Two Short Stories and Three Very Short Stories (4 page)

She was ready. Annie glanced at the clock. She even had a few minutes to spare. Jean Luc would to be pleased. A last comb through her hair, a final glimpse in the mirror, a slow, deep breath to calm her stuttering heart, and Annie turned the ormolu doorknob. Stepping into the marble-floored hallway, she walked across the apartment to wait for Jean Luc in his study.

©2014 Madeleine Oh

Annie set the carton on the kitchen table. She hadn’t expected to find a large package waiting when she got home but she’d been getting used to surprises since meeting Jean-Luc. A kitchen knife soon took care of the sealing tape and from inside the heavy, brown carton Annie lifted out a blue box. It was almost the same pale shade as the Tiffany’s box that held her godmother’s graduation gift but, size and shape aside, Annie doubted Jean-Luc had bought gold hoop earrings. Nipple rings were more his line. She shivered at the thought. Would she agree if he asked? Jean-Luc wouldn’t
ask
.

She pushed that thought aside and lifted out a shiny box, the color of a summer sky reflected in a still pool. She ran her fingers over the smooth gloss of the cardboard, hesitating before opening. Wanting to know what Jean-Luc had picked out. Wondering what he expected. As she lifted the lid, Annie caught a soft whiff of new leather from the mass of black tissue paper scrunched up like ebony foam. Her pulse quickened as she reached into the dark tissue, touched the silky softness of expensive leather, and pulled out a corset: a metallic, leather corset, soft as heavy satin and with a sheen like polished copper. The supple leather warmed under her fingertips. With a slow shiver of anticipation, she ran her hands over the soft animal skin and traced the twin lines of stitching that encased narrow strips of whalebone.

She’d seen corsets before, in the books Jean-Luc loaned her, and the videos they watched on the nights they stayed home. She’d noticed satin and latex corsets worn at the two fetish parties he’d taken her to. But she’d never held a corset in her hands, much less ever seen anything as beautiful, as obviously expensive, and as intimidating as this. It looked tight-fitting and encompassing and her breath quickened as if she were already constricted.

The phone rang.

She just knew it was Jean-Luc even before she glanced at caller ID.

“You’ve opened the package?” Goose bumps skittered down her spine.

“Yes.”

“Put it on.”

“Okay, I just got in and…”

“I’ll call back in ten minutes. I miss you, Annie,” he added, before hanging up.

And she missed him. Six weeks was a long time but he’d made darn sure she didn’t forget him. Between calls, emails, faxes and the occasional package like this afternoon, Jean-Luc had never been far from her mind.

Upstairs, Annie slipped out of her sensible pumps and stripped off her clothes, hanging her jacket over a chair and leaving her skirt a crumpled circle on the carpet.

The corset still lay in the nest of tissue that rustled as Annie reached for Jean-Luc’s latest gift. Up here, under the slanting roof of Annie’s cottage bedroom, the scent of leather brought back memories of sex…and more. She smiled as the glove-smooth leather brushed her skin. Warm as a caress, the corset wrapped around her ribs like a lover’s arms. Like Jean-Luc’s hold on her.

Twelve hooks fastened down the front from between her breasts to just above her now-hairless pussy. The corset almost met at her waist. It took just a little tug to fasten the first hook. The second closed easily enough but with the next two, one above and one below, the tightness grew like a pair of strong, warm hands gripping her waist. Annie held her breath as she fastened the corset up to breasts, exhaling gently at the last hook. Looking down at her breasts, shaped now into tight globes, she closed her eyes a moment, savoring the constriction, the sense of encasement, the feeling of being surrounded. Her ribs enclosed, her waist compressed, her breasts high.

And she had five more hooks to go.

Those were easier. It seemed the manufacturers expected less than skinny hips. Why not? Jean-Luc knew every inch of her body. The leather wrapped as closely as a new skin. She found herself breathing gently at first, then deeper, feeling the corset give with her diaphragm, just as it gripped her.

Annie caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror Jean-Luc had insisted on hanging opposite the foot of the bed. She was encompassed in iridescence. A wide beam of afternoon sun caught the gleam of the leather as she moved and turned. It seemed she stood taller, back straight and shoulders back. With her body constricted, her limbs felt freer than usual. Her legs moved with an ease and confidence that amazed her and her arms swung comfortably. She raised them slowly and one by one removed the pins that held up her neat French pleat, smiling to herself as she shook her hair free.

Her heart beat a little faster behind the leather and whalebone. If only Jean-Luc were here instead of across the continent.

The phone began to ring.

©2014 Madeleine Oh

Annie grasped the ormolu doorknob with a hand that almost didn’t shake. As expected, the room was empty. She’d half-hoped Jean-Luc had returned while she was in the shower but welcomed the chance to calm herself and prepare for what would follow. Except she had no idea what was coming next. Jean-Luc was a master at the surprise, an expert at the unexpected.

Closing the door behind her, Annie looked around the now-familiar room, at the shelves of elegant leather-bound erotica, the antique armoire with painted doors that concealed a DVD player and the drawers holding Jean-Luc’s toys, the soft Kilim covering the waxed parquet, and the wide, brick fireplace, now filled with a beaten brass urn of dried eucalyptus that scented the room with the perfume of a tropical night.

The shutters stood wide open, giving Annie a view of the building across the street. The late-afternoon sun spread a warm apricot glow across the room, shining on Jean-Luc’s mahogany desk and highlighting the dark green leather that had felt warm and smooth against her cheek when she’d darkened it with her tears. Balancing as best she could on her spiky heels, Annie stepped across the deep red and gold geometrics on the rug, pausing a second by the velvet upholstered fainting couch, where she’d first tasted the wild passion that comes with total surrender. Her body remembered in a flash of need. She wanted Jean-Luc here. Now. But he’d come in his own time and anticipation served only to heighten her yearning.

She resisted the temptation to touch the articles set precisely on the desktop, but she looked. Closely. There was no mistaking the leather manacles, red to match her dress. Her body softened and ached. She knew how the warm leather tightened around her wrists. She’d worn a white set all night a few weeks ago. But what sent her pulse racing was the velvet jeweler’s box, not much bigger than a small paperback. The black velvet lid lay open, revealing the satin lining and a gold herringbone chain, wide and heavy looking but short enough to fit her neck as a choker. Annie’s mouth went dry with apprehension. Would Jean-Luc? Tonight? Or was it a test? She’d practice the patience her grandmother used to preach.

With every effort to be graceful, she walked to a spot in front of the brass fender and knelt on the soft rug, settling back on her calves, as she focused her mind on Jean-Luc.

As always, his timing was impeccable. Minutes after she’d taken up position, she heard his key in the lock and footsteps crossing the marble foyer and pausing outside the study door. She willed her eyes to stay down as she sensed the knob turning and felt the floor vibrate with each approaching step. A pair of hand-stitched cordovan wingtips came into her line of vision. She exhaled slowly.

“My love.” Jean-Luc’s voice sent a warm thrill through her waiting body. “Look at me.”

And now the “extra”: an excerpt from
Power Exchange
, the very first book I ever sold to Ellora’s Cave. This book grew out of the “Annie” stories but I changed the hero and the setting and made it far, far more explicit. In this excerpt, Mark and his friend, Alan, make one of Annie’s secret fantasies come to life. Enjoy.

© 2014 Madeleine Oh

Mark put his cup down and smiled. “Your turn.”

“For what?”

“To share a fantasy. I told you one of mine…now you. Don’t tell me you don’t have any.”

“Most of them involve Mel Gibson or George Clooney.”

“Annie.” He sort of growled that. “I won’t oblige there. Try again.” He really meant it. She’d have to come up with something. “Stop acting coy!’”

His irritation riled her. Coy! She’d show him coy! Maybe she’d manage a blush from him. That would make a nice change. She raked though her mind for something good, or bad, enough to shock him. “Would you refill up my cup please?” That would give her another minute or two.

“My pleasure.”

As he set the pot down, Mark looked across at her, expectantly. “Well,” she began. “I can’t claim it as an original. It’s a scene from a film I saw. I was in Florida on holiday with a friend, and the motel offered adult movies. There was this scene in one of them… She paused to wet her dry throat with tea and catch her courage of the next bit. “The girl had been sunbathing in a field—that’s not the important bit. Anyway these two men come riding in on a horse, and they both made love to her…together…the three of them…in the field.

“I thought it was exciting, Sarah, the friend with me, thought it was naf. But she has a lot of hay fever problems, and hates the countryside.” Annie said the last bit at break-neck speed, and swallowed half a cup of tea in relief.

“You find the idea of two men at once, exciting. Want me to clone myself?”

“You asked for a fantasy. Doesn’t have to be possible, does it?”

He smiled. Slowly. As if appreciating the joke, or something else. “How did they do it?” he asked. “The two men. And how about her?”

“She was on all fours. One knelt in front and she sucked him. The other one took her from behind.”

Mark grinned. “‘Annie your fantasies are as wild as mine.” He drained his cup. “And with that image in mind, I’d better get dressed and leave, or I’ll have you back upstairs again.”

Closing the door after a slow and steamy embrace, Annie pushed back the melancholy that enveloped her every Sunday. Heck the weekend was over. Mark was back to London and Merchant Banking, and she’d better get her mind ready to face Latin with 3A right after assembly Monday morning.

* * *

Annie made it through the front door, to a ringing phone. It was Mark. “I got held up a bit but I’ll be there. Hopefully in a couple of hours. I’ll bring dinner.”

An offer she couldn’t refuse!

Two hours gave her time to finish the little marking she had, straighten the house, shower, shave her legs, and dry her hair. Choosing what to wear took a little while. She settled on a calf-length, indigo batik dress she’d bought on holiday in a street market in France. Full-skirted, the light fabric billowed as she moved, and she fancied Mark would appreciate the thigh-length slits that revealed her legs when she walked. She seldom wore it as it showed far too much to be seen in public, but for an evening home with Mark, ideal. Besides, she doubted she have it on for long.

What to wear underneath? Knickers were prohibited. A petticoat would spoil the effect. A bra? Seemed silly to wear just that. She settled for the dress and a pair of strappy sandals and was deciding between a cup of tea or a glass of wine when the phone rang. “My love, I’m fifteen minutes away with pizza. Put the oven on.”

She did just that and laid the table for two, nipping outside for roses to put in a vase, and shining two of her best wineglasses. Crisp ironed linen napkins and a hastily put together salad, completed the table. She had a bottle of wine ready in case Mark didn’t bring one and smiled to herself at the prospect of the evening ahead. This certainly beat putting together a test on the use of the subjunctive.

Mark’s car pulled up beside her house. “How wonderful to see you!” she said, as she opened the front door and almost croaked. Mark was there all right and so was another man.

“Annie.” Mark hugged her with one arm, the other hand holding a bottle of wine, and kissed her. “I’ve brought, wine and pizza, and a friend, Alan Branis. Alan, this is Annie Cavendish.”

There hadn’t been any mention of bringing the friend but Alan had such a warm smile it was impossible not to smile back. “Hello.”

“Hello, Annie. I brought supper.” He held the pizza box up open-handed, like a waiter. “Can you lead the way to the oven?” The pizza looked and smelled wonderful. “Prawns, goat cheese and mozzarella on pesto,” Alan said, as he slid it onto the shelf. “Mark said it was your favorite. Thought I’d better bring something special. Gate crashing like this.”

“If the pizza tastes as good as it smells, you’re forgiven.” What else could she say? ‘Get lost I want to be alone with Mark!’

“Mark really wanted us to meet.”

Mark had better explain this…eventually. Where was he? Upstairs leaving the seat up? “I enjoy meeting Mark’s friends.” She had so far.

“You had lunch with Emma and Alistair last weekend.”

“Yes.” Heck, was he another of the adults who played games? “And now I’m having dinner with you.” Or would when she fixed the table.

It didn’t take long get the extra place laid and divide two salads between three plates. If there wasn’t enough, it was Mark’s fault.

“You’re very nice,” Alan said as he uncorked a bottle. “A lot of women would throw a wobbly at a strange man arriving unannounced for dinner.”

“Maybe I will after you leave.” Annie grinned. “Give Mark what for.”

“No,” Alan sounded certain, “I don’t think you will.”

He was right. After good wine, delicious food, and amusing conversation, nagging Mark seemed petty. They talked about work, a new play just opened, books, mutual friends, Mark and Alan had apparently been at school with Alistair, and the best cheeses to put on pizza. Feeling distinctly mellow, Annie drained her second glass of wine and pondered the wisdom of a third slice.