The Deep End

by AM Hartnett

  His voice carried that flint that signalled the change, and the animal inside Grace was tamed and lowered its gaze as she pushed away from the sofa.

  ‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’ She spoke the words as if bowing before a ruler. She went onto her ass and shifted, looking for the angle that would best suit him from his vantage point on the balcony.

  ‘Do you see it?’ Taureau asked breathily.

  Grace paused. ‘See what?’

  ‘Look at the camera. Now, above. Straight above, I believe.’

  She looked towards the urn, then up, and narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t … oh. Oh, my.’

  The scene was blurred by the doors and the glass partition surrounding the balcony, but she saw it all right: a man and a woman in their living room in the building just across the courtyard. They didn’t quite stand before their window, but close enough. They were in a sordid profile: the man leaning against a chair, boxers around his thighs, and the woman completely naked and on her knees in front of him.

  ‘Did you hire them?’ Grace asked absently, riveted by the movement of the woman’s head as she sucked the man’s cock deeper.

  ‘I didn’t have to. Apparently they put on this little show every Saturday night. I was alerted to it by a man I had staying in the apartment for a month. They’re a fairly normal couple, two kids. They bundle the kids up and the father leaves with them, including the family Pomeranian, and then he takes them away somewhere. While he’s gone, she gets dressed for dinner. He returns and they go out. When they come home, they enjoy their kid-free time like this. I didn’t even see it for myself until last weekend. I have another camera on the opposite side of the planter.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t like to intrude on families.’

  ‘Families, no, and I only tuned in long enough to confirm what I was told. Once they’re alone, it’s not so much of an intrusion. You’ll see.’ His tone was rich with amusement. ‘I thought you might like to have a little show of your own for tonight.’

  ‘I …’

  She didn’t know what to say. It did give her an odd creep across her bare shoulders to watch from afar as the woman used her lips and hand to milk the man’s cock, but she got the sense that there was little intimacy to the act.

  ‘They leave the curtains open,’ she observed.

  ‘What does that tell you?’

  ‘They want someone to watch them.’

  ‘It’s a wonder they haven’t had a visit from the police, isn’t it? Anyone living on this side of the condo can see them. What are the chances that every resident around you likes to watch?’

  ‘Pretty good, I’d say, as long as there are no little eyes to see what’s going on.’

  ‘There are no children in the building. All adults, mostly young professionals.’ She heard the wet sound of him swallowing, and then that rumble of a laugh traipsed through her head.

  ‘Turn off the lights and bring one of the dining chairs in front of the window. Things are about to get interesting.’

  Spurred by the wicked promise in Taureau’s last words, Grace moved quickly to extinguish the overhead lights and drag one of the barstools to the balcony doors. She perched herself on the edge and, as she spread herself out and hooked her heels on the rungs, she marvelled at how turned on she had become. Was this what Taureau felt when he watched her? It had the potential to be addictive, instilling the same feverish need to see more that Grace had felt as a young girl when, home alone, she had discovered a VHS of an old porno in the back of her mother’s closet.

  ‘Will you watch with me?’ she asked, seeking the screen-like front window in the apartment opposite.

  ‘You watch them, I’ll watch you. Do you see the change, now?’

  She was so riddled with wicked sensation, it took Grace a moment to pinpoint the change. At first she thought it was just that the man had reclined a little further back against the chair as his wife slid her tongue along the shaft. God, even from here she could see the vague shine of precome at the tip. But then she realised that the woman’s attention wasn’t entirely on him.

  Someone had joined them in the short time it took Grace to create her viewing spot. There was a brunette woman on the sofa. She was fully clothed, wearing a minidress, head cocked to one side, and her lips were moving.

  ‘I see,’ Grace whispered, and tucked her hand against her mound. She only allowed her clit the slightest bit of pressure. She didn’t want to get too far ahead of the scene before her.

  ‘She’s always there, my man told me. They always do this: the wife sucks off the husband while the woman watches, and then the woman takes over. What I can’t tell is whether it’s the husband or the wife that gets off on what the woman does.’

  ‘Shush.’

  For the first time since they had begun this thing, Grace wanted silence from Taureau. She didn’t want his narration. She wanted to watch, and she wanted to show, and she wanted him to be silent and lose himself in the same throb and heat that were quickly engulfing her.

  She watched the woman on the sofa lean forward and drag the hem of her skirt up to mid-thigh. With the wet rasp of Taureau’s breath in her ear, Grace mimicked the dance of the woman’s fingers along the inside her own thigh.

  The intake of breath alerted her that he was going to speak again, and she cut him off with a second ‘shush’. The woman slid her fingers back and forth along her thigh, back and forth, back and forth, never closer than where her thigh met her torso. It was hypnotic to watch, hypnotic to feel. Grace could have gone on watching the woman all night long, but her curiosity was too much. She turned her attention back to the couple.

  The wife had a technique, she noticed. Her pace was that of someone who knew her lover’s body. She took him slow into her mouth, fingers of one hand flexing against his hairy thighs, and as she withdrew she looked up at his face while mouthing the head. When her husband hung his head back, she glanced at the woman on the sofa, then began working his dick in her palm at a frenzied pace.

  Though Grace curled her fingers against her inner thigh, suspended in not knowing how this would play out, the wife clearly anticipated how long it would take for her husband to reach his climax. When he did, she was ready for him, sitting back on her calves at a slight angle, lips moving quickly to urge him on until he shot against her chest and neck.

  As the husband sagged back, the woman on the sofa rose and seemingly out of nowhere produced a tissue. The wife’s pose changed, and Grace realised that she hadn’t been completely subservient when she’d been fellating her husband.

  ‘That’s for the woman,’ she muttered, and let out a little gasp as the woman grasped the wife’s hair and held her in place while swabbing away the result of the husband’s orgasm.

  ‘Am I allowed to speak now?’ Taureau asked, giving Grace a start. She’d actually forgotten about him, and the bite in his words let her know he didn’t like it.

  ‘Yes – it’s just – it’s just that I’ve never seen anything like this with my own two eyes, or in person, or however you want to put it.’ She laughed, nervous. ‘Who do you think she is?’

  ‘Looks like a pro to me, but I could be wrong. It’s so easy to get someone for free these days. All you need to do is hit the Internet.’

  ‘Or install hidden cameras somewhere,’ she joked.

  Across the courtyard, the husband had sunk into the chair so that all Grace could see was the back of his head and his shoulders, the former rolling as he evidently cleaned himself up. Meanwhile, his wife was being led by the wrist through the living room.

  ‘Damn,’ Grace muttered. It wasn’t far, but it was distance enough to deny her a good look of what was to come.

  Taureau chuckled. ‘You’re good. In a minute, you’ll be wishing you had brought something from your hiding spot with you.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Her last two words seemed to have been spoken by someone else. Grace was once more mesmerised as the wife stood facing the woman, who had her hands on her hips
and was speaking with what Grace could tell from the elevation of her chin was utter authority.

  The woman tipped her head slightly, and the wife turned and draped her upper half over the table and stayed there.

  ‘Talk now,’ she told Taureau as the woman moved away from the table and spoke to the husband. ‘Tell me what’s going to happen before it happens.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive.’ A creak in her ear, and then Grace heard a shuffling. ‘Wait, what are you wearing?’

  ‘That’s a strange question.’

  ‘I always hear a zipper.’

  ‘I’m usually in jeans or cargo pants or something for daytime. After I got out of the shower – that’s what I was doing when you were checking in with the concierge – I changed into a pair of those fleece pants.’

  ‘Cosy,’ Grace murmured, and leaned forward with a frown. The woman was reaching into a massive purse that had been tucked alongside the sofa. ‘A little unfair, if you ask me. You get to wear something that no doubt has the Superman logo on it while I’m dressed like a burlesque performer.’

  ‘I can order myself a teddy and a pair of stilettos if that makes you feel better.’

  ‘Wise-ass. Talk.’

  ‘She’s got something new in her bag of tricks, I bet. My man’s description of things says she never comes with the same arsenal. Last week it was beads. And this week …’

  Grace chuckled. ‘A bunny tail.’

  ‘Well, would you look at that?’

  Her laughter joined his, and she flooded with warmth. This was new and lovely, this back and forth between them, and she could tell he was enjoying it in the same way as he had enjoyed hearing about her hatred of the colour orange and telling her about his bully.

  ‘I wish you were less scrupulous,’ Grace said, and settled back. ‘I would love to know what they were saying.’

  ‘I could, you know. I’d prefer not to.’

  ‘No, I was just thinking out loud.’ She skimmed her fingers down her belly and poised them against the puffed and slick flesh-hood as she waited to see what else was coming out of the woman’s purse.

  ‘Care to guess what’s next?’ she asked Taureau.

  ‘It’s a whip or a crop,’ he said confidently. ‘The wife seems to like the bite over the wallop.’

  Sure enough, the next treasure to emerge was a small whip with a red and black handle. Eyes on the husband, the woman strode back to the table with a grin.

  ‘Look at that,’ Grace murmured as the woman slid the whip onto the table top in front of where the wife’s cheek was pressed. ‘Talk about “in your face”.’

  The plug went in quickly, which told Grace that the couple had prepared at least a little in anticipation of the woman’s arrival. It seemed so silly to look at now with the frizzy end obscuring half the wife’s ass as the woman carried on a conversation with the husband.

  ‘How intense is this going to be? Will I want to look away?’

  ‘The backs of her thighs and the lower part of her ass,’ Taureau told her. ‘She gets it three strokes at a time. The husband counts off. The husband calls the shots.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he do it himself?’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t trust himself not to go too far. Maybe he likes to watch.’

  The woman grasped the whip by the handle and stepped back. She twirled her wrist so that the tails swished around in a black cyclone.

  Grace slid her fingers down to pinch just slightly around her clit. ‘You don’t sound convinced of your theories, Mr Taureau.’

  ‘I think she likes it.’ The rush of his words told her that he, too, had begun to play with himself. ‘I don’t think she would be doing this with any other man. I don’t think this is something she’s giving him, but the other way around. She loves him and somewhere along the way she hit upon this fantasy of being dominated by another woman while he watches. She appreciates the grace and softness of the woman, but the woman is just a sex toy for him to use on her.’

  ‘I think you’re absolutely right,’ she replied in a hush, and as the first stroke against the wife’s thighs made her twitch, Grace began to rock her hips.

  Just as Taureau had said, the whip made contact three times. After the first trio, the husband leaned forward in his seat. With the second, he rose and went to lean on the table next to his wife’s head. His cock was already at half-mast, and he jerked it as he spoke to his wife.

  The motion brought Grace back to reality. Once more she had forgotten Taureau, though as she tuned back into the earpiece she wondered how that had been possible. He was breathing heavily with a slight groan accompanying every exhalation.

  ‘How can you see me in the dark?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t’ was his quick, scratched reply. ‘And I don’t have to. I know exactly what you look like right now and I know exactly how you’re touching yourself.’

  Grace rocked against the seat, finger picking up speed as the next three lashes struck the wife’s red thighs. The husband reached out and swept his hand down her hair in a loving gesture, and Grace gasped with the suddenness of her climax.

  In a white flash, the scene across the courtyard vanished. She squeezed her eyes shut, and as the splotches of colour abated the same scenario flicked against her eyelids, broken like a faded old movie reel: Grace in the wife’s place, a wave of red spreading across her thighs and contrasting with the softness of the bunny tail, and Taureau’s hand giving her the same gentle caress as the husband had given the wife.

  She clipped her legs together and leaned forward with a great sigh. Grasping the edge of the barstool to keep from toppling, Grace fought for every breath as her focus returned to the apartment across the way.

  Taureau’s groans were broken by a gurgle as he reached his own finish.

  The woman was seated again, this time at the table. The bunny tail was on the floor, and the damage to the wife’s thighs was obscured by the husband’s body pulsing against hers.

  Grace watched as she worked to steady her breathing, but the renewed fucking in her line of sight did nothing for her any more, not even when the woman undressed. The husband led his wife into a straddle on the woman’s lap. As the two women embraced and the husband resumed his thrusting, Grace hopped out of the chair and ran her hand through her hair.

  ‘Do you have a housekeeper for this place? Someone to empty the dishwasher if I use a glass?’

  ‘There’s soda and wine in the fridge, maybe a beer if you prefer.’ Taureau cleared his throat. ‘You don’t want to watch any more?’

  Grace drew the curtains across and turned the lights back on. ‘Let them entertain someone else. I’ve had my fill, even if it does look like it’s just getting interesting.’

  He said nothing as she went to the fridge and helped herself to a bottle of water, and waited for her to finish drinking before he spoke. ‘Have I offended you?’

  ‘No. Just the usual. You wear me out. I need to close my eyes for a bit.’

  ‘You can use the bedroom here. I meant it – you can stay, if you’d like.’

  ‘That would be a bad idea. I’m terrible with temptation. I’ll end up ordering Mediterranean on the company dime and drinking all of your booze, and pass out in that nice bed.’ Having finished her water, she headed back towards the balcony and tucked her face in between the two drapes.

  ‘Where – oh. There they are.’

  The get-together had moved from the living room to the low platform bed in the bedroom. The husband was still at it, kneeling at the edge of the bed, while the wife buried her face between the woman’s sprawled thighs.

  ‘You’ll have to make a tape for me so I can see how it ends,’ Grace said, and glanced down at the planter. ‘Thanks for the date. Next time you’ll have to buy me dinner instead of just boozing me up.’

  He made a sound, not quite all the way to a laugh, but close enough. ‘Good night, Miss Neely.’

  She pressed her forehead to the glass and was glad that it was cool. �
�Good night, Mr Taureau.’

  Chapter Four

  She’d laughed when she found the item in her desk. At first she couldn’t make out what it was, just a tangle of nylon and a bit of plastic, but, as she poked at it with the end of her pencil, she saw that it was a vibrator attached to a belt. It looked like a rabbit with a hard-on, she had messaged him, then she rushed to the washroom to slip it on under her clothes as per his directions.

  The shaft was small, only about four or so inches, but it wasn’t meant to fill her. The crest at the end rested against her G spot, and when she turned it on she immediately felt the effects as the nubby ears buzzed on either side of her clit. All morning she sat at her computer and toyed with the remote in her pocket.

  A LITTLE HIGHER, came a message as she was confirming the details of a meeting Caroway had with a government official. After a moment the rep asked if she had a cold, since she sounded so hoarse.

  TURN IT OFF. NOT YET. This arrived when she was ready to drop her head into her hands and ride her orgasm out in silence.

  By the time the office cleared at around six o’clock, Grace was so frustrated she could have ripped the doors of the boardroom off their hinges to get inside. His call was waiting for her.

  It had been three weeks since this began. She’d arrive at her desk in the morning and there would always be something new in her top drawer. Against his objections she’d had to start taking some of them home before she ran out of room in Caroway’s credenza. Her nightstand was filled with an assortment of lubes and lotions, clit ticklers and vibrators of all sizes.

  Weekends were his as well. The previous Saturday, she went home worried about the mark left on the conference table by the suction cup at the end of a particularly ambitious dildo, then returned on Monday to find the whole table replaced.

  Now, Grace tried to focus on the image before her. He’d lowered the camera to obscure his face entirely but give her all the rest. The hard torso on display was magnificent, sweat glinting off his chest, and the tattoo just below his right nipple a blur as his abs heaved with exertion. She could see all of his cock as he worked it, the length glistening with the lube she’d watched him drizzle over the head. She bit hard on her lip to keep the frustrated growl at the back of her throat from escaping, and bowed her head.