Beck And Call

by Abby Gordon

  "And how close are you to your family?” he retorted, not liking how close her barbs hit their target. “I don't remember seeing any flowers from them."

  "I went home a couple weeks ago and my parents had a party for me then,” she told him in a quiet dignified way.

  "Your parents are still married to each other?"

  "Yes,” she nodded.

  "Still in love?” he pressed.

  She hesitated.

  "The ‘in’ part varies from time to time,” she admitted. “But the love and commitment have always been there. They still live in the house they bought two years after they got married and where they raised five children. They've had arguments that became yelling matches, but they took their differences and made them work for them."

  "What differences?"

  "Mother's more impulsive and reactive than Father. He plans everything out and refuses to change his mind once he's decided on something. Mother is more willing to listen and change her opinion on some things.” Serena bit her bottom lip. “Some things are harder to talk to Mother about than Father. Mother can be decidedly old-fashioned."

  "About what?"

  "Roles for men and women, for one,” she sighed, letting her head rest on the leather. “Women can work, she accepts that, but she doesn't see it as the best way. Mother sees marriage and family as the best role for women. It's difficult for her to understand that I am not there yet in my life. My parents have a strict sense of right and wrong. If the line is crossed, you cannot reason through it. Father calls it an excuse of the weak."

  "Sounds like hard people to live with."

  "They lived a hard life. It's only been the past fifteen years or so that things have gotten easier for them financially. Not that they see it that way. My paternal grandfather was a harsh, hard man because of the Depression, and I think it scarred my father to an extent."

  "The grandfather that died?"

  She nodded.

  "He had only three sons and eleven grandsons by the time I was born. He called me his special angel,” she smiled softly. “I could talk him into things that no one else could."

  "Did your father resent that?"

  "Maybe,” she shrugged. “When Grandpa got sick three years ago, I talked him into seeing a doctor when he came to visit me. He never left. My father and his brothers came down to see him but couldn't accept the diagnosis of dementia and then cancer. It was too hard to see their father ill and weak."

  Keith could read between the lines. She'd been on her own to deal with it.

  "And when he died?"

  "I took him home to bury him next to my grandmother,” she said simply.

  But Keith had a feeling it wasn't that simple. There was too much tension in her voice and in her face when he glanced at her. Taking care of her grandfather had driven a wedge between her and her family.

  "What do your parents think about you living in New York City?"

  The pinched expression appeared before his poised assistant lifted her chin.

  "They worry about me in the big city, of course,” she replied. “I think all parents worry about their children regardless of their age."

  "Some do."

  "What about your parents?” she asked, trying to remember if she'd interacted with the senior MacLauren beyond a five-second phone conversation. She'd met Keith's mother once, but no one else in his family beyond Penny. “Are you close to either of them?"

  "My mother,” he said shortly.

  "Mm,” she murmured. “From what I've read, your father doesn't strike me as the type who tucked you in with a bedtime story or played catch with you."

  Keith gave her droll look.

  "My father probably thinks Mother Goose is a type of vodka and he certainly has never played catch with anyone. Except to ‘catch’ a bargain of a failing company.” He made a right turn. “Your father read you stories?"

  "Yes, he did. He didn't go for fairy tales or Mother Goose,” she smiled at the idea. “He read us nature stories or biographies or something like that."

  "At least that's something."

  "Yes,” she nodded, voice quiet. “I've realized that however much I might wish my father had been more demonstrative growing up, he did what he could. I have never doubted that he loved me.” She paid attention to where they were going. “It's the next block."

  He pulled up and peered at the entrance.

  "How secure is it?"

  "You have to have a key or be buzzed in,” she told him. “The super has an apartment near the front door. I have to remember to tell him we're ordering pizza so he'll let him in"

  "Cameras?"

  She glanced at him in surprise.

  "I... I'm not sure. I don't think so. Maybe outside the doors, but not inside."

  He nodded, keeping his expression blank. That security lapse would help him considerably when he went to her. Claire and Debbie being down the hall would also make him more cautious. Running into one of them would ruin his plans.

  "I'll wait here until you're inside,” he told her.

  Nodding, and thrown off balance as his personality shifted again, she put her hand on the latch.

  "Thank you for the ride,” she smiled. “It was my first ride in a Mercedes."

  "You're welcome,” he nodded.

  Ignoring the horn of the car behind him, he didn't budge until the building's door closed behind her. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he smiled. The delivery truck was coming around the corner. Perfect. Going around the block, he headed back downtown and in minutes was parking his car and going into his private elevator next to the one he and Serena had used. Punching in the access code, he stepped in and stripped his gloves off as the car rose.

  Serena hung her coat up and glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes until Claire and Debbie came over. Did she dare try to squeeze in a work-out? The day had been a rollercoaster and her muscles were practically screaming for a session of stretches and poses to clear her mind.

  The knock on her door startled her. Peering through the peephole, she saw the super.

  "Hi, Davey,” she smiled, opening the door.

  "Package just came for you,” he told her, handing her the box. “No return address, though. You want me to give it back?"

  Eyes on the label, Serena shook her head.

  "No, thanks, Davey,” she whispered. “Oh, Claire, Debbie, and I will be ordering pizzas tonight."

  "I'll let the guy in,” he nodded, appreciating the heads-up. “Have a good night."

  "You too,” she replied, totally distracted by whatever might be in the box.

  Closing the door she went to her bedroom and opened it. And stared.

  A cell phone, a vibrator, and what on earth were these clips for? She'd heard of such things and what they looked like, but she'd never actually seen them. Sitting on the bed, she took out a slender box and unwrapped the vibrator. Rich purple, with ridges along the sides, it was nearly as long as her hand from wrist to the tip of her middle finger and twice as thick as her thumb. About four inches from the tapered end was a protuberance. From one of the stories, she knew that was meant to tease her clit while the rest was in her pussy. At the blunt end, a three foot cord attached to a remote. Lightly bouncing the clips on a chain in her palm she chewed her bottom lip. Was she ready for what she thought these were for? She felt her nipples pucker. Well, part of her was! She pulled out the small black cell phone. It seemed a rather basic device. It was a phone, nothing else. Under the phone had been a piece of paper. Taking it out, she saw a small bottle. A sexual lubricant. Oh, God, she stared, mind spinning. What on earth was she doing? Nipple clamps, a vibrator and... hands shaking, she opened the note.

  Submissive,

  This phone can only make two calls—to 9-1-1 and to a phone I have. Tonight is the first of many lessons. Call me so we can begin. Hit ‘spd’ 1.

  Your Dominant

  Serena swallowed. This was it. She had to call him and, despite whatever plans he might have made, tell him she wasn't av
ailable tonight.

  Taking a deep breath, but not wanting to delay the situation, she quickly hit speed dial. She heard two rings and then a gravelly voice.

  "Good evening, Serena."

  "Good evening,” she whispered. Serena realized he was using a device so she would recognize his voice. “I don't know what you had planned, but ..."

  "What is it?” he prompted when she fell silent. “Serena, don't be afraid of me. And don't lie to me."

  "A friend of mine is going through a horrible break-up with her boyfriend,” Serena shivered as she remembered what Debbie had whispered to her over the phone. “He cheated on her."

  "She's sure of this?"

  "She caught him in bed with him."

  "He was hiding his sexuality?"

  "Half of it,” she sighed, crossing her legs as she sat on the mattress. “He'd hoped to seduce her into being part of a threesome. Claire's background is more conservative than mine and that's not something she can handle."

  "Meaning you wouldn't be part of one with me?"

  Serena nearly dropped the phone. That had never occurred to her. There had been a few stories in both books about threesomes, but she hadn't paid much attention to them.

  "Serena?"

  "I don't think I'd be comfortable with that,” she admitted.

  "Because of what you think or because of society?"

  "Because of what I think,” she responded, realizing that society probably would not approve of this relationship.

  "I can respect that,” answered the voice. “So how does your friend's dilemma interrupt tonight?"

  "Claire and Debbie are coming over for a chick-flick marathon in about thirty minutes,” Serena replied, bracing herself for his anger. “We usually have them every three or four weeks and...” she sighed. “I'm sorry, but Claire really needs me."

  "And I don't?"

  She grimaced, but was relieved that there didn't seem to be any rage in his voice. Just disappointment.

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered.

  "Well, taking care of your friends is part of your charm."

  There was a long silence. Serena held her breath and finally had to speak.

  "Are you angry?"

  "Not so much angry as disappointed.” He sighed. “I had quite a night planned."

  She closed her eyes and whimpered slightly.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Perhaps now would be a good time to set some ground rules,” he said slowly.

  "Such as?"

  "First, before you make future commitments, you will contact me. Obviously, tonight wasn't something you could expect. I heard something had happened to Claire. Not the details, of course. Men don't usually concern themselves with the details of a relationship unless it's their own."

  "Wait a second,” Serena interrupted. “You heard? You do work in the building then? Or even the company? I thought so, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to put the books on...” Her voice trailed off. The second book had been inside her locked desk drawer. Maybe five people knew for certain where she kept her extra key. Maybe another five could make educated guesses. “How the hell did you get the book in my desk drawer? Who are you? What do you want from me?"

  "I'll answer only the last question."

  "No, I—"

  "Serena, I have very good reasons for not telling you who I am. I realize it's a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me."

  "I want to,” she forced the words out. “But I haven't had much luck trusting men."

  "Bad relationships?"

  "Yes."

  There was a slight pause.

  "Personal or professional?"

  Serena felt her jaw drop. Was he psychic? Who was he? How on earth could he even guess that? She couldn't think of anything at work that would even hint of an issue with men. None that had become public knowledge, at least.

  "Serena? From your silence, I'm going to guess that it was a bit of both."

  "Why would you say that?"

  "Serena, I can tell you're dying to ask me something. Ask it."

  "Do I know you? Do I see you every day?"

  "Yes, you know me."

  Serena pulled her legs up and wrapped her free arm around them. This man was someone she knew. Someone she worked with. There was no telling what he knew about her. Or, she realized, what she knew about him, if she knew who he was. Shaking, she rested her head on her knees.

  "Are you involved with someone? Are you in a relation—"

  "No,” he answered abruptly. “I owe nothing to any woman. Or man,” he added, considering what she had said about Claire. “I understand your fears, Serena. Let's go through a few basic questions so I get a better idea of where things stand. I don't want to assume something about you and frighten you or unintentionally hurt you. I need to know just what sexual experiences you've had. All right?"

  "Yes,” she whispered, feeling slightly reassured. “First question?"

  "Have you ever been blindfolded or bound during sex?"

  "No, nor spanked or—"

  "Let me ask the questions."

  "Sorry,” she winced, although he sounded more amused than irritated.

  "But I'll make a note of that,” he murmured. “So you've really only been involved in vanilla sex."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Mostly you on the bottom, him on top. Every now and then, you would be on top. That about describe it?"

  "Except for me being on top. I've only had sex with two men. Once in high school and neither of us knew what we were doing. And,” she exhaled noisily, “the last one told me I wasn't very good at sex. He said I didn't seem to enjoy it or know what to do or anything."

  "Did he know he was practically your first lover?"

  "Yes."

  "In other words, he threw away an opportunity to be your teacher and set the bar for anyone else,” he observed. “So, if you have no objections, I will teach you."

  "I've no objections,” she replied. “But I've no idea what I'm getting into."

  "Have you read any of the second book?"

  "Just a few of the pages you marked."

  "All right, then. At the most obvious level, a Dominant/submissive relationship is sexual with one person in complete charge while the other does what he or she is told. But there's considerably more to it than that. Each relationship is as different as the people. Within a relationship, the partners decide what will and will not happen. I will not humiliate you, privately or publicly. I will spank you as discipline, not as punishment or to hurt you. I will test your control. I will push your sexual boundaries. I want you to tell me when something feels uncomfortable or painful."

  "I will. And when it feels good."

  "Serena, your pleasure is my priority."

  His chuckle warmed her, and she felt a tug deep inside. She swallowed as she felt her lower abdomen curl up. Her pussy clenched. It was the same way she'd felt as she read the stories. No, she realized, when she read how a dominant took control of his/her submissive. It was the need that had stirred when she read how a submissive felt surrendering to the master. That was what she longed for. This man truly wanted to teach her sexual pleasure. She considered his words.

  "Do you want anything beyond sex?"

  "I would certainly like to explore the possibility of a relationship beyond sex. That relationship would be public, so I want to see how things go at this level first."

  "Because you don't want to tell me who you are yet."

  "Precisely.” Pause. “Just a couple more questions. Have you ever performed oral sex on a man? And did you like it?"

  "Yes, and I'm not sure. He liked it, so I guess I did all right."

  "Did he let you pull back or make you swallow?"

  Serena cringed as the harsh words rattled in her brain.

  "He was holding my head tightly and..."

  "Shit,” he swore. “Serena, he was a bully. A man doesn't have the right to force a woman to do anything. I will push you, but always remember that you make t
he final decision."

  "I don't understand,” she frowned. “You're the one in charge so..."

  "As the submissive, you give me control, but you always retain the right to stop things when you can't handle what we're doing."

  Serena tightened her grip on the phone.

  "What if I don't say anything to stop you?"

  "My responsibility is to put your safety first. Above all else, I cannot lose control because I could risk hurting you."

  For a long moment, Serena was quiet, trying to absorb everything.

  "I don't think anyone's ever done that,” she whispered, having no idea how much emotion was in her voice. “I don't think anyone's ever put me first like that. I...I'm not sure how to react."

  "You don't need to do anything. Just let me take care of you."

  She brought the phone to where she could see it, then slowly put it back to her ear. Take care of her. How? For how long?

  "What do you want from me?"

  "For right now? I want to hear you orgasm from the vibrator."

  The low timbre of his voice drew her in.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Do you have the vibrator there?"

  "It's in the box.” Her eyes went to the purple dildo. “I've never used one."

  "Mm, I like the idea of that,” he chuckled. “Are you dressed?"

  "Yes,” she replied. “I just got home."

  "Put the call on speaker,” he instructed. “Press the lower right button."

  "Got it,” she replied, pushing it.

  "Now, take your clothes off and get comfortable on your bed."

  "What?” she gasped.

  "Serena, do what you were told. I'll respect your obligation to your friend tonight, but I insist on being obeyed. We have very little time so stop wasting it."

  "All right,” she nodded, slipping off the bed.

  "Tell me the sizes as you remove your clothes."

  Slowly, she told him as she removed each article of clothes. Climbing up on the bed, she plumped the pillows up behind her and settled down.

  "Um, I'm on the bed,” she told him.