Butterfly of Venus

by Susan F. MacKay

  As she reached over to lock the door, it flew open with force. In one lightning-fast motion, Declan clicked the lock shut, unzipped his pants and lifted her onto the sink. Spreading her legs apart, he stood between them. He gave one hard thrust into her, then pulled out so quickly she gasped.

  “We can’t ruin your exquisite dress, so that’ll have to do for now. But,” Declan said, kissing her lightly on the lips, “later you’ll be mine for the taking. And I will be taking.”

  Their encounter had lasted all of fifteen seconds. Elizabeth couldn’t wait for the ball to be over so her private ball could begin. Was there any chance it might take place in a marketplace bazaar?

  Elizabeth drifted around the ballroom on a cloud of euphoria. After saying hello to various guests, she headed backstage to make sure everything was set up for Franco’s scheduled appearance.

  Meanwhile, Manny was in a panic. Priscilla, Franco’s assistant, had texted him that Franco’s personal jet had mechanical problems and wouldn’t be able to leave Ottawa. Manny texted back, “Get hm on cmmrcl flt.” Ottawa was less than an hour away. Franco had plenty of time to make it. Priscilla texted back, “Rt and gt hm to stp spray-tanning.” Manny sighed. He knew it was useless to try to persuade Mr. Wonderful to do anything that involved mingling with the public. He also knew for a fact that Franco was gay, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Right now there was a big hole in the evening’s entertainment. Elizabeth would be super-pissed.

  Where was she, anyway? He checked Elizabeth’s table. The young woman who had accompanied ATM’s accountant was sitting in Elizabeth’s chair, talking animatedly to Declan. He interrupted them to ask if they knew where Elizabeth was.

  “You might check backstage,” suggested Declan.

  Manny rushed off. This was a disaster of major proportions. Part of the appeal of the evening’s fundraiser was a chance to mingle with Mr. Wonderful after the show. Franco, as usual, was adamant about no autographs, no pictures and no shaking hands, but he’d agreed to chat and accept adulation. At this moment, Manny could happily have killed him.

  Manny spotted Elizabeth chatting with the stage director. Several members of Franco’s band had arrived and were setting up.

  “Boss, boss. Armageddon,” whispered Manny in Elizabeth’s ear. As he told her what had happened, her face registered concern, then annoyance. She turned to the stage director and informed him their star was a no-show.

  “Tell the musicians the gig’s off, but they’ll still get half their rate.”

  The stage manager set about his chore. Elizabeth heard a chorus of grumbles as the band began packing up. She was in crisis mode, a place where she functioned well. She strode through the ballroom, a fake smile on her face, thinking furiously about how she could solve this catastrophe. Goddamn Franco, anyway. Mr. Wonderful. That was a joke. The truth was, Franco had been washed up for a long time; he was the only one who didn’t know it. The big venues wanted someone younger, fresher, someone more like . . . Declan. Of course. That was the solution.

  When Elizabeth got back to her table, Molly was laughing uproariously at something Declan had said. She was as close to him as she could get without actually climbing into his lap. Bernie looked miffed. The evening was turning into a disaster. Well, almost. She thought briefly of her sexy washroom encounter, and a delicious shiver ran down her spine. But now was not the time to indulge.

  She inserted herself between Molly and Declan. “Excuse me,” she said. The girl sourly got up and returned to her date. Elizabeth whispered in Declan’s ear, “How would you feel about playing?”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “You know how I feel about playing. It’s what I live for.”

  “I mean here, tonight. You’d be doing me a real favour.”

  Before she even finished her plea, Declan began texting and was gone.

  Elizabeth allowed forty minutes for the guests to finish dessert and start on liqueurs. She told Declan to text Manny with an update when he was ready. Finally, at a nod from Manny, she took to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “thank you so much for being here tonight to support so many important causes. Your generosity is a credit to you. The silent auction results are in, and I’m thrilled to say we have raised more than twenty million dollars.”

  The crowd cheered and clapped in a standing ovation.

  “Now, I know many of you will be disappointed to learn that Franco is unable to be with us tonight.” There was a general groan. “But,” continued Elizabeth, “you won’t be disappointed by the young performer who has kindly stepped into the breach to entertain us. He has recently been signed to ATM’s roster of talent. We feel, I feel, that his star is headed into the stratosphere. Ladies and gentlemen, Declan Thomas and Strings.”

  The curtain swung back. Declan was sitting on a stool in black tie and tails, alone with his guitar. His long fingers picked out a mournful melody. His clear, haunting voice filled the room as he began to sing.

  Driving slowly

  On this road I’ve set upon,

  Streetlights are holy,

  Hope I don’t get this wrong.

  The room was entirely silent as all eyes focused on the slim, handsome poet on stage. When Declan stared into the room, he seemed to be in another world. It was a look Elizabeth recognized from their lovemaking. He was singing from the heart, from the memory of a time when he was lost. Elizabeth’s heart filled with pride.

  When he finished on a high, clear falsetto note, the crowd roared approval. Declan jumped nimbly from the stool and pushed it to one side as three members of his band joined him on stage. Compared to the elegance of Declan in his tux, they were a grungy-looking lot in torn jeans and hoodies. But their music, Declan’s music, set the ballroom on fire. Several women left their seats to get closer to the stage. When the set finished, Declan took a small bow, but the crowd was not prepared to let him go. Shouts of “Bravo!” and “Encore!” filled the air. Declan shot a grin in Elizabeth’s direction. He finished the set as he had begun it, alone, accompanying himself on guitar. He was clearly enjoying himself. He was also a huge hit and, Elizabeth thought, hotter than hot.

  When Declan’s encore ended, a DJ took over. The crowd, loosened by liquor, took to the dance floor in droves. Elizabeth was thrilled. This was her best fundraiser ever.

  She sought Declan out backstage. “They loved you. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Declan’s eyes travelled from her milky cleavage to her smiling mouth to her large green eyes. His own eyes were filled with pleasure and amusement. “I think we might find a way.”

  “Do you?”

  “Oh yes. I think there’s something you might want to tell me. In fact, I’m going to insist on it.”

  Declan took her in his arms and kissed her fully and firmly on the mouth. As his mouth explored hers, she could feel the piercing in his tongue. The last time she’d felt it, it had given her extreme pleasure. The skin all over her body shivered in anticipation.

  “The ball only goes for another hour.”

  “Then we’ll have our own private ball,” murmured Declan. “I can’t wait. In the meantime, I believe you opened your dance card for me?”

  Once again, he placed the tiniest emphasis on the word “open.” Elizabeth thought she was going to melt.

  Declan said goodbye to his band, then took Elizabeth’s hand and led her to the dance floor. “Okay, Elizabeth. Let’s see what you can do.”

  A big band swing tune had the crowd jumping and jiving. Declan twirled Elizabeth, then took control of her as if she were a fine car only he knew how to drive. He was an excellent dancer—another surprise—who led with the smallest pressure of his fingertips. Elizabeth was able to follow him easily. She was amazed. If only men knew how much women appreciated a great dancer, they’d all take lessons, she thought. Declan spun and jived, leading her so gracefully that she appeared to be a great dancer hersel
f. From the time she was a little girl, Jack had taught her various dance steps, with her standing on his feet, so she was no slouch when it came to moving to music, but Declan took her to another level. They were so good together that several couples on the floor stopped dancing to watch. Thank God she hadn’t had too much to drink. When Declan actually flipped her over his back, she managed to land squarely without falling. People applauded. Oh my. What a night this was turning out to be! And the best was yet to come.

  The final dance was a slow one. Elizabeth was grateful she could regain her breath. She leaned against Declan, feeling the heat of his body emanating through the wool and silk of his tux. His shoulders felt strong and hard. She couldn’t wait to touch them with her fingertips and cover them with her mouth. His shoulders weren’t the only part of him that was hard. She could feel him pressed against her, signalling his need. The bathroom incident had been a mere tease.

  She was fully aware that people were talking about them. She’d made no secret tonight of the fact that she and Declan were lovers. If people didn’t approve, that was their problem. If she had been unsure, dancing with Declan had confirmed it. She was in love.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time they arrived back at Elizabeth’s house, it was after one a.m. Elizabeth throbbed with anticipation. There was nothing she could hide, or wanted to hide, from Declan anymore.

  As soon as they got in her front door, Declan threw off his jacket, pressed her against the wall and kissed her fiercely. His fingers gathered up the material of her dress and found her wet and waiting. His voice was deep and sexy. “The thought of you without panties made me hard all night. You’re going to have to pay for doing that to me.”

  “Yes. I must.”

  “Anyone in that room could have fucked you tonight and you’d have let them, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Such a bad girl.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Strip.”

  “Strip?”

  “In a sexy way. I’m going to sit and watch you.”

  Declan whipped off his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He slipped his suspenders off and let them hang over his trousers. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he settled in a chair in the living room. He stretched out casually, legs apart. His blue eyes smouldered over her body.

  “Okay. Get dirty, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth slowly shrugged each shoulder, rounding and dropping them until her straps slid off.

  “That’s it. Now show me what you’ve got.”

  Elizabeth felt flushed and excited. His command to show what she had, meaning her genitals, reminded her of the marketplace where she was forced to expose herself.

  “Lift your dress up slowly and show me what the men were missing tonight. What they would all like to have seen, and touched, and fucked.”

  Declan was breathing hard. Elizabeth thought she was going to faint with excitement. She slowly lifted the skirt of her dress and showed him her nakedness.

  “Bring it here.”

  Elizabeth rolled her hips seductively and moved towards Declan. Declan unzipped himself. He was rigid in front of her. He sat forward on the chair and put out his tongue. The piercing glittered.

  “Put it here. I want to taste you.”

  Elizabeth did as he said, opening her legs so that her sex was on top of his tongue. The initial touch of metal against her swelling clitoris made her gasp. Declan’s tongue moved lightly and rapidly over her. She almost came, but Declan stopped her. From down the side of the chair he pulled a pair of handcuffs. “Look what the policeman left behind. You enjoyed fucking him, didn’t you, Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now you’re going to tell me another fantasy. But first, you are going to be tied up.”

  Elizabeth gasped. This was too much. She was about to protest, but Declan took her firmly by the arm and led her to the bedroom. He spoke gruffly in a commanding tone. “Lie down.”

  She was powerless to resist. Declan grasped her wrists and pulled her arms tightly above her head. He looped the cuffs around the wrought-iron finial of the headboard and snapped them around her wrists.

  “Now your legs. Do you have scarves?” he asked.

  Elizabeth nodded meekly and indicated a drawer of her dresser. “In there.”

  Declan quickly found two silk scarves and looped one around each of her ankles. He spread her legs wide and tied each of them to an iron bedpost. Elizabeth was spread-eagled. She couldn’t move.

  “The scarves are too tight,” she pleaded.

  “Tough. Bad girls must be punished.”

  Elizabeth felt an incredible thrill suffuse her. He was right. She needed to feel pain. She must pay for the wickedness of her thoughts, for her wanton and lascivious desires.

  “You can’t play with yourself, so I’ll do it for you. But while I do, you are going to tell me a story about how bad you really are.”

  This was the moment she’d been dreading and longing for. She hesitated.

  “I’m waiting, Elizabeth.”

  In a low voice, she began her sexy tale of fantasy. “I’m in a marketplace. A bazaar.”

  Declan was touching her slowly, moving his fingers rhythmically back and forth. “What kind of marketplace?”

  “It’s for slaves. For women.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m on a stage in front of crowds.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Men. Just men. I’m being sold.”

  “Are you exciting them? Are they playing with themselves?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what do you have to do for them?”

  “I have to show them my private parts.”

  “Is there someone in charge of you?”

  “Yes. I have a handler. But I can’t see his face.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m blindfolded.”

  “So how does this handler control you?”

  “With a rope around my neck.”

  The marketplace came alive for Elizabeth. The air was ripe with the smell of rotting fruit, wood smoke and sweat. She heard the jeer and rumble of men’s voices. They called out in a rough way: “C’mon let’s see ’er.” “Show us what she’s got between ’er legs.” “Let’s see if she’s worth ’aving.” The rough cotton of her dress brushed against Elizabeth’s nakedness. She was completely humiliated, but knew what she must do. The rope around her neck was tight. She had to wait until she felt a pull. There it was. She slowly lifted her dress until the men could see her sex. The voice of her handler hissed in her ear. “Spread your legs wider and let them see what you’ve got down there or you’ll get a good whipping.” Elizabeth did as she was told. Even though she couldn’t see, she could feel every eye in the marketplace staring between her legs. The men were whistling and jeering. “Show us some more.” “Let’s ’ave a better look.”

  Elizabeth felt two tugs around her neck. This was the signal that she must expose herself even more. With trembling fingers, she spread her lips apart, feeling an unaccustomed breeze in her private area. The jeering, whistling and laughing increased.

  The handler whispered in her ear. “Walk around like that. Keep it open. Make sure every man here gets a good look at what you’ve got.”

  “Nice bit.”

  “Look at that.”

  “It’s fuckable.”

  Elizabeth heard a man shout, “Lets ’ave a look at ’er back door. See if it’s fuckable as well.”

  Now came the part Elizabeth was dreading. Three tugs. She turned slowly around and lifted her dress so the men could see her buttocks. She felt her face turning a deep crimson of shame. The handler spoke fiercely in her ear. “Spread yourself open. They can’t see what they’re getting unless you show them. Be quick about it.” Elizabeth pulled her cheeks apart so the men c
ould take a good look at her anus. “Bend down,” ordered the handler. “Let them see it close up.” Elizabeth knelt. Her shaking hands held her buttocks apart so all the men could have a clear view.

  Shouts of “Cor!” and “Blimey!” and “I’ll have some of that” filled the air as the men started bidding. Elizabeth was clearly desirable. She fetched a high price. Finally, she heard her handler shout, “Sold!” The blindfold was taken from her eyes. Her handler was Declan.

  Elizabeth’s excitement at the humiliating fantasy swelled and grew. Declan licked her faster and faster. She gasped as a thumb entered her vagina. At the same time, a long finger probed her anus. She was completely exposed, completely filled and hugely excited. The men in the marketplace played with themselves while she exposed herself for their pleasure. Declan stroked his swollen, rigid penis. In a husky voice, he whispered, “You love having men look at you. You love having men fuck you. Any man who wants to can fuck you, anytime, any place. You’re a bad, bad girl who’ll do anything to get fucked, isn’t that right, Elizabeth?

  “Yes, yes, yes!” cried Elizabeth, exploding into an orgasm that was unlike anything she had experienced before. Declan slid his penis into her helpless, shuddering body. A few deep thrusts and he was done. He lay panting and spent against her. In a low, sexy voice, he whispered, “Sold to the highest bidder.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jayce Corning was tired of manufactured perfection. Like other producers, he’d had mega-hits using pitch correctors, backing tracks and synthesized instruments, but he was through with that phase now. In his opinion, the music industry had backed itself into a corner with technology. As far as he was concerned, any twerpy tween capable of emitting a note could be auto-corrected into sounding like Andrea Bocelli. The sound was not authentic. Jayce felt the soul of music had largely disappeared from the commercial scene. He hoped it was still alive somewhere. He was looking for a real indie muso with street cred and, most importantly, talent. But all the public seemed to want was more of the same: booming, bassy gangsta thugs in shiny cars rapping about money or sex or violence with semi-naked girls. He was bored of it. Maybe, Jayce told himself, it was time to get out of the business and do something else. He’d certainly made plenty of money, more than enough to live on. But he was hooked on the thrill of taking young nobodies and projecting their careers into the stratosphere of superstardom. It was an addiction he shared with Elizabeth Harding. She’d vouchsafed for Declan Thomas and her taste was impeccable. He’d reserve judgment until he saw the act.