Odalisque (9 page)

He wandered from his office out to the living room and up the staircase to the patio and pool. Taut white awnings stretched above him in geometric opulence. He lived high up in the Malibu hills, next to movie stars and billionaires, with all the security and privacy anyone could want. The crystalline infinity pool could only be reached via the second floor, and dropped off the hillside. You could swim right up to the edge and look down over the cliff, watch the water trickle over and disappear. It was an illusion of course, like so many things about him. Illusion of success. Illusion of having his shit together. God, when was the last time he’d taken a swim?

He sat in one of the chairs under the shade of the awnings. His house was like a mausoleum. He’d sold the last house, the one he’d shared with Veronica, and bought this one, which suited his mood at the time. Contemporary lines, sharp corners, hard and severe. Everything neutral. He’d never felt compelled to change it--until he’d gone shopping for Constance the week he got back from France.

Her room at the Maison hadn’t been particularly colorful or overly decorated. In fact it had been decorated very much like his house, in neutral and understated tones. But he’d wanted color. Garish floral cushions tossed on a bright crimson sofa. A mahogany canopy bed with deep vermilion sheers shot through with gold threads, sheers he’d imported from India. He hadn’t consulted any interior decorators, any outside stylists. He’d done it on his own and found his tastes stuck somewhere back in the wonder of his great-grandmother’s squat, odoriferous home on the outskirts of Mumbai, the home he’d only visited once during his childhood. He couldn’t imagine why he wanted that for her, but he did.

Then he’d stopped at an antique shop and picked out an armoire and dresser inlaid with tile in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. The shop clerk had run a finger over the uneven surface and whistled. “Wow. This is loud.”

And then Kai had understood. He was furnishing her room
loudly
. It was the interior decorating equivalent of yelling at someone who couldn’t hear. Had he really meant it that way? He’d recalled the addendum to her odalisque contract, protecting her from blindfolding.
Constance hears with her eyes.
Would she take one look at her surroundings and get a headache?

When she arrived, he would ask her whether she liked it or not. He practiced the signs with half-conscious nervousness.
Do. You. Like. This. Room?
The sign for “room” was simple, his hands delineating a squarish space. A lot of the sign language was obvious. He’d worked at it every day until he got conversational, and fingerspelled until he got fast and smooth with the letters. The fingerspelling was the hardest thing by far. His teacher had gripped his wrist so he didn’t bounce his hand while he tried to spell in his mind and translate the letters into signs. He was a pretty smart person usually, but language had never been his strong suit.

Fortunately, being able to make the signs wasn’t important. Constance could read lips. What would be important would be decoding
her
signs. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a complete ass.

Kai went back into the house and drifted to her bedroom. Her
odella
, in odalisque vocabulary. He’d practiced that too, all things odalisque, embracing the silliness and perversity of it. He’d studied the full body of the code lying in bed with his cock in his hand. It was certainly arousing reading. He couldn’t wait to fuck his beautiful sex slave, to lie her right down on the cushions and bury himself inside her...

But he hadn’t told anyone she was coming. Not Mason, not Jessamine, not any of the people he worked with. Not even his sister, who made it her business to know everything about him, no matter how personal it was. When he’d met her for lunch downtown, Satya had picked up on his mounting anxiety over Constance’s arrival. He’d explained it away as work problems. To his co-workers he explained away his anxiety as sister problems. It all worked out. He figured he would tell everyone later that Constance was his girlfriend. Maybe, eventually, he’d tell a few trusted friends the truth, but not right away.

In the beginning, he wanted her all to himself.

It was ten after four already. Where was she? Kai was about to call his driver when he saw the black sedan pull around the front. He walked out, and realized he was actually holding his breath. He let it out in a long slow gust and drew in air again. The door opened and a middle-aged woman got out. Close cropped dark hair, a smart business suit. For a moment he thought they’d sent the wrong odalisque, and then he realized this must be the overmistress.

The older woman turned, leaned down and gestured, and then Constance stepped out of the car. She was also dressed in sedate black business attire. She looked remarkably put together for someone who’d just gotten off a transatlantic flight. Her glossy dark curls fell forward over her shoulder. She flipped them back and turned to him, and broke out in a shimmering smile.

She wanted to be here. It was written all over her face. He’d bought her and she was here, clearly happy, clearly excited. He’d planned to greet her in sign language and surprise her.
Hello. Welcome.
It seemed stupid now, not enough. Kai strode to her instead, took her hand and drew her close. She melted against him. He was vaguely aware of the overmistress standing beside them, but not aware enough to care. He kissed Constance’s soft lips, and she parted them and responded in kind. She was so warm and real in his arms. So present.

He drew away from her and drank in her pleased expression. He squared his shoulders, raised his hands and signed, “You’re finally here.”

She looked taken aback for a moment, so he thought he’d signed the wrong thing. She raised her own hands and formed slow words. “You learned to sign?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m going to try. I’m a beginner. Be patient with me.”

She was blinking now, her fingers against her lips. He watched her, not knowing what to do. The overmistress tapped her shoulder, and when Constance was looking at her, signed “Let’s go inside.”

Kai turned, leading them to the door. “Of course. Let’s go inside.”
Look at her when you talk.
He turned back and said it again. “Come inside. Your room’s all ready. I hope you like it. And I am so, so happy you’re here.”

*** *** ***

Constance followed him, staring at his broad back, his impeccably tailored clothing...or maybe it was his physique that made the clothes fit so well. So Kai had learned to sign for her. It touched her deeply--and put her on guard. He would be so easy to fall for.

And that wasn’t in the plan.

He led her through his house, past a gleaming grand piano, past a sunken sitting room furnished in modern lines. A wide hallway stretched in two directions, with numerous doors. He ushered her and Ms. Dresden up a carpeted, open stairwell to the second floor. Her suite of rooms was on the right. He opened the door.

“I’ll give you the full tour, of course, but this is where you’ll stay. If you hate it--”

Constance didn’t hear any more because she had to look away from him. The room was a wonderland. It was a huge open space, larger than most people’s apartments. Much larger than the military housing she’d grown up in. Everything was big in scale--the sofas, the furniture. A wide archway framed a sleeping space with an inviting, curtained bed. There was a massive closet. Overkill really, since she’d only brought one suitcase of clothes. There were cushions on the floor, cushions on the chairs, cushions piled on the bed. There were vases of flowers on the side tables and dressers, and beautiful tree-sized potted plants. A large desk graced one corner of the room. Stacks of notebooks were arranged next to a cup of pens.

And everything--everything--was vividly, brightly colored.

She turned back to Kai and Ms. Dresden to find them talking. They faced one another so she couldn’t listen. From Ms. Dresden’s gestures she gathered they were talking about the room. They turned to her and she was sure she wore the goofiest smile in the history of smiling.

“I want to jump on the bed.”

She watched Kai to see if he understood her signing. She tried again, slower. “Jump.” She pointed. “Bed.”

“Oh, jump on the bed,” he said. “Be my guest.”

She took off the high heeled pumps she was unaccustomed to wearing, and did a flying leap. She sank into a fluffy embroidered counterpane while cushions and pillows spilled around her. She hunched herself to her feet and jumped a few times, ducking the filmy orange canopy over her head. Ms. Dresden cocked her head to one side and signed, “Not very dignified.”

Constance laughed and collapsed down on the pillows. She looked at Kai and saw approval, and something else that made a pulse start to thrum in her veins. Male hunger. She could read it on his face like the title of a book.

This would be their book. This was the first page. Ms. Dresden silently left the room and shut the door behind her.

He walked toward the bed with a seductive smile. She’d forgotten how large and imposing he was. “You’re a long way from home, little odalisque.”

He didn’t bother to sign; she was staring right at him, at his handsome face, his full sexy lips. She laid back on the cushions, running her fingertips over the embroidery and lace. This was the life of an odalisque. He was her Master, and she craved to please him more than she’d expected to. He stopped beside the bed and she signed, slowly, so he could decode it, “This is my home now.”

He looked pleased by that. “You like it?”

She knew he was talking about the room, but she was thinking about him. “Yes, I like it. It’s beautiful.”
You’re beautiful. Let me serve you.
Her fingers went to the buttons of her jacket. She meant to undress, a slow seductive striptease, peeling away layers until she was as she should be: nude and open to his gaze.

But her new owner had other ideas. He fell on her and undressed her himself, with a rash impatience that thrilled her. He tossed her jacket over the headboard, undid her blouse’s buttons and pushed the front open to reveal a sheer bra. He toyed with it a moment before clicking open the front clasp to fondle her breasts. His fingertips felt so rough--a curt, demanding touch that made her feel instantly submissive to him.

He pushed her fitted skirt up to her hips and hooked a finger in the elastic of her garter belt. She wasn’t wearing panties. He traced the top of her stockings and then slid his fingers down her pussy cleft. She arched, opening herself to his skilled probing. His lips were at her neck, her shoulders, nibbling on her clavicle. He was clean-shaven but still his cheek felt rough against her skin.

He smelled divine.

Aftershave, soap, and his own natural smell. She twined her fingers in his hair and felt the jerky movements of his hands pulling at his pants. She ached for him, needed him to fill her. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d dreamed of having someday when she’d begun her training at Maison Odalisque. She was with a handsome, strong man in a beautifully furnished home on a blissfully cozy bed.

He pushed inside her, spreading her open for his possession, and consolidated her dreams into reality. His cock within her was hard, unyielding. Hot acute friction, with no latex barrier needed between them now. She clamped her legs around him and grasped his ass cheeks, feeling them clench and unclench through the fabric of his pants as he moved in and out of her. She almost closed her eyes, let herself be borne away merely on sensation.

But no, she was too curious. She wanted to see her Master. As he arched over her, she stared at his muscular arms braced on either side of her, his lightly furred chest bearing down on her. She watched him open his mouth over one breast and then the other, making her shudder with hot licks of pleasure. She felt his breath against her skin and looked up to meet his gaze.

His eyes were fixed on hers, communicating deep, overpowering desire. They were magnificent, a light amber-gold color she was certain she’d never encountered before--and she remembered people’s eyes. The way he looked at her stimulated her as much as his thick cock between her legs. The hint of a smile played across his lips. He was happy.

Kai, Kai, Kai, Kai...
She knew his name in her head, felt it on her tongue, although she was too embarrassed to attempt to say it. She’d practiced it in her room the last month, touching her lips, trying to form the right sounds, which wasn’t easy when you couldn’t hear them. She touched him now, utterly fascinated with the feel of his skin, the hardness of his body. His cock stroked her in the perfect spot, with the perfect rhythm. She was suffused by pleasure and enthralled by his confident possession of her. She had worried a little, that things might be awkward when she arrived here. Or that, God, he might change his mind about wanting her.

But he seemed very pleased to have her. His movements were controlled and yet some thread of wildness snaked and grew between them. He squeezed her breasts, hurting her, making her moan and arch toward him for more of the shocking ache. She ground her clit against the wiry hair at the base of his cock, sparking singing sensation. Ironic, that her independence would come to her through this subjugation. Through being
his
. His to use, his to possess. More ironic still that she basked in every moment of it.

She gasped for breath and clung to him, thrusting wildly in answer to his own roughness. She tensed her thighs just at the edge of the precipice, and then tumbled into orgasm in a shattering rush. Pleasure washed over her, rendering her helpless. He dug his knees into the bed and bore her down, down, down, impaling her without mercy. She could feel him clutching the fabric of her skirt, not letting her move one centimeter beneath him. He shuddered over her and came to rest, his hands moving up to her shoulders. He pressed his face against hers and laid still, his cock pulsing inside her.

Kai.
She almost whispered it, but words had such power.
Be on guard.
A moment later he pulled away, lounged back to rest on the pillows beside her. From the sudden rise and fall of his chest, she thought perhaps he sighed. He licked his lips and looked over at her with an expression she couldn’t place, and then he kissed her so she couldn’t keep thinking about it. When he pulled away, he ran his long, tapered fingers over the buttons of her blouse.