gave a final pat to her wig.

  By the time she rolled on her stockings and attached them to the garters, she’d truly begun to feel like a glamorous flapper—as if she’d just stepped off the set of the movie “Chicago”.

  “Gorgeous,” Dominic said. “Gwyn, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  She opened her eyes wide. “You want to do the Charleston?” she asked.

  Dominic turned on his CD player. Gwyn could hear the sultry voice of a blues singer start up. “I had something a bit slower in mind,” he murmured huskily.

  That was definitely more her speed, too. She went into his arms and let him lead her. She closed her eyes, listening to the music, inhaling Dominic’s scent, thrusting her hips against his erection, wedged so tightly on her belly as they swayed with tiny steps to the music enveloping them. The word “forever” slipped into her mind as they moved together to the music.

  “You are incomparably beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. “Do you feel what you do to me?” He pressed himself tighter to her, and her pussy went into spasms of ecstasy.

  “Oh, Mr. Capone,” she purred back to him. “I hear you say that to all the girls.”

  “Great, Gwyn,” he said. “You’re really getting into the role.”

  “Gwyn? Who’s Gwyn, Mr. Capone? Have you forgotten my name already?”

  Dominic laughed and held her tighter. “How could I forget your name? You’re Amelia, right?

  “See? You did know, Mr. Capone. That’s right. That’s me. Amelia…Smith.”

  “My dear Amelia, call me Al. Amelia and Al. That’s us.”

  They danced to the rest of the song in silence, moving slower and slower as the song drew to its climax, their contentment with each other in sharp contrast to the singer’s misery.

  * * * * *

  Dominic couldn’t believe how quickly and easily Gwyn fell in with his twenties fantasy. She looked so great in her flapper outfit—as if the designer had known she was making it for Gwyn. Dominic knew he’d never again be able to play this fantasy so perfectly with any other person. He hoped he wouldn’t ever have to try to find another partner.r />
  But how would Gwyn react to letting him bind her now? Before, he’d been confident she would join him on his pleasure path. Now, remembering the way she’d feared hurting him, he had a moment of doubt. And did she trust him enough for them to proceed? The way she’d held back from him raised doubt. She was too important to risk messing up with.

  But for this beat of time, the music and the woman and the ambience were all he could have asked for. Like his partner, he gave himself up to the moment. But knowing himself as he did, he realized they’d just barely begun all he wanted for them to have together.

  * * * * *

  After all their lovemaking of the night, Gwyn would not have believed she’d become so hot again for him so fast. Thoughts of her being a nymphomaniac and other unflattering titles flitted through her mind. Maybe she really was one of those insatiable creatures who were often the butt of male jokes. But she didn’t let those thoughts linger for long. Why seek a negative name for what felt so right and so altogether fantastic? She was a woman with a man who seemed every bit as interested in mutual satisfaction as she was. No reason on earth to call herself names or try to fit any previously conceived labels to what they were doing. She’d do what she wanted tonight and find the language to talk about it some other time, when she was less pleasurably occupied. Which would probably be most of the rest of her life.

  They continued to dance, drawing closer and closer for each successive song. Rubbing lightly against Dominic’s erection as they moved around the room together in time to the perfect music nearly brought her to yet another orgasm. But now she wasn’t feeling the first desperate hunger. She could savor the delicious feelings without shattering into a full screaming come. If anything, slowing her gathering climax would make it even more explosive.

  She marveled at Dominic, who seemed to be able to stay hard for an incredibly long time. He neither grew soft nor pushed them ahead into another consummation. His restraint now turned her on almost as much as the music and his nearness. She wedged herself even closer, beginning to want to move their dance to a horizontal plane.

  “Dominic,” she murmured so softly in his ear that she almost exhaled his name like a butterfly sigh, “mmm. Was dancing like this Al Capone’s entire fantasy?”

  He moved slightly, thrusting his amazing cock against her so that she could nearly open her legs and straddle it as they danced. His lips brushed hers, starting a new fire. “This is just the beginning of what Al Capone wants to do with his beautiful doll in the flapper dress. Amelia, are you ready for what comes next?”

  She shivered with desire and just a hint of apprehension. After all, Al Capone wasn’t known for his angelic qualities. But she wasn’t going to let some residual nervousness come between them. “Yes,” she said. “I’m so ready.”

  He danced her over to the bed, sat her down, and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I’ve been waiting for you to say exactly that.” His husky voice had her vibrating to the rhythm of his words. She ran her fingers over his full lips. He took her index finger in his mouth and sucked on it. Then he kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth tentatively, as if he hadn’t been there before. She savored his exploration, especially that he was taking time now to relearn the territory of her tongue, her teeth. And with a sigh, she joined him in this other dance, amazed at how new it felt to be kissing him. Before, she’d thought she could spend her life dancing with him. Now she knew she wanted to spend her life kissing him.

  He gently took off her cloche and ran his fingers over her wig. . It was fun being a redhead for this short time, playing with the whole new identity this simple change brought. When he touched her, no matter what color or style her hair was, she felt totally beautiful. She was totally beautiful.

  “Let’s get out of these clothes,” he said softly. Gwyn nearly laughed. Putting on the clothes had been quite a chore only to be undone in a short time. Still, she was delighted to be getting naked with him again because of what would happen between them next. But everything she was wearing was so lovely, she didn’t just want to throw it all off. She wanted to imbue each gesture with profound and special meaning for Dominic—and herself. And she wanted to feast her eyes on the way he took off his clothes.

  “You first,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is it your turn to give orders again?” She might have worried that his question revealed some anger if the playful tone of his voice and his amused smile hadn’t told her he was just having fun.

  Playing along with the actual words he said, she hung her head and said, “I’m sorry, Al. I forgot my place. It’s just that I so want to run my eyes and hands over your magnificent form, if I can get your permission.” Then she grinned at him with such glee that he had to know any humility she was pretending was just part of their game.

  “Hmm,” he said, stroking his chin in mock meditation. With his cock bulging the way it did beneath the well-tailored slacks, Gwyn suspected he’d much prefer to be stroking that—or have her stroking it. Come to think of it, she’d prefer that too. She didn’t know what turned her on more—touching him or watching him touch himself. But she wouldn’t give him either satisfaction—yet.

  “Tell you what,” he said, somewhat breathlessly as his eyes fastened on what she was staring at. “I will undress first if you will permit me to watch you touch yourself under your dress while I remove my clothes.”

  She’d never touched herself in front of anyone else. She shivered with the anticipation of guilty pleasure, wondering if she should let Dominic into this tiny corner of her life. But her inner debate didn’t last long. As she could already feel how moist her panties were with her desire for him, she wanted to say yes. But she also wanted to extend the deliciousness of this moment. To delay the moment of acquiescing, she played with the long string of pearls around her neck, twirling the shiny white orbs, enjoying the feel of them against her skin and in her fingers. And then, as he watched and waited, she put a small section of the pearls into her mouth and ran them across her tongue. She could see the bulge of his erection grow and she laughed. Another moment and his cock would explode the zipper.

  “If you’d like,” she said at last, giving the pearls a last lick, “I’ll touch myself while I watch you take off your clothes, Mr. Capone,” She winked at him.

  “That’s Al,” he said hoarsely, running his hand over his straining cock and moaning. He undid his tie with nothing like the care Gwyn was taking of her garments.

  Starting to really get into it, Gwyn gently kicked off her shoes and put one stockinged foot on the bed, exposing her silk-clad cunt to Dominic’s avid gaze. With eager fingers she molded the cream colored silk of her panties into her tight wet folds, savoring the smooth coolness of the fine fabric as it lightly rubbed her gathering heat. She could practically feel and hear the sizzle—and, when she looked at Dominic, she was sure her pussy wasn’t the only thing sizzling.

  Now she pretended to ignore Al Capone as she became caught up in her little game, but she was hyper aware of him every moment. His eyes drank her in as he continued to strip off his own clothes in an uninspired manner. For a moment, she suspected he forgot his own role in their mutual play. “Al, I want to see you put on a show while I put on mine.”

  “Sorry,” he said, for the moment putting a bit of drama into shrugging his vest off.

  “Apology accepted,” she breathed. Then he appeared to forget himself again as she lifted the string of pearls over her head and then languidly ran it over her cunt, pearl by pearl. She licked her lips, and whispered, “You’re not naked yet.”

  He raised his eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Sorry again. A bargain is a bargain.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she said. The touch of the pearls excited her, as did the feel of the silk. But what nearly brought her over the top was having this gorgeous man watching and showing her how much she turned him on.

  By now Dominic had slipped off the suit jacket and vest, tossing them aside with a carelessness u
nusual for Dominic, but maybe typical of Al Capone. He slipped off his blue silk tie, and Gwyn fantasized how that tie would feel between her legs, massaging her hungry cunt. She’d now replaced the pearls with her own fingers. She slid her fingers up her thigh, gliding them up and down the sodden silk of her panties. Next she slipped two fingers in under the panties, gasping as flesh touched flesh. She brought her fingers, now slick with her moisture, up to her waiting lips and licked the juices off them. This was the way she tasted to him. Dominic groaned, telling her how much he wanted her—her taste, her scent, her feel. She held a finger out to him and beckoned him to her. As he moved, she closed her legs. “Still too many clothes there, Mr. Capone. Better put some hustle into it.”

  Watching her, he slid each shirt button through its meticulous hole, pulled the shirt tails out, and unfastened the heavy gold cuff links. Then he flung the shirt aside and stood magnificently bare-chested, his erection tenting out his pants with a promise she almost couldn’t wait for him to fulfill. His shoes were long gone, which left only his pants. Gwyn wouldn’t have minded taking those off him herself, but helping him undress wasn’t part of their deal. He’d have to get out of his own pants before he could get into hers. Meanwhile, she wasn’t doing half bad in the self-pleasure department. She feasted her eyes on him as she continued to finger her folds, amazed at how much fluid she was pumping out.

  His hands were on his large heavy belt buckle, opening it. She maneuvered her hips around her fingers, thrusting her cunt up at him, her panties now tightly wedged along her pussy slit. The pressure of the panties on her clit nearly made her come, especially as she watched him finally lower his zipper—no easy feat with his erection distorting its teeth—and jump out of his pants.

  Dominic’s full, eager cock popped out of the fly of his black silk boxers. She wanted to grab him and take him into her, now. But with a strength of will she didn’t know she had, she held back, wanting to see if it was possible to raise the level of excitement filling the room even further. In a blink, Dominic tossed off his shorts and stood before her, naked and gorgeous as some deity on Mount Olympus.