Double-Crossed (22 page)

Peter turned his back on the man.

“I'm coming over, baby. Get yourself ready. Tonight I want you all to myself, and I'm staying over.”

“Peter, I have to tell you something.”

“Can it wait? I want to get the after-show drinks with my team over with so that I can get to you faster.”

“Sure, it can wait.”

“I'll see you in a few hours.”

“Fabulous! I'm so looking forward to it.”

Peter hung up. He looked over at the strange man, but he was gone. Peter felt a weird shiver go up his spine. He turned to see the team walking toward him.

“Enough phone calls!” said Betty. “Drinks time!”

Chapter Eleven

Marianne changed out of her hot outfit. Conflicting emotions plagued her now that she'd spoken to Peter. So much happened in the last few days, keeping track of who and where inside herself proved difficult. The social held excitement for her beyond her wildest dreams; had she been unfaithful? What would be Peter's reaction? He didn't have time for it on the phone, being too excited about the hearing.

The hearing. Peter won. I'm free from Joe!

Excitement surged through her. Joe promised freedom, and now he had what he wanted, the one condition on that freedom. Why would he go back on his word now? Joe had played the last card in her life. She could claim to be free! Free for what? Therapy? A cold shiver coursed down her spine as she thought of the potential of therapy.
Will doing that help me at all?

Marianne resolved to discuss it with Peter when she saw him. The social had felt so charged. It's own kind of freedom. The buzz from it made Marianne feel alive in its openness and part of a world she understood.

I can't be wrong about this. There has to be more to it than an indulgence in mental sickness
.

Peter was the lynch pin to all of this, the key to her secret self. With Peter, the world opened up to possibility. Marianne liked whom he saw inside her, and Peter's gaze made becoming that possible.

He'll be here in a couple of hours
.

She noticed her head hurt. Walking to a mirror, she saw the bruise had deepened, but receded back into her hair a ways. They mustn't have noticed it in the poor light at the social.
Peter won't miss it, though. He'll see it right away
. The thought gave her comfort. With the successful end of the hearing, Marianne would be able to talk to Peter about Don openly. Get it all out there.

In the bathroom, she took a couple of headache tablets. Then proceeded to run a nice hot bath. She needed the next few hours to take stock and collect herself before her night with Peter.

Sinking into the sensual decadence of a deep bubble bath, she decided she'd wear the dress Peter saw her buying in the shop the first time he met her. The symbolism of the dress forever meant an end of one life and the beginning of a new.

Plus
, she mused,
it will give a little distraction to lessen the blow when I tell Peter first about Don and then about my behaviors at the social
.

Marianne sank into the bath, allowing the hot water to wash over her, cleaning her body and her mind of all her worries.

Shocking her out of a silent reverie, the doorbell rang.

He's early
. That's disappointing. It would have been nice to be ready in the dress. She threw on her robe and made an enthusiastic dash for the door, not taking the time to look through the peephole.

“Hello, you're—”

Finding the doctor at the door cut her short.

“Hello, Marianne.” He looked up and down at her. “Did you forget that I was coming back here to check on you and report on the hearing?”

“Oh, goodness, yes! You can come in now. I just have to let the water run out of my bath.”

He walked into the room, and she raced out to the bathroom and pulled the plug. As she walked back, she noticed the doctor looking at the clothes she'd worn in a crumpled heap on the floor. Marianne had to admit, there wasn't much to them. She leaned over and picked them up, and without a word carried them into her bedroom. However, he'd seen them, and she knew there would be consequences.

When she came out again, he hadn't sat down, but stared at her through his pale blue expressionless eyes.

“Would I be correct in assuming you are preparing for a date?”

“Um, yes, actually. Peter is coming over. We can see each other legitimately now that we're no longer involved with the hearing.”

“Then you know the results.”

“Oh, yes. Peter called me.”

“You might have told me that. It could have saved me the trip.”

Again, Marianne had the feeling he was irritable or being sarcastic with her, but again, without proof, she chose to think that she made it up.

“Well, I guess I didn't have a contact for you.”

He smiled his emotionless thin smile.

“Well, I'm here now,” he said. “Is it too much of an interference if I sit for a minute?”

“Not at all. My date isn't due for a while.”

“Seeing as you know about the hearing, we'll leave that one. But I have something else for you.” He reached in to his pocket and produced a piece of paper.

“These are three of the best clinical psychologists in Sydney. Any of them would be very helpful for you.”

Marianne took the paper from him.

“Thanks very much. Are any of them BDSM-friendly?”

“I'm sorry? I am not familiar with that term.”

“Bondage, Discipline, Sa….”

“Yes.” He cut Marianne off. “I am familiar with that term. I mean, what is a BDSM-friendly psychologist?”

“A psychologist who understands BDSM and can make an informed judgment as to whether I am doing it with a sound mind or not.”

“The practice of BDSM is never consistent with a sound mind.” The doctor began to look about the room. “What have you been doing today? You seem in much better spirits than you were last night.”

Marianne decided to take his hint and leave that other conversation alone.

“I've had a good day. I had many questions after our conversation last night, I went to see some friends who have been involved with BDSM for a long time, and they gave me some advice. I trust these people, and I care about their opinion.”

The doctor looked hard at her. She started to get the creeps from the intensity of the stare. She felt her skin crawl, and she looked away from his gaze.

“Am I repulsive to you, Marianne?”

“No, doctor, but your stare can be a little off-putting at times. That's all.”

“I'm sorry. I guess I look like I have no emotions left. I do feel; I just have no capacity to pass the messages from my brain through to my nerve endings.”

Marianne felt bad. “I'm sorry, Doctor. Do you mind if our visit ends for the day, however? I do have a date soon, and I would like to take some private time to get ready for that.”

“Of course, but before I go… Are you very certain that you want to go on a date with Peter? After what you and I discussed?”

“I do feel sure. I agree with everything you said, and seen in a prudent light, it does seem that Peter may not be good for me. However, from another perspective, he is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I want to pursue it. I have doubts about him, but he's had no opportunity to really show himself to me.”

“Then I'm satisfied that you know what you're doing. I'm across the hall, of course, and all you need to do is yell for me to call the police if anything goes wrong. I won't see you tomorrow—I have too much work to do on my research—but I will drop in on you Friday just to give you a checkup and to be sure that you're okay for work.”

Marianne stood and walked him to the door.

“Thank you so much. You've been good to me. I appreciate all your help.”

“Like I have told you, it is a pleasure to be necessary. See you Friday.”

Marianne closed the door on him and walked back into the apartment.

She went straight into the bedroom and flopped on the bed, wondering what to make of him.

* * *

At last, the clock said twenty minutes before Peter's scheduled arrival. Marianne felt wonderful for all the time taken with her appearance. She watched some of her new DVD collection and trawled the Internet for a while, following up a few of her ideas. She wanted a look that drove her just as crazy as she hoped it would drive Peter insane, something that pushed her into a new place, edgy and little confronting. An outfit consistent with the new life available to her with Peter.

A feeling of daring rippled through her muscles when she looked at herself in the dress. Its sheer, shimmering, silver stocking hugged her body, showing every one of her significant curves to their best advantage. Completely transparent, her nipples sat large and flattened against the upturned points of her breasts. The hem came to just below her crotch, so that the curve of her ass appeared emphasized by the hem of the dress at the rounded point where buttock met thigh. She wore black, lace-top thigh-high stockings and very tall, patent leather Molini shoes she'd bought a few years back on a whim. Perfect to go with the dress; she thanked herself for that little moment of indulgence all those years ago.

With her makeup carefully applied, and her hair in a sophisticated bun, elegance surrounded her. It thrilled her to be beautiful. The work she'd put in showed, and to be able to offer this to Peter invigorated her.

The doorbell rang at five p.m. sharp. Marianne thanked herself that she'd taken all that time getting ready. Standing behind the closed door, she checked on herself one last time in the mirror in the lounge room. Checking for Peter through the peephole, she opened the door.

She could tell immediately by Peter's response that her appearance astounded him. He said nothing, but his gazed roamed her body up and down as if he could taste her with his eyes. Suddenly remembering he stood in the corridor, he stepped into her apartment and closed the door behind him. Then he turned to face her.

“You are amazing, beautiful,” he said quietly. “It's good that I was there the day you bought that dress.”

The room pulsed with his presence. A heat that he gave off sank into her bones. Everything about him put her into a spin and made her dizzy with vertigo.

“It's exhilarating to have you here, Peter. Would you like a drink? To celebrate the hearing?”

“I've had lots of drinks to celebrate the hearing this afternoon. But seeing as I intend to stay the night, I'll have a drink to celebrate us.”

Suddenly, his eyes went dark, and he brushed her hair aside to reveal the bruise on her head. His eyes darted back to hers, penetrating her with his piercing concern.

“What happened to your face here?” he demanded. “And why have you had time off work?”

“Let me get you a drink, Peter, and then I'll tell you everything.”

Peter followed her into the kitchen as she took out two long-stemmed, deep-bowl glasses and a fine bottle of Peter Howland Shiraz that she'd had on her shelf for quite a while. Marianne handed Peter the bottle opener and the bottle, and carried the two beautiful glasses into the lounge area. Peter followed with the wine.

Marianne set the glasses down on the small table next to the couch as he opened the bottle and placed it next to the glasses to let the wine breathe.

Peter moved toward the couch and sat to be closer to her. He looked at her with concern and brushed the hair away from the bruise on her face.

“Now what happened? Who did this to you?”

Marianne told him the whole story. She left out the part about therapy, and the doctor casting doubt on their relationship. However, everything else she told as clearly and as accurately as she could remember.

Peter gently touched the bruise on her face and said under his breath, “He should die for this.” The whisper sent chills down Marianne's spine.

Then he took possession of himself again and sounded a little more like a lawyer.

“You'll have to let me thank this doctor friend of yours later. In addition, I think we should try to file an assault report on Don. Did they take pictures for you in the hospital?”

“No. Gosh, Peter, it never occurred to me.”

“I wonder that the doctor didn't think of that. I guess the concern for your health overrode any kind of thought of retribution. I am concerned for your health, but I want retribution. I want to make sure that this man pays in the way that will hurt him the most for what he's done to you. He can spend some time in jail.”

“Won't that just start this whole circus up again?”

“Don isn't Joe, and I can't see him using 'Joe made me do it' as any kind of defense.” Peter seemed to be thinking on a bit of a roll now. “The records at the hospital will be enough, but I'd still like to get some photos. Did the doctor get any kind of a look at him?”

“Yeah. He pushed the doctor down as well. He saw him and knows he has scar tissue all over his face.”

“Perfect. Easily identifiable with two excellent witnesses and a motive! He'll do time, and I'll make sure that I see it happen.” He smiled at her. “I can help take care of you properly now.” Marianne smiled back, happy to see some light in his deep blue eyes. Peter leaned in and gave her a brush of a kiss against her lips with a touch that seemed to travel directly between her legs. He pulled back and looked at her.

“Are you sure that you feel well now?”

“I feel particularly wonderful right now.”

He kissed her again, allowing his tongue to dart gently over her slightly parted lips. Without moving away from the closeness, he said to her, “Does that mean that I'm allowed to enjoy this dress properly?”

“Not just yet. I've got something to tell you.”

“God, I hope it is nothing like the first bit of news you gave me.”

Marianne looked at his beautiful inquiring eyes and wanted to kiss him. For a brief second, she considered telling him not to worry. However, she wanted to be honest. She'd no idea how he would respond to the fact that she'd been to the social. She wanted to be truthful, but to Marianne, the sexual intensity so ignited her, she feared he might see it as betrayal.

“I'm hoping you won't be upset. I've no idea if I've crossed a line in our relationship, but I need to be candid with you and tell you something that I did this morning.”