Eye of the Beholder (MF, rom, bdsm, semiotics)(7/10)

XIII.

Elizabeth slept like a dead woman.  After sleeping on straw-covered 
stone for so long, the soft cotton sheets she found on the bed were 
like sleeping on clouds.

She awoke very slowly, stretching out, not wanting to leave her warm 
nest under the covers.  But awareness gradually prodded at her brain.  
Slight discomfort reminded her of the golden chain at her neck.  It was 
under her arm, digging into the skin.  She pulled it free, opening her 
eyes to examine it.

It was heavy, solid gold most likely.  It certainly had the luster of 
pure gold.  So much wealth employed for such a purpose.  Who was this 
man?  A nobleman, no doubt, but who could he be?  She thought she knew 
most of the nobles nearby, and she was not so far from her home.  They 
had traveled no further than they would likely have traveled to reach 
the Duke.

The thought of her prospective husband chilled her.  Was her engagement 
still in force?  Was he searching for her?  And if he found her, would 
he still want to marry her?  She felt, with a sinking certainty, that 
he would not, certainly not if he found out what had happened to her.

Was that bad?  She had not exactly looked forward to her marriage.  The 
prestige and wealth of marrying a Duke were one thing, but the price 
was near to more than she wanted to pay.  To let some uncouth man who 
thought he owned her paw and grope at her body.

She felt a twinge in her stomach.  What, then, was she doing now?  The 
masked man had left her virginity intact, but he had conquered the rest 
of her quite thoroughly.  Surely she would never have allowed her 
husband to beat her or fondle her between her legs as he did.  Yet the 
thought of now giving that up unsettled her.

She rolled over, seeing a dark form beyond the veil of her bed.  She 
pushed it aside, no longer surprised to have him sneak up on her like 
this.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Are you hungry?"

She nodded.

"Come."

She slipped out of bed, pulling the chain behind her.  He reached up to 
her neck and unlocked it.  Then he turned to the outer room.  She 
followed him.

She saw a tray of food awaiting them on a table but knew better than to 
speak of it.  He sat in the chair next to the table.  Sensing what she 
thought he wanted, she knelt in front of him, remembering a second 
later to assume the position he had described the night before.

"Good.  This is what I expect from you."

He held a piece of fruit to her mouth.  She took it, chewing slowly, 
then swallowing.  He handed her another.  Like that, he fed her for 
several minutes.

"Are you happy?"

She looked up in surprise, remembering too late that she was not 
supposed to raise her eyes.  But he didn't seem to mind.  He returned 
her gaze with that strange look she had yet to fathom.

"What?"

"It is a simple question.  Are you happy?  Or would you rather I 
released you?"

Her head spun.  Would he really let her go?  Or was this another test?  
She breathed rapidly, unsure what to say.

"When I ask you these sorts of direct questions, I want the truth.  
Lying to me is more serious that resisting me."

"I . . . I do not know."

"You are concerned about your marriage?"

"Yes."

"You think your husband would never accept you now, not in this 
apparent debauched state."

"He would not.  Not if he knew."

"If I could arrange it so that your virtue was clearly still intact, 
what would you do?  So that your husband had no doubts about you?"

His questions made her head ache.  What did she want?  Was she prepared 
now to enter such a stale, arranged match after everything she had 
experienced with him?

She sagged.

"No.  You have ruined me for him.  And him for me.  I do not wish to 
marry him now."

"You wish to stay?"

"I do not know."

"You may leave now if you wish.  I will not hinder you."

She did not answer him.

"I wish to spank you again.  The glow on your pretty buttocks has begun 
to fade.  I will ask you one more time, do you wish to leave?"

She said nothing.  Taking a deep breath, she stood.  She walked to a 
nearby chair and turned away from him, leaning on it in the position 
she thought was appropriate.

She felt his hand on her buttocks, caressing her.

"You are exquisite, Elizabeth.  More than I ever dared anticipate.  
Spread your legs slightly.  Yes, like that.  Now curl your back so your 
buttocks are more pronounced."

She did, wondering why she was doing this.

The first slap of his bare hand made her gasp.  She focused herself, 
letting go the way she had learned to do.  She steadied her body, 
keeping her weight balanced as he spanked her.  She felt her buttocks 
beginning to swell and glow again.

He continued for several minutes before she was tender and swollen.  
The anticipation had her near to bursting now.  Touch me, she thought.  
Please touch me.

He did.  His fingers probed her wetness, stroking gently.  She gasped, 
throwing her head back. As before, she shuddered in release in but a 
few seconds.  He did not stop, however.  His attentions continued, 
drawing a second, then a third climax from her, before her legs finally 
buckled and she fell to the floor, grasping at the chair to support 
herself.

"Wonderful," he whispered.  "Simply wonderful."

He bent to kiss the sweat from her forehead, then left.

* * *

XIV.

"What are you doing?"

I looked up from Danielle's computer, where I had been working.  She 
was still in bed, lying on her side.  I had awoken early that morning, 
filled with ideas, and started to write.

"Working on the story."

"Really?   Can I read it?"

"Yeah.  I need to take a break.  I'm at a stopping place, I think."

She kicked off the covers and grabbed a nightshirt from her dresser.  
She sat at the computer as I got up.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"I'll make something to eat while you read."

"Thanks."

I bent down to kiss her.  She returned the kiss, though she kept her 
eyes on the screen.

I pulled on my jeans and shirt and emerged from the room.  Out in the 
living room, I found a bald black guy in his gym shorts reading the 
paper.  He wasn't very tall, but he had a chiseled, well-muscled 
physique.  We both started in surprise before realizing who the other 
had to be.

"Hey," he said.  "You must be Dani's boyfriend."

"Yeah.  You must be Todd."

"That's me."

He held out his hand, and I shook it.

"I'm Danny."

He laughed.

"No shit?  Your name's Danny too?"

"Yeah."

"Weird."

"No kidding."

"She in there?"

"Yeah.  She's awake but she's busy."

"Cool.  Make yourself at home."

I padded into the kitchen and looked around.  The place was very clean 
and set out with a lot of little designer-type utensils.  I leaned back 
into the living room.

"Am I going to step on anyone's toes if I try to cook something here?"

He laughed.

"No, go right ahead."

 I poked through the refrigerator, finding some eggs, then some onions, 
mushrooms and sour cream.  An omelette might be nice.

* * *

Danielle appeared as I was chopping the mushrooms.

"You cook, too?"

"I try."

She hugged me from behind, lifting up on her toes to rest her chin on 
my shoulder.

"I'm officially hooked.  You're stuck with me until you finish that 
thing."

I laughed.

"Good."

I finished the omelettes a few minutes later, and Todd set down the 
paper to join us.  He worked for a movie production company in 
Brentwood that I had never heard of ("Don't worry, neither has anyone 
else.").  He was twenty-six and from Chicago.  He and Dani had met 
through a friend of hers and had shared the place for about six months.

"All the time she spends on that damn computer, I knew this going to 
happen sooner or later."

"Todd's just jealous," she said.  "He's still looking for Mr. Right."

I laughed, trying not to let it appear forced.  Dani put her hand on 
mine.

"Todd and I usually walk down to the beach to play volleyball on 
Saturday mornings.  You should come with us."

I looked down at myself.

"I can't really play volleyball like this."

"I can loan you some shorts," Todd said.  "It's no problem."

"Okay.  Let's do it, then."

We cleaned up the kitchen, and Todd found some volleyball shorts for 
me.  I changed in Danielle's room while she put on a spandex bra top 
and tied her hair behind her head.  I watched her dress, feeling a 
twinge in my stomach and a catch in my throat.  Damn it, she was cute.

She saw me looking at her and smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I walked over and kissed her again.  She linked her arms around my 
waist.

"I'm glad you spent the night.  Even if this is going a little fast."

"Me too."

She kissed me again.  Then we left for the beach.

* * *

We walked down the street until reaching the cliff above Pacific Coast 
Highway.  Todd led the way down the steps, and we had to repeatedly 
make way for the joggers running up and down the cliff.  The sun was 
out, and it was already getting hot.  We crossed the pedestrian bridge 
over the highway and found ourselves on the beach.

The volleyball nets were about a hundred yards down.  I saw a group of 
three people--two guys and a girl--standing around the nearest one, but 
no one else.  They were knocking a ball around but not really playing.

Todd approached them about a game, and we were soon playing three-on-
three.  Dani might have been on the short side, but she was quite a 
volleyball player.  She made up for her lack of size by being able to 
jump almost as high as I could (and I was five inches taller).  Todd 
played back and set the two of us at the net.  I hadn't played 
seriously in a while, but I got back into it quickly enough.

We won the first game 15-12 and took a break.  They suggested 
rearranging the teams, and Dani and I played with the other girl, whose 
name was Raquel.  She looked to be Latina, with long curly black hair.  
In talking to them, we had learned they were all students at UCLA Law 
School.  

That game was more evenly matched, and it went on until our side won 
17-15.  By then the other three had to leave, and three of us sat down 
next to the net to rest.  We passed around a bottle of water while 
catching our breath.

"You guys met on that computer, huh?"

"Yep," Dani said.

"Damn.  Maybe I should try that place out.  Or is it just straight 
folks?"

"It's mostly straight," I said.  "But I have seen some gay members."

"There are a bunch of gay BBS's in L.A.," Dani said.  "You might have 
better luck there."

"You'll have to show me how some time."

We sat there for a while longer, and Dani and I started knocking the 
ball back and forth.  Nobody else showed up, and we eventually walked 
back home just before noon.  I returned Todd's shorts and changed back 
into my jeans.

"I suppose I should get home and get cleaned up."

"You want to do anything tonight?  Or later today?"

"Sure."

"Will you be online later?  Or should I call you?"

"Either or.  Or I could call you."

"Okay.  See ya."

I kissed her for a few seconds, then left.

* * * 

When I got back, I found Ted watching football in the living room.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You just getting back?"

"Yeah."

"You get lucky?"

I couldn't help grinning.

"Very.  This is quite a girl."

"Cool.  When do I get to meet her?"

"She might be coming over later."

* * *

I took a shower and changed clothes.  Then I logged on to the BBS, 
finding a message from Dani with the story portion I had written that 
morning attached.  I also found her online waiting for me.

She paged me immediately.

"=) =) =) =)"

"Hey. =)"

"I had a REALLY good time last night.  And today."

"So did I."

"And I am DYING to know how you're going to finish that story."

"So am I LOL"

"Don't tell me anything if you have any ideas.  I want to find out when 
I read it."

"I'm kind of blocked, actually.  I have to give it some thought."

"Okay.  I'll try not to pester you then.  But I will be thinking about 
it."

We spent a while talking back and forth before deciding that she could 
just come over and hang out, and maybe later head over to the Village 
for a movie.  She showed up about half an hour later in cut-off jeans 
and a white knit shirt with "L.A.P.D." on the breast.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked after I kissed her in the doorway.

"One of my old boyfriends was a cop.  He gave it to me."

"Did you make him dress up?"

She grinned.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Maybe not."

I introduced her to Ted, who stayed on the couch, acknowledging her 
with a wave and a "hey."  I showed her around the place (which took 
about thirty seconds), and we settled into my room.

"You've sure got a lot of books."

"I collect them.  I've never thrown a book out.  This is probably every 
book I've ever read."

She found my copy of "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty" and held it up, 
grinning.

"Look familiar?"

I nodded.

"A little."

The rose on the cover was very similar to the one on her breast.

"Did you have them do it that way?"

"Not exactly.  I just told the guy I wanted something like it."

She flipped through the book.

"She wrote this for her husband, did you know that?"

"Is that the S.T. thing in the beginning?"

She nodded.

"'Rocquelaure' is French for 'cloak.'  Her pseudonym, in other words.  
So A.N. is Anne.  Her husband's name is Stan."

"S.T."

"Right.  And I just think about all the work she must have put into 
this for him, knowing it might never get published because it was so 
explicit.  I can't think of anything much more romantic than that.  I'd 
rather have someone write me erotica than poetry."

She stared down at the book for a second before realizing what she had 
said.  She glanced up at me, stifling a smile.

"But I guess you've figured that out already."

I grinned.

"Yeah."

* * *

We spent the afternoon around the apartment, moving out to the living 
room a bit later to watch the football game Ted was watching.  UCLA was 
playing USC at the Rose Bowl.  Dani had graduated from UCLA the same 
year I had graduated from Berkeley (journalism, with honors; she worked 
for a little publishing company near LAX), so she and Ted rooted for 
the Bruins while I just sat and watched.  We ended up ordering a pizza 
for dinner since the two of them didn't want to stop watching the game.  
UCLA finally won in a wild shootout, 37-35, and Dani and I walked over 
to the village to catch a late movie. 

"Tell me something," she asked on the way over.

"Shoot."

"Is Ted gay?"

That question stopped me in my tracks.

"I don't think so.  Why?"

"When you live with a gay man long enough, you tend to pick up on the 
signs.  Something about him just seemed gay."

"Well, if he is, he's been hiding it pretty damn well.  He and I go 
bar-hopping all the time."

"Has he ever had a girl over?"

"Well . . . no.  But then neither have I.  Except today, I guess.  But 
that doesn't mean anything."

"It was just a feeling.  I could be wrong."

* * *

By the time the movie was about to start, the UCLA students had begun 
to return to school, driving through the village screaming and honking 
their horns at the team's victory, which had sent them to the Rose Bowl 
in January.  We could hear them even inside the theater.

"God," she said.  "I remember how this was.  Except we beat SC only 
once when I was here."

When the movie began, her hand slipped into mine and stayed there the 
rest of the night.  Toward the end, she snuggled against me and laid 
her head on my shoulder.  When we started for home, it was almost 
midnight.

We stopped at the front of my building.

"You can come up if you want.  But don't feel like you have to."

She grinned, looking at me coyly.

"I'll come up on one condition."

"What?"

"You write me another chapter in that story."

She spent the night.  I wrote another chapter.