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She hesitated, wanting to kiss him goodbye, or at least give him a hug. But he was already scrubbing at the table top with his newest handful of paper towels, and she wasn’t sure how to safely cross the lake of melted ice cream to reach him. “Bye, then.”
“Bye. Have a safe drive home.”
She waited a moment longer, then turned and walked away. A detour through the music room to pick up her music, then on to the front door. She paused again after pulling it open, but he didn’t call out to her. Pushing through the safety door with more force than was necessary, she wished the hydraulics would let it slam behind her. Instead, it closed with a soft snick.
“That was anticlimactic,” she muttered, throwing her purse and music on the front seat of her car. Then, thinking of her last sight of Rikard, she started to laugh. Low-slung black leather pants, high black leather gloves, a black leather mask … and a pile of sopping wet paper towels dripping vanilla ice cream over everything. She could hardly wait to tell Carrie. Her friend would really appreciate the irony.
Chapter Seven
Gayle picked up a pizza for dinner on her way home. All that vigorous exercise had made her ravenous. As she devoured the perfect balance of tomato sauce, crisp crust, and gooey cheese, she couldn’t help contrasting the meal with the gourmet fare Rikard had served her. One wasn’t better than the other, but they were definitely different.
Once her hunger was satisfied, she called her friend Carrie for the promised gossip session. She sat down on her couch, kicked off her shoes, and put her feet up on the coffee table, ready for a lengthy call. True to her word, she told her friend everything, starting with Rikard answering the door dressed like a pirate, to the way he’d helped her with her audition piece, the fabulous lunch…and the sex. When she explained that Rikard had fisted her between the salad and entrée courses of their lunch, Carrie dropped her phone with a painfully loud clatter.
Gayle held the phone away from her ear. “Ow.”
“Sorry. I can’t believe you let him… Didn’t it hurt?”
“God, no! It was…it was… I can’t describe what it was like. But it was the best orgasm I’d ever had. Up ‘til then, at least. It got even better, later.” She sprawled across her couch, the familiar hot pulse beginning between her legs. “I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”
“But I still don’t understand how it happened. I know you, Gayle. You don’t usually even kiss a guy on the first date. How’d he get you to agree to…that?”
She hesitated, thinking back to their lunch. The memory was strangely blurry. She remembered the taste of the strawberry salad, the blue and white dishes and white wrought iron table and chairs. She clearly remembered the beginning of her conversation with Rikard. But then it all got fuzzy.
“We were talking, about what I expected from a Dominant/submissive relationship, and he gave me a challenge, to finish eating my salad without making a sound. The fisting was my reward for completing the challenge. But I’m not really sure how it happened… I was so turned on by then, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”
“Maybe he put something in your salad.”
“No. He doesn’t need any help. He’s sexalicious.”
“He’s certainly persuasive. I still can’t believe I let him talk me into hanging up without speaking to you when I called the second time.”
Gayle smiled. So that’s why Carrie was fixating on how Gayle let herself be talked into sex. She was feeling guilty. Gayle hurried to set her friend’s mind at ease.
“Well, I’d already told you I expected to be having sex, and not to disturb me when you called back. He was just reiterating that.”
“I guess. So what happened after I called and you had tuna steaks?”
“After lunch we went upstairs and played pirate.”
“You hoisted his mainsail?”
Gayle laughed. “No. He spun this wicked fantasy, about my being a proper Victorian lady captured by pirates. If I wanted to live, I had to become the pirate captain’s sex slave. He vowed he’d make me beg for his attention, and I vowed that as a proper Englishwoman, I would never beg.”
“And…?” Carrie breathed.
“And I begged. Oh, God, I begged. And then passed out because it was so good.” Her back and ass burned with remembered pleasure.
“You passed out?”
“Well, it’s not like I was unconscious. I was just flying, off in the stratosphere somewhere. If he’d tried hard enough, he could have roused me.”
“That must’ve been the second time I called.”
“Right. I woke up c
radled in his lap while he composed music. He fisted me again, which is when you called the last time, then we went upstairs and had sex in his guest room. And then I came home.”
“You can’t just skip over all the details!”
