From Leather to Lace

by Jasmine Hill

  She didn’t have to dwell on the question for long, the answer was obvious—Maxwell had moved on and had evidently sought the company of Angelique. Sarah was unprepared for the pain she felt deep in her chest. She had been sure that Maxwell’s feelings for her were similar to her own for him. How could she have been so wrong about someone? How could she have considered actually changing her lifestyle, her occupation for him? Obviously all he must have wanted from her was a good lay and that really stung. Even worse was the fact that he had sought the company of his ex so quickly, which just demonstrated his shallowness. Roxy had been so wrong when she had described him as a ‘seriously nice guy’.

  Sarah swallowed hard and tried to stop the tears that threatened but to no avail. Fat teardrops coursed unchecked down her cheeks as the hurtful truth settled in the pit of her stomach. She sat and stared with blurred vision at the spot where Maxwell had been standing before he’d walked back to the house. She sat in her car for a long time as she tried to get a hold on her emotions. Finally she started the car and with a heavy heart and a last look towards Maxwell’s house she drove slowly away.

  * * * *

  Sarah was deciding whether to go in to Fantasy. She really didn’t feel like working, in fact she had planned to tell Madam Boudica that she would no longer be working at all, but since she had seen Angelique at Maxwell’s house that morning she was in a world of indecision. She stared listlessly at her wardrobe and tried to work up some enthusiasm for the evening ahead.

  She finally decided on one of her favourite outfits, a skin-tight, black latex dress with a plunging neckline. It was not short but came to just above her knees. It was like a second skin, however, and always made her feel sexy and powerful, which was what she needed to feel to face the evening ahead. She teamed the dress with fishnet stockings and a pair of platform stiletto boots. To match her frame of mind she decided on gothic makeup and applied pale foundation, lashings of black eyeliner, long fake eyelashes and blood-red matte lipstick. The effect was startling and definitely matched her mood—sombre and dark. To finish the look she piled her hair on top of her head and sprayed the tresses lightly with black hairspray.

  She stepped back to assess her reflection in the mirror—a vampiric seductress stared impassively back. A perfect persona for the evening, she thought dismally as she collected her bag and made her way downstairs to meet Monty.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sarah stepped into her dungeon to meet her first client of the evening and stopped dead in her tracks as a familiar form greeted her. His back was to her but she could tell instantly that it was Maxwell. She gasped audibly and he spun around to face her. His eyes narrowed beneath his mask as his gaze swept over her body.

  “You’re looking as tempting as ever, Mistress Kitty,” he said coolly. “I had half hoped that I would not be able to make an appointment with you this evening.”

  Sarah stared at him in astonishment. “What are you doing here, Maxwell?”

  “I wanted to see you, of course, although I didn’t expect to see quite so much of you. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I see, I just don’t like the fact that so many other men will be seeing it after me.”

  “I think you gave up the entitlement to question what I wear and what I do, Maxwell,” she responded softly. Particularly given what I witnessed this morning.

  He stalked towards her and she instinctively took a step backwards. Her heart rate thumped and her pulse drummed in her ears in anticipation. The sight of him in his black leather pants with his chest bare had her breath hitching and she felt her insides clench as he moved closer to her. Now she knew it was Maxwell, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t recognised him on his earlier visits—well, at least his last visit, at any rate. How could she have not known it was him? As if in answer to her internal musings, a quote from the French Philosopher, Henri Bergson, popped into her head. ‘The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.’ Never a truer statement had been uttered as far as she was concerned.

  Now that she knew the man in front of her was not some stranger but her lover, or rather ex-lover, she felt nervous. She felt that she was no longer the Dominatrix but the dominated and it left her feeling uneasy. She was floundering and she needed desperately to retake control.

  She was backed against the wall now, his arms on either side of her head, his hands resting against the wall, caging her in. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I’m getting my money’s worth, Sarah,” he breathed. “I had to pay extra because I demanded to be your first client tonight. You are very…popular.” He pressed himself hard against her and gyrated his hips against hers.

  “You made your choice, Maxwell. You still haven’t told me why you are here. Is it to tease me or to gloat?” she asked softly.

  He stared at her quizzically. “Why would I want to do either of those things?” he said against her ear, his hot breath sending sparks of desire shooting to her nipples.

  “You tell me,” she breathed.

  She couldn’t tell him that she had been at his house only that morning like some obsessed stalker. She wanted him to admit that he had reconnected with Angelique. She supposed that was why he was really there—to tell her that he and Angelique were once more an item. Though why he couldn’t do that over the phone was beyond her—perhaps he wanted to rub salt into the wounds.

  “I didn’t like the way we left things between us. Too much unfinished business, too many things said in the heat of the moment.” His voice was soft and hypnotic and very distracting, as was the feel of his hard body pressed against the length of hers, making it difficult for her to think clearly. She tried desperately to gather her jumbled thoughts and regain the upper hand but her tumultuous emotions and his nearness were making it impossible.

  “Why come here, Maxwell? Why not call or come to my apartment?”

  “I wanted to see you again in your place of work, Sarah.” He stepped back a little and ran his eyes over her body appreciatively. “I’m glad I did. You look hot. I like the dark, gothic look you have going on here, baby, so in contrast to the sweet, virtuous Sarah I know. It’s very erotic.”

  She stared at him, her breath coming in little pants as he dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her softly, running his tongue in slow circles on her heated skin. A moan escaped her as she moved her head to one side, giving him easier access to her neck. His kiss turned harsher as he stopped suckling and nipped the skin from the back of her ear to the base of her throat. Slowly he moved one hand from beside her head to run down her shoulder and cup her right breast before running his thumb over her erect nipple.

  She felt powerless to stop her body’s reaction to him and his using her given name in the dungeon was throwing her off balance. His touch sent desire shooting through her and made her legs weak. She sagged against the wall, only the strength of his body against hers keeping her upright and steady. She struggled through the fog that his mouth and touch were creating and finally found her voice.

  “Maxwell, you must stop,” she gasped, pushing her hands against his chest.

  He resisted her attempted shove and instead intensified his body weight against her.

  “I want to talk, Sarah, we have things to discuss.” His voice was both soft and commanding as he whispered in her ear.

  “This is neither the time nor the place to have a discussion about our non-existent relationship, Maxwell.”

  His eyes narrowed and he stepped back, releasing the pressure between them. She was surprised by the momentary pang of loss she felt at his withdrawal.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Now we get to the heart of the matter. It didn’t take you long to move on, Sarah. Obviously your feelings for me were not what I thought they were. I realise that essentially we finished things between us last Saturday, but I for one felt that the issues we have were not dealt with satisfactorily and I admit that I should have handled things differently.” He was still standing close to her and she could almost feel
the waves of resentment washing over him.

  “All of this is pointless, however, as you have obviously decided that we are over. No second thoughts, no revisiting our actions, no further discussion. I only wish that I could have approached the situation with as much nonchalance,” he finished vehemently.

  His fury was palpable but so too was hers. How dare he make her out to be so unfeeling when he had been the one mooching about with his ex only that morning?

  “I really wonder at your motive for being here, Maxwell. How dare you accuse me of so effortlessly moving on when you obviously have unfinished business with your ex!” she hissed at him.

  Maxwell’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her quizzically. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sarah. I told you that Angelique and I are over and have been for some time. This idea you have that I still have feelings for her is becoming tedious.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for being tedious, Maxwell,” she snapped. “Ever-present ex-girlfriends have a habit of making me a little uncomfortable and somewhat suspicious. I wonder that you haven’t admitted to me that you have, in fact, moved on—or moved back, depending on your perspective. Instead you make an appointment with me here, which I suspect was to put me off balance, and proceed to accuse me of being nonchalant and unfeeling. You were the one who took issue with my occupation and arrogantly assumed that I would give up my job for you, and when I took issue with your presumption you left no room for compromise or further discussion. Now you want to discuss these issues further when I happen to know that you and Angelique are not over. I really don’t think there is much more to say.” Sarah looked at her watch. “I think it would be best if you leave now—my next client will be arriving soon,” she said quietly.

  Maxwell stood, glaring down at her, his eyes narrowed in anger. “You don’t have any other clients tonight, Sarah. I booked all your sessions for this evening,” he stated in a cold voice. “I wanted to spare you, or, if I’m honest, spare myself”—he snorted—“the prospect of you having to deal with numerous male clients. I realise that I have overstepped the mark and I apologise. I’ll get out of your way.” Without another word or look he turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon.

  Sarah let out a deep breath and slumped against the wall. What had just happened? Her mind was reeling with all manner of emotions and questions. Was this how he had decided to deal with her job at Fantasy—by booking all her sessions every evening? The idea was ludicrous, not to mention extremely expensive, and why had he done that and come here at all if he had started to see his ex again? Sarah was confused and unaccountably exhausted. She hadn’t had the chance to tell him that she would have given up her job at Fantasy. At any rate, now she didn’t believe that he deserved that sacrifice from her, not after what she had witnessed that morning.

  She jolted as a thought suddenly hit her—what had she actually witnessed? She had not seen Maxwell and Angelique in a passionate embrace. There was no doubt that Angelique had been at his house but all Sarah had seen was some conversation between the two and Maxwell giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. Was it possible that there was some reasonable explanation? She hoped and dreaded it to be true—hoped because it meant that Maxwell was being truthful when he denied any relationship with Angelique, but dreaded because it meant that her actions and words just now had been terribly unfair and unjust and perhaps had ruined any further chance of reconciliation between them.

  She was surprisingly grateful that she didn’t have to deal with any more clients that evening. She was tired and she needed some peace and quiet and time to think.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Max sat on his outdoor patio drinking a light beer as he stewed about his encounter with Sarah. God, she had looked magnificent. That dress that had hugged her body like a second skin, those bountiful breasts and the dark, gothic makeup that had made her look like a vampire seductress ready to suck the life out of him.

  He had been both turned on and furious when he had seen her—turned on because he would have been all too willing to succumb to her wiles and furious because he didn’t want any other man to share in the pleasure. The contradiction between Sarah as he knew her and Mistress Kitty was so incongruous that it made him as horny as hell. She was like an erotic enigma or a challenging puzzle that he had to conquer—she was good but naughty, reserved yet seductive.

  What he couldn’t fathom was Sarah’s issue with Angelique. He had told Sarah it was over but she was adamant that he had reconnected with his ex. Where had she got that impression? Had someone been telling lies? The unwelcome image of James floated before his eyes—it was just the thing that bastard would do in order to inveigle himself into Sarah’s life and in the process ensure that he, Max, would be cast as the arsehole. Yet, as he thought about it, he couldn’t believe that Sarah would be so gullible as to believe carte blanche anything that James said. There had to be something that he was missing, or was she just making excuses because she had realised that a relationship with him was not what she wanted?

  He took a long swig from his beer. The woman was frustrating him beyond belief. He recognised that his actions last Saturday had been fuelled by his arrogant tendency to expect everyone to comply with his wishes and he was ashamed that he’d acted in such a chauvinistic way. Sarah had been right when she’d said he was acting as if it were the 1950s. He wasn’t proud of the way he had handled things, but he had analysed the situation to death and maintained the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to cope with her remaining a Dominatrix. That was the reason he had booked all her sessions that evening, because he hated the thought of her with other men—even if she was just whipping them.

  Another less noble motive reared its ugly head and he was forced to admit that some part of him wanted to control the situation, to control her. It was an unsavoury self-realisation and one that he had never previously had to contemplate, as this compulsion for control where a woman was concerned was totally new to him. He liked to have control over his emotions and of his business affairs but he seemed to lose control around her. He couldn’t understand why Sarah brought out these unfamiliar feelings in him—it was at once exhilarating and alarming. Perhaps it would be better to leave things as they were and not become any more deeply involved with her. Definitely that would be best for his peace of mind and to maintain his status quo where women and serious relationships were concerned.

  He finished his beer in one swallow and pushed his hand through his hair in frustration as he watched the city lights slowly start the evening ritual. One building after another lit up signage and inner offices to become beacons, announcing far and wide the vast metropolis and the urban centre. His mind drifted over his encounter with Sarah and he shot upright as a sudden thought hit him. “Angelique was here this morning,” he said aloud.

  Could that be what Sarah had been referring to earlier? Had she found out about that somehow? He looked at his watch—ten p.m. It was still relatively early for a Saturday night, and, making a quick decision, he strode inside to get his car keys.

  * * * *

  Sarah stepped out of the shower and made a note to herself to ascertain how Maxwell had managed to monopolise her entire evening schedule, although she suspected that it came down to money—he would have offered a sum that was too good to refuse. She wrapped a robe around herself and was towel-drying her hair when the security system buzzed.

  “Who is it?” she asked through the intercom.

  “Hi, Sarah, it’s James. I’d like to talk to you… You know, about the other night at the club. I need to explain myself and apologise yet again. I noticed that your lights were on and I happened to be in the area so…”

  The last thing that she wanted was to see James but her propensity towards cordiality won out and she buzzed him in.

  “James, how nice to see you,” Sarah said in greeting, eyes downcast in a deliberate attempt to look exhausted, hoping that he would catch on and leave her in peace.

  “Sarah, thanks so
much for seeing me. I really want to apologise for causing a scene with that fuckwit McIver! I’m sorry you got caught up in it but he really is an arrogant son of a bitch and I’m glad you’ve worked that out before things became too serious between you two.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Sarah responded with a quizzical look.

  “I heard from Roxy that you are no longer seeing Max.”

  Why can’t Roxy keep her mouth shut?

  “Well, obviously Roxy has gone about advertising my personal life,” Sarah said tightly.

  “Hey”—James put his arms up as if in surrender—“don’t get too angry with her. I asked her what was going on and she told me. She didn’t volunteer the information. I guess she didn’t know that it’s supposed to be a secret. Personally I think it’s great—you know what my opinion of the guy is.”

  “Well, I’m glad that someone at least is happy with the situation,” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s the way I feel. I don’t think McIver is right for you—he’s too…” He waved his hands in the air. “Dominant a personality.”

  The irony in James’ last comment was not lost on her.

  “I know he’s mega rich,” James continued, “but money isn’t everything.”

  “Thank you for the lecture, James. As it happens I’m not particularly interested in his money. Are you suggesting that I’m a gold-digger?”

  “Of course not, I was just making a point,” he grumbled.

  Sarah supposed she should offer him something to drink. “Would you like something to drink? I have soda, wine or beer.”

  “Beer, thanks.”

  Sarah walked into the kitchen, pulled a beer out of the fridge and handed it to James before selecting a can of Diet Coke for herself.