Redemption For Two (14 page)

He got Cindy into her car seat and they went to eat fast food, or at least Mickey and Cindy did. Sandy had a salad, and said she was never going to fit into a corset if she didn’t. She gave Mickey a warm, secretive little smile when she said that, and the heat between them seemed to rise a little bit.

While Cindy was on the restaurant playground, Mickey pretended to drop his keys and bent down to get them while Sandy spread her knees a little to let him look up her skirt. Her face was happy and flush, although she fussed at him just a little, pretending it hadn’t excited her to be around so many people exposing herself like that, even though no one saw but Mickey.

“I didn’t see any new bruises,” he said, teasing her.

“I’m sitting on them.”

Mickey laughed.

“It’s not funny,” she said with a prim look that turned rueful and then dissolved into girlish giggles. She reached across the table to squeeze his arm and said, “Can you
believe
I did that, Mick. I mean, it’s just not
me
, is it?”

“Maybe it is,” he said, turning his arm over and taking her hand. “It’s kind of a surprise, San, but you seem to...”

“Oh God, don’t say it, honey. Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll be mortified. I’m thinking things...crazy things like when I was a kid...and it just scares the pants off me.”

“You’re not wearing pants,” he reminded her. “And you’re no kid anymore.”

“Don’t remind me.” She took a breath and huffed it out, looking down at her hands. “I do it for you,” she said in a low voice. “I think maybe I’d do anything you asked. That’s what really drives me crazy.”

“Nothing wrong with being a little crazy,” he said. “And I don’t remember asking you to mow the lawn with clothespins on your pussy.”

Sandy blushed and ducked her head a little. To cover, she drank from the straw through the perforated plastic cap of her soda cup. Then finally she looked at him again, and said, “Why are we doing this, Mick? I mean, why now?”

“Because it’s time, maybe,” he said gently.

“No it isn’t,” she said. “Or maybe it is, but that isn’t my question. You and I have been together since before we even understood why were so nuts over each other. What, twelve years, right? Something like that. And Mickey, you’ve never, ever been like this.” She waved that away with both hands. “Okay, that’s not true. You’ve been really strong and manly with me in the past, but not...”

“Strong and manly?” He smiled at that.

She blew out her breath again in exasperation. “Don’t dance me around, honey. You know what I mean. These past couple of weeks you’ve been different. Like you came into focus all of a sudden. You’ve been kind of gentle about it, except in bed, but there hasn’t been any doubt in my mind about what you want since...”

“I’m just trying to be a... “Better man, I know.” She sighed. “It’s okay, what you’re doing. More than okay. But you read me like a damned book, and it’s scary sometimes, because you seem to know what I’m thinking before I even think it. And I’m curious, I really am. You can’t blame me for that.”

“Let it ride,” he said.

“We have to talk, Mickey.”

“And we will. Just not right now.”

They went home and did the things that had to be done. When the baby was asleep, Sandy took off her dress and put her hair in a pony tail. Mickey had a look at her nipples and her pussy lips, and kissed all three places pretty thoroughly.

“I’ll never get to the treadmill at this rate,” she said wryly.

He went to shower and change and let her go to the garage. When he got out there, she was sheeted with sweat and had the cadence meter up to a flat four miles per hour. She was huffing steadily, but seemed confident.

“You aren’t really going to whack me ten times with that spoon, are you?” she said, swabbing her breasts and face with her towel.

“The count is rising,” he said. “Want to wait until it’s twenty or thirty?”

“Jeez, no,” she said.

Mickey hadn’t been thinking about the spoon, but he started to. When Sandy finished with her half hour, he toweled her down and got her a drink of water. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the platform of the treadmill. Sandy pulled her long pony tail around and frowned at it.

“Should I change my hair color, Mick?”

“Not on my account,” he said. “But sure, if you want to.”

“I...” She seemed to catch herself and took another drink of water. After a minute, she turned on the deck and looked at him. “I was going to say I would do it for you,” she said. “It’s true, of course, but there’s a little more to it than that.”

“You always liked being a blonde.”

“I like being
your
blonde,” she said quietly. “It’s complicated.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s like when you told me not to wear underwear.”

“Getting your hair done?” He sounded uncertain, even to himself.

“It’s not the hair, or you banging me in the men’s room, or even sitting naked out here in the garage while you’re dressed. It isn’t even about you wanting things from me. It’s about...” Her voice trailed off and she looked frustrated.

Mickey waited, biting his tongue to keep from jumping in.

Sandy hugged herself. “It’s me,” she said, like maybe it hurt her to say it. “Maybe this won’t make sense to you, but what I really like is making up my own mind to do...” She shrugged and flipped her hands helplessly. “Well, doing whatever. I need you there to ask, of course, and I need to know that I can always say no.”

“Of course you can,” he said. “And don’t go changing your hair or shaving your pussy or something. All right? I love you just like you are.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, and dimpled briefly. “But let me tell you this before I chicken out again.” She took a breath and said, “When I was a little girl just discovering things about myself, I used to have this kind of fantasy world where I was safe and somebody took care of me. It was a dreamy kind of kid thing and then, when I got older, it was...um...more...physical. Do you know what I mean?”

“It turned you on?”

“In a childish way, at first, but eventually there was more to it. But then I met you and we were so in love and I thought you were my prince to keep me safe.”

“And I haven’t done a very good job, have I?” Mickey said sadly.

“Sometimes,” she said and knelt in front of him to take his hands. “We had wonderful times, Mickey. Everything I ever dreamed of. But...”

“There’s always that ‘but’ thing.”

“It’s okay,” she said earnestly. “I love you, and I have always loved you. It hasn’t been perfect, but...”

“You did it again.” He smiled a little, and she did, too.

“Okay, no more buts,” Sandy said. “Here’s what I’ve decided to tell you. It’s a big deal for me, even though it will sound stupid.” She put one hand over his mouth to keep him from protesting, and said, “Let me finish. You surprised me at first, but these past couple of weeks have been too good for words. You need to know that I may not like
doing
everything you want me to, but I love, and I mean
love
, doing them
for
you.”

Mickey kissed her and they held each other for awhile. Eventually, he took her to the bathroom and put her in the shower and then got in with her to wash her back, and whatever else came to hand. They made love under the hot water, and dried each other off with great care and went to bed.

“Thank you,” he whispered as they settled in to sleep.

“I wanted you to know,” she said, almost as softly. “I want you to know everything, Mickey. Everything.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he said.

“Mm?” She was settling her bare backside into his lap. “What do you mean?”

Mickey decided not to answer. Two long days and the lovemaking had taken his reserves right down to nothing. What he had to say was going to need a clear head and without doubt a strong heart. He kissed the damp back of Sandy’s neck and cupped her breasts in his hands and fell almost instantly to sleep.

Chapter Nineteen

“Do you know what a self-defeating personality disorder is?” Sandy asked at the breakfast table. She wore her robe, because Cindy was up.

“Um...overeating?” Mickey was watching the baby pack her cereal down.

“I had a counselor in high school who said that about me. SDPD. I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

“What is it?”

“A form of masochism, according to Freud.”

“Ah, well,” he said. “Now you’ve caught my interest.”

“Not
that
kind of masochism,” she said with mock severity. “It’s the one where a person is sort of proudly self-sacrificing; always giving like it was the most important thing in the world. Apparently, it’s the only kind of control she thinks she has, so she goes about her life making herself essential by being the best little slave in the building. Making herself essential to others, I mean.”

“And that’s you?”

“No, that’s what he
said
about me.” She put a bowl of oatmeal with two scrambled eggs on top in front of him and sighed. “Well, maybe it is me a little bit.”

“Yes, it is,” he said and wiped the child’s face. She ran off to the morning cartoon show, and Mickey turned back to his breakfast. “The other thing, too. I mean, who do we know that likes the old slap and tickle better than you?”

“It’s not the kind of question I’d ask the girls during lunch break,” she said.

“Maybe you’re not the only one,” he said. “That Phillip Carlyle guy walks his two lady engineers around on leashes. Did I tell you that?”

She sighed. “No, you didn’t.”

“They both have nose rings, and they wear these long gold chains and he walks them like...”

“Like you walked me a couple of weeks ago?”

“You weren’t on a leash,” he said, eating scrambled egg.

“Might as well have been,” she said, and brought her coffee to sit across from him. “What’s really nagging at me is thinking that guy had it right, even fifteen years ago. Maybe I
do
have some sort of...um, disorder.” She sighed. “Damn, it’s hard for me to talk about this stuff. It makes me want to hide under the covers.”

“I don’t know about any disorders,” he said. “Are you defeated?”

“No, of course not. But I wonder if the other thing, this need of mine, maybe it’s a manifestation of something from the past, or maybe my brain doesn’t work right.” She put her chin on the heel of her hand. “Do you think I’m crazy, Mick? Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“If you are, I’m checking into the asylum with you,” he said, laughing a little. “Maybe they’d give us the same rubber room, and I have this vision of you in a straitjacket. Woo hoo. All those straps and buckles, and maybe some high heels.”

“I can’t talk to you about anything, can I?”

“You’d have been crying by now, this time last week.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, warmly enough that it sounded like ‘I love you’.

He finished his oatmeal and took the dish and spoon to the sink. When he turned on the hot water to wash up, Sandy made a sound of protest and started to get up. He waved her back.

“You cooked, I’ll clean,” he said.

“But...”

“Don’t start with the, what did you call it, the proud self-sacrifice? Just sit and have your coffee. I’ll do this.”

“Shit,” Sandy said, looking at the wall clock. “Is that the time?”

“That’s eleven strokes with the paddle, when I get one,” he said. “No swearing where the baby might hear.”

“You missed a damn in there, I think.”

“Now you’ve said it again,” he said. “That’s what, twelve and thirteen?

“I’m vulgar, Mick, not fucking stupid. I know it’s not fucking necessary. It just feels pretty fucking fine every once in awhile.”

“Okay, then. Twelve. And now thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen,” he said. “I’m getting a paddle. My hand won’t be able to take the strain.”

“And fuck you very much, too, darling.” She kissed him on the back and went to get changed.

“Sixteen,” Mickey said to the empty room.

Sandy looked back at him from around the door jamb. “Hey, buster. I need a couple of full slips. I can’t be running around without a bra and not have
something
to hide my nips. And don’t blame me. You started this shit, you fucker. Size twelve.”

“Seventeen, eighteen,” he said.

She stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared laughing into the bedroom. Mickey finished the dishes and dried everything and put them away. He went to get the ten overnight shipping boxes that Sandy had packed while he was gone and loaded them into the truck for the post office run. He’d be doing that while Sandy made the daycare run and went to work.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the paddle,” he said.

“Eighteen?” She grinned at him. “That’s nothing. Why not make it twenty?”

“Up to you.” He shrugged elaborately.

“Fuck and fuck,” she said, and gave him an arch look.

Mickey laughed.

He found a nice selection of slips at Macy’s of all places and bought two in white, one red, and one black. The sales lady was a woman about twice his age who kept her face carefully straight as they talked about stockings. He bought three pairs of something called seamless nude uniform white, and three pair of beige, and three more of black.

Asking about corsets defeated him. He’d have to take Sandy for that discussion. He paid in cash, almost a hundred and forty dollars total, and started out of the store. Striding past the shoe section, his eyes caught on a pair of red pumps with nail thin heels and a very low vamp.

“Do you have these in a narrow size ten?”

They did, and he bought them, even though they cost most of the rest of his pay from Judge Oliver. Sandy, when she saw his purchases, thought it was scandalous, and was quietly furious with Mickey for spending so much money without consulting her.

“My choice,” he said flatly.

“But...”

“You said no more buts, San.”

“Goddamn it, Mickey...”

“Twenty-one,” he said.

She glared at him and went out to the treadmill. Mickey had a look at the bills due and at the checkbook and winced. He’d spent the extra pad of money they were going to have, and he’d done it glibly, figuring to please Sandy. Only Sandy was smarter than him, and a whole lot more practical. Damn, he was absolutely going to square himself away on that. If he was going to run the bills, then he was going to have to quit treating money like candy.