chapter Seven
Unaccountably nervous, Althea opened the door to Steel’s domain, calling out a soft hello. He might be asleep still, after all. Though she hadn’t heard a thing last night, tumbling into a cool and dreamless sleep.
“Come on down!”
She held onto the rail and clicked down the unsteady stairs to find a grinning Steel waiting for her, swathed in his welding coveralls, goggles perched on his head.
“I’m glad you stopped by—I need you.”
“I can’t stay long,” she reminded him, scanning the room, wondering what he had in mind. He held up a digital timer, ostentatiously holding his thumb over the start button, the display showing thirty minutes.
“Yes?”
Her heart fluttering, she nodded, nipples peaking and sex dampening, as if he’d clicked a button in her too.
“Good. See where I put this tape on the floor? From now on, you stop here and dress how I ask you to. There’s some hooks on the wall to hang your things. Set your bag down. Take off your hat, suit jacket, shoes, hose and panties. Tell me when you’re ready.” He walked away from her, leaving her to obey.
With trembling fingers, she did. The red tape formed a three-foot square at the bottom of the steps. A little cage. She hung up the celadon silk suit jacket, along with the other things, including her already wet panties.
“I’m ready,” she called, eyes flicking to the timer. Twenty-seven minutes left. Perhaps she should have stalled.
“Come here then,” he tossed over his shoulder. He was messing with the satyr, which appeared to have another set of arms now. She waited at his elbow, not quite able to see what he was doing. Another few minutes passed. Abruptly he spun on her with a pleased grin and kissed her on the nose. “You look so pretty today. Pull up your skirt around your waist.”
Heat gushed between her legs and she obeyed, sliding the pencil skirt up, ruching the silk. It would likely wrinkle hopelessly. She didn’t care. Steel’s gaze fastened on her nakedness and he slipped two fingers between her legs. “How’s my p-ssy this morning?”
“Fine,” she stammered.
“More than fine,” he murmured, tweaking her * so she gasped. “Hot and slick and begging for attention. But you have lunch. And errands.”
She nodded, already coming apart in his hands.
“We’d best get to it then. Kneel down.”
She knelt then followed his instructions to crawl over to the satyr, acutely aware of her naked bottom, how she must look. To her shock, the statue now sported a rampant prick, worthy of the most virile satyr, gleaming with some kind of oil so it shone in the focused lights.
“Put your mouth around it.”
She hesitated, eyeing the thing. Steel smacked her bottom with a stinging slap. She squealed.
“Do it, princess. You haven’t given me time to coddle you. It’s clean. Put your pretty lips around his cock.”
Feeling awkward, she obeyed, closing her mouth around the metal head. The oil tasted of cinnamon and cloves, tingling her mouth. He smoothed the hair back from her face and draped it over her shoulder away from him, for a clearer view. Muttering to himself, he had her back off while he adjusted the phallus. It seemed to be a removable piece, with different angles that could be set.
“Okay, again. And wrap your arms around his waist.” He disappeared around the back of the statue and tugged on her wrists, peering at her over the thing’s shoulder. “Can you take it deeper than that?”
With her lips stretched around the metal cock, she couldn’t speak, so she shook her head, feeling her helplessness and vulnerability. It shook her, both his nonchalant treatment of her and the press of the satyr’s phallus in her mouth. Its still rough-formed face leered down at her, a tongue lolling out as if to lick her up.
“Hold that then.” Quickly, he took measurements of her wrists and arms, noting them down. He measured the length of metal cock not in her mouth, then the rest of her position in relation to the sculpture, his hand casually passing over her bottom and through her slick folds, setting fire to her anew. He came back around to examine her mouth. “You sure that’s all you can take? Try just another inch.”
She tried and gagged.
“Okay stop. You can kneel up. Need some water?”
She nodded, wiping her mouth, her sex dripping wet. The clock showed ten minutes left. Steel cracked the top on a bottle of water from the red and white cooler and handed it to her. She drank it, still kneeling at his feet with her skirt around her waist and her white shirt primly buttoned.
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t sucked a lot of cock, huh?”
Flushing, she shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t like it very much.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Has anyone ever taught you?”
Her prim boarding school teacher flashed through her head, with her favorite pointer, only detailing a schematic of a cock on a giant chalkboard instead of sentence structure. “Ah—no. Not really a part of the standard education around here.”
Steel lifted her chin, smoothing a thumb over her lower lip. “No, princess. I meant in bed and I get the answer is no. Guys are so stupid that way. They don’t get that it isn’t easy.”
“It isn’t easy?” she echoed faintly.
“No. Dan Savage even wrote in his column how fellatio is far more strenuous than cunnilingus. Any fool can lick a p-ssy. Cock-sucking has to be learned.”
“You read Dan Savage?”
Steel raised an eyebrow and set to arranging his tools. “I can read. And the dude gives good advice.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t give it a thought, darlin’. Now I have seven minutes to demonstrate. Go sit on your stool. In fact, you can put your shoes and jacket back on. Were you wearing stockings or pantyhose?”
“Hose.”
He shook his head in mock regret. “If you’d been wearing stockings, I would have let you put those on. As it is you’ll have to put them in your purse. I know you don’t want to be late. Go get dressed—quick. Then on your stool, knees wide, hands behind your neck.”
She hurried to obey, wondering at the surge of excitement. With only four minutes left, she was in position, calling for him. He strode over, eyes raking her. “Such a lady—and so very naughty.”
He knelt down, pressing her spread thighs farther apart, and parted the folds of her sex. “Now see? You’re just like a flower, all sweet and slick and open. All I have to do is—” he swept a tongue up her folds in a long, hot streak that had her gasping. “Easy as licking up ice cream.”
He licked at her more while she writhed. “You can lick long or short.” He demonstrated. “Or suck.” With that he pulled her * between his lips, sucking hard, then flicking it with the tip of his tongue. “But that about covers it.”
He stood up, sliding a long finger into her open vulva, thumbed her * and stroked her throat with his other hand. “No gagging or stretching. Easy in comparison. Make sense?”
She nodded, shuddering under his hand, the climax rising.
“Better get going, princess.”
She stared at him blankly as he withdrew his hand and wiped it on a towel. He nodded at the timer, which flashed multiple zeroes.
“Places to go, people to see.” He flashed that wicked grin. “Maybe you’ll think of me though.”
She nearly groaned in frustration, glancing at her watch. Dammit. She slid off the stool and wrestled her skirt back down, brushing at the wrinkles. No time to change it either. She stopped in her taped-in box to shimmy into her panties, not that they’d make much difference. In fact the pressure of the lace against her aroused flesh nearly undid her. The hose she stuffed into her purse, aware she was still doing as Steel had suggested.
“What are your plans for later, princess?”
She froze, one foot on the step, hand on the rail. “I haven’t decided.”
“You know where to find me if you do.”
She started up.
“If you do come down, it doesn’t matter what you wear—you won’t be wearing it long.”
She nodded and kept going, though the thought throbbed through her.
“And Althea?”
She looked back. He held the metal phallus in his hands, turning it over suggestively.
“Think of me.”
* * *
As if she had any choice, clipping down the street as fast as she could in the narrow skirt, the arousal still riding her hard. It didn’t help to see that he’d planned the encounter, just to keep her on edge. Likely to ensure she’d come to see him tonight. Let him continue to debauch her.
Just for that, maybe she wouldn’t. A little time to clear her head of his influence would likely be wise.
Abby had grabbed a shaded porch table at Cru Café and was already drinking wine in the midday warmth. She glanced at her watch. “You’re never late—what gives?”
“Just one of those mornings, you know!”
Abby narrowed her thickly lashed eyes. “You’re blushing. And your skirt is wrinkled.”
“Oh! Is it awful?” Althea brushed at it.
“No. It’s fine. Just not your usual.” Abby sipped her wine. “I know Boreandon didn’t muss you up.”
“I broke up with him, actually.” Althea glanced at the specials and set the menu aside. “Yesterday.”
Abby squealed and several people turned to look. “Please tell me you’re doing the hottie artist!”
“Shh.” Althea tried to frown at her friend, glad that a horse-drawn carriage full of boisterous tourists rattled by just then, the Clydesdale bobbing his head with cheer at heading into his home stable. A smile twitched her lips as the image of exactly what she’d just been doing with the hottie artist flashed through her head. Her cheeks heated more. “It’s just a little fling.”
“Hallelujah,” Abby breathed, then raised her glass “Cheers, girl. I’m so glad to see you live a little.”
“I live just fine.” Her voice sounded testy to herself though.
“Yeah, if you’re ninety.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Abby?”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Abby blew out a breath. “Maybe this isn’t the right time, but I’ve worried about you. Sometimes I think you might be…depressed.”
“I’m not. I’m just fine. Not everyone wants to ‘live large.’”
“Okay, fair enough, but you changed, Thea. When you gave up your art and took over the gallery, you seemed like you lost something. Then with the financial…issues.” Abby shrugged. “I’m saying this wrong. I’m just—really glad to see you doing something for you.”
The waiter brought truffled mussels and Althea focused on hers, aware that tears were pricking the edges of her eyes. First Steel quizzed her about art and now, after years of not mentioning it, Abby brought it up.
“So, are you bringing him to the Primrose Ball on Saturday?”
She choked on the peppery sauce and groped for her water glass. Damn damn and damn! She’d totally forgotten about the charity event hosted by her own parents that, ironically enough, raised money to bring art education to underserved children. She could just see herself walking in with the grown-up version of one of those kids. The scandal of the season, no doubt.
“No. I don’t think so.” She closed her eyes against the image of her parents’ expressions. “It would not be his scene.”
“Why not? I’m sure he knows not to fart in public.”
“Abby—don’t be gross.”
Abby widened her lushly brown eyes innocently and toyed with her wineglass. “What?”
“It’s not like that between us.” The image of his coarse hands spreading her sex while he demonstrated how easy it was to lick her rocketed through her mind. She could just imagine him discussing his latest work with the Winthorpes. Right now? I have a commission to create an anatomically correct satyr. And Althea here is learning to cock-suck on it. She’s becoming quite proficient.
“By that blush I can see what it’s like.”
“Yes—not a dating thing.”
“What kind of a thing then?”
“I’m…experimenting.”
Abby poked the tines of her fork in the fried goat cheese on her salad. “You’re not letting him…push you around, are you?”
“I don’t think he beats women, if that’s what you mean,” Althea told her drily.
“Not that. Just, since we talked last week, I asked around and I heard he’s got certain…predilections.”
“Five minutes ago you were all excited for me to ‘do the hottie artist’ I think were your exact words.”
“I know, I know.” She licked the fork, sighed and set it down. “I heard some stuff is all. I don’t know that it’s true, but now, with the way you’re acting, I wonder.”
“What stuff?”
Abby glanced around for eavesdroppers and leaned over the table, whispering, “S and M stuff!”
A furious, embarrassed heat rose up her throat, choking her.
Abby stared in genuine shock. “You’re doing that? Whips and chains, like that?”
“Hush, Abby!” Althea hissed, wishing she could crawl under the table. “Not like that!” Not exactly.
“Thea.” Abby looked grave. “I want you to promise me you’ll be very, very careful.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“Yes. But you also have a tendency to let people push you around.”
“Like you do?”
“I know I do it to you. I love you and I try not to. Not everyone thinks that way. You let that Cherry girl take advantage of you. I don’t want to see you end up some guy’s puppet.”
Althea dipped her thin garlic toast in the white wine sauce, refusing to look at Abby. She couldn’t explain why she loved it when Steel took her over, why being made to do things gave her such a rush. But it did. She didn’t want to stop.
“I’m not a pushover.”
“Not always, but you don’t always stand up for yourself, either.”
“Well, I am now. It’s been less than a day. And I don’t think what I’m doing is unhealthy.”
“Okay then.” Abby laid her hand over Althea’s, stilling the furious stabbing, the brown skin warm against her own startling white. “Just promise me you’ll keep perspective. You talk to me. Anytime.”
Althea turned her hand over and laced her fingers with Abby’s. “I will. I promise—I’m having fun. He’s…different and exciting. I think this is good for me. And when it’s over, I’ll think about what kind of man I really want.”
Abby raised her glass a second time. “Cheers then, honey. Cheers.”