by Selena Kitt
She locked the door behind her with the key, turning to explore the room
She touched his dresser, the surface smooth and dust-free. They had a cleaning crew working in the house every day, doing something—the place was just too big not to have a lot of staff—but she didn’t know any of their names, and while she spoke Russian and broken English, they spoke Spanish and broken English, making the language barrier that much greater. The only staff that stayed overnight were Max and Mrs. Ribya.
Petra wandered over to her husband’s bed, running her hand over the soft material, pulled taut. This was where he slept every night. Did he think about her—as much as she thought about him—alone in the dark? She couldn’t help herself—she climbed up onto the bed and stretched out there, closing her eyes, thinking about him. Where was he now? Waiting at the airport for his flight home?
I miss you, Blue. She felt like crying.
Milyi whined, scratching at the side of the bed, and Petra reached down to lift him up. He settled in happily, panting near her. The digital clock on the night table read eighty-thirty-nine. On impulse, she leaned over and opened the night table drawer, finding a pair of reading glasses, a book (The Art of War), several notebooks and pens, a package of tissues and some ponytail holders. She fingered these last objects, frowning.
Blue’s hair used to be long, she reminded herself. She tossed them back into the drawer, opening the next one down, finding it filled with DVD cases—Bravehart, Star Wars, Ronin, Lord of the Rings, Ghost Dog. The third drawer was filled with DVD cases too, but these were black, with no labels. Petra pulled one out, clicking it open, finding a silver DVD inside with one word written on it in Sharpie: Madonna.
Now she really was snooping! She felt horribly guilty. But he’s your husband. And he said you could go anywhere you wanted… well, almost anywhere…
She knew he hadn’t meant for her to do this, of course. But she did it anyway.
Petra slid the DVD into the player on his dresser, which automatically activated the big-screen television, turning it on. The first thing she heard was a long, loud moan, almost a scream, and she scrambled for the universal remote without even looking at the screen, assuming it was just concert footage, turning the volume down and looking behind her toward the locked door. What if Max or Mrs. Ribya or one of the other staff came along and found her in his room?
She went over to the door and listened, making sure there was no one out there. When she turned back toward the television, she gaped at what she saw there. The camera was focused on two women tangled up together on a mattress. She couldn’t see too much of the room around them, just bookcases and a statue of a goddess, something Hindu with a forked tongue, all arms and legs, but it didn’t matter—the whole world was turning on the bed.
A nude, dark haired woman, panting, breasts heaving, hips rocking and rolling, had her legs spread, while a petite blond, her face obscured between the other woman’s legs, gave her what was clearly some very pleasurable oral sex.
“Play with her tits.” The voice from the television made Petra’s knees instantly wobbly. Thankfully the bed was there and she sat on it as she listened to her husband giving the two women clear instructions. “Pinch her nipples. Good girl. Harder.”
The blond did as she was told, making the dark-haired girl squeal and thrash under her attention, clearly very close to orgasm.
“Donna! Don’t you dare come!” Blue ordered. His voice was loud—he was clearly close to the camera. Maybe even behind it. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
Donna! Short for Madonna? Now she understood the word written in Sharpie on the DVD.
Petra gasped out loud, her hand going over her mouth, as her husband appeared at the edge of the screen. He was wearing jeans and no shirt, just as broad and built back then—maybe more so—as he was now. It was an old tape, she realized, with relief. His hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, his beard full. And very blue.
She knew she should turn this off and leave the room immediately, but she couldn’t. She was transfixed by the sight of the little blond sitting up and unzipping her husband’s jeans at his command. The girl leaned up to look in like a kid opening a Christmas present before she pulled his cock free.
"What's your name again?" Blue asked, like that amused him, but he groaned when the blond took him into her mouth.
“Mary,” the blond murmured. “My name is Mary.”
His cock was beautiful. It made Petra’s mouth water. The dark-haired girl—Donna—was crawling toward him now, joining her friend in the licking and sucking of Blue’s cock. Their tongues snaked around the head, slithering down the shaft.
"I’m going to make you come, Mary.” Blue’s hand moved in her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her eyes. There was a glazed look in them and Petra wondered if the woman was drugged. Blue and the band had been heavy into drugs back then—he’d told her so. “Spread your legs.”
The blond did as she was told, stretching out on her back and opening her thighs. Blue opened them further with his hands, kneeling up between her legs.
“Play with her tits,” Blue told Donna. The dark-haired girl stretched out beside her friend, gently fondling and sucking at the blond’s puffy pink nipples, making them instantly hard. “Mmm. Nice.”
It was. Petra felt a deep, aching throb between her own legs as she watched her husband rub the head of his cock over Mary’s mound. It was covered in wiry, curly blond hair, just like her own, and he parted the girl’s flesh slowly, focusing right at the top of her cleft.
“Ohhh!” Mary moaned and rolled her hips up toward his cock. “Yes! Fuck me, Blue! Please!”
“No.” He denied her, teasing. “I told you I was going to make you come. I didn’t say I was going to fuck you.”
The girl cried out in protest, that tenacious rubbing, rubbing going on between her thighs, the head and shaft of his cock plunging between the valley of her pussy lips, not entering her. It made soft, wet noises, and both women on the screen moaned, the dark-haired one licking and sucking Mary’s nipples with more fervor.
“Play with yourself, Donna,” Blue instructed. The woman moaned in relief, shifting her hips so he could see her pussy as she parted her labia, showing him the pink inside. Blue nodded, a smile playing at his lips, and Petra recognized that dark, wolfish look in his eyes.
“Oh me too,” Petra whispered, unable to deny her husband’s command. She unzipped her jeans, sliding a hand into her silk panties. All her underwear was silk—Blue made sure of it. Her pussy was pulsing with heat, soaking wet, her clit so sensitive she cried out when her fingers brushed it.
“Oh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhhh!” Mary cried out, reaching blindly for Blue, grabbing his wrist, a look coming over her face that was hard to describe. She was lost in the moment, moaning and wailing and bucking on the bed, and Donna held on to her for dear life, her mouth still sucking and tugging at the little blond’s nipples. Mary was sailing, free, her eyes rolled back, her tongue caressing her lower lip.
"Oh god," she moaned, turning to face her friend. The two women kissed and Blue groaned his approval. “He’s so good!”
“I know,” Donna murmured, doing as Blue told her and climbing on top of her friend, so they were kissing, belly to belly on the mattress, Blue still on his knees behind them. Petra felt her breath coming faster as she nudged her little clit, the blood filling her face, ashamed of how turned on she was watching her husband about to fuck not one, but two, other women. It was a long time ago, she reminded herself. And at least, in this moment, she could live vicariously through them both. Because more than anything else, she realized, she wanted to be the woman that Blue was going to fuck.
Her husband was sliding the head of his cock between the soft, wet flesh of Donna’s waiting pussy. She lifted her bottom up and then pushed back, slowly impaling herself on his length. Petra matched her long, low moan, imagining how it would feel, his thick shaft spreading her open.
“Oh Blue!” The wo
man broke her kiss with Mary to cry out as he began to pound her on the mattress. “Yes! Fuck me!”
Mary whimpered, wiggling under her friend, watching her face, not-so-patiently waiting her turn. She’d already come once, Petra thought, so it was only fair he fucked the other girl first, right?
And what in the hell am I thinking? That’s my husband up there! Fucking two other women!
Somehow it didn’t matter. Petra bit her lip and rubbed herself faster as she watched the three of them, Blue taking a break from Donna’s pussy to find Mary’s, shoving himself in deep. Mary moaned and spread her legs wider under her friend’s, letting him pound her.
“Do you like that?” Donna kissed her friend’s mouth, licking at her neck. “Doesn’t his cock feel fantastic?”
“Yes!” Mary moaned, her arms around Donna’s neck, holding on tight. “Oh fuck yes! Yes!”
Mine, Petra thought, looking at Blue’s hard, glistening length as he withdrew from the blond and immersed himself back into the brunette. And all the while, Petra rubbed her own pussy furiously, a slow friction building, like some exquisite form of torture.
Oh Blue, I want you. Why don’t you want me like that? Why not me?
“I want you to come, Donna,” Blue insisted, ramming his cock hard into her pussy, his hands gripping her hips. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
The woman moaned, burying her face in her friend’s neck, lifting her bottom for him, giving him deeper access. That made Blue cry out, his fingers boring into her flesh, his teeth clenched.
“Fuck! Do it, baby! Come for me! Come for me!” Blue growled, and Donna was coming, Petra could tell by her shudder and thrust, the low sound rising from her throat, and Petra knew she, too, couldn’t hold back much longer, throbbing for release, waiting to explode.
“Ahhhhhh fuck!” Blue pulled his length out of the brunette’s pussy, his cock already spewing hot liquid onto Donna’s raised, quivering ass. He bit his lip, hips moving as if he were still buried in her wetness—or trying to get back in—fountains of cum splashing down the crack of her ass, dripping down her pussy. As Petra watched, her husband’s cum fell in hot, white droplets onto the blond’s pussy too, decorating her curly pubic hair like fat pearls.
Oh, Blue, Blue, me too, me too!
Petra fucked herself, wishing it was Blue, imagining him baptizing her with his cum. Her fingers squelched in her pussy as she fucked herself to completion, hand rocking between her thighs. She was a wave crashing, drowning, feeling the first ecstatic flutter between her legs, lost in the bliss of the moment, keening and howling, the sweet clamp of her pussy around her fingers a hot, shuddering pulse.
She collapsed onto the bed, panting and floating away in a sweaty, slick heap until Milyi began licking her face and hair, whining softly.
Oh my god, what am I doing? Petra sat up, looking guiltily at the door, grabbing quickly for the remote and turning off the television. Had anyone heard her? She scrambled to get the DVD out of the machine, fumbling to put it back into its case and then into the drawer where she’d found it. She wasn’t likely to forget what she’d seen. The images were burned in her memory.
Milyi jumped off the bed, scratching at the door, anxious to be out. Petra fumbled in her pocket for the key, hands shaking. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid! What was she thinking, coming in here, snooping around? What had she expected to find?
She thought about the other black jewel cases in the drawer, presumably full of DVDs like the one she’d just watched. How many women had her husband been with? Of course, she knew he was a rock star, she knew there had been groupies—hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. But they’d both been thoroughly tested, and he was past all that. He’d told her so.
“Hang on, Milyi!” Petra unlocked the door, her little pug bouncing around her feet in excitement, jumping at the opening. In his eagerness, Milyi knocked her off balance and the key slipped from her hand, falling to the floor. The dog yipped excitedly, thinking they were playing a game, and grabbed the leather fob between his teeth, scrabbling out of the doorway.
“Milyi!” she called, racing after the naughty animal. He skidded on the tile around the corner and started down the stairs, Petra close on his heels. “Bad dog! Give that back!”
She had to get that key! If she didn’t, Blue would know she’d been in his room—and how could she possibly explain that?
“No!” she cried, following the pug around the corner, down another hallway, another corner, past open doors, closed ones. Where were they? After three months, she still didn’t know her way around the house well enough not to get turned around and lost on occasion. “Milyi! Drop it!”
He ignored her command, putting on speed the moment she got closer, slowing a little when she did as well, teasing her, playing his usual game of “fetch,” the leather fob held tightly in his teeth, the key dangling down. The dog’s nails clattered on the tile as he took a sharp corner, this time heading down another flight of stairs.
“Bad, bad dog!” she panted, grabbing the handrail and rushing down the stairs after him. He’d gotten a good head start and she stopped at the bottom to see which way he’d gone. She found him waiting, curly tail wagging delightedly, the leather fob dropped to the floor. He was panting like she was, his pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
“Good boy,” she soothed, her voice light and high, changing tactics as she slowly approached him, her gaze on the key. “Good Milyi. Stay. Staaaaaay.”
He barked loudly, a warning, and she hesitated. She couldn’t remember what was down this hallway. Would he run into a dead-end? Then she saw the door her puppy was standing in front of and knew exactly where they were.
“Let’s go to bed,” she sang lightly, taking another step closer. “Come on, puppy, night-night time!”
He cocked his head at her, considering. His tail was wagging, tongue still out. He was tired. Maybe the fight had gone out of him. She knelt down, close enough to reach the key, but not moving.
“Good boy, come to Mama.”
The dog whined and started forward. Petra reached for the key at the same time, breathing a sigh of relief when it was firmly in her hand. Milyi barked in protest but his heart wasn’t in it. He still looked at her, head cocked, not sure what she was up to. The game was over, but he didn’t trust her not to change her mood from saccharine sweet back to angry.
Then a loud, muffled crash came from behind the door, startling them both. Petra gasped, her hand going to her throat. Milyi barked, his nose instantly at the crack under the door, sniffing wildly. She sat back on her heels, contemplating the door with its intricate carvings, the gargoyles with long, lascivious tongues and wild, wide eyes. This was the room Blue had told her not to enter.
“What was that, hmm?” Petra whispered, scratching Milyi behind his soft ears. He ignored her, continued to sniff under the door, scratching at it now in earnest. But he got quiet when a noise came again. It wasn’t a crash this time. Something far fainter. A wail? A cry? The wind? What was it?
“Is someone in there?” Petra called quietly, glancing up and down the hallway. There was no one around. “Hello?”
No answer. But then that cry again. Was it human? It had to be. She was suddenly sure that someone was trapped in that room. Maybe one of the staff, as they’d been cleaning? Surely Blue would understand her going in under those circumstances, even if it was, as he’d told her over and over, “dangerous.” She couldn’t imagine what could be so life-threatening—was he remodeling? Exposed wires, holes in the floor?
Whatever it was, she could handle it.
Petra used the key to unlock the door, scooping Milyi up in her arms before pushing it open. The room was dark, cool. It smelled a little like Blue’s room—of leather and mahogany. She felt along the wall for a switch, the dog shaking and whining in her arms, finding one and flipping it on. The light came on in a lamp across the room. It had a brown and white Tiffany shade, shedding a circle of light on the leather c
hair underneath.
The room was lovely, clearly a library or study of sorts. Is this where Blue disappeared to in the middle of the day, she wondered, looking at the rows upon rows of bookshelves. There wasn’t anything dangerous here.
Then she saw it.
It was the same goddess statue she’d seen in the video upstairs, the one with her tongue sticking out, her many, many arms waving about her head. The moment she saw it, she recognized the room in an instant. There was no mattress on the floor, but it was the same room. The shelves weren’t empty now—they were filled with books. Poetry by Goethe and Rumi and Rilke. Hundreds of oversized art books, books about architecture.
Maybe it was just the old memories this place stirred up in Blue that were dangerous?