folded, impatient. He lifts his chin and keeps me in his sights with a teal green stare. “What’s made
you smile?”
“The colour. It’s more Kelly Hopper than Marquis de Sade. I thought …”
He’s quick to interject. “You thought there would be chains and whips arranged along the walls?
Now does that sound like my style?”
I do believe he’s laughing at me. “No. But vanilla coloured bedding …? Now, you’ve got to admit,
that’s ironic.”
Why isn’t he finding this amusing?
“It’s not vanilla Beth. It’s …”
I arch my brows. “Yes …?”
“I don’t know what colour it is but it’s not fucking vanilla. There’ll be no vanilla in here!” He joins
me in a bout of soft laughter. “Not much anyway.”
I sit down on the high level bed and bounce on it: it doesn’t move. I scramble across it and kick off
my shoes and what a mistake that is. Ayden spots my scarred feet.
“Are you still in pain?” He lifts up each foot in turn, inspecting the hardening cuts, tipping me
backwards onto the ‘cream’ coloured comforter.
I claim my feet back and tuck them underneath me. “I’m fine.” I prepare to change the subject and
look up. No mirrors. I’m about to smile again but think better of it. Maybe I’m not giving this exposé
the gravitas it deserves. “What’s with all the cupboards? Is that where you keep your tools?” I regret
using the word as soon as it leaves my mouth.
“Tools?”
I want to take it back, but it’s too late.
“It’s not a bloody workshop Beth! There are only toys in here. This is where the magic happens.”
He gives me a playful wink and brings to mind a recollection of our first night together in my
apartment.
I said that then and he answered, “Please …” We share the memory. To the right of the bed is the
first of a series of floor to ceiling cupboards, in gloss white with gold handles. “Is that where you
house the ‘toys?’”
“Some. But maybe we should start with something a little, say, softer …”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” I look up to him sweetly. “I’m going to see everything; nothing you show
me will shock me. Why not start with door number one?”
Reluctantly he reaches for the double handles and turns them down. The doors open. I gasp. Hung
up and arranged neatly are whips, paddles, canes, floggers and a single metal rod.
“I take it back. I’m shocked.” He is about to close the doors, but I stop him. “Don’t close the doors.
I want to look.” I slide off the bed and reach over and touch each item, one after the other. “And have
you used all of them?” My hand rests on the cool, hard metal.
“Some. Most of them are just window dressing. I would never use the large paddles or the metal
rod. They could cause serious injury.”
“You don’t say.” I close the doors and seat myself on the bed, feeling a little disorientated. I hope
this collection is the iceberg and not the tip of it, or I may be forgoing the fantasy fucking.
Sensing my apprehension, he moves onto something less sinister. Behind door number two is the
pharmacy: every painkiller, potion, lubricant, foam, oil, cream and condom you could ever need. On
the bottom shelf is a selection of scented candles, a couple of which are partially burned. A stark
reminder, if any were needed, that two women have been here before me. Not a pleasant thought. I try
to shake my head free of it. This is our time. I refuse to allow any spectres to invade this private space.
“And behind door number three?”
“This.”
Thankfully, it’s the kind of equipment you would find in a ‘normal’ home: an iPod deck, laptop
with Wi-Fi connectivity and, on the top ledge, a video camera and two digital cameras. For a split
second, our eyes meet and our memories appear to land on the same moment in time: that moment
when I saw the photographs Ayden had taken of Alenka. I try to move on but the shape of the posts
around the bed and the comforter reignite those erotic images. They are forever etched into my
memory.
On the wall is a six inch square control panel. “What does that do?” I point in its direction.
“This …” He turns a knob and the light fades. “And this …” The colour of the room changes
through the colours of the spectrum, although why anyone would want to be tied up in a blue room
baffles me. He hits default and it resets to its dusky glow.
“That’s cool.”
“Yes, it is.”
“What music do you have?”
I’m met with a flat smile. “I wondered when you would ask me that. I’ve synchronized it with your
iPod library off my iPhone. You can choose something off that or add whatever you want. I’ll leave
that to you.”
“And the last door?” I turn to my ten o’clock, keen to see what lies behind it.
He takes hold of the handle. “Are you ready to see?”
I roll my eyes. “Just open it Ayden.”
“Here goes …” He pushes back the door to reveal a top-of-the-range bathroom, complete with spa
shower and twin basins in a kind of ivory colour. Two bathrobes are hung by the door and cream
coloured, fluffy towels are rolled into a discreet alcove. Instead of looking clinical, it’s soothing and
spacious.
“That’s a pleasant surprise,” I say with my fears allayed.
“I’m glad you approve.” He closes the door and approaches me, the relief visible on his face. “I
must say, you’ve been very accommodating about all this.” He stretches out his arm and arcs it
around the room. “Considering …”
“Considering I’m such a novice?”
He sits down next to me and strokes my arm as if I’m a well behaved child. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to, it’s in your eyes Ayden and they never lie.”
Together we say, “This is true,” and smile on cue.
“Now you’re finishing my sentences for me Beth. You know what I’m thinking.”
“Not always. You still have to tell me. Like … for instance …” I pull my thumb nail to my mouth.
He laughs softly to himself. “You haven’t done that for a while.”
“Done what?”
“Put your thumb nail in your mouth. You know about my ‘tell’ and that’s yours. What’s on your
mind?” I feel his fingers on my skin, tracing the sinews from my wrist to my elbow. I’m starting to
tingle, becoming greedy for his touch.
“I was wondering where all the ‘soft toys’ are …”
Why is he looking at me that way, giving me the look? His look. The drop dead gorgeous stare that
makes my body sag and the muscles in my thighs tighten and clinch. He’s doing it on purpose, I know
he is.
“Would you like me to show you?”
Hell yeah …
“Yes.”
“Alright then.” He edges off the bed and I follow him, tracking his movements on my radar,
watching him slide something out from under the bottom of the bed.
“Hey presto!”
I stretch out and tip my head over the bottom of the bed like a child looking for goldfish in a pond,
marvelling at the contents of his treasure chest. I upturn my right hand and rest my chin on it,
positioning myself for show and tell.
Ayden pulls out a series of drawers that slide in and out on a kind of runner system. “Now thi
s you
know.” He lifts up a blindfold. “And these: two pairs, lined in rubber so they don’t pinch.” The
handcuffs jangle as he places them back down. “This is a body rake. You drag it like this along your
skin.” He lifts his T-shirt and demonstrates by pulling it along his pectoral muscles and abdomen, only
stopping when it reaches the top button of his low slung jeans. I swallow to contain my excitement;
the watching is almost as good as the feeling.
Time to move on. “Next.”`
“Next we have a wand. It gives out a small electric charge that’s quite stimulating on your breasts
or your clitoris.” He tries it on his hand, smiles and pulls it away quickly.
Has he any idea how erotic this whole demonstration is? I’m creaming my panties here. He’s about
to close the drawers, but aren’t we forgetting something? “Is that it? No more toys?”
“Why, what were you hoping for?” He folds his lips back, containing a smile, but his eyes are
flashing with sensual thoughts. He knows what I’m holding out for.
“You know perfectly well.” I lean over the bed to look into the remaining drawers. “What else do
you have in there?”
“Oh, I think we may have something here for madam.” He pulls out drawer number three. “We have
a selection of dildos and vibrators in a range of colours and sizes to suit every requirement.” He
upturns his palms to display his wears like an unscrupulous watch salesman. “If you would care to
select one, I’d be only too pleased to offer a demonstration.”
“No thank you,” I answer sharply. “I’m only looking today, not buying.”
“No?” He presents a downturned smile and closes the drawer. “Then maybe, I can tempt madam
with one of these?”
He’s sparked my curiosity and I’m leaning over just that little bit further to take a look. What the
hell are those?
My look of puzzlement prompts an explanation. “These are G-spot massagers of the very finest
quality. I can assure you, without a shadow of a doubt, these will give you incredibly intense
orgasms.”
He seems pretty sure of himself. “And do you offer a demonstration with these too?” I ask, holding
onto the remaining shred of composure I have left.
“Of course. And they also come with a guarantee. In fact, why don’t you select one and I’ll choose a
different item. That’s only fair, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
He smirks before he speaks, obviously choosing his words wisely. “It’s company policy.”
“It is?” With my free hand I reach down and pick out a small, dark blue G-spot massager, as you
would a caramel from a box of chocolates, holding it before my eyes, feeling its smooth texture
against my fingers. “Can I take it with me for a test run or does it have to stay in here?” I meet his
eyes and for a split second, he’s considering the implications of my question. Have I broken some
unwritten rule? Do the ‘toys’ have to stay here?
“Sure.” Effortlessly, he pushes the draw back into position and moves onto the next. “Now it’s my
turn.” With his free hand, he massages his chin that way he does when he’s considering his options,
deliberately caressing it with the pad of his thumb.
He’s more fun to look at than the contents of drawer number four, as he trails his fingers over each
new item in turn: nipple clamps, ball gags, butt plugs and anal beads. I’ve only seen pictures of these
on the internet. But, right here before my very eyes, they look a lot more intimidating. I can’t wait to
see what’s in drawer number five …
Prolonging my agony, he makes an indecisive grab at a silver butt plug and catches my startled
reaction only to put it down again, reconsidering his choice.
Two minutes in and I know a performance when I see it. He’s purposely making me wait but I
won’t be drawn into his game of wait and see. To make a point, I fall back onto the bed and hum a
tune, feigning disinterest when, inside, I’m dying to know exactly what he’s chosen. Startled by the
sound of the unit clicking into place beneath the bed, I look up into his darkening eyes.
“What did you choose?”
He lets out a long, breathless sigh, seeming overly pleased with his preferred toy. “I’d rather not
say. I think it should be my little secret and your surprise.” With animal grace he circles the bed,
closing the space between us. “By your own admission, you love surprises …”
He has me there …
“I do, but can you give me a clue?”
“No.”
“Would you say it’s more for your pleasure or mine?”
He’s lifting his T-shirt above his head, walking, talking, teasing. “No, I wouldn’t say.”
“Can you tell me what colour it is?”
“No.”
“Are you being purposely evasive?”
“No,” he says, laying his hands flat out on the comforter, palms down, his fingertips edging towards
my bare knees.
“Would you like to tie me up?”
Instantly, he raises his chin and meets me head on, so close I can see the colours beginning to dance
in his eyes; he’s squinting, trying to gauge the seriousness of my question.
His smile widens. “No. But I would like to gag you, if only to stop you asking me any more
questions.”
I continue with my interrogation. “Does it need a battery to operate it or does it require manual
dexterity?”
I feel his warm hand beneath my chin, his grip tightening around my neck. “Careful Beth,” he
instructs, with powerful charisma. “Remember where you are.”
What does that mean?
“Why? Am I being too bold?” I have him exactly where I want him, I think: captivated. “Will you
spank me for my insolence?”
“Yes.” His one word reply excites me: it’s simple, unequivocal.
I lean into him, brushing his lips with mine as I speak. “Then why do you need something out of
your drawer? Won’t you have your hands full?”
“I’m beginning to think I already have my hands full with you missy.” He edges off the bed, taking
me with him, tugging at my hands. “Come here. Let’s get you naked.”
Towering over me he tips up my chin. “Don’t ask me again about what I‘ve chosen. Not knowing is
half the fun. Understand?”
I nod into his fingers and look into those depthless indigo pools of lust, catching my reflection.
Seeing myself there quickens my breathing, makes me temporarily light-headed, has me tipping
forward onto him. I quickly raise my hands to break my helpless fall and bring my palms to rest on his
muscular chest.
“So now you’ve seen everything. I have no secrets.” He looks away. “There’s nothing else. I’m an
open book …”
I take his face in my hand. “You’ll never be that Ayden.” Sometimes it’s enough to just be; to hear
the beating of his heart and to feel his breath on my hair. But not tonight. I sense he’s about to speak.
“Just being here with you feels right Beth.” His voice is a purr. His hand combs through my hair
and the additional weight pressing down on his chest, causes his heartbeat to vibrate in my inner ear. I
feel his pulse quickening, much like my own.
His confession makes my heart ache. “This is our destiny Ayden: it’s meant to be. I know you’ll
take care of me out there and in here. I
love you.” I plant a soft kiss on his heart, allowing my lips to
linger on the firm muscles protecting it. I feel his hands cupping my cheeks. We’re face to face.
“I love you more Beth. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you. I want you to know that.” There’s a
faraway look in his eyes that makes me suspect these words are coming from a distant place. Where? I
have no idea.
“I do Ayden and I appreciate it. More than you know.” I lean in to kiss him, but before I can taste
his lips, he lifts me and places me on the bed, still clothed.
He’s straddling me, looking down, thinking through exactly what he’s going to do to me. I just
know it. “I’m going to make good on my promise about your gift and my own.” He puts my vibrator to
one side. “Now, before we start, music? Any requests?”
I’m shaking my head. “No, you choose.”
He disappears out of view, lowers the lights and the music starts. I know this song. It’s John
Legend, Tonight. Returning, he brushes the back of his right hand across my face. “I think this is
appropriate.”
“It is.” I smile and wiggle to the beat. The music playing softly in the background causes the air in
the room to shift; there’s a calmness, as if every anxious emotion of the past few days has been
vaporised. So profound is this love we have, no words can define it. My physical longing to be taken
by him is overwhelming. I’m aching for his touch. I will happily surrender everything to this
outrageously sexy man.
I receive his tongue into my mouth, a soft groan leaves my throat and he muffles it with a lush kiss.
I feel his hands unbuttoning my dress, undoing the belt around my waist. He’s peeling it back onto the
bed and licking his lips at the thought of devouring me.
“You look great in this dress but you’ll look even better out of it,” he murmurs into the half-light.
He’s folding back my arms at the elbow as you would a small child, gently undressing me. I allow my
arms to rest limply, making it easier for him to slip them out of my sleeves. As I watch him I notice
the care with which he is handling me; his tongue licks his bottom lip, not with sexual appetite but
with total concentration. I have never felt so beloved.
“There.” Planning ahead, he peels my bra straps down my arms. With both of his hands, he takes
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