48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 42

"The New Deal."

As they sipped their drinks, Niamh giggled. "This feels a bit like a first date."

"How about another kiss then?"

"Take off your jacket," she said. Martin slipped off his jacket and laid it over the arm of the sofa. They kicked off their shoes and sandals.

Niamh put down her glass, moved over and slid her hand into his shirt. She put her other arm around his shoulder, as they both moved to join lips. In the course of this long kiss, Niamh unbuttoned all of Martin's shirt and he found and opened the zip of her dress. They broke off long enough for Niamh to strip off his shirt and for Martin to extract her from the dress. It seemed to be easier to get out of than in to.

"Nice knickers! Did you choose them?"

"No, Fifteen had them, and the dress, laid out after my shower, when I got back from packing up Master Hari. Whether she selected them herself or had assistance, I know not. That's the glory of having a personal valet, you can be sexy and fashionable without having any taste at all."

Martin guffawed, "I'm sure that's not true. Didn't you like them?"

"I loved them! Especially the dress."

They had drifted into the bedroom, and Martin had removed his own trousers.

"Do you choose your boxers?" Niamh asked, moving closer.

"Sometimes, but Lane Crawford sends a selection every six months."

"You should wear briefs. Show you off better. Well, let's see what you've got in there."

Grinning, Niamh slipped a hand into his shorts and found a very agreeable erection. She knelt down to give it her full attention, pulling off his boxers with the other hand. Cupping his balls, she slowly ran her tongue from the scrotum up to the glans, then enveloped it in her mouth. Martin groaned as she moved up and down on his shaft, taking as much of him as she could, putting her tongue to work, twirling and squeezing. She was holding the base of his penis in such a way as to prevent an ejaculation; she wanted him to keep going for some time yet.

Niamh moderated the intensity of her efforts, while Martin reached over and unhooked her bra. She still held him in her mouth as she slipped it off one shoulder, then the other. Niamh raised her eyes to see Martin's reaction. He took hold of her arms, exerting a little pressure, to indicate she should stand.

"Let's take it easier," he said.

She stood, nestling into his chest, feeling the rigid warmth of his cock on her belly. Martin was holding her tight. Yes, she thought, there's no need to hurry with the New Deal.

"Shall we get on the bed?" she said.

They disengaged and clambered onto Martin's oversize bed, collapsing in a fit of giggles.

"If I let you go, I may never find you again."

Martin guffawed. "Like Ariadne," he said, "but I am no Theseus."1

"Explanation, please!" She grasped hold of his ears, and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Do you know the Greek myth of Theseus and the Minotaur?"

"Vaguely," she said.

"When Theseus had killed the monster, he sailed off with Ariadne, who had helped him with the ball of string."

"Oh yes, I remember that story."

"They set up their marriage bed on the shore of Naxos, but for some unexplained reason, he deserts her, and sails off in the night. When she wakes up, missing him, she thrashes around in the bed, feeling for him. What you said, about not finding me on this bed, made me think of it."

Niamh let go Martin's ears and caressed his face with kisses, while held her and stroked her back and buttocks.

"Poor Ariadne, what happened to her?"

"The god Dionysus married her and she had a lot of children."

"So, you lose some, you win some."

They settled down to the serious business of exploring each other's bodies, finding out what each liked most in an unhurried fashion. Niamh found that found that these explorations heightened her desire even more, and Martin realised that he did not have to be in total control to enjoy his partner. When he finally entered her, she cried out, and lifted her hips to meet him. Martin greedily kissed her mouth, her nipples and suckled her neck. He explored her ear with his tongue, making her shiver. Niamh crossed her legs over his, to trap him inside her, and worked on maintaining their rhythm. They had already been so primed, the moment could not last for long. They climaxed almost together.

When, after long moments, they had recovered enough to move, Niamh disengaged and proceeded to clean him, not because he was her Master, but because she wanted to. She wanted to taste him, herself, them.

"Are you sure?" He was wanting to be sure she had not forgotten their pact.

"Ymmm," mumbled mouth-full Niamh.

Martin urged her back up the bed and they spooned. He held one breast, the other arm between them.

As they subsided into semi sleep, Niamh thought, Even though Martin is the most powerful here, he too needs to have a time and place to relax and act more naturally. I'm glad that Sally has the right to try living her own life, knowing that Martin will always look after her. That must apply to Pat and Anne as well. Her last thought, though, was, I do have a Lover.

Martin, too, was pondering the evening. He was glad that Niamh had agreed to the first part of his plans and adapted so quickly to new conditions. The next day would test the second part. How would the slave hierarchy be affected? Julie had just been confirmed as First Lady, which, among other things, made her his "official" hostess. He would have to carefully consider the implications. Fortunately, Julie and Niamh seemed to work well together.

They woke to Martin's alarm, hugged each other and kissed, but neither felt particularly sexy.

"Time for a shower," said Martin.

They went in together, helping each other to wash. Niamh had some practical matters on her mind.

"Martin, Master Hari will be gone today, and that will leave quite a hole in my schedule. What work do you have in mind for me?"

Martin had considered this question, and he was glad that Niamh was thinking of the next stage. "You will work more often for me, then there is the Opera project to complete, and I know Jane will want to use your skills. If you mean, will I assign you to another Manager, then no. I will mark you as unavailable, except on your own terms, of course."

Niamh was satisfied, she had not expected to have him exclusively, and she was glad that he would allow her to choose other liaisons. "Thank you," she said.

"You go out first," said Martin, "and I'll see you at breakfast." He found her one of his tee shirts, which served as a mini dress for Niamh, more appropriate for the morning than her brilliant cocktail dress, which Fifteen would retrieve later.

¹The story may be found at: http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/Heroides8-15.php#anchor_Toc524696647

Note: Coauthor J Spe has temporarily gone NORS. He will return soon. For you non-veterans, it means Not Operationally Ready for Supply Reasons. In his absence, we sincerely hope this story is not FUBAR.