R.S.V.P. Page 8

  More than anything in the world, she wanted to go there with him.

  Chapter Two

  Jane frowned at her computer screen. For all the work she’d done today, she might just have well stayed in bed. On the other hand…maybe not. Lying between her sheets brought back too many vivid memories of lying legs spread while Alan worshipped her cunt with his mouth. She was marginally better off at work. And she had cleaned out her email—if that could be called productive employment.

  At one, she left for lunch. Maggie was spending the morning at the dentist with two of her offspring and had convinced Jane that lunch with “Auntie” would make their young lives complete. As it turned out, a cheese and ham family size at Uncle Paulo’s Perfect Pizza was a hell of a lot better than lunch with friends who’d ask anticipatory questions about her coming weekend, and the presence of a seven and an eight-year-old suitably repressed Maggie’s inquisitiveness. She limited herself to, “Have a lovely weekend, Jane!” as she bundled her offspring into a taxi for Paddington.

  Jane waved them goodbye and took the tube back to Hampstead. She had to be completely nuts she decided as she stood under the shower and massaged lemon-scented shampoo in her hair. She was getting herself all done up for a man who insisted she travel down to see him sans underwear, and by his heated promise on the phone two nights ago, was going to tie her hand and foot and let her feel the touch of her very own bright blue flogger that now lay at the bottom of the tartan tote bag. She’d felt the silky tresses of the bright blue whip as she lifted it out of the box and hefted it. The tresses felt warm and soft sliding between her fingers, but she didn’t miss the little knots on the tails. If he hit her hard…

  She’d find out, wouldn’t she? No doubt about it, she was utterly mad, halfway in love and aroused.

  This was going to be some weekend.

  She’d spent ages deciding what to wear on the train down. With no undies, a short skirt was out. So were skinny rib tops. She was not riding all the way to Guildford with twin peaks poking through. She settled on a short-sleeved, summer dress with a loose bodice and an almost-to-the-ankle, flared skirt. Lots of nice coverage, and the dark peacock blue was a color that suited her. Might as well look as good as she could before he had her strip naked.

  Her throat tightened at that thought. This was going to one hell of an unforgettable weekend! And if she didn’t get a move on she’d miss the damn train! Much as the thought of a spanking turned her on, she wasn’t about to invite one.

  Luck was on her side, she got a taxi right away. The crowd at Waterloo was no worse than expected for a Friday afternoon, and she found the first class reserved seat right away. She had to hand it to Alan, he didn’t stint.

  * * * * *

  He didn’t miss a trick either. As he greeted her with his heart-quickening smile he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, his hands eased over her back where her bra would have been and then down to cup her bottom, feeling for would-be knickers.

  “Brilliant,” Alan whispered in her ear. “You really did it. You came down naked under that rather fetching dress.”

  “Of course! I didn’t fancy starting the weekend with a spanking.”

  He took the tote bag from her. “You might still get one, if I find you’ve forgotten something.”

  “I haven’t.” It came out sounding smug but keeping her voice even with her heart racing and need stirring between her legs wasn’t easy.

  “Maybe I’ll find another reason,” he replied with a grin. “I rather fancy having you over my knee and spanking your lovely arse pink.”

  Damn good thing he’d parked close. She didn’t think her knees would have made it much farther.

  The bag disappeared into the boot. “We won’t need those until we get there,” he said as he slammed the lid down. He opened the door for her and fastened her seat belt, his hand lingering over her breasts as he reached over to click in the buckle.

  She was alone in his sports car, surrounded by expensive leather upholstery and her anxieties. It made for a heady mix. Add to it, Alan, now unlocking the driver’s door, easing his long legs towards the pedals, and resting his left hand on the gear lever as he shifted into neutral and she was halfway to getting drunk on his presence alone.

  Alan had beautiful hands. Very male, long-fingered and large, with a tiny scar below one knuckle where, he told her, he’d nearly cut his finger off with a penknife trying to carve his name on his desk at school. Jane couldn’t help smiling thinking of his tall, male presence once being a scabby-kneed schoolboy.

  “You’re smiling,” he said as he turned the keys in the ignition. “Happy?”

  She was. Utterly. Beside Alan she felt safe. Completely nutty really as she certainly didn’t feel unsafe or incomplete on her own, but it was as if Alan added what she never thought was missing. She gave a sigh. She was getting sappy.

  “Worried?” Alan asked as he paused at a roundabout.

  “Not worried,” she replied, and truth be told, she wasn’t. No matter what Alan might do or not do to her, she wasn’t worried. But… “I am a bit scared.”

  He took his hand off the steering wheel and stroked her knee, easing her legs apart, his hand warming her through the thin cotton. “That’s good. A smidgen of fear ups the anticipation.” He took his hand away as the lights changed and he steered through the traffic. “Don’t worry, love. I give you my word. I’ll never harm you, Jane, ever.”

  She was nutty enough, or besotted enough, to believe him. Resting her hand on his, the gentle vibrations of the engine added to her own peaked awareness. Jane glanced sideways at his profile—his strong nose and square chin, the dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled her way.

  “You look really happy,” he said, his voice warm with pleasure, as if aware he’d contributed to that.

  “I am.”

  “I hope you never regret coming with me,” he said, opening his fingers so they meshed with hers.

  “You promised I’d come several times,” she reminded him.

  “You will, but first you have to learn obedience, my lovely Jane. So far, you’ve impressed me. Let’s see how much farther you’re willing to go. Open your legs as wide as you can and lift that skirt of yours and show me your thighs. You can leave your pussy covered. For now.”

  Her blood pounded so hard in her ears, she was lucky she could still hear. This was nuts! What if they had an accident, or Alan got stopped for speeding? What if… She shivered right down to her toes and taking a deep breath, parted her knees and eased up the skirt of her dress.

  He didn’t say a word, but she felt his pleasure like a soft caress across her exposed flesh. Why did this thrill her so much? And how much more was he going to ask? The answer lay in the tartan bag now locked in the boot. Jane shut her eyes and thought of the hard round plugs and the long sweeping tresses of the flogger, and a slow, anticipatory shudder rippled through her.

  “Take three, very deep breaths and relax.”

  Easy for Alan to say, much harder to do, but she made her shoulders go slack until her hands lay limp on her lap.

  “Keep those eyes shut. It’ll give you practice for when I blindfold you.”

  And he talked about relaxing! Cripes!

  Oddly enough, she did relax. At least her body did. Her mind raced in wild circles of anxiety and anticipation, taking the odd pause to ask herself why she didn’t tell him to stop so she could get out of the car. Since she couldn’t come up with a good answer to that one, she lay there, eyes shut, heart racing and waited.

  “Hold still, Jane.”

  Her seat eased backwards, until she was all but lying on her back, legs spread, and it wasn’t chance that her skirt rode up even higher.

  She lay there, wondering what came next. The CD player clicked on and the slow sultry sounds of Miles Davis filled the car.

  “You might as well doze,” Alan told her. “I’m going to work you hard when we get there.”

  Chapter Three

  The car slow
ed as they turned off the main road, drove along a twisting lane for a good distance, then bumped over an unmade drive. Moments later after a sharp left turn, they stopped.

  “Don’t move until I give you permission.”

  Jane turned her head as Alan spoke, opened her eyes and caught his frown as he stepped out of the car and slammed the door.

  Turning her head constituted moving, didn’t it? Or had he meant not sit up?

  Oh, shit!

  She was cold and prickly between her shoulder blades by the time Alan returned. She remembered, just in time, not to turn her head. For good luck, she kept her eyes closed. Seemed he stood there an age. A cool breeze, from the open door, brushed across her bare thighs. She waited, listening to a blackbird singing in the distance and the sound of running water nearby.

  The last had her wanting to pee and she couldn’t even cross her legs.

  “Jane, love, open your eyes and look at me.”

  He was smiling as he leaned in, resting a hand on her breast. She felt every fingertip though the thin cotton.

  “You are learning. I am impressed. Apart from your one small transgression when we stopped, I believe you haven’t moved.” He kissed her as he reached over and unsnapped the seat belt. “Let’s get into the house.”

  He picked her up, holding her tight against his chest, as he walked up the brick path to the open front door. She caught a glimpse of a little stream running beside the tile-hung cottage, a cluster of apple trees heavy with swelling fruit and a dark red, scented rose in full bloom around the door. He carried her into the entry hall and set her on her feet.

  She looked around at an inglenook fireplace, empty now, but she pictured it piled high with blazing logs in winter. Today, the room was filled with garden scents and fresh air from the open windows on both sides.

  “It’s lovely,” she said looking around at the Turkey red rug on the flagstone floor, the soft, leather furniture, and the fur-lined leather handcuffs and chain suspended from one of the dark oak beams. She couldn’t take her eyes off the cuffs swinging gently in the breeze.

  Alan tugged at her arm. “Don’t worry about that. That’s for atmosphere. How about a nice cup of tea?”

  Might just help settle her nerves. It helped during the Blitz, didn’t it? He led her into a large kitchen that opened onto the back garden and the stream beyond. “This is gorgeous!”

  “Isn’t it? Not mine, I’m afraid. Wish it were. It belongs to an old friend.”

  “He knows about the hook and chain in the sitting room?”

  Alan grinned. “Jane, dear heart, he left it there for us. Would you prefer Earl Grey or Darjeeling?”

  Dammit! Her mind was tangling over the possibilities of chains and handcuffs, and he expected her to think about tea! She took a deep breath. “Earl Grey, please.”

  He plugged in the kettle and measured out tea into the pot before hooking it over the kettle to warm. “Have a seat.” He indicated a pair of rush-seated stools by the countertop. “Won’t take long.”

  She perched on the stool, watching as he reached for cups and saucers in the cabinet, and fetched a tin of biscuits from one of the boxes on the countertop.

  “You know, Jane,” he said, as he crossed to the fridge for milk, “for your little disobedience in the car—turning to look at me when I told you not to move—I should take you in the other room, bend you over the back of the sofa, raise your skirts and give you a few good, hard slaps with my belt.”

  How could he! Jane reared back in shock, forgetting she was perched on a stool and would have fallen, but Alan’s hand on her shoulder steadied her.

  “I said I ‘should’. Not that I will. I have every intention of letting you off this time. But you need to learn to obey without hesitation. Remember our conversation last weekend at the Black Swan?”

  “I remember you saying I could say ‘no’ any time I wanted and we’d use a safeword. Suppose I said ‘no’ to getting the belt?”

  She had him there—or had she? His luscious wide mouth twitched at the corners.

  “Jane, my love, if you truly felt the punishment was undeserved, then yes, you should refuse. But tell me, did you, or did you not, disobey me when I told you not to move?”

  “Not deliberately. I turned without thinking because I wondered what you were doing.”

  He put down the bottle of milk and rested both hands on her shoulders, moving close so her knees brushed his thighs. “I thought so, dear.” His hands eased down to cup her breasts. She leaned forward to increase the pressure of his fingers against her flesh. “That’s why I decided to let you off. You’ll learn. I intend to be a thorough and attentive instructor.”

  “What if you have a recalcitrant student?”

  “Then, my dear, you will feel my belt.”

  She was nuts. Utterly bonkers to sit here but he was turning her on with his talk of punishment. She trusted him, was halfway in love with him, but would she really let him hit her? He’d spanked her that once, but that was half in play and hadn’t really hurt. A belt damn well would.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m wondering if I’m loony to even be here!”

  He brushed his hand down the side of her face. “No, love, you’re here because I can give you what you need.”

  “What do I need?”

  He fastened his mouth on hers, opening her lips and kissing slowly, as if sipping her doubts away. Her already hard nipples went rigid and her cunt ached with wanting. With a little muffled sigh, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed back, delving into his mouth with her tongue and leaning in to press her body against his.

  She’d answered her own question, but as if to underscore things, as he eased his mouth off hers, Alan whispered against her lips, “You need my sort of loving. You want to be overpowered.”

  It was a damn good thing she was sitting down.

  “Milk and sugar, right, Jane?”

  How, after a kiss like that, to say nothing of the preceding conversation, could he calmly ask her how she liked her tea? Deep breath time. “Yes, please.”

  “We’re all set then.” He picked up the tray. “Let’s go sit at the table by the window, but first, take that dress off.”

  So, he’d meant it about keeping her naked! But she’d be lying to herself to pretend the prospect didn’t turn her on. If it were possible to get more aroused… She stood up and pulled the dress over her head. “Where shall I put it?”

  “Hang it up in the hall wardrobe by the front door. There are some pegs there.”

  Not just pegs! Jane stared as she opened the door. He’d been right—there were lots of pegs. Rows of them, holding the biggest collection of whips and floggers she’d seen outside a shop.

  Talk about breaking out in a sweat. It was running down between her shoulder blades. And if she stood here goggling much longer, Alan would know exactly why! Damn him, he’d sent her here, knowing full well what his old pal kept in his hall wardrobe. She hung her dress on the same hook as a rather pretty pink and white flogger that looked as if it would hurt nastily, and went back into the kitchen to face Alan with as much equanimity as possible.

  The butt plug sitting in the middle of a plate of shortbread obliterated any poise she might have mustered.

  “Oh!” she managed, as she sat down on the chair Alan held for her. “Never realized it was intended as a table decoration!”

  “Be careful, Jane,” he replied as he eased in her chair. “You’ll soon find out it’s not for decoration.” She bet!

  “Are you trying to spin me around like a yoyo on a string?”

  His grin answered that one. “You’re objecting?”

  “I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “I trust you will, Jane, Have a piece of shortbread. It’s made by the local Women’s Institute.”

  The local Women’s Institute hadn’t provided the bright blue butt plug! Jane was tempted to grab it and toss it across the room to see if it bounced, but instead… “Thank you.�
�� She reached for the nearest piece. After all, the sugar might give her a bit of energy, and she suspected she’d need it.

  “Scared?” Alan asked.

  Since her mouth was full of shortbread, she nodded, chewing fast before replying. “To be honest, yes. First, I’m sitting here naked and wondering if the milkman comes late in these parts and second, third and fourth, the contents of that wardrobe wasn’t intended to reassure was it?”

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “Anticipation is part of the fun, and a little bit of fear heightens your excitement.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “I am.”

  “Right! So you go around beating women, tying them up and shoving plastic things up their arseholes.” Crude, yes, but…

  “Jane!”

  She scowled at him. “Raising your voice is the first step I suppose!”

  “No, dear, that was to get your attention. I don’t beat women, never have and never will. What I’m offering is sensual torture. I can make you come just with the tresses of the flogger you brought with you. I can bring you to an incredible climax after tying you hand and foot to the bed. You’re aroused just by listening to me. Won’t you let me show you what I can give you?”

  “What if your idea of ‘fun’ isn’t mine?”

  “Stop me. Use that safeword. Nothing will happen that you don’t agree to. Trust me, Jane. We’ve known each other several weeks. Have I ever pushed you for more than you wanted?”

  “We’ve never done anything really kinky.”

  “No?” His mouth twitched at the corners. “What about going into the pub without knickers? Or the time you took off your bra and tossed it in the river.”

  Blood surged to her face, remembering. Had she been drunk both times? Drunk on Alan. “I got carried away.”

  “You certainly did, my sweet, and it’s going to happen again. I want you whimpering in my arms and begging me to let you come.”

  “I’ve never had a problem coming with you.” Wrong thing to say. Smug was the only word for the expression on his face. Watching her, as if waiting…for what? Hell if she knew.