Double-Crossed (6 page)

“And your main argument is that this is a simple tax thing, that Joe and I didn't do our GST properly in the first two years, and that he should just get the audit done, and that's the end of it?”

“Yes.”

Marianne took a sip of her wine. She eyed the oysters still sitting on their cluster of ice, then put her glass down.

“Well, I don't see why that won't fly. It's pretty much the truth. I had no idea about the GST back then, and I never went back and caught it all up. I hope it's all that simple.”

“I think your safety will be tied to how simple it all is. If the hearing goes my way, it won't be necessary to involve you. You may not even have to testify. I can just make some filing and get Joe to testify. If he's convincing enough, we get the audit done on the BAS in that time. Your books are excellent, and it won't take long to get it all into place. I think everything hinges on the next few days.”

Relief flooded over Marianne.

“Well, I feel like I can actually relax. I might not have much of a chance to do so in the next few weeks, so it's good to do it now.” She smiled and reached for an oyster.

Marianne held the shell to her lips and stuck out her tongue. In a snake-like fashion, she licked the flesh out of the shell and balanced it on the tip of her tongue, curling the wet pink muscle back so the oyster rolled into her mouth. The uncouth nature of the action balanced against the awareness of the little oyster forks on the table that said she didn't need to do that. She glanced up at Peter to see him staring at her intensely. As soon as she saw his eyes, she got that feeling that he took over again. She felt strangely nervous and shy.

Peter leaned in close.

“You'll have to use a fork. My blood is boiling watching you suck that thing the way you just did.”

Marianne smiled into his eyes, thrilled at the compliment of being sexually exciting to him. Something in her wanted to please him repeatedly.

Peter looked at her in that way that he had. He seemed to be thinking something over. Then he reached out, took an oyster for himself, and began digging his fork into it. Marianne reached for her second.

“These are amazing, but they're always excellent here. Best place in Sydney for oysters.”

Peter ate and watched her at the same time.

“You know, strictly speaking, we're not supposed to see each other. However, I'd really like to take you out for a proper date when all of this is over. If you don't mind, that is.”

You mean, if I'm still alive
, Marianne thought rather grimly.

However, all she said was, “I'd like that.”

“There is something about you. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I find myself very attracted to you.”

“That's a little unprofessional, isn't it, counselor?”

Peter smiled. “Very! I need to behave myself.” He looked down at the empty oyster plate and motioned for the waiter to bring them another menu. “Time for the next course.”

The place that Peter knew he could be in control stood beyond the bounds of appropriate behavior; their professional relationship had to come first. The trick was in trying to find a way to keep his hands off her till the end of the trial. If he didn't play his cards right, that could be months away.

She'd been accidentally provocative sucking the flesh from the oyster shell, lighting Peter's nerve endings with flame-filled lust. The natural thing, the right thing, was to include sexual activity between them, or so it seemed. The heat passing from one to the other had an intensity he knew she sensed too. Joe had told him about her special qualities, but Peter didn't realize how special until she'd started to engage with him in the store. Then his masculinity and his instinctive drives woke up.

As if reading his mind, she said, “Are you wondering at all what I was doing in that store tonight?”

Peter glanced up at her and knew right away that this was a conversation to avoid, but that he was going to have it anyway.

“You mean, do I have any idea what an extremely attractive woman would be doing in a sex store at night, alone?”

“Well, that's sort of what I meant. Haven't you wondered why I was there?”

Peter sensed that vulnerable apprehension in her voice again. Everything in him screamed to stop. If he climbed into this conversation with her, he'd never get himself out safely. Looking at her gave him a familiar power surge, and with a sigh, he let himself fall into temptation.

“I believe I know already why you were there.”

“You do?” She looked very surprised to hear this. “Tell me, then. Tell me why I go to that store.”

Her coy fear gave way to defiance, challenging Peter to understand her. Despite all he knew she'd been through, an innocence of sorts permeated her. Peter warmed to her, entranced.

“It feels safe there. It's the kind of protection that people usually flee from, but there is a deep sexual part of you that feeds your own fear, starting in your belly and working its way out. Sexually alive women have to express themselves, and there is very little permission for women to solicit sexual activity unless it is within the bounds of what society deems appropriate. Which usually means marriage. However, you are not married. Additionally, you still ache, and you burn beyond what is deemed normal for human beings. You need to find relief, and you need to feed what's deep inside you. You go there because they can't judge you for liking—I am guessing here, but I suppose—dirty films. You hide away in those little booths pushing fingers and toys into your body, pumping and searching for the thing inside that can't be satisfied.

“No one will spy on you because the people who run the store look after you. You get to be brave because you are in public, but you also hide among the sleaze, so you're in no danger of losing your well-protected heart. Plus it reminds you that your wild sexuality is ugly, and that gives you comfort so you never have to embrace it to make it part of who you really are.”

She looked shocked, and Peter guessed that he'd hit his mark. He knew he'd gotten it right, just as he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her any further. He hoped he hadn't revealed too much, that she could handle this level of truth.

“Um, I guess that's one way to put it.”

Peter smiled. “Did that make you feel too exposed?”

Their food arrived, and for a full five minutes, they busied themselves with admiring their fine plates, ordering a bottle of red wine, and discussing the excellence of the wine Peter chose.

There was a pause from the talk, and Peter could feel Marianne's sexual energy rise and reach over like a thick fog. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You did make me feel exposed. However, you also make me feel understood.”

“Have you felt that way before?”

She laughed a little ruefully. “My only lover has been Joe. I never felt understood by him, or even seen, really.”

She looked directly at him from across the table, her stare meeting his with determination.

“I don't ask for pity, though. I've left him, and I did it with power. I wasn't ready for more than him before now.”

Peter knew their conversation and their flirting had crossed the line, but it no longer mattered. He would deal with consequences tomorrow. This woman and this moment seemed terribly meaningful. Instantly, she'd become more important than all his trials and his career.

“Am I right about the films? Do you go there to watch movies?”

Still looking directly in his eye, she smiled a very slow smile that curled up into her eyes.

“Yes. I like dirty movies. Aren't I bad?”

Peter leaned forward, resting his chin on his half-curled hand. He made his speech a whisper so that they were completely in their own little world.

“Yes, you are very bad. You are a hungry little sex-crazed woman, and there is only one way to treat a woman like that.”

* * *

As Marianne stared into the eyes of this man who seemed to know her soul, she could think of nothing but the overwhelming response to him from between her legs. With no rationality left, her pussy ran the production now. Her nipples were aching, the wetness between her legs seeped onto her thighs, and once in a little while, she smelled her own arousal. None of it caused her any embarrassment, however. To be crazed with lust in the presence of this man felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She wasn't at all surprised when he said to her, “How far do you live from here?”

“Two blocks. I'm just at the top of Victoria Street.”

He paused, and Marianne believed her heart would explode. He seemed to be thinking things over.

“I think I should walk you home.”

This comment deflated her a little.
Of course, he is worried about getting me home safely
. Despite the obvious signs, Marianne's self-doubt still injected its poison at times. However, her mind played with her again, and again she remembered the line he'd said while staring seductively into her eyes, that there was only one way to treat a woman like her. She wanted to know what Peter would do, given free rein, to a woman like her. Somehow she felt sure he did know how to treat her. Seeing as, overall, she had no idea herself, she felt excited by the prospect of finding out what he might do. Peter called for the check and paid it. Marianne sat still through the process, fumbling with knives and forks and the tablecloth. She couldn't think of anything except the ache between her legs. It owned her, and that made her uncomfortable.

“I believe I need to use the bathroom before we go.”

“Can it wait?” Peter said to her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he signed the credit card slip.

Marianne wanted to find relief. If she could make herself orgasm in the powder room, she might be able to focus on the way home and even handle it when he left her at her front door. However, his response surprised her.

“Um, well, I don't think so.”

Peter leaned in to the folds of her ear, so that his warm breath tickled and licked at her.

“I know what you want to do, and I want to have you before you come.”

Marianne's eyes flew open, and she let out a small sigh that would have been panting had she been able to suck in more air. She froze, not wanting to break the spell.

Peter continued, “You'll have to trust me. I told you I know how to treat women like you.”

At this point, Peter stood up and moved behind Marianne's chair to help her up. She stood and immediately felt the wetness, in a small, thick slipperiness, seep down to the tops of her thighs. She couldn't remember being this wet ever before.

She stepped out from behind the table, feeling Peter's protective hand on her back as they worked their way through the restaurant to the front door. Peter opened the door for her, and immediately, in the hot, wet air, she felt the coolness between her legs. Her skin tingled and thrilled to get the air swirling around it.

Moving in next to her, Peter placed an arm about her shoulders in an untroubled manner, as if he did not care who saw them. They turned left into Darlinghurst Road and crossed under the large Coke sign. The city sprawled out to the right with all its bustling lights and midnight beauty. Marianne drank in the moist night air and reveled in Peter's arm over her.
We look like those couples
, she mused,
one of those couples I've always envied
.

Crossing to the start of Victoria Street, Peter slid his hand down Marianne's back and brought it around to her hand. Then moving off to the right, he pulled her respectfully, but firmly into the doorway of a closed shop.

Marianne felt the hard wall behind her. Although difficult to see Peter in the dark, she could feel his eyes on her. Her arms were straight down on either side of her body, and Peter held each of her fingertips in his palms. He leaned in, his lips moving toward hers, pausing with just the smallest distance to go. Marianne moved forward into his mouth and kissed him very lightly on the lips. Peter opened his mouth slightly and came back, bending into her with a firmer kiss. At the start of the third kiss, he brushed his tongue, featherlight, against the skin of her lip that pressed against him.

Marianne felt a rising anticipation tight above her rib cage as she opened her mouth more and released her own tongue to meet his. They dissolved into full, open-mouthed kisses, their tongues exploring each other's mouth, their bodies pressing hard into one another.

Peter let go of her fingers and slid his hands up and down the sides of her body over the top of her clothes. He ran his hands down easily to grasp her hands, and while still kissing her with passion and intensity, he grabbed at her wrists and pulled them behind her back. He held her slender arms with one of his hands and lifted his other hand to her hair. Twirling it about his fist, he suddenly grabbed the full length, and firmly pulled her head to her left, exposing her throat to the streetlight. He panted hard, and her wrists hurt ever so slightly. Marianne's heart began to beat fast as a small amount of fear mingled with the lust.

“Tell me what you watched tonight. Tell me what you saw that made you wet,” Peter said with his lips pressed hard against her ear. His voice, though breathless, filled the space between them, deep and commanding. There was no nonsense in this game. Marianne felt she had to comply.

“I saw… I saw…” Her pussy ached, and she longed to have his fingers explore her there. She felt the hard brick of the wall against her head and her hands as he held her locked tight.

“Yes, tell me,” he said with more ferocity.

“I watched two women. I watched two women kissing each other and sucking each other's pussies. I saw the cum dripping from one woman and the other one on her knees sucking it out of her with her long tongue.”

Peter said nothing but groaned softly into her neck as he licked and kissed her firmly. Then, driving against her body, he pushed one of her legs to the right to make a gap between her thighs and worked his knee directly against her clitoris. Marianne groaned as he slowly circled his knee into her, massaging her with skill and experience.

“What made you come? What scene had you play with your pretty pussy till you came?” His words came out like groans into her. She could feel his erection hard against her left thigh as he massaged the knee of his right leg into her dark wetness.