Traded for Love

by Michelle Hughes

  J.B. cleared his throat. “Maybe if you won't bend over, your wife will.”

  I shot him a dark, angry glance. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “I didn't mean … the way that you think.” He chuckled. “I mean that maybe you can butter up your constituents by presenting your gorgeous wife to them. She's got her charms. She's the sweet, naïve type. Supporters eat that shit up.”

  My heart was pumping fast, and didn't calm until he was done clarifying. Even then, it took everything I had not to lay him out across the marble floor of my office. “Just watch what you say, Stratford.”

  J.B. straightened his already-straight tie. “How is your wife, by the way?”

  I spun in my chair and stared out the window. “She's fine.”

  “Anyway, I've got another appointment.” He gathered up his briefcase. “I suggest you invite some of your prospective supporters to this event you're having in a few weeks. Play a little ball.”

  I turned to him, having had a chance to gather my wits. “I'll consider it.”

  He nodded curtly and walked out of the office.

  “Fucking asshole,” I growled, throwing the portfolio hard against the wall.

  I'd canceled my appearance at the gala to see Chastity. What a waste that night had been.

  Too incensed to do anything else that day, I got my stuff together and called for Dante to pick me up.

  Reuben came in carrying a stack of papers. “All done for today, Mr. Duncan?”

  I turned off my iPad and checked my phone for the time. “Yes, I'll be going home early today.”

  “Is there anything you'd like me to do for you before you leave?” he tapped at his Blackberry.

  “No. I think I'm fine.” I caught site of the report I'd chucked across the room. “Clean up a little in here, would you?”

  “Sure.” He looked up from his phone with a smile. “How did she like the bracelet?”

  “Hm?”

  “Your wife.”

  “Oh. The bracelet.” I snickered. “All women like jewelry, don't they?”

  “I guess so,” Reuben answered.

  “You guess?” I grinned. “Never given your girlfriend anything like that?”

  “Oh.” Reuben's cheeks colored. “I'm gay.”

  “Hm. Well, your boyfriend then. Wouldn't he like it?”

  “I guess he would.”

  “Well, there you go.” I smiled. “She loved it. Thanks for asking.”

  In reality, I was guessing. I had no idea what Chastity liked. I thought about her wearing the bracelet, about those light-brown eyes looking down at her glittering wrist. It made me happy.

  (Emily)

  I'd never been a nail-biter, but now I couldn't stop. I held my wrist in my hand to keep my manicure from being totally destroyed. I was waiting for him at the library window.

  That fierce anticipation of seeing him reminded me of when we first began seeing each other. Back then, I counted the hours before we'd be together again. He'd always had that effect on me. Well, at least he had before our marriage began suffering. I marveled at how a few simple words and gestures had made me feel as though things had come full circle. Maybe the feeling wasn't exactly full force, but it was just enough to take away my appetite.

  All I could seem to do was think. I checked my phone. Three o'clock. It'd be hours before he got home.

  Downstairs, the door opened.

  I went out to see who it was.

  As if on cue, he'd appeared.

  He loosened his tie and I glimpsed the briefest view of his neck. I admired the way his shoulder muscles flexed as he handed his briefcase from one hand to the other. I was afraid he'd catch me gawking, so I broke the silence.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  He looked up. “Hi.” The sunbeams streaming in through the skylight caught his beautiful eyes.

  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure. Let me just drop all this off in the office.”

  “I'll be in the library.” I turned and went back in.

  Suddenly, I was unsure of how to position myself while waiting for him. On the chair? By the window? Does how I look matter? Do I look stronger if I'm sitting or standing?

  The door opened before I could think too long on it.

  He appeared to be thinking deeply. I worried that what I had to say might burden him further and almost didn't say it.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Fine.” I fidgeted. It was unnerving that he wasn't touching me. For some reason I wanted him to touch me. “Look, I want to talk about us.”

  “Okay.” He wandered to the cluster of plush furniture, stopping to test the level of dust on a side table.

  “I want to work on things between us. I think it's a good idea for you and me, and for Katherine, too.”

  He turned to face me, a pleasant smile on his face. “I'm glad you feel that way.”

  “The only problem is that I know before we can move on that I have to forgive you … for what you did.”

  He nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “I don't know if I'm ready yet.”

  “Really, I didn't ask for your forgiveness, but I'm glad that you want to work through it.” I was a little surprised at how he was taking it. “You said you were sorry before. Was that a lie?”

  “I was sorry that you were hurt. I didn't intend to hurt you. Honestly, I didn't think you'd find out, but it happened, and I can't take it back now.”

  “So, you aren't sorry for doing it at all?”

  “It was a worthless relationship. I didn't love Julia. She was just a slave, a means to an end.” He shrugged.

  “Even if you aren't hurt, she might be. What about her feelings?”

  “You feel sorry for her? I'm stunned that you can care about a woman who tried to steal your husband. But, in answer to your question, no, I don't think she's hurt. After all, she left me.”

  “So, you wanted to stay with her?”

  He sighed. “Not particularly.”

  “Why keep her around then?”

  “She was of use to me for a while and then she wasn't. Simple as that.”

  “That's not simple, Jack, that's cruel.”

  He nodded. “I'm aware of that.”

  “And you're not sorry? Not to her or me?”

  “I want to fix things with you, Emily,” he said, approaching me. “I don't believe being sorry makes a difference in that. I don't believe in regret, though I do believe it was a little foolish now. I think that feeling bad about the past is a waste of time.” He set his arms on my shoulders. “The important thing is that we're both willing to move forward, into the future.” His eyes drifted to his hands. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—”

  “No.” I stopped him from moving away. “I want you to touch me.” I was shocked by my own request, stuck in disbelief that after everything he'd done and said, I still wanted him.

  He smiled in response and drew me closer.

  In the warmth of his embrace, my world seemed complete once more. This was right. This was good. This was what I'd promised to do when I married him—love him, cherish him, hold him.

  (Jack)

  “I love you, Jack. I don't care if you're sorry. I just want to move on,” she said softly, nuzzling me in a childish, but adorable way.

  I ran my hands over her back. “I love you too, Emily.” It was a sad, sorry lie, but I knew she believed me. “As long as we work together, I think we can come back from this.”

  When she pulled back, I saw she was crying. “All I've ever wanted to do was be with you. You mean so much to me. I thought my heart was breaking when you said you'd cheated on me, but to hear you say you didn't love her … ” She pressed her wet face to the breast of my jacket. “I'm so relieved. I want to be the only woman you love.” She sniffed loudly. “Just me, Jack. Tell me it's just me.”

  I gave her a tight squeeze, took her chin in my fingers and lifted it. I looked into her trusting eyes. “It's just you,
Emily. Nobody else.”

  Our lips met. I could taste her tears. I knew I was the reason for every single one, and couldn't help but knowing there would be more.

  I knew I was dead wrong for it.

  But I'd told her, hadn't I?

  I didn't believe in regret.

  The kiss warmed us both. The sweetness in her voice had aroused me and I couldn't help but harden just a little at the fact that she was mine again. I knew little sessions like this were necessary to fully captivate her. The seduction of my little wife was far from over. There was much more to be done.

  I still had to test my new knowledge of D/s relationships on her.

  As our tongues mingled, I could feel her nipples stiffening through the fabric of her blouse. She threaded her arms around my neck, clinging to me in desperation.

  Naughty girl, I thought. She wants me already.

  She broke the kiss and whispered against my lips. “Let's go into the bedroom.”

  Just as I was about to give her some kind of spiel about waiting for a little while longer—because my plan was to make her crazy with waiting—my phone rang.

  It was the perfect way to keep her excited. I let out a feigned sigh. “Let me see who this is, honey. I was expecting a call from work.”

  Reluctantly, she stepped back with a small smile on her face.

  I pulled my phone out. It was an unknown number.

  “It's J.B.,” I lied. “I'll be back in a minute.”

  The phone continued to ring as I stepped out, down the hall, and into my office.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “It was cute, that you left your phone number for me to find.”

  My heart stopped in my chest. It was her. Chastity.

  “Liked that, did you?” I smirked.

  “It was definitely smart. Having Jerome give it to me was a nice touch.”

  “He's a good kid. Does what he's told.” I sat down at my desk. “Did you like the bracelet?”

  “It's very nice,” she answered.

  “I picked it out with you in mind,” I said in my regular charismatic way. There were a few moments of silence. I grew uncomfortable with it and an emotion I didn't expect to feel came through. “I hope you know I never meant to hurt you.”

  She laughed musically. “It's alright.”

  “Did you … recover and everything? You're okay?”

  “I'm fine. Really.”

  “Will you have time to meet sometime? Alone?” My eyes fell on my printed itinerary for the next few weeks. I would have gladly canceled any of those meetings for her.

  “What about now? In about an hour?”

  I answered without any hesitation. “Sure. Where? I can get us a hotel room.”

  “That won't be necessary.” I could hear her smiling, the little minx.

  “Where then? Your place?”

  “I live with Drake, remember?”

  At the mention of his name, I frowned. “I don't care where it is. I just want to see you. Now. As soon as possible.”

  “Miss me that bad?” The words were like warm syrup on my ears. I imagined her mouth shaping them and got fully erect just thinking about her lips.

  “Honey, you have no idea … ” I said huskily. “I've wanted you since I left you last time. I went back but your idiot handler kept me from entering the club.”

  “He's not my handler,” she said. The irritation in her voice was palpable. “I've got to go, but I'll text you the address where I want to meet. I'll be there in an hour.”

  The office door opened and I straightened up. Emily came in. “I'll be there in an hour,” I answered as professionally as possible. The call ended.

  “Going somewhere?” Emily asked.

  I cleared my throat. “J.B. scheduled dinner with me tonight and I completely forgot.”

  Her look of disappointment came complete with puppy-dog eyes. “You can't cancel?”

  “I'm sorry, honey. I can't.” I stood up and slid my phone into my pocket. I went over to my wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I don't want to go, but this meeting is important. Believe me, I'd rather stay.” I pulled her against me, so she could feel the poetic evil of the erection I was sporting—not for her—but for the woman I was ditching her to go see.

  “I'll be waiting for you when you get back,” she said sweetly.

  So devotedly.

  I gave her a soft kiss on the lips and a healthy squeeze before leaving her.

  Since Dante had just gotten my Ferrari F12 serviced and gassed up, I chose it for tonight's excursion. My guess was Chastity didn't care about my money, but I didn't think showing it off would hurt my chances either.

  I pulled out onto Main Street and began driving toward the closest bridge, though I wasn't sure yet where we were meeting yet. My phone chirped and my drive-mode app read me the address. I entered that into my GPS.

  The location was all the way in Queens, which was around thirty minutes away without traffic. Despite that, the trip was a blur. I didn't care when some asshole cut me off on Roosevelt Avenue. All I could think about was seeing her again. In the end, I was no better than a lust-drunk teenager.

  I came to the end of the line and had to check my location twice. It was some hole-in-the-wall burger joint. I'd never spent much time in Queens. Coming from money, I'd never really had any reason. As I got out of the car, I suddenly wished I hadn't brought one of the most expensive cars in my garage.

  Then I saw her. She was walking down the street toward me. She blended in well with her tight jeans, tank top and denim jacket. Meanwhile, I stuck out like a sore thumb … in my suit. Her hair was gathered up into a loose braid at the back of her head. She'd painted her lips bright red.

  That stunning mouth spread into a smile when she saw me. It suddenly didn't matter that we were in a rougher area than I was used to. I was fine as long as she was there.

  “You look beautiful,” I said clumsily.

  She chuckled. “Thanks.”

  “I'm not used to seeing you outside the club.”

  “Yeah.” She rocked up on her toes. “Want to go inside?” she asked, tipping her head at the ramshackle building behind us.

  “Here?” I looked up at the sign. “Wouldn't you rather go somewhere else?”

  “Nah. Wedge's is the best place to get a burger in these parts.” She walked ahead of me up to the door. I held it open for her. The act of chivalry must have amused her, because she paused to grin before entering.

  Inside the establishment, a man in a greasy apron stood at a grill working on an order. Another cook moved between the register and fryer without missing a beat. Several people sat the bar while others filled the sparse tables that populated the dining area. The place was poorly ventilated, and what little light that filtered in through the dirty windows caught the fragrant smoke and steam wafting out from the kitchen. The black and white linoleum floor was worn at some spots. The red booths had seen better days.

  I was uncomfortable there and yet I followed where she led, as if I were a bird following a fish into a lake full of blue-collar fish. A pair of burly gents glared at me when we took seats a few tables over, but turned back to their meals after, I could only suppose, deciding I wasn't a threat.

  “Are you really sure you wouldn't rather go somewhere else?”

  “That was an F12 you drove up here, wasn't it?” she asked abruptly.

  “Yeah.”

  “If I'm correct, that's the 2015 Berlinetta Lusso. V12 engine, aluminum body, around 700 horsepower, 500 foot-pounds of torque?”

  Confused as to where she was going, I nodded. “I think so. Something like that.”

  “What'd you pay for it? Around three-hundred-and-thirty grand?”

  I shifted in my chair and swallowed hard. “Yeah. A little more, maybe.”

  “You're uncomfortable here, right?” She lit up a cigarette.

  I picked at a chip in the table. “Not really.”

  “Liar.” She laughed. “Imagine how uncomfortable I
'd be if you took me to a place where that Ferrari was one in a sea of many other luxury cars.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I bought these jeans at a yard sale.”

  “Point taken.”

  The greasy cashier-cook came over with a pad of paper. “What'll you have?”

  “Can I see the menu?” I asked.

  He laughed, exposing the gold cap on one of his front incisors. “Hey Mike,” he said over his shoulder, “Richie Rich here wants to see a menu.” The other cook burst into laughter. “Look pal, we sell burgers, fries, and pop here. That's it.”

  “I've got this,” Chastity said, turning to the cook. “We'll have two bacon-cheeseburgers and a large order of fries to share. And two Cokes, please.” The cook left us, and I couldn't help but notice Chastity's grin. “Boy, you're really out of your element here.” She took a puff. “Just curious. Where would you have taken me if I'd agreed to leave?”

  “Uh. I'm not sure. Maybe Cipriani off of Broadway. I haven't been there in quite a while. They serve—”

  “I know what they serve,” she said with a smile. “I've heard of it.”

  “I didn't meant to imply that you didn't.” My mouth seemed to dry up.

  She shook her head. “You're adorable. Relax.” I tried, but it was easier said than done. “Oh, before I forget—” She took something out of her pocket and set it on the table.

  I narrowed my eyes. “This is the Tiffany's box,” I said, taking it and opening it. The bracelet was still inside. “I don't understand.”

  “What's not to understand? I don't want it.”

  “It's a gift. I want you to have it.” I closed the box and slid it back across the table.

  “I can't accept it.”

  I grit my teeth. “Why the hell not?”

  “I don't accept gifts from men I barely know.”

  “But you'll fuck them.”

  She didn't seem fazed. “Sex is an equal exchange. I don't want to owe anybody anything.”

  “You don't owe me anything. Anyway, I'd argue that you do know me.”

  “What's your name?”

  Hell. I haven't told her my name, have I?

  “Jack Duncan.” Her eyebrows lifted in response. “What?” I asked.

  “I didn't expect you to tell me so easily.”

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “I have no desire to hide who I am from you.”