Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  His fingers rub slowly across his lips, apparently still deliberating his response, so I pick up my drink again, hide behind it and wait, hoping for complete honesty and partially dreading it.

  “Everything, Elizabeth. There isn’t a sexual or plausibly decadent act we haven’t been up to, as you so gracefully put it. Well, apart from fucking each other that is. We have been extremely corrupt in our adventures, and while I’d like to tell you it’s all his fault and I haven’t been the instigator, I can’t, not in the slightest. I can be just as sadistic in my tendencies as he is,” he replies as he downs his drink and starts tapping his fingers.

  His stare is relentless as he continues to think. I know I shouldn’t talk yet because he’s clearly got more to say on the topic, and as my heart continues to thunder along, I can’t help but think I’m in way over my head. “I have already tried to tell you what I am because I want you to understand, but some things will not be pleasant to hear so don’t ask too many questions unless you’re ready for the answers. With regard to how I’ll feel about seeing him touch you again, I really don’t know. I’ve never loved a woman before now so feelings have been irrelevant to our games. Pascal has simply been an extension of my preferences and now I want him to be an extension of yours.”

  Well, fantastic, sadistic tendencies? I suppose I sort of knew that, but when he actually says the words out loud, it’s a little more disconcerting. Has he been holding back entirely? And really, what the hell does he want me to do for him in the future? I really can’t fathom what else is more sadistic than a whip but I have a feeling the man sitting casually across from me certainly does.

  “Oh.” And there’s that stupid word again.

  What else can I say? But what if he doesn’t like what he sees when Pascal’s hands land on me? Will he explode and change his mind? Will it damage us? And do I really even want this, knowing how much they’ve done together? They’re probably more in tune with each other than we are. It’s not like I’m a sodding expert in these matters but I think egos could be bruised all round if this happens. The statement I made about them being formidable together suddenly seems overwhelmingly tantalising and completely terrifying. My mind whirls back to the two of them at the chess table when I said it. I should have seen it then when Pascal chuckled at my words. Stupid Beth.

  “I won’t let you tell me you don’t want this, baby. I’ve seen the way you react when he touches you. I’ve watched the way your body moulds against his, and while you may not love him, you certainly want to feel him on you, don’t you? ”

  I have nothing to answer him with. When has he seen us together? Was he watching at the club that night? No, how could he be? We were in Pascal’s apartment… Unless there was a camera. Was there? Is that why I could feel him? Every single piece of logical thought has now disappeared because this whole scenario is absolutely not sensible, or normal even. It has utter devastation written all over it. And what on earth will I be part of anyway? Will they... well, you know... touch each other as well? Because that could be interesting… Or maybe not. I have no idea.

  “You told me once that you weren’t inclined to behave like a very decent dominant, that it had become restricting for you. What exactly did you mean by that?” Because seriously, I need to understand more about this. Clearly I trust myself in his hands but with Pascal as well? Will it wind him up to new levels I’m not aware of, some merciless bastard that may throw me to the wolves for fun. Unfortunately, his frown and narrowing eyes are doing nothing to help my nerves at my own thoughts. I know that look. It’s the one that says he doesn’t want to tell me something.

  “That was before I loved you,” he says quietly, turning his face from me. He’s hiding something. Every inch of his cocky appearance has left the building and he looks a little lost all of a sudden.

  “Why does that make it any different? You still want the same from me, don’t you? And I really need to know what you’re asking of me here,” I reply, wishing I could turn his eyes back to me. He sighs and fiddles with his glass as he stands and begins pacing. Oh shit, what the hell is he going to tell me now?

  “A true dominant gives everything to his sub, cherishes her, looks after her every need, and does everything in his power to ensure she is fulfilled, happy and safe. It’s not a chore for him or an obligation of necessity. He wants to do it, needs to even, regardless of the amount of time he has with her. It may be love for some or just a primal urge for others but fundamentally, a truly decent dom treats his lover like a goddess and worships the ground beneath her feet,” he says as he shoves his hand in a pocket and looks out of the window with another sigh. “I have not been one of those men, Elizabeth. I’ve never been known for kindness or decency in any way, and while there are some who’ve enjoyed what I’ve offered, many have been left feeling used and humiliated, mostly because I wanted it that way. While it may sound horrifying to you, I told you that I wouldn’t lie so I won’t. You deserve to know who I’ve been.”

  Lovely, just what I wanted to hear from the man I love, the same man who wants to put me in a room with another man and continue to take me further into his self-indulgent lifestyle. I can’t even say it surprises me that much. I’ve seen his temper so I know his not so pleasant side. It’s not someone I’d like to be on my knees with. Maybe Pascal does though?

  He turns around and offers me a small smile as I gaze across at him and wonder what any of that means to me. He’s never been that way with me. He’s only ever shown me how to trust him and allow myself to revel in his hold of me. He loves me, has shown me his heart, his tears, his childhood. He’s probably given me more than he’s ever dared to give anyone so I’m not surprised that I’m not that bothered by his past behaviour. I just need to know how decent he’ll be with me.

  “Are you saying that because we’re different you’ll treat the situation more compassionately? That it will mean something more than it has done before?” I ask, hoping that his response will ease my tension around the whole situation.

  “It will mean everything to me, Elizabeth, because for the first time in my life, I want to worship someone - you. Don’t you see that? I want to give you everything you need without thought to myself because I love you. And I’m sure we will find our way through how compassionate you want the situation to be when the time comes.”

  Oh, right… Well that’s a little more relaxing I suppose. I can’t stop the girly giggle that escapes me as I gaze at him moving back towards me with a wider smile. He crouches in front of me and runs a finger along my jaw. “Everything will be exactly as you want it, baby. Every single inch of you will be adored, and whatever I think you need will be given in earnest.”

  Okay, that wasn’t quite so girly or lovely. In fact it’s got me thinking all sorts of things as his blues bore into mine with something like lust pouring from them. His fingers leisurely travel circles around my thighs and I drop my eyes from his at the very inappropriate vision of Pascal’s fingers on the other thigh. Actually, maybe it’s not inappropriate any more?

  “He said he’d been on his knees for you,” I randomly blurt out. I’ve become so absorbed in thoughts of sex, passion and panic that I apparently no longer care what’s coming out of my mouth. His mouth unfortunately twitches in amusement again,=. I‘m so glad he’s finding this all so funny. Really, it’s positively wonderful to be discussing threesomes with the man I love while he hovers in front of me in all his superiority, looking completely unaffected. The word deviant springs to mind.

  “He has, several times. Would you like to watch him there again?” Sodding eyebrow. Normal arrogant, self assured and sexy as hell Alex has returned with a vengeance.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...

  I have absolutely no idea. Do I? Possibly. Maybe not, but what would I know? I’ve never been here before and it’s yet another stark reminder of that fact. But the image of Pascal on his knees in front of Alex is now firmly imbedded in my mind. The two of them in all their masculine glory as they rea
ch out to me, fingers stretching and muscles rippling, sweat trickling across their skin, hot breath steaming through a dark room... Oh god, I have to stop these visions if I’m to have any hope of keeping it together.

  “Would you? Is it what you want or need?” I ask hesitantly as I try to search his eyes for some kind of emotion that involves Pascal, because that scares the crap out of me if I’m honest.

  He stands up abruptly and takes hold of my hand, lifting me up to him, his other hand wrapping around my back and pulling me toward his body. All six foot four of him coaxes me into his hard frame as he tugs the back of my ponytail playfully to make me look up at him.

  “I want and need you, Elizabeth. Nothing will change that. Pascal isn’t a threat to you in any way. He is just someone that I can use to give you something more entertaining, and thankfully he knows exactly what he’s doing,” he says smoothly as he threads his hands in my hair and lightly kisses me on the lips. I’m sure I mumble something about him being more than entertaining enough on his own but I’m so lost in his lips that I can’t even remember what I was thinking. “So anyway, what do you think of the decorations?” he says as he releases me and wanders off in the direction of the kitchen. His hands nonchalantly placed in his pockets leave me feeling even more confused than I was at the beginning of the conversation. Well that isn’t strictly true, but I still have no idea how I feel about the whole idea. I suppose I’ll just have to wing it when it happens. I can always use my safeword, can’t I? Because that will stop them, won’t it?

  ~

  Monday afternoon has been utterly crazy. In fact the whole day has been bonkers if I’m honest. Having been dropped off at work, I proceeded to crank up the music and dance stupidly while I made the lunches for two different hotels, both prepped and ready to go for eleven. James arrived, flirted outrageously with me, actually asked me out on a date again, which was damned awkward and then left with a smile. I get the feeling he won’t be giving up in a hurry. It seems his run-in with Alex has made him up his game. Interestingly, his more assertive manner is far more appealing than his former self. I have definitely become a slave to this dominant nature that some men seem to possess. It makes me wonder whether all men are capable of it if they just delve a little deeper and latch onto their base instincts. Bless him, he reminded me of a teenager in full-on horny mode, nowhere near as aggressive as Alex in his nature but he was definitely giving it a go.

  Anyway, after he disappeared with his truck full of beef for the Daresbury Hotel, and I’d sent the other van full of chicken on its merry way to the Rochester Hotel, I thought I’d have a quieter afternoon, but no. Why would the world of pastry be nice to me in the slightest. The right honourable lady something of something called Belle at twelve-thirty to ask if there was any way we could provide catering for her afternoon tea party at four thirty because their usual company had let them down. Belle zipped in the kitchen, handed me a note and rolled her sleeves up, shouting, “Five fucking thousand pounds for some sandwiches and cupcakes. Can we do it? Yes we can.” Thanks, Belle. We have had a giggle though.

  Tonight we’re going to have a bottle of wine and talk about weddings. Teresa’s staying over and I’ve decided I should probably tell them about the building I’ve acquired from my loving man. Yes, the one who wants to watch me getting it on with another man, the same one who tried to lure me away from him. Well, we were on a break but that’s not the point. I wonder if I should talk to Pascal about all of this? Alex probably wouldn’t like that, would he? No, not. Stupid Beth.

  Where is he today anyway? It’s nearly five. He said he had meetings all day and then was going to a charity boxing match this evening. That’s one I’m glad I’m not going to. Fighting for defence is one thing, but fighting for pleasure is entirely different. I just can’t get my head around the thought of men actually enjoying beating each other for amusement. Why would someone want to hurt someone for fun or sport as they call it? What sort of sick mind enjoys pummelling a man until he’s almost passed out?

  It reminds me a little of Alex beating up that arsehole that tried to rape me. Clearly that was defensive, but regardless, something about his demeanour after the event left me feeling cold, uncomfortable somehow, as if on some unconscious level he’d actually enjoyed his fury a little too much. Weird.

  Conner’s going to the match, too. Belle is not quite as disturbed by it as I am but she turned down the invitation to go with him, declaring getting pissed with her little sister as a far more appealing evening. She’s right because honestly, there is so much shit swirling around in my head that I’m struggling to breathe sometimes. Alex, Mum, Pascal, buildings, Belle and Conner, Teresa and Pascal - oh, I’d forgotten about that one - Evelyn and new found family, which leads me back to Alex again because, yes, he’s there quite often. That also reminds me to ask him about Henry because he hasn’t said anything about what’s going on with his business lately. Add into that the constant menu of meals and delicacies that I need to prepare, manage and pull together on a daily basis and I’m feeling utterly exhausted. I can’t remember the last time I just sat still for a few days and relaxed without this constant need to analyse or over think everything.

  A holiday - that’s what I need and soon. I wander over to the doors and pull the sign across as the girls file towards the door, giggling and laughing like teenagers as Teresa gazes at Belle’s ring finger whimsically. She’s a hopeless romantic, bless her.

  “So what’s the first topic of conversation this evening?” she says as she pulls the shutters and I lock up.

  “Well, clearly more about wedding proposals and lovely things like that,” Teresa replies. I can’t stop smiling as I watch Belle grin back at her.

  “I’ve got a bit of news as well, if you’re both interested.” Their heads shoot to mine and then straight to my fingers. “Oh god no, not that. I think one wedding is quite enough,” I say as we begin to walk towards the tube.

  “Right, well what is it then? Oh fuck, you’re not pregnant, are you?” Belle asks with a look of horror splashed across her face. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not so I just continue walking and fiddling with my bracelet.

  “That is still the most beautiful piece of jewellery I have ever seen,” Teresa says as she grabs my hand and gawps. “Other than the rock on Belle’s finger, obviously. I seriously need to get myself a man of calibre.”

  “You’d love the choker then,” I reply casually as I giggle at her shocked face.

  “What fucking choker? You never said anything about a choker,” Belle interjects. “Why have I not seen a diamond choker? That’s absolutely unacceptable, Snotbag.”

  “Quite right, you tell her. Christ, the man’s got too much money for his own good.”

  Well wait till they hear the next bit then.

  “Anyway, do you want to hear my news or not?” I ask, still pondering how uncomfortable I’m about to feel. It definitely isn’t sitting well with me yet, regardless of my proving my love to him, and his throat and that little boy standing on the stairs.

  “Okay, hit us with it,” Belle says as she links arms with me and looks at her finger again.

  Right, here we go.

  “Alex gave me a building, a big one. I signed the paperwork on Saturday. We’re moving Scott’s.” It’s more of a fast ramble than a proper sentence I’m so desperate to get it out of my mouth. It sounds even more bizarre out there in the open. Both girls stop and shoot their faces to mine.

  “A building? He gave you a shitting building? What sort of present is a fucking building?” Belle screams in the middle of the high street.

  “A damned expensive one, I’d say. Where is it?” Teresa asks with a wicked, dreamy grin plastering her face as she twiddles with her hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before so I can’t quite categorise it.

  “Defoe Point,” is all I’ve got. I don’t remember the address.

  “Oh holy mother of God, do you know how much stuff is worth up there?” Belle shouts.r />
  “No, and I absolutely don’t want to,” I reply as I glance around the street. “Can you please keep it down? I feel strange enough about this already without the rest of the world knowing.”

  “But, Beth, honey, you’re probably a millionairess now. You do realise that, don’t you? Possibly twice over. I mean, I haven’t seen the place, but Juliana sold her one bedroom flat for four hundred thousand,” Teresa whispers conspiratorially as she nudges Belle and ushers us to the underground.

  “I said I didn’t want to know, and anyway, it doesn’t matter because I’m not selling it so we better get planning a move,” I reply as I try for casual and walk blindly to the tube that’s waiting.

  “But why did he give you a fucking building?” Belle eventually says. Her look is absolutely priceless.

  “To realize her dreams, silly. God, for a smart woman, you’re so stupid sometimes. That’s what a man in love does for the woman he needs,” comes rushing out of Teresa’s mouth - ever the romantic. I can’t help but grin at the statement, though, because it’s absolutely right even if I can’t give them the reasons. Belle looks between the two of us as if she has no clue why this is happening. To be fair, I’m still not entirely sure, but he has his reasons and they’re not reasons I can share with her.

  “Right, okay... Well we need to get organised then,” she eventually says with narrowed eyes. “When can we see it?” Business Belle has apparently reappeared. I smile at her and get on the train.

  “As soon as you want. I’ve got the keys. But first I need a chat and a good girly catch up over a bottle of wine or three.”

  Preferably with no drama.

  And no fights.