by Emily Sharpe
"I'd be delighted, Carol," Donna said with a smile. "Let me know what I can bring."
By the time everyone left the Hendersons', the sun had turned the sky to red. Mr. and Mrs. Brown thanked the Hendersons one last time and drove off, literally, into the sunset. As Eric turned the wheel in the direction of their apartment, he yawned loudly.
"It's been a tiring few weeks, hasn't it?" Donna said.
Eric nodded with a smile as he drove. "Tiring, but fantastic." He glanced at her. "We're married, Donna! Sorry we can't have a honeymoon yet, but after Florida, we'll do something special. I appreciate how easy you've made this for me—not many brides would agree to a bit of a rush job, then say goodbye to the groom a few days later."
Donna put her hand on Eric's thigh. "We can FaceTime every day," she said. "And I could visit at Christmas if everyone's okay with that."
"They'll have to be," Eric said. "No way can I be away from you more than a month at a time. If the Steins don't have room at their house for us to be together, we'll get a hotel room." He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss. "But not a quaint old bed and breakfast with thin walls!"
Donna laughed. "Exactly. Oh, turn right at the light, babe."
Eric obliged her, assuming she needed to make a stop at a store before they went home. "We're a little overdressed for the drug store," he teased.
"Actually," she said slowly. "Pull over. I want to drive."
"Oookay," he said. "I've married a woman of mystery, have I?"
Before she pulled back into traffic, Donna reached over his lap and pulled something out of the glove compartment. "Put this on."
It was a blindfold. As he complied, Eric chuckled. "Well, I know you're not going to drive me to a brand new house, unless you won the lottery and forgot to tell me. That would be some wedding gift, though."
Donna giggled as she eased into the traffic flow but said nothing for several blocks. She pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript brick building whose windows and front double doors were covered with plywood and security bars. From all appearances, it was deserted, but Donna had a key. "You can get out now. I'll lead you from here."
At the door, Donna opened it and pulled Eric inside before locking the door behind herself. She entered a code to shut off the alarm system then turned on a soft light. The club was deserted—unusual for a Saturday evening, but Donna had made special arrangements with the owner. Her wedding night gift to Eric would be an introduction—for both of them, really—to all that the club had to offer. And as much as Donna would have enjoyed spending her wedding night fulfilling one of her own fantasies, this was her gift to Eric.
She led Eric to the biggest room she had toured. "Keep the blindfold on for now," she said.
Eric shook his head. "I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," he quipped. "May I sit down, at least?"
Donna led him to a chair and helped him settle into it. "I'll only take a minute to change, babe."
When she removed his blindfold, however, she was no longer Donna, the beautiful bride in lace and flowers. He gasped and grinned. "This is the club?" he asked.
"The club."
The room was twice the size of their red room at home. A contraption Eric had never seen before hung from the ceiling. There was a bed similar to their own. Metal rings protruded from the walls at various heights, and strange equipment of all imaginable shapes was scattered around. There were no candles, but red light bulbs gave the room an unmistakable sensuality.
Donna was a vision in black, from the hood of her cape to her thigh-high leather boots. She wore a buckled corset with a halter closure over a short full skirt. The halter's cupless design gave the illusion of bigger breasts than she actually had, but when Eric leaned forward instinctively to kiss them, she stepped back. "Not so fast." She tilted her head toward the far wall, where a big X could be seen in the low light.
Eric wondered how he'd missed it before, or perhaps he had subconsciously dismissed it, assuming it was decorative. "That's a St. Andrew's Cross, isn't it?" Hardly seems the place, he thought.
"Just think of it as the X in 'sex' for our purposes. Now strip."
Eric shook his head in delighted amazement at his new bride's preparations. "How did you—"
Donna stepped so close to him that he could smell her breath. "This is not the time for pleasantries, sub. Unless you'd like to switch roles. As the Dom, you can do anything you want, including chitchat." Yes, yes, this would be a great time to switch! Donna's heart began to race at the thought. And on our wedding night, the perfect time and place.
But Eric threw up his hands in surrender and began taking off his clothes. Silently and carefully, he stripped, feeling more vulnerable than usual in the larger room. Their red room was close quarters, but this—it crossed his mind that he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Donna had never let their times together get stale or predictable, but space constraints alone had been limiting. That would not, he understood, be the case tonight.
Donna had never used the club equipment, although she had often thought of how lovely it would be for them to experience it together. In her fantasies, Eric took charge. Perhaps in time, but their wedding night was too precious to spoil with requests he was apparently not ready for.
For the next hour, Donna took her cues from her new husband, giving him exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted it, experimenting with first one apparatus or toy and then another. Her excitement grew as his did until she couldn't delay their gratification any longer. "There's another room I want to show you," she said. "Take me there?"
Eric picked her up in his strong arms. "You're the boss." His face was filled with so much love, Donna's heart swelled. One day he would understand her better, she hoped, but for now, this was her wedding night and she planned to enjoy herself.
She had already prepared the room. Decorated in purple and black, a circular water bed was the only furniture. Eric let her down gently, and she removed the cape. Everything else stayed on. At the questioning look Eric gave her, Donna smiled seductively and lay on her back, spreading her legs as she lifted the skirt. She was nude beneath it. In a moment, he was on top of her, inside of her, the waves of the bed providing an entirely new but very pleasant sensation.
Donna's back arched as a wave lifted her. Another wave sent her legs flying into the air. She wrapped the boots around Eric's waist as he thrust deeper and deeper until the only waves they were aware of were those of shared ecstasy.
The sensations stilled as their bodies relaxed. Donna could feel his cock soften within her, but she needed more. "Move very gently into me," she whispered. "Rock. Softly. Softly." She could feel his pubic bone teasing her at just the right spot. He might be done, but she was not. Her heat began to rise again, very slowly. He was barely moving against her, but it was enough. She had never felt such an intense orgasm. Usually, she was all about force and strength, more fucking, less making love. This was different. This was absolute bliss. She screamed with pleasure as her legs tightened around Eric again.
The sun was still low in the eastern sky as Donna and Eric walked almost shyly to the car to head back to the apartment. Throughout the night, they had experimented in various rooms. Between the sex, they had talked, discussed what this object might do, or what that equipment was for. They'd speculated about who might be members, who they would never see there, not in a million years. Some of the contrivances sent them into fits of giggles, but others—Eric's obvious appreciation for Donna's wedding gift was gratifying.
But if it had entered Eric's mind to try something of a more dominant nature on their wedding night, it had not been evident. He enjoyed being the sub. Donna enjoyed being the Domme. She made sure that she got every bit as much out of their encounters as he did, if not more. One day, though, she thought as she began to doze a little in the car. One day, he will want to please me as much as I want to please him. And that will be a very good thing.
6
Florida
"Hey, thanks
for the lift, Chet," Eric said as shook the man's hand before getting out at the airport curb.
Chet gave Eric's hand a squeeze then popped the trunk remotely. "My pleasure, young man. Donna would've been a puddle of tears saying goodbye—no need for her to try to drive like that. And don't worry; we'll keep tabs on her while you're gone."
Eric nodded and said goodbye, pulling his luggage out of the trunk and slamming it closed. With a final wave to Chet, he headed inside. Ari Stein had booked him a nonstop flight to Orlando in first class; the Steins' chauffeur would pick him up for the two-hour drive to the coast.
Eric checked his larger bag and proceeded through security. The week before Thanksgiving, traffic had not yet picked up, so there wasn't much of a line.
"Where are you headed, handsome?" a feminine voice asked from behind him.
Eric turned to face a tall woman, drop-dead gorgeous, perhaps twenty years older than he was, maybe more. Briefly, his eyes took it all in—the platinum hair, no doubt dyed for effect, the designer pantsuit and stiletto heels, the expensive jewelry, sunglasses, the ample cleavage showing through the V-neckline. The woman could easily have been a movie star. Face job, probably; boob job, too. "I-I'm going to Orlando," he said, adding out of courtesy, "how about you?"
The woman tilted her sunglasses up with a hairband effect, revealing unusual violet eyes fringed by thick black lashes. "Orlando as well," she said with a throaty chuckle. She held out her boarding pass, obviously wanting to compare it with his. He flashed his. "Well, what do you know?"
Eric smiled. "Looks like we're sitting together." He cleared his throat. "My wife won't be joining me until Christmas," he said. "Are you married too?" The last thing he wanted to do was give the wrong impression. He didn't usually enjoy chitchat, but he also didn't want to pass the entire flight in awkward silence.
"I'm Erika with a K," she said with a toothy smile. "Not currently married. Maybe one of these days, I'll try it again. For the time being, I'm free as a bird… the line's moving."
As he caught up in line, he said over his shoulder, "My name's Eric with a C, by the way."
"We are just one coincidence after another, aren't we, darling?"
Can you say "cougar"? It was Eric's turn to show his ID and boarding pass to the TSA agent. As he put his shoes back on, Erika sat down beside him and wriggled her feet into her high heels.
"As soon as we're on the plane, these babies are coming off again," she purred.
Eric was not accustomed to being flirted with; he certainly didn't want to flirt back. Just then, he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. "Excuse me," he said and pulled his carry-on with him to a more private space to answer the call.
"I am miserable already," Donna said. From the background noise, Eric could tell she was at the office. "How will I survive until Christmas?"
"I miss you too, babe," he said. They talked about the drive with Chet and about Donna's plans to eat at the Hendersons' for Thanksgiving.
"I know you've got to go, babe," Donna said. "I hope you have someone interesting to talk to on the plane."
Eric cleared his throat. "Actually, I've already met her."
Silence, then, "And?"
Eric laughed out loud, causing a few passers-by to turn their heads. "And she's twenty years older than I am, and I love my wife." No need to tell her what she looks like or seems to be interested in.
Donna giggled at the other end. Eric could picture her in his mind, so bubbly and blonde—so different from the way she acted as soon as she entered the red room as his Domme. He sat down in a nearby seat to cover his excitement. Odd. I never felt like this with Jessica. Just thinking about Donna does it, just hearing her voice.
"I'm glad she's older," Donna said. "I want you to have a good time, but I'm definitely okay with you not traveling to Florida with some twenty-something who wants to join the Mile-High Club."
"What's the Mile-High Club?"
"You are adorable, you know that?" Donna explained what she'd assumed anyone their age knew: The Mile-High Club was slang for people who had sex aboard an airplane.
Judging from the vibes he'd picked up from Erika, that was probably well within the realm of possibility despite the age difference. No need to mention it, however. Eric spoke quietly so that no one around him could hear. "The only woman I want to have sex with is my wife," he said. "Any—"
Donna chimed in to complete the phrase with him. "Time. Any place. Any way. Only you." It was their private mantra.
A crisp voice over the airport's intercom interrupted the call. When the message ended, Eric said goodbye. "I'll call you tonight, babe. Love you!"
As he walked to his gate, he saw that Erika was seated beside a distinguished looking gentleman, engaged in an animated conversation. She really is attractive, Eric thought. And they made an attractive couple. Better you than me, buddy. Better you than me.
When they got on the plane, however, Erika was obviously thrilled to see him again. She pointed to her naked, pedicured feet. "See? I told you. Have to let the toes breathe now and then."
Before Eric could comment, the gentleman from the waiting area made his presence known in the aisle beside them with a little grunt. "Excuse me," he said in an accented baritone. "I say, chap, would you mind switching seats with me so that the lady and I could continue our conversation?"
Eric looked at Erika, whose face was unreadable, at least to him. She bit her glossy red lips as her eyes moved past Eric to the other man. Eric took that as a signal. "Of course not, sir," he said, rising from the aisle seat. "Where's your seat?"
A few minutes later, Eric settled back into the window seat. There was no one beside him, which was what he preferred. He hadn't flown often, never in first class, but this boded well for the whole Florida experience. Peace and quiet. He'd nap a little, maybe dream of that fantastic night at the club. The Mile-High Club has nothing on my Donna, he thought, drifting off.
Donna walked to the photography room. Paul and Lance were engrossed in work at their computers and didn't hear her come in. "Gentlemen?" she said.
Both swiveled their chairs around. "Who's spreading that rumor?" Lance sneered.
Ignoring the comment, she addressed Paul, "Those close-ups you took for me? Worth asked if you could zoom out on the one of the mayor and get more of the crowd that was there?"
"Sure thing, Donnala," Paul said.
Donna glanced at Lance then left the room. In a moment, he was at her elbow. "Donnala?" he murmured. "I think I'd rather call you Donnalet. As in 'Donna lets' me take her out some time."
Donna stopped. Lance stopped. Donna looked around, wishing they were in a less public spot in the building, but come to think of it, that was probably a good thing. A little louder than necessary, she said, "Perhaps you didn't realize, but I got married a few days ago." She held her left hand up to make the point, waving it so her rings were unmistakable. "So, no, I will not let you do anything at all, other than conduct yourself professionally around me."
A few of the people seated close by snickered. Donna didn't like the way Lance's expression changed—it wasn't embarrassment. Something akin to rage flickered in his eyes, but only for a second.
Lance's eyes returned to normal as he bowed with a flourish. "My apology, madame. I meant it as a joke. No need to get your knickers in a twist." He turned to speak to one of the men who had overheard,
Probably something vile and off-color, Donna assumed as she walked back to her cubicle. I can't let him get to me. Oh, Eric, I wish you were here.
The Steins' house was enormous. "Okina Mizu—Big Waters, roughly, in Japanese," Ari Stein explained as he gave Eric an abbreviated grand tour. "I spent many happy years in Japan in my youth, so you'll notice the influence here and there. Some areas of the house were off-limits to servants, he said. "Not that you're a servant, per se, but we do ask you to respect our boundaries."
"Of course, Mr. Stein," Eric said. After the flight and the drive—pleasant company, that chauffeur—
he was anxious to see the layout of the room where he would construct the fireplace.
Big Waters was so named because it sat on a narrow section of barrier island just north of Vero Beach. West windows on the second and third floors had a beautiful view of the sparkling Indian River, while windows on the east side of the mansion faced the Atlantic. In the distance, Eric spotted high rise condominiums but here, surrounded by landscaping and pine trees, no other home was in view. Traffic from the road that connected them to Vero, as well as north to Cape Canaveral, was barely audible within the lush confines of the estate.
"We value our privacy," Ari was saying as they walked. "We throw parties quite often, but otherwise, we're homebodies. Everything we need and want is brought in. Well, here it is."
Photographs had been sent by text and email, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer size of the job. Because of the time crunch before New Year's, he had encouraged them to order the stone and other materials to arrive before he did. Field stone from Italy, along with everything on his list, was there waiting.
The room itself was huge. Floor to ceiling glass on two sides of a vast wall revealed the private beach access with privacy walls ending about fifty yards from the water. There was a bar to the right as they entered, a conversation pit to one side. Centered on the focus wall was a large electric fireplace. The room appeared to be new, with expensive, ornate molding around the ceiling and baseboard. The walls were painted a light tan, accenting the polished parquet floor. When the stonework was complete, it would be magnificent.
Anticipating Eric's question, Ari beamed. "Yes, this is new construction. We'd only been here a few months when Doris—you'll meet her this evening—said we must expand. There simply wasn't enough 'party room' as she called it. And you'll see what she means next week. We're having a Thanksgiving 'do', and she's invited the whole of our usual party group. The society we belong to looks forward to it every year, but along the way, we have gatherings at other locations as well as here."