Chapter 5

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Well it kind of depends..." Josephine whispered.

"On what?"

"On what you want to do..."

"You've got to help me out here, Josephine."

We were lying on her bed in her apartment. I was twirling a few strands of her hair in my fingers. She was beside me with her head on my chest, caressing my naked stomach. She was talking to my cock. Or at least that's what it looked like from my vantage point.

"Well Sir, if you have things to do and need to get going, you should say so... I'm not a clingy submissive... I won't make you stay..."

"I have the day off tomorrow. I mean, I have a few things to do, but nothing urgent."

"If you wanted to stay the night with me, Sir, you should ask."

I could hear the smile in her voice.

"I think that would be presumptuous. Besides, I wouldn't want the rejection," I laughed nervously.

She giggled. "Now who's being presumptuous?"

Josephine rearranged herself so her right hand was taking the weight of her head, leaning on her elbow. Her left hand was moving steadily lower. The light scratches of her nails just below my navel were causing my cock to rouse and thicken. She looked steadily into my eyes and whispered.

"If you asked me if you could stay tonight, I would say no."

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, then added, "I mean, can you tell me why?"

She blushed. "Honestly Sir, you must be crazy. You were wonderful and you can rest assured you were better than er, quiet a few of the Dominants I've had in the past. In fact, I'd love to help you learn the ropes," she giggled, "um, so to speak."

"Would you? So you'd have me back, um... if... ah... this conversation is really strange, ya know."

She smiled at me. "You mean... really open and honest?"

I nodded.

"Different, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically, gently dragging her nails the length of my half hard dick.

Different? I always thought I did okay with the ladies when I was young and single. But never had I met someone like Josephine, or had a similar conversation, 'assessing my skills'.

"What I meant was, god, how do I say this..." I took a deep breath. "I'd really like to come back some time and, um, practice on you. Jeez, I can't think of a better way to say it."

"I would be honoured, Sir." she grinned. "In fact, why don't you come over after three tomorrow and we can have some fun?"

"But not stay overnight..."

She kissed the tip of my nose.

"I have a flower shop to run, and a delivery first thing in the morning."

"Oh."

She smiled at me.

"Are you surprised?

"That you run a flower shop?"

She nodded.

"On a scale of one to ten? About a seven, I guess." I grinned.

"You might be surprised how many submissives, both male and female, actually work in positions of authority. I guess it's kind of like a rebound effect."

My mind conjured up Chantelle calling me 'Sir', and admiring my cock. But Chantelle wasn't a submissive, was she? "Is it like they want to balance their hectic and responsible lives with a period where they lack responsibility, a time when they lack control?"

"Ooooo... well said, Sir. Yes, that's about right."

"Interesting."

She smiled. "Why's that?"

"Well, it means just about anyone in the world could be a sub, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Just about. Do you want to hear my theory? It's not about gender. It's about dominance and submission."

"Hmmm, ok, I'm game. What's the theory?"

"Well, in dominance and submission, we have a basic truth. All the people in the world fit on a sliding scale where at one end one has the 'Dominant', and at the other end the 'submissive'. Everyone in the world is somewhat dominant and somewhat submissive, depending on the time and place. So everyone fits somewhere on this sliding scale. Vanilla people are somewhere around the middle. Dominants and submissives are at either end. That's my theory. Do you like it?"

"Sounds good to me. I haven't really thought about it like that. I like it."

"Thank you, Sir," she blushed. "So it's not about gender or sexism, it's just about dominance and submission."

"I guess that explains you and Chantelle."

"I shouldn't talk about Chantelle and I."

"Aw, go on... I'm so interested in what makes her tick."

"It would be gossiping, and that's naughty."

"You're already naughty."

I sat up and faced her on my knees, flipping her onto her back. I only needed one hand to hold her in place while I started tickling her.

"I am not!" she squealed and laughed, trying to escape.

"Are so!" I tickled her ribs harder. She was squirming and giggling uncontrollably.

"Noooooo!!!"

"Tell me!"

I got on top of her and sat on her thighs, batting away her hands.

"Noooooo!!!"

I tickled her all over, faster and faster.

"Aahhhahahhahaaaahhaaaaa!!! Stop! Stop!"

"Not till you tell me!"

She was writhing and wriggling like a maniac, trying to escape my tickling clutches. Tears of laughter coursed down her cheeks.

"Stop ahhhhhh stop I'll tell you... nooooooo... aahhahahhaaahahahaaaa..."

"Tell me now!"

"All right all right ooooo ahahahhaaaaaaahhahaaa I can't talk ahahahahahaaaaaaa..."

"Now!" I said, tickling her more and more.

"I lick her cunt! There I told you! I lick her cunt!!! oohhhhhh please stop ahahahahaaaaa... it hurts ahahahaaaa..."

I grabbed her wrists and held them down on either side of her head, against her pillow. She was breathing hard.

I whispered softly, "You're a dirty little slut, aren't you?" and smiled.

"I am not!" she whined, but her eyes sparkled.

"So you're a lying dirty little slut then?"

"Um..."

Her chest was heaving and a sparkle of perspiration had risen on her top lip.

My cock throbbed and a bolt of pre-cum oozed from the tip onto Josephine's ribs. We both looked down to see my cock, hard and angry red, the tip wet with pre-cum, another drip dangling from the underside of the flaring head. I could only imagine what it looked like to her.

She spoke, staring wide-eyed at my cock. "What are you going to d..."

Before she even finished the sentence, I raised myself up and pressed the head of my cock to her mouth. At first she feigned surprise but in a split second she moaned around it and began to suck avidly, her eyes closing and her cheeks hollowing.

I let go of one of her wrists and pointed my throbbing cock into her mouth with my grip holding it half way up the rigid shaft. I smiled as I felt her hand curl around my ass cheek, trying to pull more of my cock into her mouth. I still had one of her wrists pinned to her pillow. I let go of my cock and felt it bend painfully as the head hit the back of her mouth. She put her hand on the front of my thigh and pushed me back until my cock popped free, swaying and glistening in front of her eyes.

"I'll choke this way, Sir," she gasped. Her eyes were wild and she licked her lips.

"You like sucking cock, don't you?"

"I like doing anything that pleases you, Sir," she panted.

"Answer the fucking question," I said, taking my cock in hand and pressing it across her lips again.

"Yes... I like it..." she swirled her tongue around the head, quickly sucking away the pre-cum that appeared.

"Good girl."

She looked up at me and sucked harder, her eyes bright and smiling. Her mouth curled at the edges and her tongue lapped at the tip, making me shudder.

"Oh yeah, you like to suck cock."

She nodded a little and pushed me out of her mouth again.

"I like sucking cock..." she whispered.

"But you don't like choking..."

She shook her head a little, telling me 'no'.

"And a different position would be better..."

She nodded with her cheeks hollowed, sucking with her hand still gripping my ass. I kneeled up and my cock popped free straight out in front of me. "What do you suggest?"

She smiled softly and said, "I still might fail, Sir..."

"Fail?"

"Well... I mean... you have a big cock, Sir."

"It's not that big." I'd seen huge cocks on the Internet.

Her eyes smiled. "You have a big cock, Sir," she repeated.

"We'll just have to see then."

She grinned and slid around, her head hanging off the edge of the bed, straightening her throat. Her hands went down to her cunt, two fingers sliding straight inside. With the thumb of her other hand she started stroking up and down her clit.

"This is better! Fuck my mouth, Sir!"

"Oh yeah," I said, shaking my head and standing, walking around the bed into position. "You love it."

An hour later I was lying on my own bed, staring at the ceiling. Dominants. Submissives. What was it she said about gender? It's not about gender, it's about Dominance and submission. That was it. Interesting slant. I must ask Chantelle about that. I groaned. I figured I'd have to tell her I fucked Josephine too. I wondered what she might say. I looked over at the clock. It was three A.M. Closing my eyes, I was asleep in minutes.

The phone woke me in the morning and I wondered who it could be. "Hello? Roger Moore speaking..."

"Hello Mr. Moore. It's Angelo Terrazzo."

"Ah, Angelo, how are you?" I asked, sitting up and stretching.

"Just a courtesy call for one of my favourite customers, Sir. Your suit is ready."

"Thank you Angelo," I said, yawning, "I'll be there sometime today to pick it up."

"As you wish, Mr. Moore. As you wish..."

"Please Angelo, call me Roger..." I asked, before hearing yelling in the background.

"Ah okay, I gotta go Mr. Moore, my wife is driving me apples!"

"Okay. I'll see you later, Angelo." The phone clicked and I went to hang it up. Did it click again? I was sure I heard it click again. I put it back to my ear. No, I must have imagined it. I hung it up and went to put the kettle on.

Friday, I thought. One day to go till the party. I made my coffee and sat out on the balcony. I needed sunglasses it was so bright. I went inside to find them and the phone rang again. "Hello? Angelo?" Nothing. Not even breathing. "Hello?" I asked. "Hello?"

"Must be a wrong number," I grumbled, and hung up. I found my sunglasses and was on the way back outside when the phone rang again.

"Hello? Roger Moore here, who's there?" Nothing again. I rolled my eyes and hung up. I'd only been sitting outside for a few minutes, when the phone rang again. I picked it up in a huff. "Listen you stupid prick, if you keep this..."

"Roger?"

"Um, hello?"

It was a female. "Roger?" It sounded like Chantelle.

"Chantelle?"

"Yes it's Chantelle, how many others are there?" she asked, giggling.

"It depends what day it is," I smiled.

She laughed again. "What was that all about?"

"Just a heavy breather, nothing to worry about."

"I see... Look, I rang to ask a favour."

"I'd be pleased to help, if I can."

"Well, I don't know if you'd want to do this. I um... I need an escort."

"I'll be there soon..."

"I mean, I wouldn't ask if, um, if Jonathan was here. But well, it's his day off."

"I said I'd be there, Chantelle."

"Roger, you're a doll."

"When do you need me?"

"By midday."

"I'll be there by eleven thirty."

"My hero," she sighed.

"All right, all right... See you soon."

"Thanks Roger, I'll owe you one."

I hung up and wondered how I'd claim my pound of flesh. I chuckled to myself. An escort eh? That's about as far as I got with that thought. I simply could not think of what I might possibly be doing. My mind went blank. I shrugged and sipped my coffee.

I better ask about the 'entertainment' Chantelle is organising. I didn't want to be embarrassed by what might go on, or worse, embarrass the partners. That might prove to be a problem. I didn't really know that much about them, Gardner and Hammerstein. Hmmmmmm. Sylvia wouldn't help. What about Annie? Maybe Annie knew a bit about them. If she did, I might be able to gauge what was acceptable. I didn't want this to be a big mistake.

My thoughts returned to Chantelle. I was looking forward to talking with her again.

"Good morning Angelo," I said. The door had just closed behind me, striking its bell.

"Mr. Moore! So good to see you, Sir. Come in, come in."

"I ah, just came in to change, Angelo. I think I'll retire the suit I'm wearing."

"It's seen better days, Sir," he said, smiling.

"That's an understatement."

Angelo grinned. "One moment and I will be back with your suit. It's hanging in the storeroom, bagged and ready."

"Thanks so much, Angelo. Very timely!" I raised my voice so he could hear me as he padded away.

"I heard you have a big party tomorrow, Sir. I think it better to have a new suit too."

"Well, thank you Angelo, and be sure to thank your son too. I'm sure Claudio had a hand in this."

"I will, and it's a pleasure, Mr. Moore. Will that be cheque or charge?"

"Cheque please, Angelo. Tell me Angelo, you must make suits for all kinds of people."

"Indeed Sir. I have customers keep coming back 40 years now."

"My, that is impressive... Do you know Gardner and Hammerstein?"

"The lawyers? Sure I know him. Mr. Gardner, good customer, always telling stories."

"Stories?"

"Well, I just say, you keep clear of him. He's a peculiar man, Mr. Moore."

It didn't feel right grilling him so I thanked him for the advice and wrote out a cheque then asked if there was somewhere I could change. Angelo directed me to the changing area and I slipped out of my battered old brown suit into a crisp, clean, new navy blue one. It was very expensive looking and the material had a sheen to it. I knew nothing about suits but I knew this was a damn good one. I was glad I had worn a white shirt and maroon tie. I looked down. Yes, the black shoes were perfect. I didn't feel silly wearing them now. I smoothed down the lapels as I turned in the small mirror and felt something in the inside pocket. I went to pull it out when Angelo pulled back the curtain and beckoned me out to look in the larger full-length mirror. I left whatever it was in the pocket. It felt like an envelope.

"It looks great and it feels fantastic Angelo," I said, genuinely impressed.

"It's a good suit, Sir," he said, checking the length and fit.

"Well, all I know is, I've never looked better so, thank you again, Angelo."

"The suit fits, Sir," he winked.

I grinned from the mirror to Angelo and back again.

"I have to get going. I have an appointment to make."

"Very well, Sir. Enjoy your day, compliments of Angelo Terrazzo."

I smiled and shook his hand warmly.

"I owe you one, Angelo."

"I'll remember that, Mr. Moore." I waved back at him as I left him in his dark store.

Outside, the crisp autumn air invigorated me. I decided to make my way to the Domina Flagrante. I was running almost an hour early but like a moth to a flame, I found myself there, pressing the buzzer on the intercom.

"Good Morning and welcome to the Domina Flagrante. How may I help?"

"Hello Adrian, it's Roger Moore again."

"Mr. Moore, come in, come in." The heavy oak door buzzed and whirred in its familiar way and slowly opened. "You're early, Sir. Mistress will be pleased," he grinned.

"Can't keep me away it seems, Adrian," I said honestly.

"Is that a new suit, Sir? My, you do look dashing."

"Indeed it is. It's great isn't it? It's one of Angelo Terrazzo's."

I tugged at the sleeves and smoothed down over it. Suddenly I remembered the envelope and almost went to pull it out. Then I thought better of it, and decided to take a look later.

"Could you let Chantelle know I am here, Adrian?"

"I certainly will Sir, but," he said leaning into me, "she probably knows already." Adrian nodded above his left shoulder and my eyes followed his to the shiny new surveillance camera.

"All mod cons..." I said. Adrian just winked. "I'll be in the salon."

"As you wish Sir," he replied and bowed.

I walked the few steps down the hallway to the entrance of the salon. It was early and there were only a few people in there. One older man was sipping coffee and reading a newspaper, half of it spread out on the chair beside him. There was also a couple sitting by the windows. I walked up to the bar and greeted the barman.

"Good morning."

"Hello Mr. Moore, I am Johnson. What can I tempt you with this fine morning?"

"Ah, hello, Johnson. I'd like an espresso, and a glass of water, please." I had no idea how he knew my name.

"Can I interest you in a pastry, Sir?"

"What do you have?"

"I'll bring a selection, Sir."

"Thank you, Johnson."

"Would you like the paper, Sir?"

"I would," I replied. "Thank you."

"If you would like to get comfortable, I'll bring the paper over right away."

I walked over to one of the low coffee tables near the window at the back of the salon. I'd barely taken a breath before Johnson came over and placed the paper on the table in front of me. He never uttered a word, merely nodding when I thanked him. I watched as he went through the double doors beside the bar. I was scanning the front page when he returned with my espresso and the glass of water.

"Thanks again, Johnson."

"You are welcome, Sir."

Returning my attention to the paper, I opened it to pages two and three, and my jaw dropped. There on page three was a photograph of Sylvia Harper, with her hands up in front of her face, trying to avoid an obviously insistent photographer. She had done a good job concealing her identity. Fortunately for her, the paper had done the rest and placed a black rectangle over her face. She was almost impossible to identify, unless one recognised the Chanel suit she sometimes wore. And her stunning figure. But in my mind, it was the headline that confirmed her identity.

"Society Wife In Political Scandal!" I knew Sylvia was a rich widow and was definitely a society wife even if her much older husband had passed away a couple of years previous. I read on incredulously. "The Hallgate scandal took a new twist today as photographs depicting lewd acts involving a number of former and serving politicians and a society wife (pictured) allegedly surfaced. This reporter is yet to sight the said photographs, but a reliable source confirms their existence. Legal advice requires that we not divulge her identity.

"The Hallgate scandal, allegedly involving political payoffs originating from the office of retired Senator Ray Hall, is still under investigation. The link appears to be a high profile law firm here in the city."

I winced. They practically named her. And the law firm. The story continued...

"Rumours abound, but this reporter has it on good authority that photographs depicting the accused in group sex and bondage situations have been posted on the Internet; however no evidence has been found to support that contention."

I put the paper down and must have been ashen faced. Chantelle stood before me and for a moment I thought she was an angel. She wore a neck to floor sleeveless sculpted off white number with a diamond-encrusted collar around her neck. And I thought I looked good!

"What's wrong? Are you all right?" she asked. Just then Johnson returned with a plate of pastries. Chantelle waved him away.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine, just..." I pointed to the paper and Chantelle floated around me to look over my shoulder. "I know her," I said, indicating the picture.

"So do I... I think I've seen her here before."

I narrowed my eyes. Bondage, Internet, photos... "God, that reminds me," I said, reaching for the inside pocket of my suit. I pulled out what did turn out to be an envelope, and felt what was inside it. I was pretty sure it was a picture. It had "Roger Moore" written on the front of it. "This could only be from Claudio. I bought this suit from his father this morning."

"I'm not so sure... it's not his handwriting..."

"Hmmm."

"What do you think is in there? Why don't you open it?" Chantelle asked.

"To be honest, and this is just a hunch, but I'm not sure if I really want to know," I replied. What I was actually thinking was, I don't want to get involved.

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm serious."

"What if I put it in my safe then?"

"Is it concealed?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

Leaving the open paper strewn across the coffee table, we hurried upstairs past the exhibition rooms and both stood impatiently while Chantelle activated her doorway. We slipped quickly inside.

"Close your eyes," she insisted.

"Chantelle, I don't think that's necessa..."

"Just do it Roger."

"All right, all right..." I said, closing my eyes. I heard her rummaging around and the metallic clunk clunk of a safe being opened and closed.

"Okay, you can open now."

I opened my eyes and looked around. Okay, maybe it was just as well. I couldn't see any evidence of where the safe was. "Clever."

She winked at me. "Should we have a drink?"

I looked at my watch. "Don't we have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, we do, but not till two o'clock, and um, I have a confession to make..."

"You do?"

She grinned. "I ah... I put back your 3.00 P.M. 'appointment' to 7.00 P.M. and um, gave Josephine the night off."

"Oh... I guess that means I have a confession to make, too."

"According to our deal, yes, you do." She winked.

"I think I'll have that drink now." I grinned.

"Good, because I also have a present for you..."

"Chantelle..."

"Don't worry, it's nothing I can't afford."

She picked up her pager and crinkled her nose. She pressed one of the buttons and in moments the buzzer to her office door went off.

She then pressed another button and I turned and watched the door slowly open.

My jaw dropped again. This was proving to be a stunning day. There stood Annie Wilkinson from work! She was wearing the sheerest off white silk shift a hot-blooded male could imagine. Her turgid nipples showed clearly through the material and she'd even put on some make-up, which was unusual for the 'all-natural' girl she was. She looked better than she had last night! She was blushing and grinning like mad, and holding what looked like a wooden briefcase cradled in her arms in front of her.

"Hello Sir," Annie said. "I've brought your present."

I smiled and shook my head. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I took a sick day, Sir. You won't tell, will you?" she giggled.

"Somehow I don't think so," I replied, smiling at her. "I'll have you know this is quite a pleasant surprise."

"It is for me too, Sir." She blushed and looked lovely. "But when Mistress Chantelle calls and asks you to jump, you don't ask 'how high'." I smiled again and looked across at Chantelle. She raised her glass to me.

"A toast to someone born to Dominance," she smiled.

I looked from Chantelle to Annie and back again. "What's going on?"

"Oh Roger. It's not fair. You are always two steps ahead of me. Have a drink for god's sake," said Chantelle, passing me a scotch on the rocks. Frankly I wished I knew what she was talking about, but I let the illusion remain. I raised my glass and sipped.