The Mistress and the Mouse: Honeymoon Blues

by JJ Giles

  “That day.”

  “You didn’t explain that Paul Howard had already been indicted and that the government had shut him down? That those children were taken out of the labs and placed in special care where ninety eight percent of them died before the age of five? That the federal government arranged for Abernathy Acquisitions to take over the management of the company because of its patents on life-saving cancer drugs?”

  Instantly, Brian tightened. In shock, he stared at Jerry, but Jerry only glanced at him. It’s not possible...that something like that had happened, that Jerry was only following instructions from one of his biggest clients, the federal government. And to think he walked out on his father for something like that!

  Morgan’s hand clutched around his and held dearly understanding it was the first time he’d ever heard this.

  “He didn’t hang around long enough to find out why Howard shot himself, Mike. All he knew was that someone died. Yeah, Brian understood the guy didn’t have anything to live for anyway. But Brian didn’t know that Howard was on his way to death row. That he saved the government the expense of a lengthy trial and execution. I don’t blame him for that.”

  In horror, Brian stared. “You never told me,” he gasped.

  “You never asked. You merely assumed that everything ever written about me is true. That we raid corporations for our personal gain. That we ruin people’s lives at our whim. That I’m guilty by association, but after the feds got involved in the Genlabs case, they called me to see if we’d manage it until something could be worked out. A very profitable business, so of course, I accepted the offer. But its reputation was terribly tainted, and it’s taken some years to properly save it.”

  “And by saving it, you mean...?” the interviewer asked.

  “Chopping it up in little pieces and selling it off to other laboratories, Mike.”

  “Rumor has it that Abernathy took a thirty million dollar hit on it.”

  “Somewhere in that neighborhood. Unfortunately, sometimes reputations can become so tarnished they can’t be polished any longer. Genlabs was one of those problems. But the feds made it right with me for the effort and doubled the write-off of our losses. You win some, you lose some, too.”

  “You lost Brian that day?”

  “Not entirely. Let’s just say he got misplaced for awhile.” Gently, he smiled at Brian.

  Brian stared back restraining tears. The awe in his expression was more than evident to Jerry.

  “As much as I wanted my son in the business with me, he’s got too much of Alex in him. Brian is about as good at business as Alex is.”

  “Which is not good at all?”

  “They’re artists,” Jerry said quite warmly. “And they live much richer lives for it, I can assure you.”

  “Brian is an artist?”

  “He’s a landscape architect. Certainly do feel free to take it all in while you’re here. Sixty acres of exquisite gardens, in one of which they’ll be married next week.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Very, very peaceful out here. In the end, he’s made me terribly proud that he followed his heart rather than stay with me. He’s certainly happier for it.”

  “Brian?” The interviewer’s request was for a comment.

  But Brian only swallowed hard and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “I didn’t know anything about Genlabs, apparently.”

  “It was a huge mess. One of the most outstanding cases of abuse ever reported on a par with the Holocaust.”

  “Where the hell was I?”

  The interviewer smiled. “As I recall...partying. You had Renee Collins at the end of your arm. You were gambling in Monte Carlo, sunning yourselves on the Riviera, skiing Chaminix. Being received by the Queen.”

  “Right,” Brian said quickly to shut him up lest Morgan become nervous again. “Youthful indiscretions. How is Renee?”

  “Divorced...no kids. And running her father’s corporation now.”

  “Good.” Sadly, he shook his head. “But I didn’t know. Probably should have my ass kicked for that one.”

  “I think your father loves you.”

  “Too much, maybe.”

  Jerry nestled deeper into the chair, content that the errors of their lives were put right now. And he smiled at Alex who sat demurely and quietly allowing it to happen.

  “A landscape architect?”

  “Uhh, yeah. Went back to school to learn drafting and uhh...” Vainly, he tried to shake off the stupor.

  “So introduce us to your fiancée.”

  Carefully, he laid his arm around the back of the loveseat, the better to bring him closer to Morgan. “Morgan McFaye,” he said softly as if the very name were a hymn.

  Quietly, the interviewer laughed. “Ten years and still hopelessly in love. So tell us, Morgan, where are you from?”

  “I’m an Eastside girl.” It was the first she had spoken and her throat was a little gravely, making it all the more seductive.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a therapist,” she said. “I had this house built about thirteen years ago on the same plans as Oakhurst in Virginia. I’ll turn it into a bed and breakfast when I retire.”

  “It’s gorgeous. An old-style plantation house. Where do you keep the slaves?”

  “In the dungeon, of course.”

  Mike laughed not understanding the veracity of that statement. “Do you work with Brian at all?”

  “I just take the pictures because generally he’s tied up with other things.”

  And now even Jerry snickered.

  “You have to know how curious we are. What kind of woman can capture the world’s most eligible bachelor and keep him tied up for ten years out of sight.”

  Jerry interrupted, “Morgan is an exceptional woman. But not entirely forthcoming. She’s a sex therapist.”

  “A sex therapist? Do tell, please.”

  “I’m licensed in this state. Work with psychologists and their patients who are having problems.”

  “You’re a....uhhh...”

  “No, but I do find surrogates in the very few instances they’re required. It’s not quite as interesting as you might think. People get so hung up on the very word, getting past it is sometimes a chore. People don’t realize how they define themselves sexually extends to their personalities and their lives in general.”

  “But you’re not a surrogate?”

  “No. Which is not to say I don’t have a personal life. But it’s personal.” Quietly, she nudged Brian.

  Not exactly the titillating tidbit he wanted. “Cherry, you still having fun?”

  “I’m pretty much funned-out, I think,” Cherry whispered.

  “A beautiful, wealthy woman...?”

  “Yeah, well… There’s more to life than that, isn’t there?”

  “Your son?”

  Slowly, she nodded, knowing any or all of this could be edited from the final cut. “It was a twelfth grade psych class when I first heard that you raise kids the way you were raised. That was the day I decided I wasn’t going to be having babies. I certainly didn’t want my kids feeling for me what I felt for my mother. And then a year later I was pregnant. My dad was good enough to find a good and stable home for the baby.”

  “I’m sorry, but nobody better than you and Brian knows what a father who loves you is worth, even if you don’t share any DNA.”

  “You’re right.” Quickly, she gathered a few tears from her cheek. “You’re very right.” Her hand fell toward Jerry and he grasped it tightly.

  “So...Alex,” Mike offered happily, “I understand you’re being sued just now.”

  Alex smiled, a little wrinkle to his nose. “A palimony suit.”

  “How much does he want?”

  “All of it,” Alex said cattily.

  “I heard somewhere around five hundred million.”

  Alex laughed. “And that from an heir to the Simmons fortune. But Morgan and Brian have very graciously asked Jerr
y and I to stay with them...at least for a while. I’m taking them up on it. And since I’ve retired from Abernathy, how much more can he get?”

  “What about you, Jerry...now that you’re retired? A mere fifty-five years old, still quite vibrant. What are you going to be doing with the rest of your life?”

  Jerry hesitated. He didn’t quite know.

  “Dad,” Brian began, “I was going to speak to you...after the wedding, but now seems like a good time.” And free publicity never hurts. “Alex may have retired from Abernathy but he’s on board with me.”

  Instantly, Jerry brightened. “I don’t understand.”

  “Alex is going to be our lead designer. Garden statuary, fountains, outdoor furniture and fabrics, light fixtures, even mailboxes. He’s got quite a few designs ready for production, but we haven’t gotten to the production part yet. So what do you say? Nobody in the world knows more about how to turn an idea into commodity...and profit.”

  “What are you saying, Brian?”

  “All I’m asking is that if Alex takes care of the parts and I incorporate them into the whole, somebody still needs to take care of the business of it. Are you interested in the position of CEO? It might take up about three hours of your day.” He laughed sheepishly.

  “Starting a new company?”

  “And going international, dear,” Alex added. “Obviously a lot of travel involved so that we can put together the very ambiance in every home that Morgan has here.”

  Jerry hesitated while he studied first Alex and then Brian. “Interesting,” he said finally. “What did your last quarterly report look like?”

  Able to retain a little decorum, Brian grinned. “If you give me a few minutes, I’ll write one up for you.”

  Jerry smiled. Not quite ready for Wall Street. “Salary?”

  Heartily, Brian laughed. “The position is still open because it’s more of...a labor of love.”

  Staring deeply into Brian, Jerry said quickly, “I’ll take it.”

  Chapter Seven

  While Mike and the camera crew worked furiously to break down and reset for a tour of the gardens, Jerry took Morgan and Brian to the foyer. There, his pleasure spilled over both of them while he embraced them quite roughly.

  Always conscious of the family’s image, he told them, “Perfect.”

  “I thought so,” Brian said. “I hope it was enough.”

  “It was good enough for me. So you, Alex and Cherry start on the tour and Morgan has to see about dinner and I need to make a few phone calls.”

  “Of course,” Brian said softly. He knew the matter was more about some badly needed discipline rather than chores. “Invite Mike to dinner?”

  “Absolutely. He’s always been good to us.”

  “I’ll see you in a little while.” Brian bent to kiss Morgan and lingered near her ear. “He has something very special for you. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Her internal organs quivered at the sound of romance trapped within that statement, the heated breath with which it was conveyed. “You can’t be there?”

  “No,” he whispered. “Not until he allows it. Soon though. But I won’t be able to think about anything but you.”

  She moved a little to return his affection. And then she gasped, excited so horribly that she was to be rewarded so generously.

  “My room,” Jerry commanded.

  Without hesitation, she mounted the stairs. At the top, she stopped and stared down, their whispers furtive but not aggressive. There was nothing in their stance, their body language that would answer her previous question. Did they or didn’t they?

  She went straight to his room and found it unchanged. Quite dutifully, she removed her dress, her shoes and the skimpy little panties. But to remove the bra would release the nipple nails he left her with, and that she wouldn’t do without his permission.

  Time passed and still Jerry hadn't returned. She watched from the window as Brian and Alex escorted the news people toward the knot garden to the front. But where could Jerry be? And doing what?

  Nervously, she paced. The interview had gone terribly well. But the thoughts in her mind wouldn’t coagulate. What was this something special he had for her?

  The lever turned and he stepped inside with a glass of wine. Without tending her, he locked the door and placed the wine on a lamp table, only to remove his jacket. “Close the drapes,” he ordered.

  Except for the few seams of light near the floor the room went dark and the coolness of it raised chilblains on her skin. She wanted desperately to be warmed...warmed at the end of his whip, if need be. Warmed any way he chose.

  Yet he seemed solemn, meditative perhaps. He kicked off his shoes and crossed the sea of carpet to grab her quite roughly and hold his arm over her breasts, forcing the nails deep.

  “I’ll only remind you one more time,” he hissed in her ear. Quite threateningly, his hand slid over her throat. “You belong to me. By default, all of your submissives belong to me. But since you want to be a problem...”

  “But I don’t,” she said quickly.

  “What I do with anyone in this household is none of your concern. If I tell you to come to me, you come. If I tell Brian to come, he doesn’t hesitate. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but...”

  Quickly, his hand covered her mouth and quieted her. “I understand you’re interested. I don’t care if your concerns have a moral component or are more of a prurient nature. It doesn’t matter to me what concerns you, actually. This is how it is.”

  The first little frisson of fear swelled in her to hear the authority in his statement. To be disciplined was one thing, a prelude to incredible sex, if nothing else. But to be rended, compelled to obey when her singular desire was to protect her baby...

  It seemed his weight suddenly redoubled as she felt his hands on her shoulders forcing her down. Her knees buckled to the tremendous force and she remained there, obviously where he wanted her. Only then, did she hear the metallic clank of chains.

  He took an arm and snapped a case-hardened steel cuff around it. Not the soft, fuzzy warm kind, but the serious kind. The kind that cuts to the bone if too much resistance is applied by the captive. It had been years since she had experienced this kind of treatment. A little of that previous fear rose higher to feel her hands so securely knotted behind her.

  And then a leather bit slipped between her teeth and he tied it there, she now unable to utter anything but the most pitiful wailing.

  “You say you trust me, but it’s more than obvious you don’t,” he explained. “I have something to keep your mind on nobody but me.”

  The usual game, she knew, but somehow this was different.

  Quickly, he grabbed her and threw her on the bed face down. He took her hips and bent her, her breasts still pressed into the covers without arms to raise her. Quite rudely, he forced her legs apart and she smiled. It was a little game of domination so that she could be taken like this.

  Curiously, she heard the snap of a latex glove as it snugged over his hand. And then she felt his fingers, quite soothing, the odorless concoction he spread over the satin of her lips quite cold. Gently, he rubbed it generously over her clit.

  Cold, really cold, actually, when she wanted his fire.

  His finger penetrated her vagina all the way to her cervix. She could feel the thickness of what he rubbed there, quite unfamiliar with what it was. And then he opened her anus, two fingers full of that stuff, only to force it as deep as it would possibly go. He stuffed a phallus into her vagina.

  So cold, like a Popsicle inside.

  Without hesitation, he shoved her hip and she fell to her side. He tugged her foot, the better to pull her to her back and closer. His hand knotted at the cloth between her breasts and yanked hard to free her body from the bra. She felt the first rush of blood into her deflated nipples, blood refilling them with vengeance and incomprehensible pain.

  Ah, but what he rubbed there was so cold and soothing, a gracious Master to assuage
her pain. The thickness of it seemed like frozen whipped cream to slowly melt there, something he might lick off in a little while. Her breasts seemed to contract, comforted by the chill, soothed of the fire he kindled earlier.

  She merely watched as he removed the glove and dropped it into the wastebasket. He removed his own clothing, exposing a priapic organ swelled to the bursting point. Then, oddly, he opened the drawer, removed a condom and put it on.

  Because she hadn’t fully given herself over to him, he demanded, “I want you with me. You belong to me.” The tone of his voice made her think perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps she hadn’t totally surrendered to him. And that’s what he needed so desperately.

  From under a pillow he produced a towel and laid it over her breasts, tucking the ends under her arms. And then he lay down beside her and pulled her shoulder blades to her his chest. He forced her to curl tightly, that her hands might loop under her legs, over her feet and come to her front.

  “That’s a little easier,” he whispered. “I have to have you. I want you so badly, I don’t how to make it go away. But I need all of you. All of you.” Gently, he forced into her rectum a little.

  She melted to his insistence, her body completely in his control. She pushed back against him, felt his hand cup a breast and hold it tight. A little deeper, a little more insistent as he seemed to swell inside of her, his organ growing proportionately to her desire for him.

  “That’s better,” he breathed. He wriggled in to the hilt and felt a little of that coldness through the latex. His tongue swept into her ear so that she could do nothing more than press back even closer, to be enveloped, held to, loved dearly even as she watched him fiddle with a remote. His face still rested on hers as he checked the clock on the nightstand and had only a few minutes to go before the fire started. “I know you think I’m new at this domination game, because my skill with a whip isn’t where it ought to be. But you couldn’t be more wrong, my love. Flagellation is the least of all ways to get someone’s attention. It’s crude and unimaginative, although you are more than fascinating when you’re working it. The way your hips thrust forward, your breasts shake. Stay with me,” he murmured. His kisses were so gentle and profuse.