by Dae, Harlem
Once there, at my usual table, I eyed up the talent. There wasn’t much. A couple of blokes were ideal in the facial department, definitely my type of fella, but there wasn’t that spark I got when I thought about what they might look like with no clothes on, what they’d look like with their faces firmly stuck at the apex of my legs.
I sighed then sipped my coffee, wondering what on earth was the matter with me. Perhaps this game with Victor was dragging me down. If that was the case, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I stared into space, working out what to show him next. There were the Swedes—mustn’t forget those—but maybe they’d be better off left for the finale. God, that would give him a last visual to remember his time with me by. I could only hope he learned from what I was teaching him and didn’t file it in the back of his mind. What a waste if he didn’t use it with future women, either as a sub or having a go at domination himself. When he’d got going he’d given off an unstoppable energy. It was muted assertiveness yes, but I was pretty sure it was there.
Bile rose into my throat.
Was I coming down with something? That would be all I’d need, being sick smack bang in the middle of a bet. I breathed deeply, waiting for a slash of nausea to strike, but nothing came. Maybe the milk in the coffee wasn’t as fresh as it could be. I shrugged, once again studying the men. One of them, nice-looking and hair much like Victor’s, greying a bit at the temples but not quite as long at the back as his, was typing steadfastly on his laptop. I wondered what he did for a living that meant he spent his coffee break working. Or perhaps he wasn’t working at all. He might well be firing off saucy emails to a woman who read them while frigging her clit. Would Victor be up for something like that?
I wasn’t about to wait to find out. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. Having stored his email address in my mind, I tapped the icon for my mail app and typed it in, taking a moment to think on what to put. In the subject line I typed CAN YOU WALK PROPERLY TODAY? then proceeded with the main entry.
Dear Mr Doesn’t-Know-It-All-But-Knows-A-Bit-More-Than-Before,
I hope this email finds you in good spirits. How is your arse? Sore? I imagine it is. Mine isn’t, just in case you were wondering. I have a blissful kind of ache going on down there, and every time I move I think of you with your cock inside me. I have to admit, I’m wondering how that cock would feel in my cunt again, but we have plenty of time for me to find out, don’t we?
Now, about tonight. I doubt your back hole is up for any more invasions just yet, so I thought us watching a performance might be the best way to go. There’s an act you haven’t seen yet—The Harlequin; you’ll see why when you get there—and it will show you a thing or two.
8 o’clock sharp at Eden Street. If you don’t turn up this time…well, it’d be pointless if you didn’t. You know damn well I’ll only come and find you and do what I have in mind anyway. And you’ll enjoy it, I promise.
By the way, I’m enjoying a lovely coffee. Isn’t it about time you took a break?
Mistress Z
I smiled as I hit SEND, imagining his mail alarm tinkling, him opening his email browser thinking it was a client or one of his staff, only to find little old me had barged into his inbox. I wanted to barge into his inbox for real, but like I’d said to him, I didn’t think his arse could take another invasion so soon.
I sipped and gazed around while waiting for his response. If he didn’t send one immediately, then that was all right. He might be busy drawing or in a meeting or something. I hoped he wasn’t—hoped he was at his desk, bored and waiting for a decent distraction. Did he ever get bored at work, what with all those important projects to be getting on with?
My phone gave a solitary blip, and I looked down to see a number one in the corner of my mail icon. Excited, and wanting to laugh so loud it made people stare, I opened my mail.
Dear Mistress Z,
You are so naughty, emailing me like this. What did I tell you last night? I’m a busy man—too busy to be having filthy email conversations with you. Too busy to take a bloody break.
Yes, I’ll be at Eden Street at 8, not because you ordered me there but because I want to see The Harlequin. I enjoy a good show—perhaps you’d like me to take you to one of my kind some day? And yes, my arse is sore, thank you very much.
Mr Won’t-Take-Any-More-Orders-For-The-Rest-Of-The-Day
Ha! So he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t have time to respond. And as for not taking any more orders…he’d be taking them tonight.
Dear Mr I’m-Too-Busy-For-My-Mistress-Who-Likes-To-Put-Things-Up-My-Arse,
Thank you so much for your prompt response, despite being a very busy man. I appreciate you finding the time to squeeze me into your hectic schedule. I should be flattered. However, there’s always time for a bit of slap and tickle, and I aim to show you that all work and no play might make Victor a very dull man. And it had made you dull, hadn’t it? Admit it. When was the last time you had fun before you met me? Lighten up a little.
If you have a client sitting opposite your desk—and I can’t imagine you being so rude as to write filth to me if you did; again, not enough balls—or you have someone in your office, or perhaps you’re in someone else’s office and answering mail on your phone, just imagine what they’d think if they knew what we were talking about. Don’t you think it makes for an interesting deviance from your usual boring day? What a secret to have, sending raunchy messages to a woman when no one else knows.
What a secret to have when a woman emails you saying she’d like nothing more than to pay you a visit, yank down your trousers, and stuff your very hard cock into her mouth.
And you are hard, aren’t you?
Mistress Z
I sent the message and smiled. I was skating on thin ice here, risking annoying him or getting him so exasperated that the next response from him might not be so kind. Still, it was passing the time, and I could imagine him now, reading my message with a too-hard cock and no way to relieve it unless he visited the bathroom and took himself in hand. If he was in a meeting, all the better. A stiffy when sitting at a conference table could only make him want to see me tonight all the more.
My alert pinged.
Dear Mistress-Z-Who-Is-So-Infuriating-She-Makes-Me-Want-To-Scream,
I’m alone in my office, trying to work, and no, that doesn’t mean you can send me more of your dirty little messages. I really do need to get along here, and it’s all very well saying I should have secrets and should enjoy all this email sex malarkey—and I am in a way, I just wish you hadn’t chosen today to do it—but I have deadlines.
I don’t want to brush you off, believe me I don’t, but in answer to your question, yes, I’m too damn hard and it’s going to take a while for me to stop thinking about your pert little body and concentrate on work.
Now stop it. I mean it, just stop.
Mr Wants-To-Fuck-Around-With-You-But-Can’t
A grin a mile wide spread across my face. That was all I’d been after, him admitting he wanted me, giving me some assurance that he’d be at Eden Street tonight. Oh, I knew he’d said he’d be there, but after his no-show before, I’d had to make sure. And now I knew he wanted to fuck me, was sitting at his desk trying to deflate his cock, I was on cloud nine.
As I was just about to hug myself in victory, the man who looked a bit like Victor came up to my table. I stared at him, wondering what he could want, and slid my phone back into my bag.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“If you like,” I said, giving him my best I-can-hook-you-in-a-heartbeat smile. It felt wrong on my face, stretching it painfully, and I didn’t understand why. “So,” I said, following my usual patter, “what brings a hunk like you here?”
He grinned, blue eyes flashing, and placed his laptop on the table. “Having the chance to pick up a woman like you.”
Oh, someone else who thought he should be the one to run the show. I refrained from rolling my eyes and gave him another smile instead.
Inwardly I sighed at having to go through this again, when all I wanted was to go home and think about tonight. I didn’t like other men encroaching on my time when I was teaching someone else.
So why were you here the other day then? The day Victor dropped in and caught you looking at other men?
I frowned. All right, so I was a hypocrite. I’d have to be honest with myself—this man wasn’t floating my boat, no matter how similar to Victor he was. No matter how attractive he was.
“I’m not here to be picked up,” I said. “I’m…well, I’m seeing someone.”
I stood and grabbed my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder and heading to the door without looking back. I couldn’t believe I’d said that to him, had turned down the chance at a one-night stand come the end of the month. But it was all I’d been able to think of to get rid of him, to make my exit appear acceptable.
There was no other reason for saying what I had at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Zara had an exasperating habit of turning up at the exact time I’d been thinking about her. She’d done it again with those blasted emails, and now I was sitting here with a stiff cock that could produce some serious orgasms if only I had time to allow it. I glanced at my watch, then at my to-do list. I had a meeting with my cousin in just over an hour, but did I really have to get everything else done today? There had to be a thing or two I could put off until tomorrow. I didn’t intend on going into my toilet and wanking off, much as I imagined she’d want me to. Instead, I decided it wouldn’t do any harm to nip to the coffee shop and see if she was still there. She’d said she was drinking coffee, said about me taking a break. Was that her way of saying where she was and that she wanted me to join her?
Standing and repositioning my cock so the bulge wasn’t so obvious, I leaned over my desk and logged off my computer. After patting my trouser pocket to make sure my wallet was in there, I swung open my office door and all but fled down the corridor.
Mary looked up from her desk, a frown firmly in place, and I knew she was about to enquire what the matter was. Before she could bombard me with umpteen questions, I headed for the door, calling, “Back in a bit!” over my shoulder. I didn’t glance back to see her reaction. I knew it wouldn’t be anything but sour. Mary liked order, much as I had before Zara bloody Watson had entered my life, and I understood she’d want to know the ins and outs of a deviance from the norm before she’d let me go about my business. I had no time to explain, nor did I want to or feel I had to. I was the boss.
I made it out onto the street breathless, my heart doing its little warning pitter-patter. Shit, I’d forgotten my damn pill again at breakfast. I had some in the office, though. I’d grab one when I got back.
I really ought to slow down, but now I’d come this far, the urge to see Zara was doubling by the second—medication or no medication. I raced across the road, making a beeline for the coffee shop door, keeping it in my sights like a sniper with his rifle trained on a mark. I pushed inside, immediately staring at our table.
She wasn’t there.
A man in a suit sat in at her table instead, with his back to the shop. I frowned, wondering how I’d got what she’d said so wrong. God, she was probably at home, drinking her coffee, and her saying about me taking a break was her wanting us to email each other.
I felt utterly deflated, sad in a way I couldn’t explain. I’d been so buoyed up, so ready to see her, and now that she wasn’t here, all I had left to do was return to my office and count down the hours until tonight. I didn’t even know what shift she was on. She’d told me to meet her at eight. Did that mean she wasn’t working tonight, that she was working today instead? Confusion ran through me, making me unsure what to do next. People had started looking at me, and I supposed they would, given that I’d burst in and now stood just in front of the door, doing nothing but staring at the corner table.
I cleared my throat, smiled at them tightly, and moved to the counter. “A decaff, please. And, um, you know the woman who usually sits over there?” I pointed to the corner. “Has she, err, been in today at all?”
“Who, the black-haired bird?” the middle-aged woman serving me asked. “Yes, she’s been in. Had a run-in with that man sitting in her usual spot, from what I could gather.”
My heart rate skittered. A run-in? With that man?
I took my coffee, paid with a shaking hand, then made my way over to the corner table. I didn’t know what I was going to say to him, but I wanted to say something. Give him a piece of my mind for upsetting my woman.
My woman?
I closed my eyes briefly, then, once I’d made it to the man’s side, I plonked my coffee on the table. He looked up, and I stared right into the eyes of my cousin.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whispered harshly. I hadn’t expected it to be Ollie sitting there. And how did he know Zara? Christ, did he visit the club in Eden Street? Had he seen her naked? Performing? My blood ran cold. No, he wasn’t to go anywhere near her.
“Pardon me for having a damn coffee before our meeting,” Ollie said, looking at me as though I had horns growing out of my head.
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just a bit…frazzled.” I sat in Zara’s seat and imagined it still warm from her gorgeous arse.
“Looks like it,” Ollie said. “Jesus, man, you need to take it easy, especially with your h—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I waved his concern away, annoyed that he was right. I did need to take it easy, had been taking it easy until a certain little witch had come into my life.
“You should have been here five minutes ago,” he said, smiling a smile that told me he was about to impart some lurid gossip.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it if it involved Zara. What if she’d tried picking him up? Could I handle that?
“Why’s that then?” I asked, wrapping my hands around my cup then wondering if that was a wise move. If Ollie did have something to say that would send my blood pressure sky-rocketing… I let my cup go and balled my hands into fists in my lap.
“There was this woman here just now, sitting where you are. Shit, she was sexy as fuck. She’d been texting someone, but in between she kept looking up at me.”
She hadn’t been texting, she’d been emailing, but I didn’t bother to say so. “Oh right. And?”
“Well, it didn’t look like she was going to make any move on me, even though she’d been staring, so I came over here. I’m telling you, I got a stiffy just being near her. Something about her, this…I don’t know, this thing about her got me right up for it, know what I mean?”
Yes, I did know what he meant, and I was sick inside that he’d felt like that about her, the same way I did. I knew she was aware of the effect she had on men—she had to know, otherwise she wouldn’t be any good at her job. I remembered how she’d made me feel when I’d picked her up in here, how I couldn’t wait to rip her clothes off and suck her tits. She’d been what I’d thought of as an easy lay back then, but now? Fuck, now she was so much more than that. Inside my damn head all the time, inside me. Nothing easy about her. She was by far the most complex person I’d ever encountered.
“Yep, I think I know what you mean. So what happened?” I asked.
“See, that’s the thing. I could have sworn she was up for it, especially when she asked what a hunk like me was doing in here. I mean, what kind of woman says that if she isn’t the type to spread her legs pretty damn quick?”
I’d felt what Ollie had felt, thought what he’d thought, had Zara say the exact same thing to me. Shame burned a path from my chest up to my face. It was clearly her pick-up line, something she said to get a man’s attention, and I’d fallen for it, thinking she’d found me especially attractive.
“Yeah,” I said on a laugh. “I know the type.”
“I said I was here so I could hit on women like her—something like that anyway—and she suddenly went all cold on me. Got up and said she was seeing someone. Talk about mixed signals. Does my h
ead in when they do that. You know, get you all riled up, cock hard and ready to stick it in, then they back away. Whoever she’s seeing is one hell of a lucky bastard, I’ll tell you that much. I’d bet she gives a blowjob and a half, and that pussy of hers…got to be tight.”
Ollie stared into space, and I knew he was seeing her, imagining his hands all over her. I’d been there, had kissed her mouth and felt her skin, knew how tight her pussy was. Knew what kind of blowjob she gave. I’d licked her lips, inhaled her breath, heard her come. Yes, I was a lucky bastard, but not for much longer.
“What did she look like?” I asked.
“Long black hair, and I mean black, and her eyes were…fuck, they were intense. But what got me was this cute little—”
“Mole between her top lip and her nose.”
Ollie stared at me, mouth hanging open. “You know her?” He laughed. “Of course you would, if you come here often.” He shook his head. “Have you dipped your wick in her yet?”
I nodded.
“Aww, shit. Just my luck.” Ollie smacked the side of his fist down onto the table. “What’s she like?”
“Frightening, thrilling, beautiful…and mine.”
Ollie widened his eyes. “What?”
“Mine,” I said, meaning it with everything in me. She was mine.
“You’re the man she’s seeing?”
“Yep. Why the surprise?” What, didn’t he think I could snag a woman like Zara? Did he think she was out of my league? She was, no doubt about it, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Well, it’s just… She seems like she’d be a bit rude. A bit of a goer. Not your thing. Opposite to how Helen was.”
