Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) (22 page)

Her breath quickened and she suckled my finger expertly. My cock ached but I bit my lip until it nearly bled, to cap my urge to sink myself balls deep into her. The door was a little more open than I thought.

“Jack, you’re very naughty.”

“I could be naughtier,” I suggested raising a brow.

“Oh, I know you can,” she said with a steady gaze. “I never did thank you for my punishment,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was too—”

“You were just what I needed. I asked for it. I liked it.”

My mind was flooded with my activities after Beth had come to me, begged me to make love to her, and then asked for the paddle and crop.

*     *     *

T
he brisk walk to the apartment on East Fifty-first Streed did nothing to soothe my mind. The misting rain didn’t touch the heat that threatened to consume me. How could I have done that to her? My Beth? My Breath?

I was still in a twisted mess when I unlocked the door and stepped into my ‘home away from home’. The scent of wood and leather instantly hit me, the first calming I’d felt since that final POP.

I shucked my jacket, hanging it on the hooks along the wall by the door, then walked to the center of the room and dropped to my knees on the dark hardwood floors. And waited.

The last of the sun started to fade, leaving the room dark, enveloping me. Hugging me. Matching the inside of me. Where was B? Why was she so late? I needed this now. I closed my eyes and tried to process the past hour.

My mind continued to race, my breath matching my mind. She had come to me. She trusted me. She wasn’t into the lifestyle. And to let her subject herself like that. Her choices were good ones. But she’d only had my hand until then. The paddle would have been enough.

“Jack, honey are you okay?” Her voice interrupted my thoughts, bringing relief. My punishment was almost delivered. But why was she breaking protocol? Why was she talking to me like a friend?

I opened my eyes. The room was now bathed in the warm glow of the low voltage lighting. I found Becca’s eyes and begged her silently to get on with it.

“Oh, I see,” she responded, straightening her six foot stature. “Choose your device and return to me.”

Ah, I sighed. Commands. I could work with those. “Yes, Mistress.”

I stood and walked to the closet. I returned only seconds later with the nine-foot longtail in hand. She took the whip confidently, issuing a curt nod, and stood poised in the center of the room.

“Shackles or horse?” she demanded.

I swallowed hard. “Shackles, Mistress.”

One curt nod, and I raised my arms out to my sides like an Iron Cross.

Becca walked over and flipped the switch lowering the pair. She clipped my wrists in each cuff. The feel of the cool metal, brought comfort to my aching heart. Becca walked around to stand behind me. I heard the whip uncoil and touch the wood. She cracked it in the air. The SNAP in the air made my heart leap. Yes! That’s what I needed.

“Have you been a bad boy, Jack?” she queried.

Unable to voice anything at the moment, I nodded.

She cracked the whip. It bit me on my side making me wince.

“Speak up, Jack. Have you been a bad boy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I squeaked. Why did I sound so weak? Who in the fucking hell was I? This isn’t me. But I’ve not been me for the past couple of weeks.

“How bad, Jack?”

“Very bad. I hurt someone I love.”

Silence.

This wasn’t how it went. She was supposed to rapid fire questions. That’s how it went. Why wasn’t she asking for the count I required? My breath started to increase.

“How – how many, Jack? How many do you need?”

“Fifty. A hundred. A hundred and fifty.”

“Jack—” she pleaded, again breaking protocol.

“Becca! Just do it!” I shouted.

“I will give you twenty-five.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll evaluate then.”

I stood straight, ready for the first bite.

*     *     *

“O
h, really, Mr. Stevens,
sir.
What else do you want to do?” Beth said, bringing me out of my head.

“Beth, I don’t need that stuff—”

“But what if I do?” she asked, as serious as a heart attack. “What punishment would you deliver for me walking out on you?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Did I tell her that her walking out nearly killed me?

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “That day has weighed on me… the wine… I—”

I shook my head and picked up her hand. “Shhh. It’s okay. Let’s not talk about that.”

Her phone chirped. It was a cricket sound. “Greg,” she whispered. “I should go. This was a lovely lunch. I’m glad the venue will work for the photo shoot. I have to go.” She scrambled to her feet and was gone in a flash.

I
slammed the car door and dropped my head onto the steering wheel.
Get your shit together, Elizabeth… Beth… STOP!
The crickets sounded again. I grabbed my phone.

“Hi Greg, what’s up?” I answered, faking an up beat voice.

“Jim just called. Party at their place. Giants against the Dodgers. Huge game. I told Jim you’d make your artichoke spinach dip. Cool?”

“I thought we were going out to dinner Friday?” I asked, confused. Why is he doing this? No matter what I want, it’s ignored.
Jack would never shove me off like this,
I thought. It’d be dinner and theatre if I wanted.

“But it’s the Giants and the Dodgers. Can we do dinner on Saturday? I’ll take you Tra Vigne. We’ll make it special.”

I swallowed hard. I wanted to shout,
I’ve already been to Tra Vigne, and it was ten times more romantic that you could make it!
What do I do?
Water the grass, Elizabeth!
I scolded myself. “Saturday sounds fine.”

K
nowing that the door was open, I was ready to fling it wide open. I racked my brain for a magic bullet. I was here to woo, and a-wooing I was going to do. As I walked into the lobby at the Hilton, the rack of area activities caught my eye. I scanned the pamphlets. Hundreds of vineyards aside, I spotted: balloon rides, massages, and bike rides. Just as I’d given up, I spotted a brochure for the San Francisco Ballet.
Jackpot!

Our Lincoln Center evening blazing in my mind. Her magnificent exhibition of fellatio in the limo. My insane teasing of her during intermission while she wore that incredible Givenchy gown and those fabulous shoes… and after. I grabbed the glossy paper and scanned the calendar for what would be showing this weekend. I couldn’t believe how perfect that Cinderella was opening this Friday! My mind immediately jumped to the fabulous Sergio Rossi Caged Crystal Booties.

I pulled out my phone and immediately called the ticket office. I bought a pair of orchestra seats and had arranged for them to be Fed Exed to the hotel here.

My plan: Send the tickets to Beth. Both tickets. Tell her to go with Greg and enjoy. And if he is unwilling to enjoy some beautiful theatre with a beautiful woman, I would be available.

Next, I headed into downtown Napa. I walked the quaint streets in search of a shop should Beth need a dress for the ballet. I came across this adorable shop called Une Grande Fête. The window showed a couple of elegant gowns. Not couture, but very suitable. Inside, I was greeted by an adorable older woman.

“Bonsoir, monsieur,” she warmly greeted me. “Can I help you?”

I looked around the boutique and nodded. “I believe you can,” I answered.

Fifteen minutes later, I had an account opened and instructions for Marie, the shop owner.

W
ednesday afternoon, a package was delivered. It was a simple box with a light blue ribbon. After signing for it, I stood stunned. The last time I got a package delivered, inside was a couture gown and sensational shoes. I had taken those shoes out more than a couple of times to just look at them. I set the package on the counter and walked to the wet bar in the living room and debated wine or Scotch. Wine was civilized for two in the afternoon. Scotch seemed a little broodish. Wine was ordinary, Scotch was… Scotch was Jack. I thought better of a drink at all and grabbed a cold bottle of water, which of course made me remember Kevin.
Water the grass.

“Shut up!” I shouted to the voices in my head.

I marched over and pulled the ribbon carefully from the box and opened it. A card sat in the box, with an envelope under it. With a trembling hand, I picked up the card. Opening it, Jack’s familiar penmanship leapt off the paper.

Dearest Beth,

Friday is opening night for the San Francisco Ballet Company’s performance of Cinderella. I hope you and Greg enjoy a night of theatre, and I know you have the perfect
slippers
. If you are in need of a gown (and I hope you are), I’ve spoken to Marie at Une Grande Fête, a boutique on Coomb Street. I have set up an account for you, if you would like to go shopping there.

Also, I have set up a full spa experience at Cleopatra’s on Main Street for you and Jessica, commencing at 10am on Friday. I seem to recall that you are an early riser, so I hope that time suits you and her.

In the event Greg, or a friend, isn’t available to go with you, I am free.

~Jack

My heart pounded. Jack really got me. He understood me on a level that Greg never would. But here he was telling me to go with Greg. Could he be any more enigmatic? No, I think not. I opened the ticket envelope and checked the seats. Cinderella. Ballet. San Francisco. How magical.

At dinner, with our minimal conversation, I took a shot. “You know how you want to go to the game at Jim’s on Friday?”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he said, finishing a bite.

“Well, I was given a pair of tickets to the San Francisco Ballet that night,” I said, omitting a slight detail.

“The ballet? You’re asking me to pass up Giants versus Dodgers for the ballet?”

“It’s opening night. They’re really great seats,” I continued.

“Maybe one of your girlfriends would like to? I’m really not a theatre going kind of guy.”

I thought about what he said. That he was willing to let me go to the theatre with anyone but him. Something I loved, and he couldn’t give it up for one night. He was sticking to his desires instead of mine.

I nodded. “Sure, I’ll ask a friend.”

After dinner, I texted Jack.

8:45pm

Interested in going to

the ballet on Friday

night? I have tickets,

and perfect shoes.

My phone buzzed fifteen seconds later.

8:45pm

It would be my

greatest honor.

Pick you up at 3

for dinner in SF?

Grinning like a school girl, I texted back.

8:46pm

That would be lovely.