by Emily Sharpe
First Kari, then Layla, began their journeys down the aisle. Ahead of them stood Worth, his administrative assistant Skip, and Skip's husband Paul, in gray suits with teal silk ties and handkerchiefs. They really are hot, Donna thought. But not as hot as Eric! As she walked down the aisle, her eyes darted this way and that, looking for the strawberry blonde head of hair that she loved.
There! As she approached the pew where Eric sat, he smiled at her and gave her a wink. He'd chosen to sit on the groom's side. Well played, Eric. Well played. If she'd thought he had any stubborn feelings for his former girlfriend, that settled things nicely.
Donna walked slowly toward the front, smiling at her boss, Worth Vincent. He looked nothing like Eric, with his shaved head and neat goatee and mustache of dark brown. Eric's mop had gotten long enough that sometimes he wore it pulled back into a neat ponytail, as he did today, and his beard had grown back even redder than his hair. And sometime next year, you'll be the groom standing at the front of the church, Donna thought with pounding heart. And I'll be the bride. I do hope Jessica can be there.
Taking her place by Layla, she nodded to the organist, who flawlessly ended a strain of Clair de Lune, paused briefly for effect, and began the familiar strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding March. Donna felt like her heart would burst as Chet and Jessica began to walk down the aisle. In a few months, it would be her turn. A sudden thought interrupted the moment.
Who will walk me down the aisle?
2
New Guy at Work
Monday morning, Donna slept late again, scrambling to get ready for work. She was in no mood to stand in line for the copier, especially behind Karen in Human Resources—a notorious chatterbox. She'd heard three reports of Peeping Toms in the last month and wasn't that more than usual? She just hoped they caught the guy soon because she lived alone and didn't know what she would do if she saw someone looking through her window at night.
Looking at the woman finishing her task at a glacial pace, talking non-stop, Donna thought cattily that no one in his right mind would be hanging outside her window. Honestly, can she move any slower?
Paul took his place in line behind Donna, muttering something about Monday mornings. "Quite the wedding, though, eh?"
Reliving details of the weekend's wedding was a welcome distraction. "You and Skip looked very handsome," she said. "It really was a great evening."
"We thank you," the magazine photographer said with a bow. "And you were every bit as beautiful as the bride yourself."
Donna giggled, rattling the papers in her hands. "Abu Dhabi," she said with awe. "Can you imagine honeymooning in Abu Dhabi?" Her eyes widened. "The photographs of the hotel Jessica and Worth are…" She glanced at her watch. "…flying to right now, in fact… it is gorgeous. Very modern. Very posh."
Paul laughed. "Very out of our league, I'm sure." Paul and Skip were both handsome fellows, in Donna's opinion, and they had all worked together long enough that Donna had been invited to their wedding some years earlier, shortly after the state laws regarding gay marriage had changed. "Don't get me wrong; I do some freelance work on the side and we're doing fine, but Jessica really did well for herself."
For some reason, his comment irritated Donna. Was he saying that she hadn't? That Eric couldn't provide for them? It made Jessica sound like a gold-digger. Never one to mask her feelings—at least at work, she thought briefly—Donna pivoted to face Paul. "Worth has a pile of money, but that's not at all why she married him."
Paul threw his hands up in mock horror. "I surrender. Jeez! That's not what I meant. It's obvious they're very much in love. And love is all that matters, Donnala."
Donna's cheeks reddened at his use of the pet name. "I'm sorry, Paul. A busy week, following some busy months. I'm just in a foul mood. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
The pair stepped forward a few feet as the next co-worker in line got started at the copier. It had been quite the year, in fact. The city had struggled with arson—each fire set by a different arsonist, someone who perished in the fires by suicide—or so it was thought. Chief Henderson's top investigators were working hard when Jessica had suggested a specific person who might be the real culprit—a man who had falsely accused Worth of a murderous fire when they were both children.
Now that the mystery was solved, the entire city breathed a sigh of relief. Jessica had received an award for her part, and Chief Henderson had retired and married Jessica's mom. Chet's family had moved closer, Jessica and Worth were married now, people were selling houses and buying, and she and Eric were trying to save money.
Donna blew out a big breath. Money. That must be why I'm on edge. Aloud, she continued the apology. "Eric isn't working. Just finished one job, nothing ahead that we know of. Weather's getting colder soon, so outdoor construction has a way of drying up." Donna shrugged and made herself smile, hoping it was convincing. "It'll be fine. Nothing a cup of coffee wouldn't help, anyway."
Paul nodded. "Something'll turn up, I'm sure. Oh, but speaking of photographs, we have a new photographer. Just started today. Skip's running around like a chicken with his head cut off since the boss is honeymooning, or he'd probably introduce him to everyone. Skip does love to get hold of that microphone."
It was now Donna's turn at the copier. As she worked, she stretched her back. Tonight, she planned to insist on the red room, hoping that Eric would agree to a role reversal. It wasn't that she minded being the Domme. She knew that a lot of couples at the club—from when she'd interviewed them for the article, with the strict promise not to photograph faces or print names—believed that staying in one role was better. That was the traditional thought… if S&M could ever be called traditional.
Some, though, like herself—and she hoped, Eric—enjoyed changing roles, being what was appropriately called a "switch". It kept things fresh, or she thought it would. Donna had only just researched and outfitted the red room when she and Eric met. After their first time there, the night she talked Eric through being the dominant, he'd wanted to be the sub. It was okay, but did they want to settle for okay? Do I? Sometimes she lay awake, thinking about planning for a wedding in a few months, followed by a lifetime together. Did she want to be the Domme… forever?
"Speak of the devil," Paul said, bringing Donna back to the present. A man approached, someone Donna had never seen before. He was dressed casually, with one of those multi-pocketed fishing vests some photographers favor. "This is the new photographer I was telling you about. Donna Radford, meet Lance Glover. Donna, Lance. Lance, Donna."
Lance Glover was not as handsome as Eric, she thought loyally, but he was easy enough on the eyes. There was something about him that was oddly familiar. Dark-haired and swarthy, Lance swept his eyes up and down, assessing Donna in such a frank way that she was a bit offended and also, she had to admit, flattered. As busy as she was, though, she only managed a limp squeeze when he held out his hand.
Lance chuckled good-naturedly. "Surely, you can do better than that for a first handshake." To get her to squeeze harder, he increased his own pressure, to the point that it hurt.
Macho man. This wasn't the morning for such things, but there was no way this stranger would realize it. Donna's eyes narrowed as she withdrew her hand abruptly. Something flickered in his eyes as she did, and his smile faded just as abruptly.
Donna finished her work and gathered her copies. She really did need that cup of coffee. She'd snapped at Paul and now she'd offended the new guy. Great start to the day. "I'm sorry. I hope you'll be happy here at the magazine. Mr. Vincent—Worth—was focused on finishing up things before the wedding and honeymoon. Otherwise, I'm sure he would have told everyone you were coming today."
"I'd love to be… coming today," Lance said, lowering his voice so suggestively that Paul snickered. "But it could still happen. The day is young."
In answer to the obvious come-on, Donna simply walked away, hoping she was accomplishing something between storming and strutting. The nerve of the guy. Je
rk. She was sure that Lance hadn't displayed that particular side of himself at his interview; Worth was one of the last true gentlemen on the planet. He wouldn't want that kind of thing at the magazine if he could help it. Lord knows, he'd kept Jessica on a roller coaster ride for much of their relationship, wanting to keep things proper and above-board at the office.
Maybe it's just first day jitters. I've got money jitters and wedding jitters. I suppose he's allowed.
By mid-afternoon, Donna's mood had improved greatly. Although she'd missed Jessica's company at lunch—Worth was usually otherwise engaged at noon, so the friends enjoyed that time together—Donna had gotten a great deal accomplished. She was ahead of deadlines and had several ideas to pitch when Worth returned. She could afford to slow her pace and chat with co-workers, their conversations mostly centered on the wedding. The reception, the food, everything had been first-rate.
Eric called her cell phone just as she was packing up to leave for the day, at five. "Babe, I've got news!" he said breathlessly.
Donna set her purse and backpack on her office chair. "Well, what?" She grinned in anticipation.
"I'll tell you tonight." His voice dropped in volume. "Maybe you should tie me up first and make me."
Donna sighed. So much for suggesting a role reversal. "Just tell me."
Eric recognized the edge in her voice, although it wasn't heard often. Usually positive and perky, she clearly had had a less than stellar day. He might pay for that later. Not necessarily a bad thing, he thought. His voice lightened. "I will; I promise. But I called to see if you'd like me to bring take-out or if you planned for us to cook?"
"Take-out, please. Anything you want is fine," Donna said. "Love you." She slipped her phone into the pocket of her purse and headed for the door. She was ready for a hot shower and maybe a nap.
In the hall, she was irritated to see Lance waiting for the elevator. She glanced around, hoping someone else would join them. "Did you have a good first day?" she said cheerfully, hiding her displeasure at the thought of being alone with him. I should give him the benefit of the doubt.
Lance smiled without even the hint of a leer. "I did; thanks for asking." He held up his bag. "Headed for the gym. Not the best way to work off calories, but it'll do in a pinch."
Judging from his earlier comment, Donna felt she could guess which calorie-burner he preferred, but there was nothing suggestive in his tone. Maybe I'm just reading something into it. In a pinch, he says. Just let him try.
The elevator doors opened and the two stepped in. Donna stayed as far to one side as she could without appearing rude. Lance pulled out his phone and scrolled through several screens. Neither spoke until the elevator came to a stop.
So, nothing to worry about after all, Donna thought with relief. Still, she headed straight for the water fountain in the building's lobby and waited until Lance had walked outside the front doors, headed—she assumed—to the gym next door before she turned and walked to the parking garage for her car.
3
News and New Things
Donna licked an errant drop of duck sauce from her lip, moaning with delight. "Chinese hit the spot, Eric." She'd had time for a long, hot shower before he let himself in to catch her napping on the couch. Dressed only in lacy underthings, she had headed for the closet, only to be stopped by his dramatic wail of complaint.
"Nooo," he'd called after her. "No need to dress on my account."
Laughing, she had done an about-face and run to embrace him. "I can do that. Or not do that, I mean."
Now they sat across from each other at the little table, finishing a delicious meal of bourbon chicken and egg rolls, accompanied by ice cold beers. Donna waited until Eric sat back in his chair, his meal devoured, before she raised the topic of his news.
"Well," he began slowly. "It's good news." He frowned. "Maybe a hint of bad news mixed in. Surprising news, at any rate." He paused. "It's a job. A good one. High paying. High paying, like 'I've never been so well paid for one job ever in my life' high paying."
Donna squealed and clapped her hands. "That's great!" She jumped up to wriggle onto his lap, kissing him sweetly all over his face. "I'm so proud of you. And you were worried. I knew something would come up, Eric. You're an artist with stonework. I was sure the city hall project would open doors for you."
Eric held her tightly then looked up at her with a frown. "Ready for the bad news?"
"Oh, right. You did warn me," she said, preparing herself mentally. "Shoot."
"The job's not local. It's in Florida. A custom fireplace, floor to ceiling—a very high ceiling, I gather. It will take some time."
Donna smirked. "What's so bad about that?"
Eric gently pushed her off his lap so that he could stand. He began to pace around the kitchen as he talked. "They want me to start soon, in order to finish the job before January first. I'll be the only one working—they'll put me up at the house, feed me, pay for my flight. But I have to leave right away."
"Tomorrow?"
Eric stopped, shaking his head. "Before Thanksgiving, though. They definitely want me there before Thanksgiving."
Donna scrunched her shoulders up, thinking. "That gives us… almost three weeks? You were going to move in this weekend so the timing's good in that regard."
Eric nodded. "I'd like you to consider something else, babe." Ever since the phone call from Florida, he'd been worried about leaving Donna. They'd had a great year, but maybe that had been because they'd spent so much time together. He was concerned. Donna was a prize. She was currently his prize, but what if someone else, someone better, came along? He'd rather not find out the hard way that that old saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' wasn't really accurate.
Eric stretched out his arms, and she melted into them. "Would you be willing to move the wedding up?"
Donna looked up at him, amazed. "Willing? Of course, I'm willing! The only reason we were waiting was to save money, right? And you're going to make beaucoup bucks now." A thought made her laugh out loud. "Oh my god, you won't believe this. I actually blurted to Jessica that we were getting married before Thanksgiving—I don't know where that came from. But maybe she'll be back in time after all. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Let's do it!"
"Speaking of 'doing it'," Eric grinned, tracing one finger down her neck to tease the small mound inside her bra, "we can talk wedding plans soon enough. Right now, I'd like to practice for the honeymoon." He tilted his head toward the closed door of the red room. "In there, please."
Donna took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door and lighting candles as he undressed. I'm getting married. Not in months, but in weeks. This man loves me, and tonight, he gets exactly what he wants, and then some. Time to try out some new toys.
Eric stood by the specially made bed, completely nude. Stonemasons must be strong for their work, and Donna gazed greedily at the way the candlelight danced over his muscular physique. She thought back to their first night together, how she'd wanted him to make love to her with his clothes on—well, mostly on.
It was something she thought about often, her fantasy of being naked, vulnerable, being taken by a handsome man who happened upon her as she… what? Bathed in a pond in the moonlight? Found a stranger in the dark, the way Worth had "found" Jessica at that Halloween party last year? No matter. It'll keep. Tonight, was about celebrating Eric and his news. Her fantasy could wait.
Walking to the closet, she pulled out a plastic sheet she'd tucked away. Handing it to Eric, she ordered, "Spread this out on the bed, then lie face down on it."
He obeyed as she watched. "This is new…" he murmured as he lay down.
"I bought some special candles; the wax will be hot when I drip it on your skin. And then you might want to return the favor." She pulled out the soft restraints, rather than metal handcuffs, pulled his arms above his head and secured his hands to the bar at one end of the bed, his ankles to the other. "I love candles, don't you?" She tipped the candle slightly s
o that hot wax dripped onto the small of his back.
"Ouch!" Eric's body recoiled from the sudden heat, but couldn't move away.
Donna dripped the special melted wax again along his back, at the small of his knees, onto his neck, his wrists. He winced each time, but Donna sensed his mounting pleasure in the little gasps he made. "Good! Now rest your head and wait," she said as she rotated it.
After a few minutes, she removed the restraints and smiled at him. "I hope you liked that, Eric." She stroked his back gently. "Would you turn over now?" Donna tied his wrists above his head once more.
His erection throbbed in the candlelight; his chest rose and fell quickly with desire. Donna straddled his feet, then rose on her knees so that he could watch her remove her panties. She inched her way up onto him and held the panties over his face. "Can you smell me? Do you like that?"
Eric moaned a little as he nodded. She knew that what he wanted was for her to slip down onto his cock, to bring on the climax he was aching to experience. "Not just yet," she whispered. Maybe if she asked him outright, he would let her experience the same sensations. "Would you like to use the candle on me now?
"Oh, baby. I can't wait much longer."
Donna bit her lip, reminding herself that this was a celebration of his good news. Continuing her climb, she stopped when her little triangle of blonde fur was positioned just over his face. "Pleasure me," she said, lowering herself just enough that his tongue and lips could begin. He would want to caress her buttocks, but he could not. He would want to be inside of her instead, but he could not.
Delicately, his tongue explored every fold of her mound, toying with her little button. When he twirled his tongue and wrapped his lips around her clitoris, she began to rock gently, her inner thighs tickled by his beard. Only when she had reached her climax, did she slide down onto his cock and sit perfectly still, feeling its heat and hardness, forcing him to lie still when every ounce of his being wanted to buck up and down like a bronco so that he could have his own release.