The Importance of Being Alice (11 page)

They took themselves off.

“You were right, this bar is kind of hookup central,” Alice said, taking a long pull on her drink before holding the glass to her cheeks. “That feels sooo good. I didn't realize how hot it was out until I started getting parched. So, I found this.” She slid a piece of paper over to him. “I can't read what it says. My German tourist app is evidently quite lacking. Is it a menu for food, or sex?”

“Sex,” he said, glancing at it. He did a double take at a couple of the items available.

“That good, huh?” She scooted her chair over until her breast was pressed against his arm. “Translate for me.”

“Mostly these are just rates for standard rooms, use of the pool and sauna, and additionals like a video camera and something that I assume is equivalent to aromatherapy.”

“I sense a however in there,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yes, well.” He tapped the lower half of the menu. “Evidently this establishment caters to some different tastes. There are standard sex club rooms—flogging, voyeurism, standard BDSM setups—and then specialty rooms. There is a historical room containing stocks and a mock thatched cottage, a medieval dungeon, complete with torture implements, an upside-down room where clients can hang upside down suspended from the ceiling, a faux doctor's office, complete with instruments of a gynecological nature, a pirate ship, and a children's room.”

“Ew,” she said, wrinkling her nose again. He had to fight back an urge to kiss her. “They cater to pedophiles? We're leaving.”

“Not pedophiles, no.” He consulted the sheet. “It sounds more like fairy tales and the like.”

“Oh. That might be fun. But I have to admit, I really want to see the pirate ship. I love pirate stuff.” She squinted at him. “Do they hire out costumes? Because if we put a Johnny Depp wig on you, I'd totally hoist your mainsail.”

“Are you saying my mainsail won't receive any attention unless I don the garb of a pirate?”

“I like it when you do that,” she said with a big smile.

“Do what?” he asked, somewhat startled when she pointed at his face.

“Cock your eyebrow. It's just so . . . you. No, of course
I don't need you in a pirate outfit to ogle you and want to lick you all over, and basically jump your bones from here to next week, but come on! We're in a sex club, we have four hours before the ship sails, and there is a piratin' to be done! Is the pirate room expensive?”

He glanced at the sheet again, calculated how much money he had budgeted for the trip, adjusting it to include the price of the specialty room. He'd simply cut back on the redecoration fund for the dower house. “No,” he lied, the tingly feeling back as Alice gave him a sloe-eyed smile before sipping her drink.

“If you asked me a few days ago if I ever had piratical fantasies, I would have answered no,” he said some twenty minutes later, closing the door to the pirate room behind them. They surveyed their new domain—theirs for the next hour—with interest. Alice held a stack of fresh bed linens in her arms, an indigo and lavender captain's hat upon her head. “And yet, here we are.”

“Yeah, it wasn't high on my bucket list, either, but hey, you have to take life by the horns. Do you want to wear the hat first?”

He eyed it before setting down the plastic-wrapped set of faux-leather cuffs, plastic rum bottle (containing their beverage of choice, which in this case was a cola), nylon lightweight version of a cat-o'-nine-tails, and stuffed parrot with alligator clips on its feet. “No, thank you.”

“It's new.” She held up the plastic bag that had contained the hat. “No cooties from a former user.”

“Indigo and lavender make me look sallow,” he said, holding out the parrot. “Do you think the clips on this are intended to be used to attach him to your shoulder, or for nipples?”

She pursed her lips. “I think they probably leave that
up to you. I have to say, I'm a bit sad we didn't go for the full costumes, because that Elizabeth Swann dress was just gorgeous. But I felt a bit weird wearing something that someone probably had sex in. I mean, I know they clean them and all, but still.”

“It's not something I wish to use, either. So. What do you think?”

Alice set down the sheets and looked around the room, her hands on her hips. “I like the pirate ship. Can we climb on it, do you think?”

“The sign says so.” They strolled across the room to where the forepart of a ship, and part of a cabin, projected from the wall, as if the ship had docked right there. To the right of that, a mural depicted a town set in the Caribbean. A small cannon sat next to the wall, as did small wooden stocks, a few barrels and crates, and, opposite that, a wooden shack about six feet deep that held a utilitarian bed.

“I guess I should make the bed,” Alice said, taking the linens into the shack. Elliott wondered whether she expected him to role-play—he'd never been one to get into make-believe like that. He didn't think his imagination worked that way. Would she expect him to be a swashbuckling pirate, and sweep her up in his arms whilst scattering
yarr
s and
ahoy
s hither and yon? He eyed the stock. Perhaps she wanted him to use that on her. Now, that was a much more interesting idea. He could definitely see himself standing behind her, admiring that wonderful ass of hers while she pleaded with him to satisfy each and every one of her many needs.

Yes, the stock was good. The nipple-clamping parrot another matter. He had no real use for it, but since it was included in the price of the room, he felt obligated to
take the beastly thing. Perhaps Alice might like to keep it as a memento? He examined the parrot again, wondering idly what nipple clamps felt like.

“What on earth are you thinking about? You look like someone just asked you to circumcise yourself with a dull table knife.”

“I was wondering what nipple clamps felt like. These look painful.”

She came over to look with him. “They do.”

“Have you ever tried them?”

“Once.”

“And you didn't enjoy the experience?”

“Are you kidding?” She covered both breasts protectively with her hands. “There is no way on god's green earth anyone is ever again using anything on my boobs that contains the word ‘clamp' in the name.”

“I would tend to agree with you on that. I just wondered if there was something I was missing, since the establishment seemed to feel that they would be used enough to justify the expense of making up these parrots.”

Her face screwed up in thought as she absently patted the parrot's head. “Plus there's the silly factor.”

“Pardon?”

“The silly factor.” She waved her hand toward his chest. “Let's say you are turned on by nipple clamps. That's fine and well, and I could even deal with it, although I'd take you down if you ever came close to using one on me, but there's a bit of a difference between a guy lying back being all sexy and come-hither and mmrowr-worthy, and a man who has a toy stuffed parrot hanging from his nips.”

He got a mental image of just that, and had to agree. “No nipple clamps, then.”

“Well, I don't know. You haven't tried it. I did. Mind you, I almost decked my boyfriend at the time, and swore never to let anyone abuse my poor little nipples again.” She cupped her hand around her right breast. “But you haven't tried it. Maybe we should give that a go. You know, just so you can see if it's something that turns your crank.”

“My crank,” he said, tossing the parrot onto the bed behind her, “has no need to be clamped in order to be turned. In fact . . . I hope you're not going to take this the wrong way, because I'm happy to indulge you, but I don't know that we really need this room. I find you exciting enough as you are, without pirate trappings to stir my interest.”

He was relieved to see her nod her understanding. “Because we're not an old couple who needs to spice things up, you mean? I'm with you on that. Just thinking about you today has made my tongue swell a good two or three sizes, but YOLO.”

There was a moment when he was convinced that his brain had stopped working, because he hadn't the slightest idea what she said. “Yolo? Is that another safe word? I haven't even put you in the stocks and started admiring your ass, and you're safe wording me already?”

“YOLO is a popular acronym these days,” she said, looking with interest at the stocks. “It means you only live once. I figured that since we were here, and there was a pirate room, we might as well take advantage of it. You really want to lock me into the stocks? I thought you said that you don't like your women tied down.”

“I don't,” he said, then realized he just contradicted himself. He swallowed hard. “Erm . . . perhaps just the stocks. It holds much promise, don't you think?”

“Maybe,” she said, giving him an odd look. “Well. I
suppose we should get down to business, since we just have the room for a little bit. Um. I guess we should take off our clothes.”

“That would probably be best. Less staining that way,” he agreed, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to disappoint Alice, however. Not when she was so clearly looking forward to having sex in a risqué club. He unbuttoned his shirt, trying to keep his attention on her, and not on their surroundings.

Alice pulled off her shirt and hesitated a moment, then removed her walking shorts. She stood in front of him in nothing but her pirate hat, sandals, and underwear, her skin pricked with goose bumps, her arms wrapped around her middle.

He slid off his shoes, removed his pants, and folded them, placing them with his shirt on the nearest barrel. “Well,” he said, not knowing how to begin. Was she expecting him to be a pirate?

“Yeah,” she said, sounding as uncomfortable as he felt. “Here we are.”

He eyed her. “Are you in any way aroused by this situation?”

“Not in the least. You?”

“Sex is about the furthest thing from my mind at this moment,” he said.

They stared at each other; then without a word they both hurried back into their clothing. “We can at least play on the pirate ship,” Alice said a minute later, now fully dressed. She clambered up the wooden ladder, the parrot in her hand. “Yarr 'n' stuff!”

“Play?” He frowned at her when she took hold of the ship's wheel and gave it a spin.

“Yeah, you know, play. Don't tell me you don't play?”

“I am an adult,” he said sternly.

“So am I, but all work and no play makes Elliott a dull baron.”

“Regardless, it's not something I do. At least, not in the sense you mean. I'm quite fond of playing several video games. They can be quite relaxing.”

“So can regular playing. Don't make that face—I'll be happy to show you how to let down your hair and have a little fun. Come up here, Cap'n Sexy Pantaloons, and if you're good, I'll let you bend me over the capstan.”

Elliott didn't quite know how to take that. He wasn't used to a playful sexual partner—all his girlfriends had been businesswomen or relatives of neighbors, and although they were pleasing in bed, they didn't play. “I thought you weren't turned on by this situation,” he said, slowly climbing the ladder to the faux ship. “I should warn you that I do not know how to role-play, let alone how to pretend I am a pirate captain.”

“You don't have to be a pirate if you don't want to. I can be the captain, and you can be my sexy captured prisoner.” He frowned, but before he could protest, she continued with a little laugh, “Elliott, just because I agree that this room isn't conducive to wild jungle sex doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you, and touch your chest, and maybe bite that line of muscles at the top of your shoulders that drives me wild.” She held up the parrot. “And I really want to try a nipple clamp on you.”

“No nipple clamps.”

“You big poop,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, we'll leave the parrot for another time. We'll just play a little. You liked the stocks, right? Well, let's try this. . . . I'll put you in the stocks and molest you a little
bit, and then we can switch and you can do the same to me. Sound good?”

“I agree with the stocks, but I insist that you take the first turn in them.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, taking his hand and jumping off the side of the ship. He leaped after her, allowing her to lead him over to the stocks. “You had your way this morning. It's my turn to touch you. How does this work? Oh, there's a latch on the side. OK, in you go.”

He hesitated, but in the end did as she directed, not wishing to ruin her entire experience. He was fully clothed, after all, and since she obviously intended for him to stay that way, it wouldn't hurt to indulge her a bit. He placed his hands and head in the appropriate spots, reminding himself that he would have his turn, a turn that he planned to enjoy for a good deal of time.

Alice closed the stocks over his head with a metallic snap of the latch. “There we go. Now you're my prisoner, Lord Hunkybuns.”

“I refuse to be a Hunkybuns, lord or otherwise,” he said firmly.

“Boy, you really are new to playing, aren't you?” She stood in front of him in an attitude of deep thought. “Prince Punkypants?”

“No.”

“Lord Largeloins?”

He rolled his eyes. “Does playing always involve a name change? I don't see why you can't just call me Elliott.”

“I know!” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “You can be Dirk Dashing, the Earl of Erogenous, and I'll be Jasmine, Queen of the Midnight Sea. All right,
Dirk, now that I have you in my grasp, prepare to be molested like you've never been molested before.”

He shifted his weight. “It goes without saying that I look forward to any and all molesting you care to enact upon me, but if you could speed it along, I would appreciate it.”