Redemption For Two (10 page)

“It’s working,” she said, stroking his face.

“What is?”

“This momma being happy thing.”

“Oh, that.” He got some sperm off her chest and held it to her lips. “How about a little breakfast?”

“How about a lot of breakfast?” she said, and licked his finger.

He got some more, wiping it through her sweat, and she licked that, too, and swallowed deliberately where he could see her. And then she kissed him. Mickey figured it was just to see if he’d let her. And he did, not caring that there might be a little saltiness to her mouth.

“Good work this morning, cunt,” he said as they got up.

“What am I going to call you?” she asked on the way to the bathroom. “You calling me cunt makes me think I should call you something, too.”

Mickey laughed. “I liked that master thing.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, grinning wickedly. “But I warn you, buster. You want to be my master; you’re going to earn it.”

“No problem,” he said, laughing. “You may shower now, cunt. Shave your legs and under your arms. And wash that sperm off. People will talk.”

“Let them,” Sandy said airily, and closed the door.

When she was getting dressed, he kissed her again and ran his hands over her backside where the garter belt lay taut. “You’ve got a camisole top, don’t you?” he asked.

“Mm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, master, I have a camisole top.” She leaned back in his arms and grinned. “Christ, I hope I never say that out loud in public.”

“Wear the camisole with your slip,” he said.

“It’s too pretty for work.”

“And no bra.” He grinned at her expression. “In fact, you can just gather up all those panties and bras in your drawer and throw them away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am
not
throwing my underwear away,” she said.

“We’ll see,” he said.

Chapter Thirteen

Mickey was under Pete Oliver’s boat when Sandy called later in the morning. He’d huffed through both scuba tanks, but when he surfaced finally into the sunshine, the props were on and the bottom was clean again. He’d gotten all the old zincs off and just had to replace them with new ones. Another half hour, tops. He climbed out of the water for a drink and to change tanks, and checked his phone.

“We need to talk about this thing with me doing Linus’s lab work,” she said. “It’s a lot more money than I thought it was.”

“How much more?”

“I can make what I’m making now working part-time.”

“Yeah, but for how long? Do you want to give up...?”

“I won’t have to,” she said. “Dr. Benson says I can use his lab, so all I have to do is work a couple of extra hours a day.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a deal.”

“Double the money, Mickey. Double.”

He sighed. “I don’t want you working twelve hours a day, San.”

There was a thoughtful silence. Then, “I feel like I ought to do this, baby.”

“See if you can get the boss to let you work the lab on his dime, and maybe offer to do his stuff for free.”

“I don’t know...” she said, voice trailing off uncertainly.

“Or just quit and come be my dive tender,” he said. “Sun’s shining. Water’s warm. You could work on your tan.”

She laughed. “You can’t afford me,” she said. “And we have to decide on this pretty quick, Mickey.”

“What if we set up a lab in the spare room?”

“In the...um...I hadn’t thought of that. Could we do it?”

“I’ll let Cindy be your assistant.”

Her laughter came again. “Oh yeah, that’ll be a help.”

“We’ll talk about it tonight while you’re on the treadmill.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“What color underpants are you wearing?”

“What do you think? Kind of pinkish, with some brown in the middle.”

“Not a skid mark, I hope.”

“It’s in front, if you must know. You’re a nasty, nasty man, McCord.”

“I am that,” he said cheerfully. “How does it feel not wearing a bra?”

“Loose as a goose,” she said. “It drives me crazy.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

They did talk about Linus while Sandy walked on the treadmill. She was pushing toward the three miles per hour mark, not fast yet, but improving. He stopped her after she complained about her breasts bouncing around, and wound three feet of cord around the base of each one, making it fairly tight. She stood still while he did it, looking down at his hands and then away. The constriction squeezed her breasts down to about half their size, and the ends protruded like obscene balls, beginning from the start to turn red.

“Is this something you’re likely to be doing a lot of?” she asked, getting back on the treadmill when he was finished.

“It’s a nice effect,” he said. “Been a long time since I...”

“You never tied them this tight.”

“Hurt?”

“A little. They’re really tight feeling.”

“I’ll bet,” he said. “They’ll turn purple in a few minutes. Rumor has it they’re really going to hurt, eventually.”

“I can hardly wait.”

When she tired, he leaned over to slap her on the behind. Sometimes more than once. She glared at him, but got grim faced and determined. Then he did it again.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Fun,” he said. “I see a buggy whip in our future.”

“Oh, goody,” Sandy said.

As the minutes ticked by, Sandy’s breasts darkened to a blue tinted rose, then purple, and finally, almost black. When she had finished her half hour, Mickey took the cords off and kissed the deep indentations left in her skin. Sandy had a grim look on her face, hurting as the circulation returned. He massaged them, probably a little more deeply than necessary, and kissed her.

Reaching around her, he tied her wrists together behind her back. Sweat rolled down her body as he knelt to remove her shoes and socks, the only things she wore. She left damp, narrow footprints through the house as he led her into their bedroom. With the door locked, he took her to the bathroom and sat her on the open toilet. She looked at him briefly, and realized that he was going to stand there and wait. Her lips tightened briefly in protest, but she peed without demur.

When she was done, he hauled her up again and kissed her crotch where she was wet. Sandy shivered with the contact, but her hips trembled and Mickey gripped her thighs to hold her still. He took her to bed and tied her down, wrists and ankles spread wide to each bedpost. He kissed her again, on the mouth. She seemed very calm.

He massaged her body, kneading her breasts deeply, until she groaned with the force of it. She writhed under his touch, responding to the strength and the urgency of it. When he tasted her wetness again, there was more of it. He teased her with his teeth, making her cry out. Sandy seemed lost to it. She said nothing, and the orgasms washed through her one after the other until she was weeping helplessly.

Finally, he mounted her, swiftly, and drove himself with fierce strength into her, and came deeply and completely. When it was over, he put his elbows onto the mattress and lowered a portion of his weight onto her and kissed her deeply.

“That was unexpected,” she said, sounding pleased.

“You were very quiet,” he said.

“I wanted to see what you would do.”

“Well?”

She raised her head off the pillow to kiss him. “I almost came on the treadmill,” she said. “If you’d spanked me even a little bit like you did this morning, I would have.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “What else?”

She closed her eyes. “When you licked me. After I...”

“Peed?”

“Yes. I had a little tremor then.”

“I should have bitten you.”

Sandy laughed softly. “Yes, maybe you should have.”

He untied her feet, and then her hands. They turned into each other and wrapped their arms around each other, and lay happily dazed for awhile. Then Sandy stirred and said she had to shower. They went together, Mickey washed her gently and with great tenderness. She washed him the same way, and they dried off again and went back to bed. Lying face to face with legs intertwined, they kissed each other good night with more care than they had in years, and went to sleep.

In the morning, they woke almost together in the same position. Sandy slipped out of bed to pee, and Mickey followed her. She drew him to her and kissed his belly and the front of his thighs, and then his penis.

“I’ve never seen you pee,” she said.

“Step aside.”

Mickey stood at the toilet and she reached around to hold his cock. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. Strange hands seemed to give him pause for such a common function. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and managed at last.

“Ooh, I wish I could do that,” Sandy said, directing the stream into the water, and moving it around experimentally.

“I’m glad you’re doing
this
,” he said.

She shifted around beside him and put her hand in the stream. “Hey!” Mickey said, startled, and cut off the flow,

“Warm,” she said in a silky voice. “It feels good.”

“Um...”

She tugged at his cock. “Do it on me,” she said.

“Really?”

“Can you?”

“Well, sure, but...”

“Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll clean up.”

“With your tongue?”

Sandy made a face.

“Here, sit on the john.”

She put one foot over and slid in front of him, still holding his penis. He bent to kiss her, and said, “Let me hold it, cunt. You’ll get me hard, and I can’t pee when I’m hard.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Nobody can, as far as I know.”

Sandy sat back a little and put her hands on his hips. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off her then, his bladder let go on command and he directed the stream onto her breasts. She jumped and gasped at the sudden wetness and the heat, and her mouth was open, watching him excitedly.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said, finishing.

She grinned at him. “I thought you’d give me a little taste.”

“Next time,” he said.

“Promise?”

“Every morning for the rest of your life. How’s that for an idea?”

“All right,” she said. “Now get out of here. I have to shower again.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Go do the treadmill.”

“But, you
peed
on me.”

“Doesn’t change a thing.”

“Shit,” she said disgustedly.

“That’s more advanced,” he said blandly. “I’ll work you up to it.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And who was it asking to be pissed on?”

Sandy gave him the finger on the way out and he backhanded her a good one on the ass. She hopped, rubbing the spot, and went out to the garage without looking back, dripping urine with every step.

“Damn,” Mickey said, and went to find the mop.

Chapter Fourteen

“It’s going to take forever,” Sandy said at lunch time.

She was sitting at Linus Davidson’s cluttered desk in the converted sales office. His Caddy was still outside, with her Volkswagen parked in exactly the same spot it had been exactly a week before. This time, Mickey’s truck was parked there, too. And no baseball bats were in evidence.

Mickey was sitting on the brown leather couch, thinking that Sandy was a very cool customer to do what she was doing while he did so. She had on another one of her white nylon uniforms, and had just run down from work to meet Mickey and go through whatever they could find at Linus’s.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his legs.

“I’ll have to call every one of these offices,” she said. “There are thirty of them on this page alone, honey. And more on the receipt list.”

“What’s active? I mean, how many things is he working on? Or
was
he working on before he got...um...disabled?”

“Sixteen or twenty,” she said, fretting. “And orders for maybe a hundred active over the next month.” She flipped pages. “He’s making runs all the way to Dania and Ft. Lauderdale. How do you make any money that way?”

“Who knows?” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come on over and sit down. Bring the accounts with you so we can see if...”

“You come over here,” she said, looking at the couch.

“Aw, baby...”

“We don’t have time, Mickey.”

“Don’t have time for a quickie on the couch? Who are you kidding?”

There was, he had to admit, a perverse pleasure in teasing her about the couch. She’d gotten laid on that couch. Lots of times, according to Davidson. And she had zero interest in letting Mickey tear off a piece in the same place. That much was obvious.

“I have to get back to work,” she said firmly. “Now let’s get this done, please. I don’t like it here.”

“No?”

“No. It’s nasty.”

“And you with no undies on.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Mickey got up, enjoying himself a little more than he should, and went over to the desk. He propped his butt against the edge beside Sandy and reached down between her arms to squeeze her unfettered breasts. He could see stocking tops at the hem of her skirt, and wanted to touch her thighs, too.

“Stop it, Mickey. I mean it.” Her voice was very sharp, almost panicky.

“Oh, hell. All right,” he said. “Look, just gather this crap up and we’ll take it home. There’s got to be a box around here somewhere.”

“There are boxes everywhere,” she said. “He uses them for delivery.”

“He does?” Mickey put a mildly curious look on his face. “How do you know what he does, San?”

She colored slightly, but blustered. “Because he delivers the impressions to our office, is how I know,” she said.

“Ah. The office.”

Sandy looked like she was going to say something else and then didn’t. She stacked paperwork on the desk with brusque little slaps. Mickey went to find a box. When he got back, it was apparent that he’d need another one.

“It’s almost one,” he said. “You finish piling stuff up and take off. I’ll pack everything and take it home. We can look at it tonight.”

“Almost one?” She looked at the little ship’s wheel clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it was this late, honey. I have to go.”

She stood up and gave him a quick little kiss and went out the door without even a sideways glance at the leather sofa. Mickey stayed to pack. He found some tattered porn in Davidson’s bottom desk drawer and a half finished bottle of cheap bourbon. Out of curiosity, he looked through the other drawers. Found a threadbare baseball. An assortment of broken ball point pens, old bills, retirement stuff from the FBI human resources office. Then he looked in the file cabinet.