Three and a Half Weeks (46 page)

Once the clothes are gone, he has me kneel and he leaves the room. I’m supposed to keep my eyes down when in this position but I don’t, of course. I’ve never been completely obedient in my whole life—why start now? I watch for him to return. It seems to take forever but it’s probably about four minutes before the door opens again and my eyes dart down to the floor.

Footsteps. Then I see his shoes in front of me. He lifts me from under my arms and places me under a big hook hanging down from the ceiling on a chain.

Cuffing my wrists with padded leather cuffs, he attaches an O-ring to one cuff and clips it to the other. Then he suspends the O-ring to the hook. I dangle with my feet just barely touching the ground. Either I have to stand on my tiptoes or put pressure on my arms and shoulders. It’s not painful but it’s slightly uncomfortable. Ian explains that it’s a position designed to increase nervous anticipation but that I should tell him if it gets painful. “Okay,” I whisper, deciding the position is doing an admirable job of making me nervous.

“I’m going to take away your sight and sound, Ella, so all you’ll have left of your senses is to feel and taste. Okay?”

“Taste?” I ask, breathless now.

“Yes, taste. And here I thought my enunciation was superb.”

“I’m just not used to taste being something we… explore… in this room.”

“Oh, Ella, there’s so much you’re not used to doing in here, but we have lots and lots of time ahead of us, hopefully.”

“Can you promise that I won’t be, uh,
tasting
anything disgusting?”

He laughs. “Promise. Now close your eyes; the blindfold is going on.”

He wraps a black satin blindfold around my head. His voice is suddenly in my ear, whispering loudly, “Now your ears,” and I feel earphones descend over my head, covering my ears so fully that I cannot hear a thing. In the past we used earphones once, but there was music playing.

It’s amazing how being sensory-deprived makes you feel so differently, so quickly. The moment he takes away my hearing, I feel bereft—so lonely and so vulnerable that I almost begin to cry. But Ian doesn’t allow me time to sink; he immediately starts the tactile sensations.

Things touch my bare skin: soft, hard, cold, hot. He rubs something against my lips, urging me to open them. The level of trust this entails is titanic but I now have deep wells of it for him so I part my lips and he inserts something for me to bite. The texture is bumpy and cool and when I bite into it, I immediately identify the food: a fresh strawberry. I can feel the juice running down my chin but instead of feeling messy, it feels decadent because I’m naked. I feel his tongue licking the juice off my chin; the sensation makes me very hot.

He must know that for the next thing I feel is cool, something soft and cool right on my breasts. It doesn’t stay on long for his tongue once again begins to lap it off. Then I feel his lips on mine and when I open to him, his tongue invades and I get a mouthful of… whipped cream. Mmm.

Back to tactile, he uses feathers, silk, a rough fabric, an ice cube, something hot, perhaps a heating pad, something akin to long fingernails skates down my back, down my legs, and then up the front of my body. When it reaches my breasts, his mouth closes over one and he bites down softly. I can feel the vibrations of my moan, I can hear it echo inside my head, but I can’t judge the volume—these earphones are impenetrable.

Back to the food: a chilled cucumber, a salty almond, a kiwi, a piece of dark chocolate and… suddenly something ice cold and wet runs down the front of my body. He begins to lick it off. Is he going to use his tongue on my entire body? Well, the short answer is yes.

He begins to lick then stops and kisses me. I taste the sharp tang of lime and tequila. Damn, was it a margarita? I would much rather guzzle it than have it poured over my body. He gives me a sip from the glass and I could taste the salt around the rim.

He licks more off… and then gives me another sip. And so on. When he’s through, he takes out the toys: something sharp and vibrating crosses over my breasts and stomach. A slippery dildo slides into me and then a smaller one goes up the other way. Both are vibrating erratically. First slow then fast then slow again. I can’t sink into a rhythm and I’m sure that’s his intention. My shoulders and calves are beginning to ache because I’ve been alternating between them, trying to shift my weight back and forth.

He must sense my fatigue for I’m suddenly lowered to the floor and he scoops up my ankles so I keep going down. When the chain stops, I’m sitting on the floor, and he presses himself against my mouth. I open for him and when he slides his erection in I taste chocolate: melted chocolate. Mmm. I lick every drop of it.

After a few minutes, he pulls out of me, unhooks my cuffs and I feel myself go weightless: he’s carrying me. He places me on a padded bench, stomach resting on it but my head and upper body dangle over the other side. He gets behind me and slowly removes the dildo, replacing it with himself. I can feel the vibrations from the other one and I know he can too. He slips something under my front and it begins to vibrate too, a maddeningly staccato rhythm that begins to drive me crazy. When I let myself whine, he changes the rhythm to a steady one and it doesn’t take me long to reach the top.

Boom! My orgasm is like an explosion that I can’t hear. I try to bear down my muscles hard to take him with me but I fail and he keeps going. And going. He flips me over and I wrap my legs around him and he starts up again—the man has staying power! I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow. He’s waiting for me to come again, and despite my exhaustion, I feel the pressure building. He must see it too because just as I think that, his fingers touch the vibrator on my clit and it goes into overdrive. He rips off the blindfold and earphones and I see his face, slick with sweat, eyes on fire, and… his hotness pushes me over, bringing him with me. We both moan in unison and I collapse back, feeling as boneless as any filet.

“Ella?” his voice is hoarse, even a bit raspy.

“Mmm?”

“We have to go to my mother’s now.”

“Now? Shouldn’t we get dressed first?”

He grasps my thigh and, turning it, slaps my butt hard.

“Ow!”

“Let’s go. We’ll shower and dress quickly. My parents are expecting us in an hour.” He grins. “We might be a little late.”

What is taking Ella so long?
They’d showered together and then he left her in the bathroom to do her hair and make-up and he’d dressed and gone into the office to get some work done.

He looks at his watch. Almost an hour had passed since he left her in there and they were due at his parents’ house in less than a half hour. He gets up to check on her.

The bedroom door is closed so he eases it open, finding her sprawled on the bed, tears running down her face.

“Ella, what’s wrong?”

She glances up at him. Kohl is smeared all around her eyes, and runs down her cheeks in tiny black rivers. From his vantage point, she looks like a frightened raccoon.

“Ella?” he repeats.

Her response is a high-pitched wail, “I have nothing to wear!”

His eyes circuit the room. All around her are discarded outfits that she pulled from the closet and then tossed. He steps over those garments that made it to the floor and peeks in her closet. It is lined wall to wall with clothes, her own and those he purchased to augment her wardrobe with clothes that pleased him.

“Ella, I think you have something to wear. What is the real issue here?”

“I have nothing
appropriate
to wear.”

“What does that mean? You have so many different clothes; how can it be that there’s nothing appropriate?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tears still trickling down her face. “There just isn’t.”

“Ella, would you like me to choose an outfit for you?”

“No. I think you may have to go without me, Ian. Just this once; I promise I’ll go next time.” She presses her hands together in supplication.

“Do you not think it a little strange for me to show up alone to announce my engagement?”

Sniffling, she wipes some of the running mascara from under her eyes. “It is what it is.”

“No,” he sits beside her on the bed and pulls her close to him, “it’s not. What’s the real problem? Are you nervous about meeting my parents?”

Dissolving into tears again, she nods her head against his chest. “Oh, Ella, my parents will love you; I guarantee it. What’s not to love?”

“I wrote a filthy sex book, Ian. Did you forget that minor detail?”

“It’s not filthy; it’s risqué, ribald maybe. Moreover, I’m fairly certain that genre of novel is not on my parents’ reading list so I think we’ll be safe on that front. My father spends most of his time reading science journals and my mother art books when she’s not elbow deep in oils. It’s all good, Ella. Really.”

“What about your siblings?”

“My brothers live out of state so there’s just Zoe, my sister. She will absolutely adore you, baby.”

He didn’t dare tell her that Zoe had read her novel. She’d find out, though, very soon, because Zoe has the biggest mouth this side of the Mississippi. “Come on: let’s go. Throw on a simple dress or maybe pants, if you prefer, and don’t give it another thought. Just don’t wear fuck-me stilettos and we’ll be fine.”

She shoots him a dirty look. “Give me a little credit, Ian, for God’s sake. Okay, fine. If you’re going to force me into this den of lions, then…”

Rolling his eyes, he gets up muttering about dens of lions, and gives her a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Did you know you sneeze like a kitten?”

“Say what?”

His eyes brim with amusement. “
Say what
? Are you from the ‘hood? Last night, you began to sneeze in your sleep and your sneezes were so small and soft, it sounded like a kitten sneezing, not a human. I almost starting scouring around for a tiny cat.”

She gets up and starts pushing him toward the door. “Shoo. I have to get dressed. Now I’m not going to be just inappropriately dressed, but late, too.”

He rolls his eyes again and leaves the room.

Ten minutes later, Ella emerges, her make-up repaired, no evidence of her meltdown. Wearing navy tights, a blue and green tartan kilt-style skirt held in place with a giant brass safety pin, a white cotton button-down shirt with three-quarter sleeves, knee-high black boots, and her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she is ready to go.

Ian’s eyes light up when he sees her. “I love the way you look, Ella, and so will my parents.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s go, baby.”

When they turn into the circular drive of the estate, Ian glances over to the passenger seat: Ella looks pale. “Butterflies?” he asks, smiling reassuringly.

“A whole swarm.”

He pats her hand. “Do not worry. I promise all will be fine.”

Faith is at the door to greet them. Ian’s mother is fairly tall, at 5’9” or thereabouts. She has auburn hair cut chin length and is very slender. Her eyes reflect a warm, fun personality. “Finally I get to meet Ella!” She rushes to them and pulls Ella into an effusive hug. “Ella, welcome to our home! I’m so thrilled…
we’re all
so thrilled to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you, all great things, naturally.”

“Thank you… and likewise.” Ella smiles brightly as Faith hugs her son, holding his face affectionately with both of her hands. “You look very happy, my beautiful boy.”

He smiles. “I am, Mom. Truly.”

Eyes lingering on his, Faith nods slowly. “Yes, you are. Come on in, you two.”

Trevor and Zoe sit in a small parlor just past the entrance hall. Ian’s father rises to greet them. He’s tall, about the same height as his youngest son, and his dark hair is liberally peppered with silvery gray. He casts friendly yet discerning eyes at the girl on his son’s arm.

“Ella, I presume?”

“Yes, not Dr. Livingstone.”

He smiles at her joke and extends his hand. “Charmed to meet you. Ian has told us much about you.”

Ella takes his hand in her icy one, trying and failing to quickly warm it before. “So I hear,” she says with a beaming smile. “Hello, Mr. Blackmon. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Ian can tell both of his parents seem genuinely glad to meet his Ella. So far, so good. Now only Zoe is left.

Ian remembered Zoe’s reaction to his news when they met for lunch the day before. She’d already been seated at a center table when he arrived or he would never have been given accorded a public table. As soon as he greeted her, he’d spilled the beans. Her reaction was not terribly surprising, considering that his sister does everything in a big way.

“You’re marrying the author of a dirty book?” Zoe practically screamed the question.

Ian rolled his eyes. “You know, I was concerned that Ella’s book sales in this neighborhood weren’t adequate; thanks for seeing to that for me, Zoe.”

She had the good grace to instantly flush, looking around at all the other diners who were now gaping at them. “I’m sorry, Ian, but you took me by surprise. For God’s sake, when did this all happen?”

“This all being…?”

“Meeting, dating, asking to marry… you know, that kind of trivial detail.”

“I believe I told you that I knew the author way back when you were drooling over the novel. We became
reacquainted
a while ago, and it escalated from there. Wait until you meet her: you’ll love Ella and so will the rest of our family.”

“If you do, then I’m sure we all will.” She took a sip of her Chardonnay. “When will that meeting happen?”

“This weekend. We’re announcing our engagement and imminent wedding.”

Eyes narrowed. “How imminent?”

“June.”

“What? That gives us no time to prepare. We have to book a venue, a band, a wedding planner…”

“We? Actually
we
don’t. Ella and I would like to have the ceremony and reception at Mom and Dad’s estate. In June the weather will be nice and we’ll pitch a big tent in case of rain. I’ve already spoken with a few wedding planners and they all promise to squeeze us in—great publicity for them since the press release will make it to all the right places. The only thing
you
have to worry about is your dress.”

“Oh, you always take every last drop of fun out of everything, Ian.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Promise me you won’t do or say anything to embarrass Ella. Especially about her book.”

Sullen-faced, she nodded and raised her right hand, as if swearing an oath. “Promise.”

Now it was up to her to keep her word. She gracefully unfolds her long body from the chenille-upholstered chair she is curled up in, swinging her shoulder-length, chestnut hair behind her. “Ella! I’m so excited to meet you. I’m Ian’s sister, Zoe. Welcome to our home.”

At that moment, the doorbell chimes.

“Oh, Ian,” Faith interjects, “I hope you and Ella don’t mind but I’ve invited a few people to lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Jeff Benson—he and Dad have been working together on a new high-blood-pressure medication—and Jeff’s wife,
Diana. I also asked Miriam James and her husband Antonio. Miriam curated my last exhibit at the Hackley Gallery. Zoe also invited a couple of her girlfriends, Sarah Nesmith and Kaylie Ayres. You probably remember them, Ian?”

Ian’s eyes narrow when he hears the guest list. If he had been told earlier, it would have been helpful but hearing it now for the first time, his knee-jerk reaction gives him away.

He hasn’t seen Kaylie in eons but they used to sneak away together whenever Zoe wasn’t around. Kaylie was Ian’s first and vice versa, and she wasn’t happy when he finally cut the cord, leaving her for Natasha Yenin.

But the real shocker is
Diana Benson. He’d met her several years ago at one of those infernal fundraisers that he’d been impelled to attend while he built his reputation as a philanthropist, and he had no idea of the connection she had to his father, nor did he know she was married. He’d just pegged her as a hungry cougar… and he was only too happy to accommodate her. It was during the time Natasha was fucking him over and he’d yet to make the decision of swearing off relationships, confining himself to Dom/sub situations.

He had considered the affair to be one that was purely physical but she had not been of the same mindset. She began to make demands on him and he didn’t care for the tenor of the relationship. He tried to walk away numerous times but she kept pulling him back. Finally, he made a clean break of it… only to discover her one night, ensconced at his parents’ dinner table, with her husband—her husband whom he’d known since he was a child, being his father’s friend and colleague since the elder Mr. Blackmon earned his medical degree.

Now he’s in an unenviable position: introducing his wife-to-be to his first girlfriend and to his former mistress of a sort.

Kaylie is the first hurdle. Following on the tails of the butler who answers the door, the young blond woman comes strolling into the house as if she owns it. “Zoe!” she exclaims as Ian’s sister rushes over to greet her friend. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been too long!”

Zoe smiles and embraces her high school friend. “Definitely too long.” The two women go back to sophomore year of high school. “How are you, Kaylie? I’m glad you’re back from Denver.”

“Oh, so am I. Denver is a total yawn.” Her bright green eyes scan the room, settling on Ian. She smiles broadly and gives a little wave. “Hey there, big bro. I’ve actually been reading the WSJ to check for updates on you. How are you, Ian?”

He smiles politely but is saved from further comment as the other guests arrive. When the introductions are completed, Ian decides that now is the time to make his announcement. While everyone is milling about, he asks for their attention and the room goes quiet. Grasping Ella’s hand, he looks at his parents. “Ella and I are planning to marry in June and we thought it was time to let everyone know. The date we selected is the twelfth so keep it open, please. Mom? We’d like to hold the wedding here on the estate, if that’s okay?”

Faith claps her hands together. “I would be thrilled to have the wedding here, Ian and Ella! Of course. June is not far away: we should start planning immediately.”

Nodding Ian smiles as his family and friends offer their congratulations.

It is fairly apparent to everyone in the room what Kaylie thinks about Ian’s news since her startled reaction is conspicuous: her eyes widen, her mouth drops open, and her face darkens to a vibrant shade of crimson, which on her fair skin is notable. Faith notices tension in the room and jumps in before things become even more awkward.

“Why don’t we all move to the patio and Susie will serve drinks? It’s such a lovely afternoon.”

“Great idea,” Trevor adds.

Kaylie is still gaping at Ella but now there’s emotion shading her green eyes though it’s not clear exactly what kind.

Once everyone is seated outside, Kaylie turns to Ella. “Ella, please tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

“I’m trying to establish a career as an art historian. I’ve most recently worked with a documentary filmmaker but I’m toying with the idea of going into academia.”

“How interesting.”

Zoe pipes in “Ella is also a—”

“Zoe,” Ian interrupts, “may I speak to you privately for a moment?”

Confused, Zoe rises. “Yes, Ian. Excuse us for a moment please.”