Married on Mondays (15 page)

Naomi replied, “Of course not. You know I wouldn’t do that. But like I said, I am going to confront Winton.”

Temporarily escaping the spotlight of her own drama, Victoria didn’t want to betray Foxy. But she didn’t think telling her
sister was a good idea. Not right now. Foxy would fire back with questions about Rain. Fearing her marriage to Naomi might
be in jeopardy, Victoria didn’t want Foxy to confront Naomi. And she didn’t want to be the one to give Foxy a reason to ask
Winton for a divorce.

Winton was a good man. His marriage to Foxy… could be better, but who was Victoria to judge. What if Winton were to lie and
say, “Victoria and Naomi are lying. I did
not
fuck Nova”? Then what? Sometimes silence was golden. Especially when it came to getting involved in other people’s relationships.

Victoria placed the bowl of berries on the nightstand. She kissed her wife’s lips, her neck, her breasts, then her stomach.
With each kiss she moved a little lower until she buried her face in Naomi’s sweet pussy. Opening her wife’s thighs, Victoria
kissed Naomi’s clit. When she inserted her finger inside Naomi, her wife’s pussy was hot and wet.

Victoria contemplated giving her virginity to Naomi. If her wife made love to her, if her wife was the first to penetrate
her, then Victoria could let Rain know she was no longer a virgin. But would Rain be satisfied, disgusted, or think her to
be a liar? He hadn’t called since she’d left his house. What was he up to?

She looked up into Naomi’s eyes.

Naomi was teasing her own nipples. “Strap on for me, baby.”

Victoria shook her head, then said, “Not tonight. Tonight I want you to strap on for me… and I don’t want you to fuck me in
the ass,” Victoria said, handing Naomi the seven-inch dildo and harness.

Naomi patted the bed beside her. “Come here, sweetcakes. We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want you to fuck me. Now.”

A
round noon, soccer moms, nannies, husbands, and singles—some clients, others oblivious to the adult fantasy menu—piled into
Crème to buy pastries, iced coffee, hot coffee, breakfast beverages or to pay for a satisfaction-guaranteed trip to Crème
Fantasyland. After two, the shop would become quiet with only a few stragglers or travelers passing through town.

Seven o’clock Saturday morning and the first customer standing outside the shop was Rain, suited up in his police uniform.
His SUV patrol car blocked the entrance to the parking lot. His siren blared. Blue and red lights swirled atop his car. Customers
slowed, stared, then kept driving.

It was too early for this nonsense. DéJà unlocked the door. “You need to move that damn car. You’re deterring our customers.”

“You don’t want your customers to hear what I have to say. I’ll move my car when I get ready. Be glad you’re not in the backseat.”

“What, Rain? What do you want?” DéJà sternly asked. He needed to earn his salary, get on his job, get away from hers.

“I need to speak with Victoria’s trifling ass right now,” Rain insisted, adjusting his crotch.

DéJà did not believe in giving respect where it wasn’t due. “Your ass need to back up outta here. She’s not available to you.”

“Tell her to make herself available…. Victoria!” he shouted over DéJà’s shoulder, bypassed her, walked behind the register
like he owned the place. “I know she’s here. Her car’s outside.”

“I never said she wasn’t here. I said she’s not available to you. She doesn’t want to see you. Can
I
help you with something?”

Rain was silent. He sucked in his teeth, put his hand on his gun.

“If there’s nothing
I
can help you with, then you need to get out. Now!” she yelled, then mumbled, “Your parents sure did fuck you up.”

Rain’s eyes turned red. Hate oozed from his pores. He tightened his fingers around the handle of his gun. “What did you say?”

DéJà shook her head. She’d told Victoria not to date his dysfunctional ass.

“Don’t talk crazy to me. I’m not your husband or one of your slaves. I will put your ass facedown and slap these on you if
I have to,” he said, fingering his cuffs.

“And you’re not Victoria’s husband,” DéJà sarcastically replied. “She has a wife.”

Rain nodded. Stared down at DéJà. “Victoria also has something that belongs
to me
. Tell her if I don’t get it soon, I’m shutting this place down, and…” Rain paused, released his grip on the gun, then left
without completing his sentence.

What in the world?
DéJà wanted to beat his arrogant ass for acting an ass. She’d never seen that side of Rain, but he was no fool and his idle
threats about shutting down the shop had grown old. If he were serious, he would’ve closed them down already. Thankfully no
customers were in the shop. DéJà didn’t care about him. She locked the door behind Rain and went into the kitchen.

The terrified look on Victoria’s face was clear. Rain had overstepped his boundary. But if Victoria wanted help, she was going
to have to open her damn mouth and confess everything.

“Give it to us straight,” DéJà said, then asked, “What the hell is happening between you and Rain?”

Foxy ran cold water on a paper towel. Handed it to Victoria to wipe her face. “We are waiting for an answer this time.”

DéJà commented, “Yeah, and don’t give us that ‘He wants my virginity’ line again. That’s old. Rain’s threats are old. He can’t
be that outraged over your pussy. And I’m tired of it! Say something dammit.”

Sighing heavily, Victoria said, “Nothing is happening between us. That’s the problem.”

DéJà said, “Fine. Keep the truth to yourself, Miss ‘I don’t lie to anybody,’ but when the shit blows up in your face, you’d
better pray he’s not serious about shutting down what I’ve worked my ass off to achieve. Speaking of work, I’m getting to
work.”

DéJà returned to the front. Unlocked the door and greeted her regular Saturday morning client. “Let me guess. You want the
off-the-menu hot-and-sticky bun?”

“Ou, I like the hot, saucy attitude,” he said. Then whispered, “We should get started now.”

DéJà glanced at his hard dick, shook her head. “No. Not now.”

“Calm down. I was just kidding. You know what I want,” he said, grinning as he followed her to the register.

“One or two?”

“One hour today. Gotta get home early. Today is my wife’s birthday,” he said, then winked.

“That’ll be the usual,” DéJà said, extending her hand. “Flogging or verbal?”

“Wish I had more time ’cause I’m loving your jalapeño energy. Better stick with the verbal today. Don’t want to get caught
up. See you at four,” the dean said, then left.

Their meeting place for the last two years was the same. She’d meet the dean of Crème University at the house he owned on
the lake. The dean’s five-thousand-square-foot house was on a quarter of an acre. His cottage, what some called an in-law
unit, the two-bedroom dungeon, was a good walking distance from his big house. She’d park behind the cottage so no one would
see her car.

Men were at times more clever than women. Knowing his wife was terrified of snakes, the dean had brought two eight-foot boa
constrictors home as pets. His wife screamed, “Get those things out of here!” His response: “I’ll keep them in the cottage.”

His plan to make the cottage all his had worked. His wife hadn’t gone near the cottage in over two years. The dean wasn’t
interested in cheating on his wife, but his fantasy to be dominated by a gorgeous woman led him to Crème. The first time DéJà
had tied him up, beat his ass to his satisfaction, he’d become her regular customer.

Not him again.
DéJà accosted Rain in the parking lot before he’d gotten out of his car. “What is your malfunction? I told you she doesn’t
want to see you.”

“I suggest you get out the way before you end up behind bars,” Rain said, silencing his ignition.

“Fine.” DéJà stepped back from his car. “But you enter Crème, and I’m personally going to file a complaint against you.”

He leaned his head back, laughed from his gut. “In case you forgot, sweetheart, I am the chief of police. Who’re you gonna
call? Me?”

“How about I contact the Office of Citizens’ Complaints, Internal Affairs, the Citizens’ Police Review Board, the
Crème City and County News
, and the mayor for starters? You are not God, okay. And you can shove that badge up your ass. Keep away from my sister and
our business.”

He hesitated, then replied, “I can shut down this little pastry shop anytime I’d like.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You are fucking with the wrong one. I am not Victoria. Do something or shut the hell up. You have no idea
who we service here, but let’s just say you’re not the top dog on our list. We go down, I’m dragging your pathetic behind
underneath us.”

What Rain didn’t know was she wasn’t bluffing. His boss, the head person at the Office of Citizens’ Complaints, was DéJà’s
personal client.

F
our o’clock, Saturday afternoon, DéJà parked behind the dean’s cottage, grabbed her bag. As usual the door was unlocked. When
she entered, the dean was on his hands and knees.

Black leather shorts suctioned against his body like a second skin. The suspenders strapped over his bare chest and back.

DéJà dropped her black travel bag at her feet. She spoke down to him with authority, “Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress DéJà.”

“Up on your knees now.” She walked around him, stopped in front of him, tapped his pubic area with her finger. His plastic
groin cup was under his shorts. “Take that shit off. All of it,” she said.

“Yes, Domina DéJà.”

“And lick my bag,” she added.

She removed her red skirt and panties. “Don’t look at my pussy unless I tell you. Look at my pussy again, and I’m going to
punish your ass.” She removed her shirt and bra. Stood before him.

“Yes, Mistress DéJà.” The dean’s head hung low. He stared at her feet. His tongue stroked the side of her bag as he removed
his shorts.

“Now, lick my toes like a good little boy. Lick all my toes!” She grabbed the back of his head. Shoved his head to her foot.
“Do it now!”

“I don’t want to,” he said.

“Oh, you are going to,” she said. “Hand me my rope. Hands out in front!” She looped the black nylon rope in a figure eight,
secured the middle with an extra loop and a knot.

Standing naked in front him, she jerked the rope, then said, “You think I’m playing. I told you not to look at me. Get your
facemask.”

“But, I,” he said, hopelessly looking at his wrists, then up at his mask that was suspended in the air. “I can’t.” The mask
was attached to a metal-link chain that hung from the ceiling. The center of the living room was where she had chained him
for flogging during previous sessions.

“You are pathetic. Down on all fours. You’re a bad dog. And bad dogs need to be disciplined.”

“Thank you, Mistress DéJà. I am pathetic,” the dean said, hanging his head lower. He placed his bound hands on the floor.

DéJà removed his mask from the hook. Retrieved a black patent leather corset, thong, thigh-high boots, and her cat-o’-nine-tails
whip from her bag. Stepping into the thong, she put her ass in front of the dean’s face, then inserted the string between
her cheeks. “Do I have a pretty ass?”

“Very pretty, Mistress DéJà.”

“Kiss my ass,” she demanded.

The dean did as instructed.

The silver metal links of her corset overlapped until her titties sandwiched tight together. “Put on my boots,” she said,
standing over him. “And don’t touch my pussy.”

With his hands tied, the dean struggled to put on the thigh-high boots.

“Hurry up! I don’t have all day!” she yelled.

The dean was an obedient slave.

Her boots were on, but crooked. She shoved his facemask over his head. “If you can’t do it right, you don’t deserve to see!”
She slapped her whip against his naked ass.

“Mistress DéJà, please, no flagellation. Remember? My wife’s birthday is today,” the dean pleaded.