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A Fine Line

Page 17

by Sue Horsford


  “Are you alone?”

  “Just a minute.” I rolled out of bed and looked out of the window. Paul’s car wasn’t on the drive. He’d obviously gone fishing in spite of what had happened last night.

  “Yes, I’m alone.”

  “Are you okay, sweetheart? You sound a bit flat.”

  “I had words with Paul last night. He more or less accused me of having an affair, then he slept in the spare room.”

  “I see.” Gabriel was silent for a moment.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” I added. “It was only that I didn’t want sex. He asked me if there was anyone else and I said no.”

  “I see,” he said again. “Do you want me to step out of the picture?”

  The way he could suggest it with such ease was like a physical blow. Maybe this was the clearest indication yet that there was no future with him. What if I said yes, cut him out of my life right now, concentrated on saving my marriage? I imagined saying it, Gabriel putting the phone down, no going back and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

  “No,” I said, “I don’t want that. I want you in my picture.” My voice quivered as I spoke and I cursed myself for sounding so needy.

  “Right, then.” Gabriel’s voice was brisk and businesslike. “I want you up right now and round here for breakfast. Don’t worry about your hair and makeup, just come as you are. You’ll feel a lot better with something inside you.”

  Not in the best of moods, I sat on a stool at the worktop in Gabriel’s kitchen.

  After debating with myself about whether it was a good idea, I’d plucked up the courage to phone Paul only to find his phone was switched off. Then I’d stubbed my toe getting out of the shower, discovered that what I wanted to wear was still in the wash, and ended up driving halfway to Gabriel’s before realizing I’d forgotten my torque and would have to go back for it.

  I put it on, and at the feel of the cold metal around my neck, my whole body relaxed and I knew what I needed from Gabriel to sort myself out.

  “You seem really stressed out, sweetheart,” he said.

  “You could say that,” I snapped, deliberately cultivating an attitude that I thought would get a reaction from him.

  Gabriel ignored the gambit. “I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble for you.”

  “Well, just what did you expect when you set out to seduce a married woman?”

  Gabriel looked stern but still refused to take the bait. “I seem to recall getting some very strong messages from you that you wanted to be seduced. That torque you’re wearing, it was your own idea to buy it as a slave collar to wear with me.”

  “So, it’s all my own fault, then? And you’re just an innocent bystander?”

  Gabriel sighed. “I never pretended to be a nice guy. I believe I did tell you early on I wasn’t a good bet for any woman.”

  “Oh, well, that’s okay, then. As long as you warned me.”

  “Faye,” Gabriel said in a dangerously soft voice, “I know you’re upset, so I’m trying to be understanding, but I won’t be spoken to like this.”

  I jumped down off the stool and ran to him and threw my arms about his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m grumpy and I’m not myself and I need you to sort me out.” I hugged him tighter and whispered, “I need you to punish me. Please, punish me, Gabriel.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he said, taking my hand and leading me over to where a steel utensil jar held various wooden implements. He took out a large, heavy wooden spatula, then, tucking me under his left arm, he bent me over, pulled up my dress, yanked my panties down to my knees and brought the spatula down hard across my bare ass.

  The wood stung as it made contact with my already tender cheeks and I let out a hiss of pain. Gabriel pulled me to his side then he began to paddle me hard and fast.

  Despite knowing I wanted and needed Gabriel to chastise me, I couldn’t help but struggle, stamping my feet on the floor and wriggling in his grip but Gabriel’s arm held me firmly in place.

  “You asked for this and I don’t intend to disappoint you.”

  I clenched my teeth in an effort to keep silent. I wanted to cry. I needed the release. But some stubborn streak made me hold it all in.

  Gabriel sensed my resistance. “Why are you fighting me?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered.

  Crack! The paddle came down hard on the tops of my thighs, making me cry out.

  “I don’t know, Sir,” he corrected me.

  “I don’t know, Sir,” I repeated, less defiantly, but still not my usual submissive self.

  Abruptly he released me. “This is not how it works,” he said, pulling my underwear back up.

  I stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, our relationship isn’t based on you fighting me every step of the way until I beat you into submission.”

  He opened the door that led into the hall. “Go upstairs to the room where I caned you. Sit in the chair and think about what being submissive means. Don’t come back down until you have an answer for me.”

  Mortified, I tore up the stairs and into the small bedroom, resisting the impulse to slam the door, and I flung myself into the chair, furious at Gabriel. I’d just offered myself on a plate to him and he’d rejected me, sending me upstairs like a sulky teenager.

  How dare he! What did he mean ‘think about what being submissive means’? How much more submissive could I get than asking him to punish me?

  I sat back and thought about it. It was impossible to sit in the wing chair without thinking back to Friday when I’d been bent over the back of it to take my caning. That had been hard for me to do, but I’d submitted because I knew I deserved it for putting myself in danger.

  Was that the big difference? When I submitted, truly submitted to Gabriel with my heart and soul, I felt a deep sense of peace afterward. But that wasn’t why I submitted. I submitted because it pleased Gabriel and he was my Master. I’d wanted this dynamic from the moment I’d met him, so why was I trying to call the shots?

  I jumped out of the chair, tears already in my eyes. Right now, all I wanted was Gabriel’s forgiveness no matter what it took. But whatever it did take, it was Gabriel’s decision, not mine.

  I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen where he sat at the table reading the Sunday papers. He regarded me warily as I came in, as if he didn’t know what to expect.

  I ran straight to him and knelt at his feet with my head bowed in penitence. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve not behaved as I should. Please forgive me.” The words came out in a rush, and I held my breath, waiting for his answer. His hand touched my head, his fingers stroking my hair, and I breathed out in a shuddering sigh.

  “Look at me, Faye,” he said.

  I peered up at him. His expression was grave and my stomach lurched. Was this where he told me it was all over? I couldn’t lose him now. He was everything to me.

  “What did you think about while you were upstairs?” he asked me.

  “About how I haven’t been submissive today and about what a disappointment I must be to you. I do try, Gabriel, but I keep getting it wrong.”

  His expression softened. “You’re not getting it wrong, sweetheart, and you’re certainly not a disappointment to me. We’re just learning about each other, that’s all. This is all new to you. And I know you’re feeling upset about the row with Paul and you’re feeling resentful toward me, because no matter who encouraged who, the fact is, you wouldn’t be having problems in your marriage if you’d never met me.”

  He pinched my cheek and smiled. “And it’s okay to be in a bad mood sometimes, but you need to talk to me about it like an adult, not attack me with sarcasm and snide remarks. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His expression grew stern again. “And you will never, ever speak to me like that again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The relief was overwhelming. He wasn’t going to end
it. I had a second chance, and I was going to get it right from now on. Gabriel was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. The least I could do was try to be everything he wanted in a woman.

  “Do you still feel you should be punished?” he asked me.

  I bowed my head. “If you think I should. It’s your decision, Sir.”

  Gabriel pulled me to my feet, his fingers gripping my wrist. “There’s more than one way of sorting you out, madam.”

  I caught the glint in his eye and smiled. “Well, you did say I’d feel better with something inside me.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Hussy, I meant breakfast.”

  “So did I,” I said, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “I’m awfully hungry.”

  “Well, I’m ravenous,” he growled, picking me up and swinging me easily into his arms.

  He carried me into the living room, where he dropped me unceremoniously onto the couch and started unbuttoning his shirt before impatience got the better of him, and he pulled it open, scattering buttons everywhere.

  “Take that dress off before I rip it off you,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

  He was breathing heavily now and I tore off my dress, thrilled by his passion and his urgency. He pulled off his jeans and seemed about to join me on the couch but then he hesitated.

  “I just need to go upstairs and get something,” he said. He sounded frustrated with himself, as if he thought he was spoiling the moment.

  “Gabriel,” I said, “I’m on the pill.”

  He seemed torn for a moment, then he threw himself onto the couch with me. “Are you ready for me?” he growled and thrust two fingers inside me.

  I gasped. “I’m always ready for you.”

  He pulled out his fingers and put them into his mouth, sucking off my juices, and shaking his head as if in wonderment. “You’re always so fucking wet!” He dragged me toward him and thrust himself inside me. “God, Faye. You drive me crazy.”

  He clutched at my breasts and my ass, he wrapped his fingers in my hair and he groaned in ecstasy as he plunged deep inside me, his balls slapping against my ass, his body hot and heavy, pressing me down into the cushions.

  As he came, he pulled me to him so tightly it felt like he was trying to absorb me and I responded by clinging to him, wrapping my legs around his hips and biting his shoulder.

  Afterward we lay in silence, Gabriel’s erection still throbbing inside me.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry about that. I should have gone upstairs. It’s not like me to be so impatient.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Like I said, I’m on the pill. And I know that’s not the only reason to use a condom, but you are the first man apart from Paul in twelve years. I presume you always wear a condom.”

  “I usually do,” he said, withdrawing carefully.

  We had a shower together then Gabriel wrapped me in a warm, fluffy white robe.

  We went back down to the kitchen and I sat at the table while he lifted a frying pan down from a hook on the wall. “Might as well call it brunch now,” he said. “Smoked salmon and scrambled eggs okay?”

  “Mmm, posh breakfast. You do like to live well, don’t you?”

  “It’s just that I enjoy the finer things in life.” He looked at me as he spoke and I smiled as if I’d just won the lottery.

  While the eggs were cooking, Gabriel sliced six oranges in half and put them into a citrus press. I watched him as he worked, enjoying the sight of him in nothing but a towel. The muscles in his arm flexed as he pulled down the lever of the press and I smiled to myself at the thought that he was all mine.

  “Ginny said you wanted to take her to the opera.”

  “Ha, yes. A load of fat people caterwauling, she said. Do you feel the same?”

  “About opera? I’ve never been to one. I quite like some of the songs, though I’m not too keen on the bits that don’t sound like proper songs.”

  “You mean you like the arias, but not the recitative,” he said, putting the jug of orange juice and two glasses on the table. “Just think of it like a musical. The arias are the bits where they burst into song, the recitative is the talking.”

  “Will you take me one day?”

  “I will. I want to give you lots of new experiences. Talking of which, I really would like us to go away for the weekend soon so I can begin your submissive training in earnest.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I sighed. “I don’t know what sort of mood Paul will be in when he gets home. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “What will you do if you can’t sort things out?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to sort things out, but it’s not as if I’ve got anywhere to go if I leave.” I held my breath waiting.

  “You probably wouldn’t want to stay with Ginny, I’m guessing.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Perhaps you could stay with your friend. What’s her name, Steph?”

  A cold weight settled itself in the pit of my stomach. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I probably could.”

  At home, I tried Paul again. This time it rang, but there was no answer. I left a message to say I was sorry about last night, then I phoned Steph.

  “Are you busy?” I asked her.

  “Well, I was just about to clean the windows. You wouldn’t want to screw up my cleaning routine, would you?”

  “I was planning to get a taxi and bring wine.”

  “So why aren’t you here already?”

  The taxi driver didn’t seem to want to make conversation, for which I was grateful. I had too much on my mind right now to indulge in idle chitchat. What would Steph say when I told her how things had progressed? She was fond of Paul and I knew she’d be angry on his behalf. I only hoped I could make her understand, make her see that Gabriel was the other half of me, the man I’d needed in my life from the very start.

  “I presume we’re going to be discussing your love life,” she said, pouring the wine and handing me a glass.

  “What else?”

  “So, what’s new?” She curled herself up on the sofa, dislodging Bernard, her large and, it has to be said, rather smelly tabby.

  “It’s this thing with Gabriel. It’s really starting to affect my relationship with Paul. I do care about Paul but I can’t leave Gabriel. Just the thought of it makes me feel sick.”

  “So what are you saying, then? Are you going to leave Paul for this guy who doesn’t even love you?”

  “It’s not as simple as you’re making it sound,” I complained.

  “You want simple? Okay, suppose an asteroid was about to hit the earth. You’ve got an hour left. Who are you going to spend it with?”

  “You,” I said, laughing. “At least I’d die with a smile on my face.”

  “Not an option, I’m afraid. I’d be running out in the street looking for someone to fuck me. You have to choose either Paul or Whatshisface. Come on, which one?”

  “Well, Paul then.”

  “There you go,” she said, “told you it was simple.”

  “No, it’s not. If I was about to die, then of course I’d want to spend the last hour of my life with the man I’ve spent the last twelve years with. How could I leave him at the end? But I’m not about to die. I’m thirty-three, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me and I want a relationship with a future, not a relationship with a past.”

  “And is there a future with Gabriel?”

  “Well, not in the way you mean. We’re not going to grow old together. He’s not going to put a ring on my finger or anything like that.”

  “Oh, well, I can see why you’re thinking of leaving your husband, then. Who needs security anyway?”

  “I know what you’re saying, but I’m willing to take whatever I can get with Gabriel. I don’t need to think about the years ahead. I’m excited about tomorrow with him, next week, next month. And Paul… I do love him, but it’s more like I’d love a brother. I don’t want him to be my lover anymore. I just want
it to be me and Gabriel.”

  “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

  “I think I have. It’s just how to do it. I don’t want to hurt Paul any more than I have to.”

  “And have you thought about the practicalities?” she asked. “I know how much you earn, remember? Take a good look around you. Take special note of the pre-industrial revolution telly and see how cleverly I’ve used gaffer tape to fix that rip in the chair. Have you thought about where you’ll live?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “Oh, well, you can have Bernard’s room if you like. It’s a bit smelly, but I’ve got a bottle of Febreze.”

  I concentrated on slowing down my breathing, trying to subdue the rising panic, and smiled gratefully at her. This was all becoming very real.

  At around eight o’clock, when we were on our third bottle of wine, my mobile rang.

  “Where are you?” Paul sounded like a peevish child.

  “I’m just at Steph’s. I’ll come home now.”

  “Don’t rush home on my account.”

  “No, I’m on my way.”

  The taxi driver on the way home wasn’t as taciturn as the other driver. He went on and on about the government and what he’d do if he was prime minister and all I could think about was what I was going to say to Paul when I got home. Was he still sulking about last night? Maybe I’d really hurt him.

  He was sitting at the kitchen table finishing a takeaway when I arrived. “I thought you’d prefer it if I saw to myself,” he said meaningfully.

  “Paul, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “I really don’t feel like talking about this right now,” he said. He stood up. “By the way, it’s Kev’s stag do next weekend. They’re all going to Amsterdam on Friday and coming back on Sunday.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t going to go, but I think I will now.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I thought I may as well sleep in the spare room for the rest of the week, give you some space.”

  “Oh, Paul,” I said. “Can’t we talk about it, please?”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, Faye. I just don’t know what to think at the moment. It’s not just about last night. You’ve been distant for weeks, but last night you really hurt me. It’s not so much what you said. It was the look on your face when I tried to touch you, like I repulsed you. Then I lay there waiting for you, but you never came.”

 

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