My Master sighs. "My Love, if you don't stop doing that, I swear I will bend you forward over this table and fuck you until there's a map of the City tattooed on your cheek."?Whoops!All unintentionally, my left hand on my file, my right hand has been stroking his thigh."In fact…" He slants me a look… "Elizabeth, stand up. Bend forward."I shoot a glance to the outer office. "Francis…""… Isn't due back from her lunch for another thirty minutes. I don't plan on taking nearly that long." Nonetheless, he strides to the door, turns the key in the lock, then draws down the blind on the internal window.He turns back to me, brow cocked, arms folded. "Elizabeth?" Sucking in my smile… "Yes, Master...." … obediently, I turn back to face the conference table. As I'm about to lean over, he swoops in, carefully scooping up a great armload of my layers of plans with their stuck-on notes, then lays them just as carefully down on his own desk.Striding across, he stands over me. "Face down on th
For the umpteenth time, I check my reflection.Gathered under my breasts, the silky fabric floats to ankle level, glinting like black starlight as I move. The haltered top enhances the line of my neck and shoulders and gives me the chance to display my Master's gift to me, an emerald teardrop suspended on its silvery chain.He stands behind me, his hands on my shoulder, kissing into my neck. "My Love, you look stunning. You can leave the mirror behind.""Sorry, Master. I'm just a bit nervous."The hands slide from the shoulders to my waist, then give me a squeeze. "It's only an overblown party. There's nothing to be nervous of.""But this is my first time as your wife. And always before, there was only us, or just a few, like the Thorntons. This is the first time I've come out with you like this. So public. There for everyone to see."Laughter ripples through his voice. "I'd like to think that you don't need to come out to be seen with me."He has a point about my small verbal faux pas
My champagne flute halts mid-air of its own accord. "I'm sorry?"Next to Irene, her husband sucks at his teeth, stares into his wine glass, then helps himself from a bowl of nibbles.My Master shifts beside me, eyes glinting. He's opening his mouth to speak when another voice breaks in, the man from the fourth couple on the table, who I've not yet had chance to speak to."It's an interesting word, isn't it…" he drawls, aiming his words at Irene. His accent is cultured. The words clipped and well enunciated. "… Sophistication. And the way the word is used these days… In its original sense, it meant contaminated, or impure. The word derives from a Latin root and is closely allied with sophistry, meaning, to make a false argument with the intent to convince one's audience."Irene flushes, looking away. The man who spoke head-jerks and eye-rolls her way, then tilts his glass at me. I flush too, but I tilt back.I lean sidelong, murmuring, "Who's that?"My Master speaks from the corner of h
Grace gives my hand a quick double pat. Then, measuring out her words, "Did you know that…" She pauses, as though wondering if she should continue… "Did you know that Irene had… a… thing… for Richard herself, when they were younger?"I do a quick mental stagger. "She did?"She clicks her tongue. "Oh, yes." She clicks again. "Actually, she was pretty free and easy with all the boys, but she tried harder with Richard.""Boys? When was this?""Schooldays. But while your Richard and my Will both attended the local high school, Irene and her upwardly mobile cronies were sent to a ladies' college, learning how to behave."Why didn't he tell me this?"So, what happened?""As Will tells it to me, Irene and her gang of friends hung around the flicks and the burger bars making cows eyes at the boys they fancied. Irene targeted Richard. And 'cause he was a teenage kid runnin' on hormones and hope, he went for it.""Went for it? So… how far did it go?""Not very far. Irene's father spotted them to
How long do I have to be polite to this bitch?"Excuse me, madam." The waiter behind me, with the first course.All aside from giving me the excuse to ignore Irene, it smells divine. Some kind of soup, creamy and fishy, sprinkled with parsley, and thick enough to qualify as a stew. I reach for a spoon, then…Damn…The place in front of me is set out left and right, with battalions of cutlery. And now that I look, four different wine glasses are ranked to my right.Uncertain, I turn to my Master, but he is distracted, talking to Chancellor Wilmore across the table. As I hesitate, Irene watches. Heat pricks at my cheeks.Something nudges at me, Grace's elbow in my ribs. Behind a napkin, out of Irene's line of sight, she wriggles fingers, then picks up the rightmost item, a spoon. Dipping into her soup at twelve o'clock on the dish, she drags the base of the spoon over the rim, clearing the drips. Bringing the spoon up to her lips, she sips from the edge.Watching from the corner of my ey
Winking, I tilt my glass toward my Master.His eyes crease and he makes as though to move toward me, then is interrupted by some guy in a suit tapping him on the arm. He throws me a look of apology, then plasters on an expression of polite interest as he ducks his head to listen.Retreating as best I can into a neighbouring recess, I watch the mill and whirl of people, some obviously making small talk, some in vociferous argument. The band play on the stage. In fact, they're not bad and after a few moments, I find myself humming along, swinging my glass in time with the music.After a minute, it dawns that I'm not the only one in my lurking spot. A young woman stands to one side of me. Early twenties maybe, very blonde, very pretty, she's watching me in a wasn't-watching-really sort of way.I nod her way. "Hi.""Hi. You're, um… You're Beth Haswell, aren't you?""That's right.""I saw you under the spotlight earlier. Belle of the ball. Why are you hiding back here?""Because I was under
Back at our table, we sip at liqueurs, nibble at slivers of mint chocolate. "It's late," says my Master. "Time for us to say goodnight."Will rises. "Goodnight, Richard." He stoops to kiss my cheek. "Good night, Beth. I'll be in touch next week about the next stage of the project."Irene's brow furrows…I rise, returning the cheek kiss. "I'll have something for you later in the week, Will. To first draft level, at least."… and her eyes narrow. She mutters furiously at her husband, who merely shrugs her away. And my Master hasn't missed any of it. His gaze flicks this way and that; me, Irene, her husband; but he appears calm.Grace too, takes me at the shoulder as we exchange kisses. "It was lovely to meet you, Beth. We should all get together for dinner sometime.""I'd like that." But I'm already reaching for my Master's proffered hand. "Good night, everyone."As we cross the floor to the elevator, although his expression is steady, his lips are pinched. The doors swish open, then clo
"Let's see if we can do better than good."Fingers still assault my clit, but the palm shifts. Flat against my belly, it presses hard, but behind me, my Master moves, grinding in, rotating his hips, the exquisite hardness of his penis corkscrewing into my G-spot. Robbed of my voice, I can only gasp and whimper and shudder.The Rush is coming. The shimmer inside. The pressure like no other. Welling up from somewhere deep. Like heat. Like electricity. Like tension. It radiates from my core, swirling out, winding and twisting as my Master winds and twists his body into mine.The heat soars. The electricity sparks and fizzes. The tension hums like ropes vibrating in the wind.My climax mushrooms, then skyrockets, then starbursts.My body tries to break free, tries to buck and spasm, but the grip around me tightens, and the relentless winding pressure inside me only surges. Harder. Faster. More powerful.Pulse upon ecstatic pulse undulates through me, taking my mind and my sight with it.I
He's making me wait?Building the anticipation?Of course he is…Movement…The click of a footstep or two. The swish and rustle of fabric…"Master?""Be quiet, Elizabeth." But his words are slightly muffled. As though he is speaking through something in his mouth.Then…Once more, sensation…Glorious, unbearable sensation.But not now in beads and teardrops. Instead, it brushes over the nipple, flickering over the already stiff nub. The skin of the breast gooses, a prickling that spreads over my belly, rides up my spine into my hair, and lances through to my throbbing core.My flesh shivers and flows. Arousal boils the blood over my breasts and neck. And a frigid kiss trickles over my breast bone then down. One rib. Two. Another… Then another.Ice…It's ice…"I already told you, Elizabeth. Breathe."Gulping, I suck in air, then lie still save for my panting.Fingers brush to my lips, then insert, pushing between my teeth, then widening my jaws. "If you forget to breathe again, I'll wed
Pain…Unreasonably, Pussy thrums and clenches.Pain and pleasure…His blue-grey gaze smoky and intense, my Master caresses me with his eyes, the pupils wide and dark as I fit the earrings. "They suit you very well," he says. Taking me by the shoulders, he steers me around. "See?" He aims a finger toward a mirror. My reflection faces me, naked save for my Master's gifts, glinting green, bronze and amber, matching the dance and play of the lamps over my hair, almost black in the blue-green light.The projected images of the glass gems, jade and turquoise, dance over my skin: my arms, my breasts and belly, the smooth mound of my waxed pubis. With the flicker of the candlelight, the spots shift and shiver, smoothing to rounds over my chest and thighs, stretching to ovals over my waist and breasts.The linen of his shirt skimming my spine and shoulders, my Master regards the reflection with me. An arm looping around, he strokes me, fingertips grazing skin. A touch to the lips and the cheek
Dinner with Will and Grace is a pleasant change of pace."So…" Will props himself, chin on fist, elbow on table, "Irene was responsible for the whole mess?""Pretty much," says my Master. "Of course, it required Pensby's collusion to pull it off, but yes, she was the instigator.""What about the other officer?" asks Grace. "The one who turned up at your office and interviewed you.""So far as we can tell, it was a case of just following orders. Pensby gave him the instruction and he followed the routine he'd previously used at Immigration.""Just following orders?" Grace hisses the words. "There's something badly amiss with the system if people can be treated in that way at the whim of some official. Not even an elected official.""Even the unelected officials are often empowered by the elected officials, this being a case in point. I'm quite sure Jack, and hence, Barclay, only intended to improve the City finances and had no idea of what they'd unwittingly let loose. Nonetheless…""I
"Why did you start with Richard and his wife here?" demands Vandervoort.Pensby leans away from the looming Mayor. "I was in receipt of credible information he should be investigated.""S'that so?" Vandervoort cocks a brow. "And the source of that information?"Pensby's throat bobs. "I'm not at liberty to say." His eyes flick toward Irene but she looks away.And Vandervoort follows the movement. He speaks quietly. "Yes, that's what I thought. When my wife here suddenly became more interested in City finances than courting the press, I should have smelled a rat at the time."Eyes narrowing on his wife, "You had me going, my dear. I genuinely believed you'd come up with an idea that would benefit us all. Instead, I find you simply indulged in petty spite in retaliation for some imagined slight and found a target for your machinations.""Imagined!" snaps Irene. "The way that pair treated me…"Pensby blusters. "I'm not at fault. I did nothing. I was only trying to help. It was a favour for
"I'm not a celebrity," burbles Pensby, panic flashing.Claudia flashes brows. Grins. "You will be by the time City News has published this. I can just see the headline…" She raises hands, sweeping an invisible banner through the air, somehow enunciating a capital letter with each word. Mayor's Wife. Affair With City Hall Official. But that'll be small fry compared with the sub-heading… Criminal Conspiracy Against Prominent Citizens." Her grin goes Cheshire Cat-ward. "It could even go national."He starts to reply, but Irene rants over him. "If you publish my private business, I will sue your paper, and you personally, for every..."Claudia clicks her tongue. Wrinkles her nose. "So sue. Or try. When the truth about this comes out, I don't think you'll have the funds to keep a gerbil, let alone pay lawyers or fund Lover-Boy here. Besides…" She eye-points me. "… whether not I publish depends on my friend here. What do you say, Beth?"Irene stills. Pales. Then hisses, "I demand you delete
The table I booked nestles in one of the booths, secluded and to the rear of the dining area. As we take our seats, the waiter scoops up the Reserved label. A matching Reserved sign sits on the table in the next booth, equally secluded, back to back with our own. Claudia and I sit together, facing away from that booth.The waiter looms. "Something to drink while you wait for your party?""Claudia?""Whatever you're getting.""A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc," I say.The waiter sniffs. "Very good, Madam."I nudge Claudia. "I ordered the right table, did I? This one behind us is where they sat?""Yup. So long as they come to the same table, they'll be right behind us." Glancing across toward the waiters, she fiddles with her phone, then twists, trailing a fine cable between us, then behind, winding it into one of the plants twining into the screen. "Camera and microphone," she says, flashing brows. "My phone as it is would probably catch what they're saying, but this is better.""Waiter's c
I exchange glances with my Master. His voice remains bland. "You have our attention." "I followed him for a couple of days. Trailed him from City Hall to his home. He lives in an apartment just off the city centre. Alone so far as I could see. But I shadowed him in the evenings too." Claudia fishes in her bag, producing her mobile. "I've not printed any of this yet. Don't want to risk anyone stumbling across anything inappropriate."She opens up on a short video clip. Pensby, exiting an apartment block, straightening his tie as he walks. The pudding-basin haircut is slicked back. The cheap suit is ill-fitting and badly chosen.Claudia sniffs. "Doesn't cut much of a figure, does he?" Her eyes sparkle, perhaps with humour. Or maybe with malice.I lean in close. "No. He's not exactly every maiden's dream. Sometimes there's a reason guys are single " I also sniff. "Although, in this case, I'll admit. I'm biased."My Master presses a forefinger to his lips. "So, what do we learn from this,
"Who suggested it to Barclay?" I say. "Where did he get it from?"Pondering, my Master slices off a sliver of cheese, chewing slowly. "So far as I'm aware, direct from Vandervoort, but I didn't think to ask. I will."Claudia shakes her head. "Gotta say, it's been an education. Whatever happened here, it's a scandal. All aside from your involvement in this, my friends, the fact that it could happen to anyone at all is a complete disgrace. Supposedly you're innocent unless proven guilty. Shouldn't they at least follow the same rule as the police and give people chance to have a lawyer with them?""Couldn't agree more." He slides the cheese plate toward her. "Try some of the Roquefort. It's very good."*****All goes quiet and after several days, we have heard no more.It seems that Adrian Barclay has gotten the message to conduct any Revenue investigation he still thinks appropriate through conventional channels. My Master is clearly unconcerned by that prospect, shrugging it off. "They
I wake early, rolling over to find the bed beside me empty. The blankets are flung back on his side and the sheets are still warm.Listening for movement from the bathroom instead, the almost silent pad of footsteps from the hall outside is followed by my Master nudging open the bedroom door with a tray. The scents of toast and coffee call to me, haul me upright against my pillow as though I were on strings.He sets the tray alongside me, then, perching a hip on the bedside, leans in to brush his lips over mine. "How are you this morning, my Love?" His words are soft, but worry lurks there, like a shark in the shallows. "Did you sleep well?"I switch on my best and brightest smile. "I'm fine, Master. And yes, I slept very well…" The unease fades behind his eyes. "… I didn't expect to wake up to breakfast. This is perfect. Thank you." Taking a slice of toast, I slather it with butter, pass it to him, then butter another for myself. "You're up and about very early. Has something happened