"You're small."
That cleared up the possibility of me being handsome or rich, which is what usually attracts female mouths to my genitalia.
"And you're gay." Which did nothing for my cognitive dissonance.
"I'm more...." I started.
"...Bi than gay." She finished with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Gay guys must suck on cocks a lot, don't they?" I shrugged reluctantly, as I realized my cover of being gay was really working against me.
"And so you can critic my work." She finished with a smug confident smile.
"Well, if you are going to such lengths to sweet talk me by stroking my ego....But what about your husband?"
"One, he is way too big." She said ticking them off with her fingers. "And two, it wouldn't be right for a domme to suck her slave's cock."
"And yet," I temporized trying to find my feet beneath me.
"I'm sorry." She said laying her hand on my thigh. "Will you have trouble getting it up?" She turned her head and looked past me pensively, and with a big smile triumphantly announced, "You could bring gay porn!" My head fell in defeat and she quickly pulled me from the table, as I threw some money for the meal, and pulled me to her room.
I won't go into detail here. Not because I am a don't kiss and tell type of guy. I think you have figured that I am discreet only to a certain extent, but because it did not go well. She was pretty bad at it, but I was having one of the women of my dreams working, willingly, on my prick and I came incredibly fast. She took that as a sign that she was really good at making even a gay guy go off, and I did not want to dissuade her. She seemed so pleased with herself. I figure Captain Jack could live with the result.
Chapter 17: Captain Jack-5
Catherine was downstairs when she heard the alarm system announce: "Front door open." She glanced up to see Steven, just entering the upstairs landing with a small package in his hand “Aargh, me Matey, yer has got a package from Ol' Captain Jack."
Her heart stopped for a beat and her mind scattered to the four winds trying to make sense of what she just heard. She looked at his face, looking for anger or a sense of betrayal, but all she saw was a mischievous smile. "What?" was all she could manage to say.
"It looks like some fabric samples from a pirate firm." He replied holding up the package and tossing it down to her. "Since when are you decorating for the Jolly Roger's?"
Catherine grasped the package and looked at it. It was postmarked from Los Angeles. Her head swam with a thousand thoughts. Her first thought was for Steven. "It's fabric swatches for a client looking for a nautical theme." She said with a smile. "Perhaps Captain Jack is a bit of an aggressive name for a fabric source, but you have to admit it's not one you'll easily forget. I've been waiting for this. Was it in the mail?"
Steven shrugged with her answer. "I don't know. It was in the bushes by the door. Too big for the mailbox, FedEx or UPS, I suppose."
"UPS.” She called up the stairs to the landing, holding the package in her hand. "The label says it was sent UPS." He nodded and walked back down the landing.
"Don't forget I have to go to Miami on Wednesday morning. I'll be back in time for dinner on Friday. Just a quickie meeting with my boss on some stupid top secret thing. How many top secret things can you have in an accounting firm? “He mused. She heard him muttering as he disappeared into his office. "It's accounting for god's sake. It is numbers and it is telling the truth about numbers...what's so secret about that? But no, somebody's got to make it sound all earth shatteringly important...It's accounting, for god's sake!"
She smiled. He seldom ever got upset and a simple trip to Miami had started him on a rant that she was famous for doing at the drop of a hat. It irritated him to do things he felt were non-value added and it irritated him to have to make short term travel arrangements. He detested the extra money it cost the company and he resented the fact that headquarters had dropped the ball on their foresight. She tried to explain that it was their money that they were wasting, but it soothed him very little.
Mike had laughed when she told him about Steven's trip and his angst of the cost. Mike never seemed to get upset over anything. She wondered if she just attracted men like that, or whether she had a sixth sense to stay away from angry men. It was fortunate that she and Mike's work this week were preparations for the next week so she could help Steven pack. And also to help ease his anxiety. It was rare for Steven to seem this upset and she suspected something else was bothering him. She would normally wait a couple of days and he would calm down, but now it had been three days and he still seemed agitated. She hoped by the time he left for Miami he would have worked out his demons, because it would do no good for him to be less than focused when he met with management. Still Steven always rose to the occasion and maybe this was his way of psyching up for a big meeting. But that would imply the meeting was bigger than he was letting on.
So her second thought was that of dealing with Captain Jack. Once she was certain that Steven had safely gone into his office, she ripped open the envelope. Inside was a bright yellow swimsuit, a seriously abbreviated one with tiny triangles that would barely cover her nipples and the bottoms would, despite the ruffles, allow for plenty of her backside to escape. "Soon, CJ," was all the note said. She wondered if Captain Jack resided in LA or whether he found a stripper supply shop while he was travelling there, or whether some element of his staff had researched out the most humiliating outfit for her personality. Somehow, Captain Jack still eluded her and she wasn't sure when she would figure him out. But she knew she would never stop trying.
Her next thought was of the fact that Captain Jack had seemingly raised the stakes again. This, not for the first time, bothered her. The excitement the Agency brought was both the terror of the unknown and the discovery of what lie below. But the terror of Captain Jack was progressive and she resented the fact that he had entered her door, if only through a package. He was no longer a piece apart from her life, but a small yellow package inside the door, once lurking in the bushes.
She then knew that the Captain Jack adventures had nearly run their course. She would deny it for awhile, but deep somewhere she knew.
Steven managed to calm down and he left Wednesday morning completely at peace. If Catherine had thought he had discovered her Agency work, the thought now dissolved. But no sooner had Steven left for the airport then a FedEx truck arrived with another package from Captain Jack. In it was a red dress and a note that said: "We'll meet at the Golden Swan at noon on Thursday. Wear the swimsuit under the dress."
The dress had long sleeves and a short hemline, made even shorter by the scallop cut at the overlap, where the dress buttoned down the middle. A large red belt pulled the waist away from the deep ‘vee’ of the bodice. When she tried the outfit on she was stunned. The bright yellow of the swimsuit jumped the eyes and drew even more attention to her exposed cleavage. The deep ‘vee’ of the bodice forbad any hope of pulling the dress shut to prevent the embarrassment. She knew what Captain Jack was thinking. The restaurant he had chosen was at a very nice resort near her house, one she knew very well, having stayed there many times. She knew women would often come in from the pool, throw on a cover-up dress and go to lunch there. However, she also knew that high end call girls or mistresses would also do the same thing. It was obvious that Captain Jack was playing with her mind and wanted her anxious concerning other people's opinion on whether she was just a pretty woman with a vibrant colored swimsuit and expensive cover-up, or whether she was someone's whore.
Normally, Catherine kept her own concerns and did not worry about what others might think. In her mind, their stray thoughts were their problems. But this outfit was one not of her choosing, but one of Captain Jack's and so the self-confidence that she would normally feel was not to be had.
She felt a twinge of resentment, not because of the humiliating outfit. That was part of the deal with Captain Jack. She knew that. But the resentment lie in the fact that this was so close to home. Th
is was her turf. The thrill of her Captain Jack Adventure lies not only in the sensation of being out of control, but also in the contrast of her being in control at home. It was to be the flip side of her dominant life, not a replacement. It was a great place to visit, but she had no intent to ever live there.
So Thursday noon found her still seething as she walked into the restaurant. Captain Jack was regaling the cute waitress with some wild tale, (she assumed), as she entered the room, dark in the middle, very light near the windows. His table was within sight of the entrance, (of course, she thought), and she breezed by the hostess at the reservation book by the door.
He stood as she approached and the waitress, nervously Catherine thought, backed away from the table with a judicial look at Catherine's attire. Catherine wasn’t quite sure whether it was a look of disdain for the clothing choice, or a look of envy for her body and Captain Jack's attention.
For his part, Captain Jack seemed quite pleased to see her this way. Again, Catherine was unsure whether it was with an appreciation of her that he was impressed or self congratulations for being able to select something so obviously humiliating. What worked for her anger was the second choice, so she went with that.
"I took the liberty of ordering a BLT for you." Captain Jack began, "I wasn't quite sure of all the oddball ingredients of cactus jelly, mesquite butter and coyote dung, or whatever they can come up with. I take umbrage at the arty way some of these cafe chefs feel obligated to do something different just to be different. The basics, simple may they be, can be combined in a near infinitude of possibilities by a clever mind. There is no need to throw in Capybara lard or Whistling Duck whistles. Do you agree, my dear?"
"Capybaras are not found anywhere near this far north." Catherine absent mindedly responded, stunned that she both remembered what a capybara was, and that it wasn't a desert creature, but a form of a swamp rat. She wondered if Captain Jack resented the implication that he didn't get his facts straight.
"Besides," Captain Jack said blowing off the unintended slur, "You were late."
It was this last that pushed her over the edge. "I always run late when I am home," she replied with a low voice, which she hoped carried the conviction she felt. "But I thought you had knowledge of everything." She wondered if this combined with the earlier capybara comment might have put her over the edge with him.
But he continued, with a laugh, “Hardly, my dear. I know a lot, but the more I know, the more ignorant I realize I am."
"So why don't you stop trying to learn?" she replied as she slipped into her chair and he took his, once again. She was surprised how much she had been pulled into his world so quickly and out of her smoldering anger.
"Naive ignorance is no more pleasurable than deliberate ignorance, and less than the modest wisdom one can accumulate over time." He said, with a far away shrug. "The occasional incidental convergence of facts brings an exciting lure of potential total connection of all knowledge. It may be the nearest thing to God we will ever come."
"So I am to take this as evidence that you believe in God?" Catherine asked peering into the breadbasket and pulling a yellow corn bread out, and then pointing to a dish with three butters, yellow, red and green. "Whatever are these? I thought people who thought they were gods tended not to believe in competing deities." She looked up with a mischievous smile.
He smiled broadly. "Why you are full of the dickens today, my dear. I might have to take that out on your lovely backside. But," he said after a pause, "I find it rather refreshing. Not many are willing to challenge me. One of the artifacts of being wealthy and powerful in a world of the poor and weak."
It was then that the waitress brought the drinks to the table, red wine for him, an iced tea for her, and explained that the red butter had chilies, the green cactus and the yellow honey, and no, I am sorry no straight butter, but perhaps in the kitchen.... This time Catherine was fairly certain it was jealousy, as the waitress spent an inordinate amount of time on assuring herself that Captain Jack was entirely satisfied with the meal, and none on Catherine. Catherine flipped her corn bread back in the basket. "No, don't bother with the butter, the sandwich will be filling enough. The young waitress nervously backed away and Catherine regretted being as distant. It was not like her to be rude, and she prided herself on believing that people seldom knew how she felt about them. Another little surge of anger arose in her as she realized how much Captain Jack's invasion of her hometown had thrown her off stride. She assumed he meant to do so, but felt that there had been a breach of understanding between them. This was meant to be strictly business, and now it wasn't.
Once they were alone, Captain Jack puffed up and began, "I really don't think of myself as a god, you know. But many people are fearful. They fear the unknown. They fear people smarter or stronger, or wealthier than themselves. And that fear gives those of us who fear little, whether it be due to the power of knowledge or experience in overcoming the uncertain little people, or whether we don't care anymore, that fear cedes to us that which makes us powerful. It is other's fear that becomes our drug of choice. We lust after that fear because it lifts us up."
"For instance, after lunch we will stroll around the lovely pool and I will take in the sights of the bougainvillea blooms dropping into the pools, the waterfall cascades, the spinning hummingbirds flitting from red flower to red flower, while you will be lost in thought of the fear that is about to befall you. You won't see, smell or hear what my heightened senses draw in, because you, your mind, will already be up in the room I have rented, slowly unwrapping yourself for me. First the red belt will drop open, and then your dress will be unbuttoned. By you, of course, on my orders. Then you will pull it open, and hesitating, either due to uncertainly, or because you want it to last longer, to savor it longer, you will let the dress lie on you lovely shoulders and then slide down and off you."
"By then, while I am still watching the hummingbird throat change from green to purple in the sunlight, you will be imagining that you are trembling with excitement as you stand before me in that stunning tiny suit."
"I will rise and come over to you and slide the two tiny triangles that just now barely cover your nipples. Ha, I see you look down, uncertain that they are covered even now. You look lovely when you blush just so, my dear. I would have warned you if you had come undone, as I wouldn't have wanted you to lose status in our waitress's eyes. There is another blush. I wonder if I should invite her to see your discomfort. No? You showed too much fear on that one. Even the most frightened deer eventually bolts when the terror overwhelms the fear. Perhaps another time, when you have become more jaded to all of this."
"But, I digress, do I not? Your lovely breasts are now exposed and you stand there breathing deep as my hands move down your body, untie one of the laces that keeps your little panties in place and they slide slowly down. I would then push your shoulders down and you would take your rightful place kneeling before me."
Captain Jack hesitated here, watching her face. She realized she had barely been breathing and had fallen into rapture with the images he painted before her. She also realized that she wanted that experience.
"What's next?" She rasped out, reaching for her glass of water.
"Now that's the question, isn't it?" He replied, reaching into the breadbasket, taking a roll and after a pause, used the yellow honey butter. "I am not sure I should explain. The fear would be diminished if you know. And that is some of the best part of it for me. Surely you feel that same rapture with your wimpy husband of yours. The fear is our power. We must always have it."
Catherine's eyes snapped wide and Captain Jack stopped for a moment before he put the roll to his mouth. Inwardly she smiled as she realized he felt some anxiety, the fear he was so happy to administer to others had just entered his life for a second. It was enough for her.
"No, Captain Jack, it won't be me up in your room. Perhaps if you leave enough tip, your waitress might be kind enough to be your fearful supplicant. But it wo
n't be me today, or any day in Arizona. I am not an always thing for you and never will be. This is my home and you did not need escorting, so you came here to get me, not to while away the time between duties. You have crossed a line you will never again. What if my husband had been here?"
"I knew he was out of town, my dear. I am not without conscious."
"But there are others. My neighbors, friends, clients that could have easily seen us. For god's sake, that waitress could have been a neighbor's daughter."
He shrugged and said, "Perhaps this could have been better thought out."
"That's a bit out of character for you. I have enjoyed this side business with you, but my life, my main life is here. And here I am not afraid." She stood up, and laid down the napkin. "I trust you will pay the bill." After a bit of hesitation, she added, "This one and the one for the date. And it will never happen again." She turned and left, passing the waitress she said, "He's all yours," and noted first the startled look, then after the flash of recognition of what was said, a glimmer of a lustful smile. "Quick girl," thought Catherine, "I wonder if she is ready for what Captain Jack will try on her. She shrugged and once she had slid into her car, a wave of relief rolled over her. She drove home and after a fashion she called Mike.
"Are you going out with him again?" Mike asked, after she explained the lunch.
"I am not sure," she replied. "The way I said it, I left it open and I don't know if I want to go again, try someone else, or stop altogether. The home improvements are almost all completed...."
He laughed, "You're a designer, Catherine. There is always another home improvement project."
She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see. "I guess you are right, but I am going to have to think about it. Now that I have stood up to him, he doesn't seem like such a powerful figure. He might seem like a game. That cheapens it even more than it is. I wonder about that side of me, but I kind of wish it was someone more special than him. The problem is most guys with egos big enough to impress me, to fill me with that awe, have big egos." She laughed, ruefully.
Three Sides of the Coin (Catherine I) Page 18