Strung

by Costa, Bella

  "Hmm. Sure."

  "If you want to study the architecture, I will bring you back."

  "Really?” I grin, letting my enthusiasm show inappropriately.

  "Acacia, the party. Enjoy the party. Please?" he groans.

  "Oh, sorry. I get a bit carried away."

  He gazes at me and sighs. "Don't apologise. It is actually refreshing. Most people are more interesting in catching up with or creating some kind of scandal. They take a room like this for granted."

  "That's shocking," I gasp. "A room like this deserves admiration."

  "So do you," he smiles. His eyes are glowing and his hair is calling to me to wind my fingers through it. "Would you care to dance Ms. Ward?"

  "That might not be a good idea," I frown. "Put on a bit of bass, give me a pair of sneakers and I can probably clear the dance floor of a bikers bar – but to this? I fear I may have six left feet."

  "Trust me," he whispers against my forehead and leads me to the dance floor in front of the orchestra. We are the first on the floor and reach it just at the band starts playing a Strauss number. It's waltz and it's up lifting and light.

  I had no reason to worry. Chayton takes the lead and my feet barely touch the floor. I feel like I'm flying, the room becoming a blur as we spin around the space at dizzying speed. I'm laughing breathlessly, clinging to his arm when the song finally ends. A small crowd has gathered and are applauding our efforts enthusiastically. Oh no! I can feel my neck and face turning the colour of my dress.

  "This is embarrassing!” I mutter under my forced smile.

  "Why? No one is laughing at us."

  "But still," I groan. Chayton laughs lightly and plants a kiss on my lips.

  "You are beautiful. Enjoy the admiration."

  The Master of Ceremonies takes to a small stage set up halfway down the length of the room. It has to be there, I realise. It's really hard to see anything from one end to the other: the room is just too long. I do some quick calculations. Gosh the room is easily thirty-six meters long, eighteenish wide. What I could do with a space like this if it were a blank canvas.

  "Acacia!"

  "Sorry." I try to pay attention as we are asked to take our seats and Chayton leads me to ours near the podium. We are at a smallish table, for which I am ever so grateful - less people to converse.

  With us is the lady I remember seeing Chayton dance with at the masked ball. Of course then I didn't know who he was.

  "Mavis, you remember Acacia?” Chayton introduces us with a wry smile. "And Mavis - behave. I plan on keeping this one around."

  Huh?

  "Hello dear," she holds out a gloved hand. "I'm so sorry we weren't properly introduced last time. But I was aching to get on the dance floor. You absolutely have to tell me about the two of you later."

  Chayton waits, with fond patience, for Mavis to finish nattering and introduces me to the three others at the table. A middle-aged couple, who are very caught up in their own conversations; and their daughter in her late teens, who is almost salivating over Chayton. It is cute.

  We all take our seats, and I find myself wedged between Mavis and Chayton, while his admirer is going into spasms at his proximity on his other side. Poor Chayton. For the first time tonight, he looks a little out of his league, and I don't know if it's his teenage neighbour or my proximity to Mavis. I am suddenly burning with curiosity to know what their connection is. Mavis looks ready to spill the beans and I don't think I'll have long to wait.

  A hush settles over the room; incredible for a crowd this size and the M.C. starts on his introductory speech, which he promises, will be short. True to his promise, it's only three minutes later when he is inviting Chayton to the podium. Chayton rises, excusing himself from the table politely and walks smoothly to the podium. I'm amazed. Even his body language has altered since we've arrived in Seattle. I wonder if he was like this when he was in Tacoma. Maybe I just didn't notice. He is every inch the dangerous power magnet I remember from the Masquerade Ball.

  I listen intently as he gazes at his audience, making eye contact with as many people as he can. He offers several personal thanks and talks briefly about the amount of money raised of the last twelve months and how it been put to use. Shit. We are talking billions here. Many billions. And so many charities; such good things. His audience rise to give him, and each other, a standing ovation as he returns the podium to the M.C.

  "Liberal thingy, does all that?" I ask, still in shock as he takes his seat.

  "No Acacia, the population of Washington State does all that. We just co-ordinate it and manage it," he smiles.

  Soon our meal is served and I'm hungry again. It must have been that exertion in the shower. I have no idea what the first course is, but it goes down a treat and I'm glad because the champagne on top of the two beers I had earlier, is starting to go to my head. Mavis has been talking non-stop to the odd couple opposite me and Chayton is bravely fending off some very interesting, bordering on indecent questions from his young neighbour who is apparently oblivious of my existence. I am thoroughly enjoying the show, smirking at him often.

  "You could at least help," he groans at the waiters serve the next course.

  "I wouldn't want to break the poor girl's heart," I smirk.

  "She isn't a poor girl, she is a fiend. That there, is a child of Satin – I'd swear on it."

  "What's it worth to you?” I whisper.

  "What would you accept?" he says looking at me now with renewed interest.

  "Broom cupboard.” I mouth, clearly but silently.

  "As soon as this course is finished?" his eyes glitter.

  "Eat fast," I mouth turning my attention to the young girl. "So, when do you finish school?” I ask.

  "Next year." Her enthusiasm has waned, now that she is conversing with me. In fact, she looks down right sour.

  "I see, so you'll be all grown up soon. Lucky you," I smirk. "I bet you can't wait for the next five years or so to fly by."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well then you can stop dating all those irritating boys and get a real man. Do not worry though. Those years will fly by faster than you can blink."

  I watch her face as she glances at Chayton, knowing she's been rumbled. I feel like such a bitch.

  "Tell you what," I lean toward her. "Just to get you through the next five years of pimple faced boys, I'll let Chayton have one dance with you."

  "No thanks." Her rejection is sincere and astonishingly mature.

  "Sure?"

  "Sure," she nods.

  I hear Chayton expel a long breath next to me.

  "I think I owe you more than the broom closet, Ms. Ward."

  "I'll be calling for my payment soon," I smile.

  I scoop up a little salmon and creamed something-or-other. Delicious!

  "Acacia!" Oh no. Mavis has turned her syrupy talons to me and I almost feel Chayton stiffen next to me.

  "Yes Mavis?"

  "Did C.J. ever tell you about the time he got himself locked out of a room in this very hotel? He was buck naked at the time!" I inhale a piece of salmon and start to cough fiercely.

  "Mavis! I'm not warning you again!" growls Chayton, patting me on the back. "Here drink this."

  I take a long sip of the offered water.

  "Oh Chayton, honestly! What are you going to do? Spank me?" she grins.

  Oh God! What do you drink when you're choking on water?

  "Acacia, come. I think some fresh air is in order." He glares blackly at Mavis as he helps me stand and she just laughs.

  Instead of taking me outside, Chayton leads me up two flights of stairs, digging in his pocket for a key. He opens a door and leads me into one of the hotel rooms, getting me another glass of water from the en-suite bathroom.

  I take a sip and cough the last of the obstruction clear of my airway.

  "What the hell was that all about?” I demand in complete confusion.

  "I was her Toy-Boy for a few years. It was a very long time ago and
I was young. She taught me a lot."

  I feel the blood drain from my head as I gape at him. "I'm sure she did!"

  "Actually, I believe this was the room I got locked out of," he says, obviously amused at the memory as he looks around.

  "You were fucking Mavis!" His eyes dart to my face, catching the disbelief in my voice.

  "Acacia, no! It wasn't exactly like that. Okay, maybe a couple of times. I was a companion - and a plaything." I keep staring at him in horror.

  "Sit down." He pulls me onto a sofa and sits next to me running his hands through his hair. I think he actually believed I would find this amusing. Think again, sunshine!

  "I was on the streets Acacia, trying to keep my skin attached and trying to keep a gang of younger kids safe; safe from the influences of the older more dangerous gangs in the neighbourhood. I was desperate. I didn't want to steal or sell drugs. I did try holding a few cars hostage, but that is another story. So anyway, one night I decided to try my hand at prostitution."

  Fuck!

  "Don't worry. I failed on the first attempt. I hadn't even reached the hill yet, where the male prostitutes used to hang out, when Mavis pulled up in a Limo. I was absolutely, shitting myself!" he smiles, shaking his head.

  "Mavis needed a companion for a string of evening events. I didn't realise at the time that she also needed a pet. She took me to get a tux fitted and a couple of dress-suits, then brought me here. Not for sex!” he adds watching me pale.

  "That first week, she helped me brush up my etiquette; table manners, addressing people, greeting and so on. Then she started taking me out to big fancy dinners and parties. She taught me to dance; taught me to mingle with the upper class as if I were one of them and introduced me to very important people. People who would later become key to my own success. Every night she would pick me up in the same place and in the early hours would drop me off there again, with $500.00." He watches me warily, waiting for my reaction.

  I swallow hard. "So when did you sleep with her? I mean she is so much older than you."

  "Twenty two years older," he confirms. "It was only when her husband died, toward the end of our relationship."

  "She was married!"

  "Acacia, she was a lonely woman. Her husband had been in a coma for several years. Anyway, like I said – it was only when her husband died. She needed just a little more."

  "And you thought it was your job to provide a service!” I ask, horrified.

  "No. Don't dirty this, Acacia. I cared for her and in her own way, she cared for me. She taught me how to respect women, how to respect myself. It was a natural progression of our relationship and she ended it shortly after." He studies his hands and snorts. "She told me, she had taught me everything she could and sent me packing. We've remained friends and she is a major contributor to the charity."

  "She paid you for sex!” I mutter, still trying to correlate all this information.

  "No. She didn't. That I gave away freely! I have paid for sex before, Acacia and it wasn't like that."

  "I'm sorry, but this is all a bit bizarre," I shake my head slowly at him.

  "Can I offer you another way of looking at this?" he says slowly.

  "If it sounds better than what is going through my mind right now...then yes please!"

  "I was paid to stay by her side at public functions and trained as such. Much like a personal assistant."

  "Okay, I can deal with that bit..." Sort of.

  "Alright, and just before my employment ended, I had a very brief fling with my boss."

  I look at him, my shoulders sagging under the weight of this all. "So you were in a gang?"

  He sighs, relieved that we appear to have gotten over Mavis-gate. "I was a runaway. I didn't join a gang...they sort of joined me. It's a long story and I'm storied out tonight."

  "Okay."

  "I was kind of hoping...well...this is more comfortable than a broom closet!" he gives me a hopeful gaze.

  "Chayton, not now, okay? And not in this room. I have this feeling; I'm going to have mental images of you and Mavis..." I shudder.

  "She wasn't ancient then you know!" he protests. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Okay," he raises his hands in defeat. "Do you want to go back to the party or would you prefer to go back to my place?"

  "Actually, the party! It's kind of weird, but I was enjoying myself. Could we dance some more?"

  He wraps his arms around me breathing deeply into my hair. "You are precious, and beautiful and amazing and you can have as many dances as you wish, as long as they are all with me!"

  ~.~

  We head back to the Spanish Ballroom. Mavis taps on Chayton's shoulder. "Could I steal this next dance?" she asks with all the confidence of someone who knows she won't be denied. Until now!

  "Not this time, Mavis," he grumbles.

  "Oh go on, Chayton. Let Mavis have this one...for old time's sake!” I protest lightly and watch in amusement Mavis pulls back. She is clearly shocked at Chayton's refusal and my hint at knowing their past. To give her credit though, she recovers quickly. With a tight smile, Chayton leads her onto the dance floor. Without Chayton at my side, I instinctively work my way to the nearest window, wedging myself between the heavy drapes and one of the ornate columns. I catch glimpses of Chayton swing Mavis around the floor. She is very elegant, but nothing on him.

  ~.~

  "You've abandoned me for decor again?” Chayton startles me. I hadn't even noticed the music change. "What are you thinking about?"

  "I'm watching the peacocks."

  "Peacocks?" he asks amused and looks around as if expecting exotic birds to start strutting about.

  "It's an expression for attention seekers."

  "Oh. Show me." he says pulling me in front of him and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  "Well, they flit from group to group, aiming for maximum exposure and they always try and keep the attention on themselves." I explain.

  "Watch the redhead in the sequence dress," I point my chin in her direction. "She has milked all the attention she can from that table, so she is moving on. When she finds her next group, she won't wait for an invitation. She will just barge in and disrupt the conversation."

  We watch in amusement as she approaches a stiff looking group of older men and does just that.

  "See how she keeps gesturing with her hand, below her throat?"

  "Yup," he murmurs next to my ear.

  "She is keeping their attention on her chest. Oh dear! Competition is closing in. Here comes the great hunter and his trophy."

  "How can you tell she's a trophy?” Chayton asks amused.

  "Oh come on. He has practically hung a neon sign around her. 'Look at my trophy – aren't I a clever boy for nabbing this one – but stay away, she's mine!'”

  "I know how he feels.” Chayton murmurs. "But I'm tired of showing you off now. I want you all for myself," he whispers into my ear and I feel his growing erection pressing against my behind. Small shivers pulsate down my spine and my nipples push against their restraints, almost painfully.

  It takes us nearly forty minutes to work our way the length of the Ballroom to the exit. So many people to say goodbye to. I have tried everything in my power to speed up the process. I have squeezed his ass when I was sure no one was looking; accidentally on purpose, brushed against his crotch on several occasions; leaned into him, pressing my breasts against him; strummed my fingertips on my breast bone, when I knew he was looking; run my tongue over my lips and even blown him a sultry kiss.

  If he is noticing, he is not showing it. My frustration is growing by the second! I want to go – now! We are now only steps from the exit when he pulls toward a young couple and makes quick introductions. I am standing slightly in front of Chayton, his left hand draped loosely over my left shoulder. I am practically squirming now in my urgency to get out of here and crawl onto him.

  The small train of my dress is getting under my feet and I move a hand behind me to pull the fabric out of my way. This time,
purely by genuine accident, my hand brushes against his crotch and pauses. Several gears click into place, all at once and I lean back against my hand, trapping it between us, allowing my greedy fingers to explore. Perhaps my earlier attentions haven't gone unnoticed. Chayton may be purposely ignoring me but General Lee is very much awake.

  Chapter 14

  "Home Sir?" Morgan asks.

  "Quickly," mutters Chayton hoarsely, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity I haven't seen before. Very slowly, he leans across and runs his nose along the edge of my ear, making me shiver again as he warm breath caresses me.

  "Don't make a sound and don't move!" he growls softly. Then to my dismay, sits back in his seat and asks Morgan to put some music on.

  "Anything particular, Sir?"

  "Something mellow and maybe instrumental. You decide."

  I am watching this exchange in confusion. I have sit still and quiet so they can discuss music? Why? Just kiss me please!

  Morgan settles for a Spanish guitar solo which at any other time, I might find soothing and relaxing but right now, it is just irritating. Morgan turns the volume up until every note is clear, wafting around us like a cloak.

  Chayton offers me a small smile, and then puts his finger on his lips, a reminder to be quiet. I frown in confused frustration.

  He turns his head away from me, and stares out into the night and I am about to shift closer to him but his hand stills me, settling on my thigh. With agonising slowness, his fingers start walking the fabric of my skirt up my leg. I alternate my glances between the back of Morgan's headrest, Chayton's hand and Chayton's face. He is sitting perfectly still, a picture of serenity as he gazes out into the night. I am directly behind Morgan so there is no way Morgan can see me, or Chayton's hand which now has my skirt nearly all the way up my clenched thighs.

  A narrow strip of pale white is now visible between the lace of my black stockings and the scrunched up hem of my dress, and his fingers are tracing patters lightly across the ultra sensitive skin. I squirm slightly and he stops. My eyes flicker to his face and without looking directly at me, he shakes his head very slightly in warning.