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Guilty Pleasures(10)

By:Kitty Thomas


But he ate the meals, grunted his approval, ran his fingers through her hair in something like affection, and then went back to work on some mysterious business activity on his laptop. He was shutting her out.

Was this what he’d felt with her while she’d pushed him to the corners of her emotional landscape for the past two years, trying to avoid intimacy because sex had lost its appeal?

Her libido was back now with a vengeance, but she didn’t know the first thing about how to seduce her own husband. Would he even want her after all her rebuffs? All her dead fish acts, as she’d tried to make the sex act as unappealing to him as possible so he’d leave her the fuck alone . . . and fuck someone else?

Now that she had her wish, she found it far less satisfying than it had been in her mind when she’d fantasized about the peace she could have if he’d just leave her alone.

Vivian slipped into bed next to her husband. His hand curled possessively around her waist.

“Michael?” she whispered.

A soft snore answered her. He’d reached out for her in sleep. At least subconsciously he still wanted her. She ached to slip her hand between her legs, but she was afraid he’d wake up.

A few weeks ago, him waking to find his wife rubbing one off in their bed would have sent him into a manic frenzy, stripping off his boxers and taking advantage of the wet, waiting pussy. Now, with his behavior toward her shifting, she was too afraid of rejection, too afraid to open the Pandora’s box that would reveal the sordid truth behind that $1,125 she’d spent.#p#分页标题#e#

She lay still in the silence of the house, listening to the clock on the wall, allowing the gentle tick to lull her to sleep as she snuggled in closer to his body.

It seemed only a few seconds had passed when morning came. Vivian squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the window. She stretched her arm to the other side of the bed, knowing it would be empty and that the heat from his body would be long gone.

Vivian crossed to the window and closed the heavy, dark drapes, casting the room in shadow. She flopped back on the bed and slid her hand between her legs, Michael’s face the only one she could see.





SIX





Vivian stood in front of Dome, her dark glasses blocking out the sun as well as the emotion in her eyes. She’d dressed as if it were an ordinary session with Anton. Garters, heels, barely legal skirt length. He would only see the outfit for a few moments before she peeled it off behind the screen, and yet something in his imposing manner made her feel compelled to dress for him.

It was three thirty exactly. She’d given herself no time to wait. With a fortifying breath, she pushed the glass door open, entering the lush bubble of sin without a backward glance.

Janette smiled from behind the counter. “Hi, Mrs. Delaney, you’re later than usual.” She looked prepared to take her check, but Vivian shook her head.

“I’m afraid I can’t keep my appointment today . . .”

Janette cut her off. “We require a forty-eight hour notice for cancellations or we have to charge you anyway.”

“An emergency came up. I need to speak with Anton.”

The receptionist eyed her, as if trying to assess whether the emergency line was honest. Then she nodded, at once emanating calm professionalism. She

lifted the phone, pressed a couple of buttons, and spoke hushed words into the receiver.

When she hung up, she waved toward the massage suites. “You can go on back. He’ll see you now.”

“Thank you.” Vivian felt her stomach seize up with every step toward that room, not knowing what he would do in light of her breaking their very illegal contract. She hadn’t felt this afraid since her first visit, after knowing what would happen to her behind that thick, solid door.

“Vivian,” he said, looking larger and more frightening than she remembered him.

She swallowed, her hand still on the knob, feeling like a rabbit ready to bolt. Only she couldn’t do that. She had to stay and convince him to release her from this craziness. “I can’t come back here anymore.” She said the words so fast they seemed to be one word running and blurring together.

His eyes darkened and then narrowed. “And why would that be? You know the rules and what will happen if you stop coming here. I have more than enough video and photographic evidence to damn you.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. “Please. You have to let me go. Michael froze the account. I don’t have access to any more money.”

“Borrow it.” His voice was clipped.

“From who? How would I pay it back?”

“That’s not my concern.”

She slid to the ground, her back pressed against the door while sobs clawed their way out of her throat. For the first time she was thankful for the soundproofing. It seemed as if hours or days passed, but then she felt him looming over her.

Vivian looked up to see a box of tissues in his outstretched hand. She took a couple and wiped the tears away. Anton pulled her to her feet and brushed her hair back from her face with his fingertips.

“This is very stressful for you, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her lip still trembling.

He looked almost apologetic. “I will accept another form of currency.”

They’d been standing so close, nearly in a lover’s embrace. She stepped back. “I’m sorry, what? You want me to have an affair with you so you won’t tell my husband I’m having an affair with you?” Hysteria was making her ears ring, so it was possible she hadn’t heard him right.

He chuckled. “I’ve already seen you, already touched you. What difference does it make, at this point, what else transpires between us? Don’t look so stricken. You’ll enjoy it. Just like you’ve enjoyed everything else I’ve done to you.”

She felt the flush creeping up her neck and the wetness between her legs. The more control he took of her, the more it turned her on. Her mind sat as background noise, screaming at her, horrified by all of it. But like a drunken hedonist, she moved closer to him again, closer to the sin he held out like a bright, shiny apple.#p#分页标题#e#

The sin she couldn’t be blamed for because she was the victim. Right? He owned her. At least on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He watched the expressions play over her face and then frowned. “We are not becoming lovers in the sense you’re thinking.”

You have no idea what I’m thinking.

“Do not get attached to me, Vivian. What is happening between us will not happen forever.”

“Because you’ll get bored with me?”

“Hardly.”

“Then why?” Why am I asking like I want it to never end? He was too attractive, smelled too good, had an accent that made her knees weaken with that deep, rounded tone. And he commanded her and played her body like an instrument only he knew how to wield with notes only he’d been given the music for.

“That’s enough talk,” he said. “Will you offer me the currency I ask, or are we back to threats? The threats do get tiresome, flower.”

A lump had formed in her throat, and she worked to swallow around it. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything.”

Her breath stopped for a minute and she had to consciously think about it to get it started back up again. “Everything, meaning?”

“The game has changed. You will come see me the same days as before. No money will exchange hands. Instead, you will do whatever I ask you to do for the hour and a half you’re in this room.”

“Sex?”

He couldn’t have been more clear if he’d spelled it out on a billboard with bright, flashing lights. And yet, she had to hear the full confirmation that he was truly asking her to whore herself out to him. She could barely remember how this had started.

He held her gaze and nodded. “But more. When you are in this room with me, you will address me as Sir. Do you understand?”

The moment the word Sir left his mouth, the feeling between her legs turned into an unbearable ache she somehow knew only his hands, mouth, or cock could soothe away. She nodded quickly, not giving herself time to think and chicken out.

“Answer.” His voice was harsher than she’d ever heard it.

Her eyes jerked up to his. “Yes, Sir.” She paused a moment, then said, “What about Janette? She takes a payment from me every week. What will she think?”

“Janette thinks what she’s told to think. Don’t worry about what she thinks. Just sign in, and come to me. Now, put your purse down, and come here.”

Vivian looked down to find she was clutching her bag in her hand, her knuckles turning white. With some difficulty, she managed to pry the thing out of her grip and place it next to the door. He held out a hand to her and she moved toward him.

Her mind spiraled into an abyss of endless questions and second-guessing. Why am I doing this? I can still leave. He didn’t lock the door. Is this really even about Michael at all? What difference will sex make at this point? Is it an affair, yet? Am I the victim if I keep making the choices? I could have worn a wire and caught him blackmailing me the second time. I could have turned him in.

I still can.

Her head was spinning suddenly with the evidence of her own complicity in her demise. Which was easier? Being the victim? Or being the whore? Somehow she hadn’t been able to erase either role from her psyche.