“We’ve heard about Dafydd,” said Meredith, straight-faced again. “What a dilemma. It must be so difficult for you.”
“But perhaps he wants to mend his ways,” suggested Katja. “It was a long time ago.”
“Oh, not you as well,” said Vanessa ungraciously. “Not judging by the way he spoke to Ben earlier.”
The women leant forward, eager for more gossip.
“He’s looking over,” whispered Lydia. “He can’t take his eyes off you.”
“Really?” Vanessa risked a quick glance over her shoulder.
Dafydd’s hot blue eyes were indeed fixed on her. Now was the time to put her plan into action.
“Sorry, ladies, must powder my nose. See you later.”
She left them hanging, visibly disappointed to miss the next thrilling instalment of the Dafydd vs Ben story, and moved as quickly as she could on stiletto-clad feet towards the cloakrooms.
Without a second thought, she bustled into the men’s washroom, to find Ben standing there in his boxers, holding his wet trousers over an airblade dryer.
“Ness!” he exclaimed. “This is the men’s room.”
“Don’t care,” she said. “Come next door, into the Ladies’.”
“I…can’t!”
“Yes, you can. Come on.”
She grabbed his hand and yanked him outside, then pushed him into the Ladies’. She could hear footsteps advancing along the corridor towards them. She knew whose footsteps they were.
Abruptly, before the door had even swung shut, she hurled herself on Ben, pressing him up against the tiled wall. She ground into his crotch, in its damp boxers, not worrying about the effect on her smart scarlet sheath dress. It wasn’t hard yet, but by God, she would see about that.
“Ness, what is this?”
She silenced Ben with an angry, biting kiss.
There was a bang on the door.
“Come out, Vanessa. I know what you’re doing. I know you wanted me to follow you.”
In response, she moaned long and loud and cupped Ben’s uncooperative genitals in her hand.
He grabbed her wrist and removed it from his person, shaking her off with a mighty effort.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not doing this. I’m not playing this game.”
“But Ben―”
She tried again to lunge for him, but he held her off.
“What’s going on in there?” Dafydd demanded in his magisterial tones from the other side of the door. “Come out or I’m coming in to get you.”
“I just want him to see that he can’t have me,” whispered Vanessa desperately.
“You don’t have to attack me to prove that,” said Ben. “You just keep on telling him. There’s nothing he can do.”
“I just think a demonstration would be more effective.”
“I’m not an object, Ness. You can’t use me whenever and wherever you fancy. Well, not all the time. Sometimes is fine.” He smiled weakly. “I don’t like this. Can’t we go back to the way we were?”
“I wish we could,” said Vanessa and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.
“Come on,” said Ben gently. “Let’s get out of here with our heads held high and just walk past the silly bugger. And then I think we’re well within our rights to go home.”
She nodded, swallowing.
“Better get your trousers on first, though, eh?”
They left, hand in hand, and neither of them cast their eyes towards Dafydd, who slouched against the wall by the door.
“A toilet shag, eh?” he called after them. “Classy as ever, Ness. Never mind. You’ll keep.”
The words stayed in Vanessa’s mind for the rest of the night.
She would keep.
He wasn’t going to let her go.
Chapter Eight
Lydia was not exactly thrilled to find herself backed into a corner by Sarah Latimer. She glanced desperately over at Meredith and Katja, but they were flirting with some brass players. Karl-Heinz was with Creep Ap Hughes—she didn’t fancy making up that threesome. And Vanessa had obviously left the reception at the first opportunity.
Ever since Karl-Heinz had made the revelation of his bisexuality, the knowledge had burned inside Lydia, with no outlet for disclosure. It felt disloyal and insensitive to discuss it with Milan, so she hadn’t mentioned it, even though she had a nagging suspicion that he might know.
But the tragic loss he had suffered—so similar to that which she and Milan had endured with Evgeny—weighed on her mind. If it explained some of his unusual sexual behaviour, how was it to be overcome? She wanted to ask him about his relationship with the sailor, Hans—had they practised BDSM? If so, who had topped? Or perhaps they had switched.
She lay awake wondering, but could never summon up the courage to ask him. The situation seemed too complex to disentangle, but how could she walk away from him now, knowing the pain he was in? It seemed that, the more she tried to have fun, the more intense and serious her relationships grew.
How the hell did this fun thing work anyway?
Perhaps Sarah Latimer knew, though she looked sour enough, stepping in front of Lydia, wielding her glass of champagne like a weapon.
“We should talk,” said the blonde harpist dully.
“Why?”
“Von Ritter’s orders.”
“He doesn’t control my social life. Or yours.”
“Well, in a way, he does, you see. My boyfriend idolises him and has ordered me to obey him. And you know what kind of relationship Julius and I have. So I have to talk to you. I don’t have any choice.”
Lydia snorted. “What rubbish,” she said.
“It’s not rubbish. Julius and I have a total power exchange relationship now. You should try it. It’s changed my life and I feel turned on all the time.”
Lydia was taken aback. “You mean he’s your master outside the bedroom as well as in it?”
“Exactly.”
“God, I couldn’t live like that. Karl-Heinz is bossy enough as it is. If he got to run my life as well…” She broke off with a mild shudder.
“Ju’s ordered me to apologise about the Milan thing. Even though it was his idea.” For a second, Sarah looked a little less rapturous about the whole D/s arrangement.
“It was a shitty thing to do,” said Lydia. “But it’s over. We’ve moved on.”
“Good. I don’t suppose we can be friends, but Julius wants to invite you and Karl-Heinz to dinner next weekend. And maybe we can play afterwards, if it’s okay with you.”
“Oh!” Lydia looked around for Karl-Heinz, wondering if he knew about this invitation. But he was still with the ghastly Dafydd, locked into conversation with him. She supposed by ‘play’, Sarah didn’t mean they make up an after-supper musical quartet.
“I hope you’ll say yes. You know, if you’re serious about Karl-Heinz, you’ll see a lot of Julius. And if you see a lot of Julius, you’ll see a lot of me. But perhaps you aren’t serious about him.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Lydia primly, although she felt it was hard not to be serious about Karl-Heinz, given the kind of man he was.
“I hear you’re still seeing Milan,” said Sarah after an awkward pause. “That must be hard for Karl-Heinz. Julius can’t believe he’s standing for it.”
“I don’t want to discuss my private life with you, to be honest. It’s not really any of your business.” Suddenly Lydia thought better of her stiffness. “Though…if you could shed some light on why Milan and Julius hate each other…”
Sarah smirked. “He’s never told you?”
“Karl-Heinz said it was to do with something that happened when they were studying in Paris. Years ago.”
“But he hasn’t told you what?”
“Obviously not.” Lydia bristled, feeling instinctively that she was right to give Sarah a wide berth.
“You should ask him, then. Or Milan. But it doesn’t reflect very well on him, so I bet he won’t say anything.”
“Ah, but Karl-Heinz has this sense of honour, doesn’t he? He’s like a Prussian officer from the nineteenth century, all straight-spined and firm-chinned. I keep expecting him to click his heels. He doesn’t tittle-tattle.”
“That’s true.” Lydia thought about this. Karl-Heinz was such a good man, through and through. If only she could say the same of Milan.
“So, will you come to dinner then? Friday night?”
“I’ll have to check my diary.”
“Of course. Let me know at Monday’s rehearsal.”
As Sarah turned to go, Lydia succumbed to an impulse to call her back.
“Sarah.”
“Yes?” She turned around, eyebrows raised.
“Do you like being submissive all the time? How does it even work?”
“You’re curious?” Sarah smiled archly.
“A bit. What if you don’t agree with Julius? What happens then?”
“I always agree with Julius. That’s how it works.”
“I can’t even imagine…”
“No, and you don’t have to. If you come to dinner on Friday, you’ll see exactly how our relationship dynamic operates. Come on. Say you will.”
Lydia didn’t think she could resist the chance to be a fly on such a fascinating wall.
“I’ll talk to Karl-Heinz,” she said, and she set off across the room to do just that.
Dafydd ap Hughes gave her a quizzical, slightly lecherous look which she did her best to ignore.
“Karl-Heinz, can I talk to you for a moment?” She flicked a hostile glance at Dafydd, making it clear that his presence was not required.
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds in peace,” he drawled, moving away towards Meredith and Katja’s corner of the room.
“Ugh, he’s vile,” commented Lydia, watching him.
“That’ll do.” Karl-Heinz’s tone was firm.
She let it thrill her for a brief minute, then looked coyly up at him.
“I’m allowed to take a personal dislike to whomever I choose,” she said.
“Yes, but you can keep it to yourself, please.” Karl-Heinz lifted a glass of champagne off a passing tray and handed it to her with a little nod.
“Speaking of people I can’t warm to…”
“Lydia.” The warning note in Karl-Heinz’s voice thrilled her all over again.
“Sarah Latimer just invited us for dinner.”
“Oh?” He smiled. “And what do you think of that?”
“I don’t know what to think. She says she has this thing with Julius…I can’t remember what she called it. Something to do with power tools.”
Karl-Heinz laughed, a rare enough event to make many of the people in the room turn and stare.
“Total power exchange. Well, well. I knew Julius wanted to make the change, but I didn’t realise he had done it already.”
“It sounds bizarre.”
“It’s what they want. Why should we care what they do?”
“Well, if they want to invite us round there…and Sarah said something about playing.”
Karl-Heinz took a deep breath.
“After last time, I’m not sure. You were so upset when you saw me with Sarah at the club.”
“I know, but that was because I didn’t expect it to happen. If you’d warned me beforehand, I think I’d have been okay.”
“Right, so perhaps you would be okay with this dinner party? Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s just, well, it’d be interesting, maybe…”
Karl-Heinz laughed again. “You want to stand and stare at them?”
“Don’t be horrible. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Yes, so you want to stand and stare at them.”
“Karl-Heinz.” She spilled a splash of champagne on the floor with the force of her irritated gesture.
“I’m sorry. I’m teasing you. Look, let’s go there. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, you can stand aside. You don’t have to join in.”
“But you will?”
“Julius and I are good at reading each other. I always enjoy playing scenes with him and his submissives.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow.
“He has more than one?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not. It sounds as if things have moved fast with him and Sarah. If they are in a total power exchange, perhaps they are mostly exclusive now.”
“Have you ever been in one of those?” asked Lydia.
“What, total power exchange? No. I’ve never had a long-term partner of that kind.”
“Really?”
“Really, Lydia.”
“Have all your relationships been based on dominance and submission?” She held her breath, wanting to know about Hans.
“No. My relationship with Petra was very traditional, very vanilla.”
“But that was the only one?”
“Yes.” He gave her a penetrating look. “You’re full of questions this evening.”
“I’m trying to get to know you better.”
He took the champagne glass from her hand.
“Well, then, perhaps we should go back to my place. This kind of knowledge demands more privacy than we have here.”
They left the reception after polite goodbyes to a slightly sweaty-looking Dafydd and took a cab back to Bloomsbury. Lydia hadn’t planned to go home with Karl-Heinz tonight, but she wasn’t unduly concerned. She had decided to follow her heart and her instincts. Or perhaps her pussy, which twitched with anticipation of what her German lover might have in store for her.
“Now then,” he said, ushering her through the front door and up the stairs to the living room. “How much better do you want to know me?”
“I want to know everything about you. I don’t want be kept in the dark about anything. That’s fair, isn’t it? I don’t keep secrets from you.”
“Yes, it’s fair,” he said. “Fairness is not really a big part of dominance and submission, though, is it?”
He had knelt to pull out an antique-looking wooden chest from beneath the coffee table. Lydia knew this wooden chest of old, and what was inside it. Her heart began to beat fast, her own breath choking her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said, opening the chest and taking out a set of restraints. “But I want something in return.”
“So I see.” Lydia backed towards the sofa.
“Are you wearing panties?”
“I might be.”
“Take them off.”
She reached up under her double-layered skirt and pulled off her knickers, placing them delicately on the sofa arm afterwards.
“If you and I had a relationship like Julius and Sarah’s, I would be able to forbid you from ever wearing panties again. I wonder if Sarah was wearing them tonight.”
He approached, ropes in hand, and stopped a little short of Lydia, looking her swiftly up and down.
“Now, where shall I have you?” he wondered aloud.
He took a straight-backed chair from its resting place against the wall and put it down in front of Lydia.
“Do sit down,” he invited politely.
She sat, knees modestly together, hands folded in her lap, and looked down at the polka-dot pattern on her skirt.
Karl-Heinz prowled around her and took hold of her arms, making her clasp her hands together behind the chair’s back. He wound one length of silken cord in and out of the struts before knotting it around Lydia’s wrists, binding her securely to the chair.
“Now spread your legs good and wide,” he commanded.
Lydia felt her skirts fall in between her thighs as she mechanically opened them.
Karl-Heinz tied each ankle to a chair leg, then raised her skirts up, making her shuffle about on the seat until her bare bottom sat on the rough pile of the upholstery.
“I’ll answer your questions
,” he said. “But you have to come first.”
“What if I have a lot of questions?”
“Then you’ll have to come a lot of times.”
“I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“We’ll see, then, shall we? First question.”
Lydia gave it some thought.
“Was it Hans who introduced you to BDSM?”
“Oh, now that’s an interesting one. Let me think about that. And in the meantime…”
He strode over to her chair and bent over her to drown her in a passionate kiss on the lips. While his mouth worked hers, he dropped his hand between her legs and began to trace exquisite, feather-soft patterns between her lower lips. She sighed and squirmed, but there was no escape from his touch. The more she writhed, the more inescapable it was, until he rubbed her clit with slow, firm strokes.
She tried to bite down on his lip, but he prevented her, exerting effortless control. As he probed with his tongue, he let his fingers follow suit, inserting one, then two, then even three inside her. She was flooded with her wetness, faint with the building tension.
She came in a rush, her whole body twisting and shaking.
Von Ritter broke their lip contact and stroked her cheek, smiling at her with misty eyes.
“Hans,” he said. “That’s kind of a long story. I’ll try to cut it down for you.”
Lydia tried to gather the remnants of her floating wits. She might be in a post-orgasmic haze, but it hadn’t affected her curiosity.
“You’ll be surprised,” he said after a pause. “Hans didn’t put BDSM in my head—it had been there since I was an adolescent. I had fantasies of things I would like to do to Petra, but I didn’t dare raise the subject. So I tried to let it go.”
“Maybe Petra would have been into it,” suggested Lydia.
“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, I went to sea and I met Hans.”
“Was it an immediate attraction?”
“For me it was. He had a very pretty face, you know. He was very unsuited to the seafaring life, quite precious, artistic, he liked his comforts.”
“He sounds like Milan,” said Lydia.
Von Ritter barked out a laugh.
“Perhaps a little. He hated every minute of his national service. When we got together, I found him crying in his bunk. He had had an argument with a commanding officer over something very trivial. I went to comfort him and somehow we ended up kissing… But of course, there is very little privacy on a ship, so we both tried to laugh it off, pretend it hadn’t happened.”
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