Miranda knew Brigitte was Antonio’s sub even before he spoke. She had a way of being in his presence, close but not too close, possessive, aware of his every move and ready to accommodate his whim at any moment. Miranda was able to recognize this, partly because she had seen it so often, and partly because she’d played that role herself in past versions of her life. The role of the sub, always aware and always ready to please and be pleased.
“Where is Mr. Marino?” ask Antonio, looking past Miranda, into the hotel.
“Mr. Marino passed away since you were last here,” replied Miranda. “I am Mrs. Marino.”
Antonio looked directly at Miranda and smiled for the first time. “You are Mrs. Marino? Miranda?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
Antonio shrugged Brigitte off his arm as he extended both his hands towards Miranda. He took her hand in both of his, almost causing her to drop the clipboard. He brought her hand up to his lip, kissing the back of it in a way only a European could.
He held her hand in front of his face, looking up past it to her. “So, you are the lovely Miranda Mr. Marino always spoke about. The one he could never live without.”
Miranda didn’t know how to answer this. She didn’t think Tony had discussed her with the hotel guests. Feeling a little awkward at the attention, she simply replied, “I am.” Antonio released her hand and she drew it into her body, wrapping her fingers around the clipboard.
Antonio stood silently in front on her. Whereas before he appeared to have no interest in her, now his expression was fully on her and nothing else.
Miranda noticed Brigitte taking note of Antonio’s change in demeanor, and she was unimpressed at best. Brigitte tried to loop her arm through Antonio’s again, but he held it tight against his ribs, seemingly on purpose, making it difficult for her to do so. Brigitte forced first her hand, then wrist through, hanging on to Antonio purposely, possessively, looking at Miranda with a smug expression on her face.
Miranda noticed the expression, but gave it no mind. She slipped a room key from below the clip on the board, offering it to Antonio.
He looked at the key and then at Miranda.
“Room seven, the Penthouse Floor. Your suite is ready,” she said.
“Ah yes, seven. My favorite number, and my favorite room at the Dominion Hotel. So much space. One needs space to amuse oneself properly, don’t you think Ms. Marino?”
“Yes, Mr. Dante, I agree.”
“Perhaps you would like to join us later, for a little bit of amusement?”
Antonio reached for the key with the same arm Brigitte was holding on to. Brigitte held on as he reached, forcing her to stretch out her arm more than looked natural.
“Thank you for the enticing offer, however I have a hotel to run and don’t think I could get away.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“I think not, Mr. Dante.”
Antonio dropped his smile, obviously insulted. He turned his attention to Brigitte, smiling at her.
Brigitte brightened at the attention. She tugged Antonio’s outstretched arm, pulling him in, reaffirming her possession of her Dom.
Antonio pulled further away from Miranda. “Well, yes of course. I would expect no less a reply from Mr. Marino’s wife.” He nodded to Miranda, then handed Brigitte the key to the suite. “My pet,” he said to Brigitte, patting her hand that held his arm. “Shall we go upstairs and rest from our journey?”
Brigitte’s eyes widened, and she smiled a wicked smile. “Yes, sir,” she replied as she sauntered past Miranda towards the doors to the hotel.
Miranda thought of Tony often, usually with a mixture of sadness and joy. Sad for the years they would no longer spend together; joy for the time they’d had. Whenever Miranda walked through the lobby of the hotel, she could swear she felt his presence. Maybe this is why she’d so willingly accepted the role of hotel manager. It let her stay in the hotel Tony loved so much, feeling close to Tony every day. Tony had loved the Dominion hotel, and he loved its guests. However, on days such as today, meeting guests of the Penthouse Suites such as Antonio Dante, Miranda questioned her own love for the hotel guests.
Tony had also loved the Lover’s Ball, the annual Valentine’s Day gala event held at the hotel. He’d always chaired the committee, feigning a sense of duty to the hotel, while deep down Miranda knew he did it because he was a hopeless romantic and cherished the emotion the event brought out in people. For Tony, the night of the Lover’s Ball was an enchanted evening of romance and love, new-found and rekindled.
This year’s event would not be the same without Tony. Miranda knew the event would go off without a hitch. With Matt Warrington in charge, how could it not? Miranda had considered heading up the committee, but was relieved when Warrington stepped in. Perhaps he sensed her hesitation, either way, she was grateful to him.
Matt Warrington. Miranda loved Warrington as much as she’d loved Tony. Warrington was a past lover, Dom and teacher, and even after they separated, throughout the years, he was a good friend. When he left her for Alison, Miranda wasn’t overly concerned. She was ready for something else herself; she just didn’t know it at the time. Warrington had, he’d sensed it. It turned out that Miranda’s ‘something else’ was Tony Marino.
Miranda considered herself lucky having Warrington and Alison in her life. When she was with Tony, the four of them had been inseparable. By herself now, Warrington and Alison were the support she needed to survive without Tony. Now, they were becoming the love she desired.
Having lost Tony within the past year, Miranda never thought she would consider being with anyone else so soon. But this was Warrington and Alison, people she already knew, people she already loved. Their love got her through the worst times, it seemed natural to her that the love she felt for her friends would continue to grow. However, never did she imagine it would take her in this direction. She asked herself if she was filling the emotional loss of Tony with a misplaced love for Warrington and Alison. She’d always had emotions for Warrington. How could she not? He was her first. But the love she felt for Alison was something different, taking on a different complexion, beyond the emotional state. She desired Alison. This was a wrinkle she’d never expected. She desired Alison; she’d never stopped loving Warrington.
As each day passed, Miranda gained strength from the love and friendship Warrington and Alison unselfishly showed her. Miranda knew a large part of her new strength and independence came from everything they gave her. Because of this, Miranda felt she was ready to fully come alive again. Miranda began to understand now, she wanted to share her new strength – share herself – with the two people she loved most in this world.
She also felt Tony would approve, such was his love for his friends.
Miranda sat at the bar in the lobby lounge of the hotel. The bartender came over and placed a gin martini in front of her. She focused her distracted glance on the bartender as he went about his duties, thinking he was cute, but knowing it was bad policy to fool around with hotel employees. She could look, just not touch.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you come in for a drink, Ms. Marino.”
“Not so long that you forgot what I like.” She lifted the glass to her lips, sipped and smiled. “Perfect.”
It was true, Miranda rarely went into the lounge as a customer since she’d taken over running the hotel. As an employee of the hotel, she felt it was no longer proper. But today had been an interesting day, and she wanted to take a little time to think on it. The afternoon was busy with checking in guests, keeping her so occupied she’d had little time to stop and think. To think about Alison, and what had happened this morning.
Most things with Miranda tended to go to the extreme. Miranda pushed the boundaries. And though she realized she loved Alison as a friend, her best friend, recently she began to wonder what it would be like to make love to Alison. The thought made her smile. There it was. She wanted them both. She had already had Warrington, although he would s
ay it was the other way around, he was the Dom after all... Men! But Miranda knew differently, she knew who was in charge. She was always in charge.
Now she wanted Alison. She wanted her more now that she’d had a taste of her, or at least a touch. Such fine skin, pale, warm, soft, everything she’d imagined it to be, and her inner thighs, her warmth, her juices, flowing and sweet. Miranda had a mental image of them both now, thanks to Warrington sneaking her into the suite. Warrington’s hard, throbbing cock, Alison’s flowing juices and warm, wet pussy.
Miranda began to question the wisdom of sitting at the bar, her thoughts exciting her to the point where the mental images running through her head began to arouse her. She crossed her legs tight, not sure if she was trying to enhance the warmth she was beginning to feel between her legs or discourage it.
“I was hoping I would find you here.”
Warrington slid onto the bar stool beside Miranda, forcing her to focus, to set aside her fantasy for the moment.
“Yes, well...” She was caught off guard, her voice low, her words almost inaudible.
“You all right?” asked Warrington, not looking at her as he signaled the bartender. A glass of scotch appeared instantly. “Busy day?” Warrington sipped his scotch, spinning on his stool, looking around the bar.
“Lost in thought.”
Warrington stopping swiveling, leaning in towards Miranda. “What are you thinking about?”
Miranda smiled. ‘You, Alison... me. This morning.”
Warrington smiled, sipping his scotch once again.
“And hopefully more of the same,” Miranda said, taking a long drink on her martini, finishing it, signalling for another one.
“Let’s see how it goes.”
“What do you mean?” Miranda’s drink arrived. As she pulled it into herself, a thought occurred. “You still haven’t asked her, have you?”
“No time. I’ve had a jam-packed afternoon, but I will, tonight.”
The two sat in silence for a short while, both staring forward. Miranda broke the silence. “You know, when I came to you with this idea, I didn’t want it to be something you decided, something you controlled.” She paused, giving Warrington time to respond. When he didn’t, she carried on. “I love you both. I want to be with you both, but it’s got to be something we all want.”
“I know,” Warrington said. “I know. And it will be. Trust me, we’ll discuss it. Leave it with me.”
“There you go again, being the Dom again.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Controlling things. Like you always do, deciding when, where and how far things go.”
“That’s what I do. That’s what you and Alison have always wanted me to do.”
Miranda sat silently, considering what Warrington said. He was right, that was the role they both willingly gave over to Warrington. The moment they agreed to be his sub, they abdicated a certain amount of control to him, at least when it came to their sex lives together.
“I get it, you’re still in charge.” Miranda took a deep breath before saying, more forcefully, “But I don’t want that anymore.”
She had never said that to a Dom before. Before now, Miranda hadn’t verbalized the change of direction her life was taking. Maybe it was the new responsibilities she recently took on with the hotel, or maybe it was, after Tony, she couldn’t see herself being anyone else’s sub. Even Matt Warrington, the man she fully came to embrace the Dom/sub relationship with, could no longer entice her back into that world, into that type of relationship. She wanted something new, something completely different, something she had never tried before, but it had to be on her terms.
Miranda swung around to face Warrington again. “Matt,” she rarely called him by his first name, but if she was going to start something new with him, perhaps it was time to start. “What happened this morning with Alison, you and me was an amazing thing. I can’t tell you how nervous I was walking into that room, nervous and excited. Seeing the two of you, the two people I love most in the world. The thought of being with you both is something that I’ve been thinking about for a while now. And it happened, it happened. Even the little bit we did today,” Miranda broke off.
Warrington filled the silence. “I know. When you first suggested it, I didn’t really know what you had in mind, but I do now. I understand.”
“Do you?” Miranda’s voice was beseeching.
“I do. I misunderstood it at first. I thought we would go back to the way it used to be with you and me, and with Alison.”
“No.”
“I know. I see the change in you. You’ve grown so much.”
“I have. That’s just it. I have. I want something different. I don’t want to go backwards. I want to go forward.”
“Maybe it’s time for something different for all of us.”
Miranda swung around to face forward again, taking a drink from her cocktail. “That’s fine for you and me to say, but what about Alison? She has to have a say in this. Is she ready for something new?”
Warrington chuckled. “If today’s reaction is any indication, maybe.”
“But she has to want it, I want her to want it, to want me. I want her Matt, I want you both, but I want you both willingly. You can’t make this part of your existing relationship. That won’t work for me. It’s got to be something new, for all of us. Including you.”
Miranda knew she was asking Warrington to give up control. She wasn’t sure he could. She took a side glance to see the effect her last statement made on him. As usual, she couldn’t read his expression. He stared forward, stoically, but she knew he was thinking about it. She knew him well enough to know when he was seriously considering something.
Warrington picked up his glass, swung around and offered Miranda a toast, she picked up her martini glass, clinking it with his. “To new beginnings,” he said, tilting his glass to his lips and draining it.
Within the city, the Lover’s Ball and the Dominion hotel are synonymous with Valentine’s Day. The Lover’s Ball has been a standard for the Dominion Hotel for decades. Those who are in love believe attending the ball will cement their love forever. Those seeking love believe they will find it there.
The Lover’s Ball committee was meeting in a small conference room on the banquet level of the hotel. They typically met at the end of the workday, each committee member having a fulltime job. The committee was going over the few remaining details the day before the event. Most things were already in place.
“We can’t serve oysters this year, Mr. Warrington,” reported the chef. “I lost my supplier, and I can’t guarantee the quality of what is out there.”
“Best not to poison the guests,” replied Warrington. “We want the event to be in the papers for the right reasons, not the wrong ones. What else?”
“The guest list is complete.” Amy and Frank oversaw the guest list last year, it had only made sense to task them with it again this year.
“Another sellout,” reported Frank, seemingly pleased with himself, taking credit for the attendance levels.
“The ball sells out every year, Frank,” commented Warrington, blunting Frank’s enthusiasm.
“Last year was a bit of a challenge,” chimed in Amy, supporting Frank.
With Warrington’s focus on Amy, he addressed her. “Décor? Are we all set?”
Amy perked up, pleased to give her report. “The floral arrangements come tomorrow. The lobby ones are stunning, reds, yellows, blues.”
“Blue?” questioned Warrington.
“The colors of love, Mr. Warrington.”
Warrington glossed over the comment. “All right, I think that’s it. I don’t think we need to meet again. Reach out directly to each other if there are any changes or if you feel a need.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go.”
Warrington quickly shoved his notebook and pen into his briefcase, grabbed it and dashed for the door. He was out of the room before anyone else had even risen from their seat
. He knew Alison would be waiting for him in the driveway with the car and didn’t want to have her wait longer than necessary. He leapt down the grand staircase two stairs at a time, walking across the lobby as quickly as possible, his gait slightly less than a run.
As he came out the hotel, he quickly scanned the curved driveway, looking for Alison. He spotted her to his right, standing next to a black sedan, the Broadstone Hotel car. The hotel driver, dressed in a black suit and chauffeur cap, stood on the opposite side of the car, by the driver’s door, looking away from the hotel, back towards the street. A quick image of Miranda flashed through his mind, dressed similarly, back when she was a chauffeur, first his, then Alison’s.
The moment he spotted Alison, he also spotted Miranda. Miranda was walking up from the street, coming around the bend of the driveway, making her way directly towards Alison. Alison hadn’t seen him yet. Miranda must have called her name, as she turned to face the direction Miranda came from. Alison rose a hand to wave hello. Warrington’s initial impulse was to go over as well, however an instinct possessed him to stay where he was, watching the two women from the distance. He took a step back towards the hotel doors, not really knowing why, because it did not hide him from view any more than where he was already standing.
Warrington could not hear what the two women were saying to each other, but he curiously watched the motions of their conversation. Miranda was quickly beside Alison, smiling, exuding an uncharacteristic warmth. She stood close to Alison, her hands at her sides, swinging slightly. Miranda’s fingers kept swinging close to touching Alison’s. Subtlety, purposely, Miranda’s index finger swung up and hooked into Alison’s pinky finger. Alison seemed a little surprised by the contact, Miranda was not known as being the ‘touchy feely’ sort, but she did not break the link.
Miranda was doing all the talking, again something unexpected from her. As she spoke, she seemed to gently pull herself in towards Alison with her fingers. Alison stood in place while Miranda wrapped all her fingers around Alison’s, the two holding hands. Alison continued to smile and listen, beginning to rock back and forth on her heels.
Heart Song Anthology Page 20