“I was wondering why you were late,” Judith said, spearing a cube of sweet potato.
“Yeah, then after practice I came across one of my students walking down the freeway, of all places, in the near-dark. I couldn’t just leave her there; anything could’ve happened to her, so I took her home.”
“Walking on the freeway?” Michael frowned. “What was she doing there?”
“I have no idea,” Tristan said. “She said she’d missed her lift, so was walking home.”
“Well, she can be glad you’re such a nice guy,” Judith leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
~*~
Michael reached around the door frame and felt for the light switch on the wall. When he flicked it on, it revealed his uncluttered desk; earlier, after his call with Judith, he’d cleared the desk to make space for Tristan to work. A tall bookcase stood against the wall behind the desk, and unlike the bookcase in his den, these shelves were stocked almost exclusively with medical books, a couple of dictionaries, and a few models of anatomy. A life-sized replica of a human skeleton stood in the corner; it wore a red and gold knitted scarf, like Harry Potter, and a fedora at a rakish angle.
Tristan moved around the desk, put down his paperwork and laptop case, then stared at the plastic models. He picked up the female reproductive system, complete with detachable parts, and looked at it from all angles. “You have the best toys. I wish I could have some of these for my classroom, but the school would never foot the bill. I did, however, collect the entire magazine series of The Human Body and built a complete little plastic human when I was still in high school.”
Michael grinned. “I have the catalogue for these around here somewhere.”
Tristan put the model back and unzipped his laptop case. “Well, the sooner I get started, the sooner I can put these scripts back in the boot of my car and forget about them for the rest of the weekend,” Tristan sighed.
“Good luck,” Michael said, and left Tristan to his work.
Judith was already curled up on the couch in the den, a glass of wine in her hand, and flicking through the satellite channels. Another glass of wine stood on a coaster on the coffee table. The overhead light was off, and the only light in the room was from the TV screen. She smiled at him. “Is there anything you wanted to watch,” she asked sweetly. “It was on a sports channel when I switched it on.”
“Nothing specific,” Michael said, settling beside her and reaching for his wine. “What are you in the mood for? Movie? Series? Nature? Please don’t tell me you’re a reality TV fan.”
“No, no reality shows,” Judith shuddered. “I was thinking movie, but I don’t see anything interesting on at the moment.”
Michael took the remote from her and pressed a few buttons, calling up a Netflix menu. Michael’s eye fell on one title, and with a wicked glance in Judith’s direction, soon the opening credits began.
“Really? Porn?” Judith stared.
“You think this is porn? It’s explicit, certainly, but I’d hardly call it porn.”
Judith covered her face with her hands and muffled a giggle.
“Does it bother you?” He asked. He reclined more comfortably on the couch, his right arm stretched out on the backrest. He took a sip from his wine while he watched her face in the light from the TV screen.
“I’m not normally a fan of X-rated films,” she admitted, dropping her eyes.
“Oh?” He asked. “You don’t watch them with Tristan? Get you in the mood?”
“No.”
“Then what on earth possessed you to go to a BDSM club, when you knew people would be fucking in the open?” He asked.
“I… I didn’t realize it would be quite so explicit,” she admitted. “And Ariel, well, she convinced me that it might help our marriage, if Tristan and I explored…”
“Ah, Ariel,” Michael smiled. “I see you’ve met my sister. I should have known she’d bring you to Angelus; that club is her baby.”
“Your sister…” Judith looked up at him.
“There can’t be too many Ariels running around,” Michael said wryly. “Certainly not who’d go to the same BDSM club as me.”
“Wow,” she said, studying his features. “I can see it now. You have the same cheekbones and chin.”
“And stubborn personality,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to mention it,” she smiled.
“So the club, what did you think?” Michael asked, taking a sip.
“It was certainly… uninhibited.”
Michael blinked at her for a moment. “That’s one way to put it,” he grinned.
“I liked the rope work. There was a woman who was tied into something like a dreamcatcher, and then hoisted up into the air for a few minutes. It was beautiful.”
“Really?” Michael cocked an eyebrow. “You liked that?”
“Well, it was beautiful to watch.”
“Would you like to be suspended yourself?” Michael poured himself another glass and topped up Judith’s.
“No,” Judith said. “I appreciate watching it, but I’m too big for that kind of thing.”
Michael blinked. “Too big?”
“Yes,” Judith looked away. “I’m not exactly thin and graceful like the model the other guy used.”
Michael suppressed his outrage and tipped Judith’s face to look him in the eye with a finger under her chin. “You are not too big for suspension.” She tried to look away again, and he brought her face back to his again. “You. Are. Not. Too. Big. And grace has nothing to do with it; it’s up to the rigger to make you graceful. All you have to do, is relax and be. Submit. Wait, I can show you what I mean.”
Michael picked up the remote and stopped the movie, only to replace it on the screen with a software desktop screen.
He stood and went to the electronics cabinet, where he retrieved a wireless keyboard and mouse, and settled back onto the couch with the keyboard on his lap. He shuffled the mouse on the couch seat, clicked on the internet browser icon, and navigated to YouTube. “I came across this video once,” he said, typing into the search bar, “where a team of riggers suspended a VW Beetle. Just watch this.”
The video loaded, and they watched together as the team outlined exactly what they were doing, catalogued their equipment, which was exactly the same equipment they’d use to suspend a person, and ended with a car suspended six inches off the ground.
Judith watched in rapt fascination, and Michael soon realized that she’d shifted to lean against his side, her wine glass cradled against her cheek. He dared to lower his arm to around her shoulders, and could barely concentrate on the video, he was so distracted by the feel of her in his arms.
Tristan is a lucky man.
“So,” he asked when the clip ended. Do you think you’re bigger than a car?”
“Of course not,” she snorted.
“Equipment failure is not the problem. The problem is up here,” he tapped her lightly on the forehead.
The Autoplay setting was on, and YouTube cycled through to the next related clip, this one about a Russian master who suspended his subs in artistic poses. For the next hour they watched one clip after the other, commenting here and there, and Michael could sense Judith’s longing. “Would you like to try suspension?” He asked. “I’m not a rigger myself, but I have a friend who’s a master at it. I could invite him over one evening.”
“I don’t know…”
“You wouldn’t have to get undressed,” Michael assured her. “Most of the subs in the videos we watched were dressed, although from the club you would have seen that some prefer to be unclothed. You could wear a sports bra and cycle shorts if you wanted to, and Tristan and I would be there too.”
Judith looked deep into the dregs of her wine. They’d started in on the second bottle. “Yes, I would like to try it, although I have some issues with my shoulder. I dislocated it when I fell off my bike when I was a teenager. I wouldn’t want to injure it further.”
“We’ll expla
in this all to Derek when he gets here,” Michael assured her.
“Well, on that note, I suppose it’s time to go to bed,” she stretched. She rose from the couch and gathered the empty wine glasses, tucking the two wine bottles under her arm. “I’ll just leave these in the kitchen, then head off to bed.”
Michael aimed the remote at the TV, switching it so Sleep mode, and groaned as he got up from the couch. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” she leaned up on tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. His cheek tingled at the contact and he resisted the impulse to clap his hand over his cheek to keep the feeling from fading.
She padded from the room and up the stairs towards the guest room.
Lazy to go up the stairs, just to come down again, he fired off a text to Tristan.
ME: Want some coffee?
22:16√√
When no reply came within five minutes, he figured Tristan probably left his phone in the guest room. He made coffee for both of them anyway, opening a new bottle of decaf and doctoring Tristan’s from memory. He limped up the stairs, the ears of the two mugs clasped securely in one hand, so that he could hold onto the stair rail with the other.
The light from the study spilled out into the passageway. When Michael stepped into the study, he saw Tristan, head bowed over his work, the end of his red pen flicking as he marked. Tristan looked up at his approach, and his face brightened. “Oh, God bless you, bringer of coffee.”
“Don’t get too excited – it’s decaf.”
Tristan rubbed his eyes. “Oh, well, I’ll try to convince my brain it’s caffeine.”
“Somehow, I think you’ll live,” Michael deadpanned.
Tristan leaned back, breathed in the scent of the coffee appreciatively, then took a sip. “That is so good,” he sighed. He took another sip, then put the coffee down and picked up his red pen again.
“You weren’t joking when you said you brought a lot of work home,” Michael settled in one of the guest chairs before his desk. “What are you marking?”
“Biology,” Tristan smiled.
“I think I may remember a thing or two from high school – you want some help marking?”
“Really?” Tristan asked.
“Sure,” Michael shrugged. “Give me the memo, and show me what to do.”
~*~
They’d all slept in that morning. Judith had no idea what time Tristan had come to bed, but her last glance at the time on her cell phone when she’d finally closed the Facebook app, had shown that it was after midnight.
When she’d woken Saturday morning, Tristan was still deeply asleep, so after a quick stop at the bathroom, she’d returned to bed to read for a little while before heading down to the kitchen to start coffee. The coffee pot was gurgling peacefully, and she was chopping some left-over vegetables from the previous night’s dinner for omelettes when Michael entered the kitchen, hair adorably dishevelled, still unshaven, and wearing only a pair of jeans and boots.
“I can get used to this,” Michael said.
“Oh, you could?” Judith flirted. “Having someone make you breakfast for a change?”
“I like seeing you barefoot in my kitchen,” Michael said, giving her a one-armed hug.
Judith flinched.
“What is it?” Michael asked. He stepped away and watched her carefully. “You flinched – what did I say?”
Judith scraped the chopped vegetables from the chopping board into a bowl with the blade of the knife. “It’s nothing.”
“No, I want the truth. What did I say to upset you?”
Judith speared a few more chunks of sweet potato and butternut with the tip of the knife and put them on the chopping board. “The expression is ‘barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen’,” she said softly. “I’m afraid that won’t ever happen.”
“Oh?” Michael leaned with his hips against the counter and watched her, making Judith squirm inside.
“It’s… Tristan had a vasectomy before we got married. He’s a carrier for cystic fibrosis. His brother died of it, so he had himself tested; we decided not to take a chance on passing on even the one gene to our children. I won’t ever get pregnant.”
“I’m so sorry,” Michael murmured and wrapped Judith in a hug.
Don’t cry! She inhaled and took simple comfort from the embrace. After a few seconds, she pulled away and returned to her chopping. “No use crying over it now,” she said brightly. “It’s for the best, really.”
“You bring up a very good point,” Michael said, leaning his hips against the counter again. “Since Tristan has been sterilised, I presume you’re on no other birth control.”
“No,” Judith blushed.
Michael stared across the kitchen, considering. “I can say that I would like not to need condoms. I can supply you with recent paperwork to say that I’m clean.”
Judith blushed. “Um, Tristan and I were virgins when we married,” she scraped more chopped veggies into the bowl, then taking the rest of the left-overs back to the fridge, she returned with a carton of eggs and another bowl.
“You don’t hear that often anymore,” Michael remarked quietly.
“I know,” Judith agreed. “We’ve been together since we were fifteen; we’ve only ever slept with each other.”
She looked up to see Michael watching her with a sad expression. “It’s special to have that kind of history together,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, this is probably something you’d like to discuss with Tristan, but what kind of birth control would you like?”
“I don’t know,” Judith said. “I just assumed I’d go on the pill.”
“We can certainly give it a try,” Michael nodded. “You’ll just have to remember to take it every day. I can make an appointment with Dr Milton for you on Monday, if you like.”
“How’d you know she’s my regular GP?” Judith asked.
“I may have done a little research,” Michael said sheepishly.
“Stalking.”
“Research,” Michael insisted, although the corner of his lips quirked.
“Alright,” Judith agreed with air quotes. “’Research’”. She sobered. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t have to thank me,” Michael said. “Before me, you weren’t in need of birth control at all.”
“But now I am, and thank you for looking out for me. Sir.”
A large smile blossomed on Michael’s face at the honorific. “You’re more than welcome little one.”
“Little one?” Judith asked. “Me, little?”
A change came over Michael’s posture, and suddenly he wasn’t the lover companionably watching her make breakfast.
He was her Dom.
“Did you not learn anything from last night’s YouTube marathon?” He asked. Judith felt a rush of excitement in her veins. “If I say you’re my ‘little one’, then that’s what you are. You’re not overweight; you’re perfect.”
“Um, what’s going on?”
Judith turned to see Tristan sauntering into the kitchen, his shaggy, overdue-for-a-cut hair standing up every which way, and morning scruff still in place.
“Your wife seems to think she’s fat, for some reason.”
“This again?” Tristan sighed. “You’re not fat. You’re Goldilocks. You’re just right. Now stop fishing for compliments and get on with my dinner, wench!” He popped her on the behind, barely leaving a sting, but making Judith clench her buttocks automatically and hop forward anyway.”
“It’s breakfast,” She yelped.
“So sorry; get on with my breakfast, wench!” He grinned, and popped her on the ass again, this time a little harder.
“Yes, sir,” she gave him a mock salute.
“You better believe it,” Tristan grinned and kissed her on the lips.
Michael laughed. “You sure you’re not a switch, Mr Bennett,” he chuckled.
“Not so sure I’m submissive,” Tristan countered.
“
Oh, you’re submissive,” Michael said. Judith looked over her shoulder and was struck by the look of sadness on Michael’s face. His eyes met hers, and somehow she knew the reason.
Tristan might crave domination, but he couldn’t admit that he craved the Dominant.
~*~
Chapter 11
“Your safeword is ‘red’; ‘yellow’ will pause play.”
God, I wish I didn’t react so strongly to that tone of voice. Tristan looked up from the dregs of his coffee, soggy crumbs from the rusks they’d eaten after Judith’s omelettes still soaking up the last mouthful in the bottom of his mug. He didn’t know how Michael pulled it off, but not only did he manage to lounge in a ladder-back chair, but he looked like a sultan doing it.
“Repeat it, so that I know you understand.”
“Safeword is red, sir, ‘yellow’ to pause play,” Judith murmured, casting her eyes down. At least I’m not the only one affected. Michael turned his gaze on Tristan, obviously waiting for a response.
“Safeword is ‘red’, ‘yellow’ to pause play,” Tristan repeated.
“Sir.”
That word still stuck in his throat. “Sir.”
“Thank you,” Michael said, and the sincerity in his expression soothed Tristan. Tristan nodded uncomfortably in acknowledgement.
“Before we begin, we need to discuss a few matters, so that we can avoid any misunderstandings, and so that we don’t have to pause play unnecessarily later.” Michael looked each of them in the eye in turn, holding Tristan’s gaze last. “I don’t intend to ever do anything sexual with either of you behind the other’s back.”
“Yes, sir,” Judith murmured. Michael’s eyes flicked to Judith and he gave a small nod, before returning his eyes to Tristan.
Tristan squirmed inside, although he schooled his outward reaction to show no outward signs of discomfort. This is what they agreed to. Michael would give him the beatings he craved, and would in turn dominate and sleep with Judith.
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