Breaking My Own Rules Ch. 09

I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep, until I felt Francois' hand move. I opened my eyes a crack and realized he was putting a finger to his lips, which seemed odd since I wasn't making a sound. I reluctantly opened my eyes wider and stirred. He was looking toward the doorway. I looked over that way and saw Randy. I smiled. Then I remembered I was naked. I yelped and dove out of Francois' lap to grab my dress – well, DeDe's dress. Randy laughed at me, but kindly turned his back as I pulled it over my head and searched for my panties. It took a moment to realized that Francois was holding them out to me. My cheeks were burning and I wasn't sure why. I'd been totally, ecstatically, naked with Francois. There was just something about a coworker seeing you in the all together. Would he be picturing my ass the next time he was debugging my computer? Oh, hell, he probably was before, I told myself as Francois helped me to my feet and zipped my dress up. Still, I couldn't help feeling shy as we passed Randy and headed for the lounge.

Francois kept an arm about my shoulders, almost possessively, and I discovered I liked it. I remembered my brother walking me to school like that one day. It was a new school year, and he'd just moved up to join me at the high school. I'd gotten into a tiff the day before – okay, it was more like a screaming match – with a jerk from my home room who was pissed that I'd befriended one of the few black girls in our school. Come on! It was rural Wisconsin. They needed all the friends they could get. Let me just explain that my brother wasn't into organized sports, but it wasn't for lack of trying by the coachs. My little bro was BIG. When the other kids figured out he was my brother, they didn't try to pick my friends for me anymore.

When we entered the lounge, DeDe ran at me full blast. I would have ducked behind Francois if his arm wasn't around me. How did she do that in four inch heels? She skidded to a stop in front of me and held me at arm's length, searching my face. I'm not sure what she saw, but she spun around and hugged Francois fiercely about the neck. He just smiled kindly down at her. Then she ripped me from his grip and pulled me toward the bar. Submissive? Like hell.

The bartender had a glass of wine waiting for me. Sheesh. Was anybody NOT paying attention to my love life? I had time to savor a couple of sips before Randy and Francois caught up with us. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so safe and secure, but I couldn't entirely ignore the dark city waiting out there just beyond my safe bubble. And how could I possibly keep these wonderful new friends, as well as my old friends, safe except by returning to throw myself on Tom Whatisname's mercy? I must have looked very pensive, because Randy took hold of my arm.

"What are you thinking, Sky?"

I plastered a smile on my face. "Just, you know..." Never at a loss for words; that's me.

"About him?" Randy asked, and I noticed Francois frown out of the corner of my eye.

"I can't spend the rest of my life in hiding," I muttered. "And I don't have enough friends to risk any of them," I added turning back to my wine.

"If you think for a minute that we're going to let you run back to him..." DeDe started.

"You have to give us time, Sky," Randy interrupted. "He's not stupid enough to try anything. Frankly, you're just not that important to him."

"Gee, thanks," I drawled, but with a more sincere smile.

"Come home with me," Francois suggested. "I have a spare bedroom. You can have your own space. And DeDe and Randall can have the rest of their weekend together." Oh, yeah, I remembered. Yet more normal lives I'd disrupted just because some good-looking guy with a late-night radio voice decided to seduce me into his dark world. Were they right? Would he just drop it? Somehow, I didn't think so. But maybe that was the naïve backwoods Wisconsin girl in me. I wished my big little brother was here to protect me from the playground bully. But maybe I could make do with a suave French sophisticate. Then he reached out and brushed my hair back, running his fingertips from my temple, down to my jaw line, then over to delicately trace my lips. One of my low-self-esteem voices chimed in out of the blue; 'He's probably trying to fix your just-fucked hair.' 'Just-well-fucked,' I corrected her. She was always a shrew anyway. "Please," Francois added, and I was sold.

It turned out that Francois had a car, and we all piled into it, though I was looking every which way for lurking shadows the minute we stepped out of the club. Unfortunately, it was still early enough, and in an entertainment district where there were people all about, wandering from one place to another or smoking. I really doubted that, if my Tom was out there somewhere watching, I'd be able to pick him out. I noticed as Francois drove to Randy's to drop them off, he was watching the mirror carefully, and I felt better, like at least I wasn't being the only paranoid one. Once we dropped Randy and DeDe off, we drove further uptown, eventually pulling into a parking garage, then walking across the street to a nice-looking brownstone of apartment flats. Francois was on the top floor, accessed by a classy but creaky elevator. When it lurched upward, I jumped and he put a comforting arm about my shoulder, giving me that wonderful Gallic smile as we rode up. The apartment itself was very nice, not fancy but warm and comfortable.

He offered me a glass of wine and we curled into opposite ends of a couch, talking for a couple of hours. I discovered he was a French National who wrote for a French magazine and was 'assigned' to the US and Canada most of the time, writing about everything from politics, to travel, to restaurant reviews. It all sounded much more fascinating than my data entry job, if I still had my data entry job. Apart from the shaky status of my current job, there were all the resumes I'd sent out with my old cell phone number on them as well as an email address I was now afraid to check lest I give away my location. Randy had promised to help me with all that, but I had no idea when he would get a chance to. He, at least, still had a job. I also learned that Francois had been a member at the club for about a year, though he was not a regular. He was one of those more likely to show up on an occasional Wednesday evening for a quiet tryst in a private room.

Francois gave me several opportunities to talk about my relationship with Dr. Tom, without being pushy at all, but I just wasn't ready to go there. I couldn't think of any way to talk about that without sounding like a fool for letting it all happen. First task on my list was to come up with a good excuse for being a fool. That was going to take some time. When I yawned for like the fifth time, Francois excused himself, then returned with a tee shirt for me to sleep in and offered to show me the spare room. I was too tired to even think about suggesting a second go around, plus Dr. Tom had drilled into me that I wasn't allowed to ask for what I needed or wanted, so I followed him meekly to the bedroom. I couldn't remember a bed that looked so inviting. Then when Francois gave me a tender kiss on my forehead, I knew it was going to be the best night of sleep I'd had in a very long time. I rushed through my bathroom ritual, charmed to find that at some point, he'd snuck into the bathroom to set out a toothbrush and other amenities for me. Or had he set them out before leaving for the club? In anticipation of bringing me back with him? Now I was just getting paranoid, I scolded myself, with a stern look in the mirror. I went and crawled into the bed, pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

****

I awoke late in the morning, because Francois was sitting on the edge of the bed. I rolled over, rubbing my eyes, and saw him holding a breakfast tray. I couldn't remember anybody ever serving me breakfast in bed. I gaped, I'm sure, but he just gave me that wonderful smile. "Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Um, whichever has the most caffeine," I said. "Look, you really don't need to..."

"I want to," he said sternly. "Now sit up and start on this and I will get you some coffee."

I immediately obeyed. Yup, submissive to the bone. He had brought me a warm croissant and butter as well as an assortment of fresh fruit. A very French breakfast. Not that I'd ever been to France or had a clue as to what they ate for breakfast. A few minutes later, he was back with very strong coffee and a little pitcher of milk. He set them on my tray then pulled open the curtains. Bright sunlight flooded the room. I decided right then and there that this was going to be my new happy place. Crisp, clean sheets, bright sunlight, breakfast in bed, even a tee shirt that smelled like Francois. What more could a girl want?

Francois sat on the edge of my bed and seemed to be studying me as I popped a grape in my mouth. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, remembering the scary image in the mirror most mornings when I first got up. He continued to watch me as I finished the breakfast and sipped at the coffee. I was feeling very self-conscious under his scrutiny, not to mention trying to figure out a proper way to thank him for the hospitality. Let's face it, about all I had to offer was sex and he'd already given far more than he'd gotten from me. Besides, we'd only met last night and as far as I knew, he was just doing Randy a favor, keeping me out of trouble so Randy and DeDe could play. Maybe he was even contemplating how he was going to get rid of me! Damn, I was no good at this.

Any of my friends would have known exactly what to do. Blondie would have jumped his bones the moment she woke up. Hell, she probably wouldn't have let him sleep all night, if her morning after stories were to be believed. Brunette was more the seductress. Let the guy think it was all his idea when she 'accidentally' flashed her cleavage at him. And Exotic, well, all she had to do was look at a guy and they would turn to mush. Really. Even gay guys, I suspected. But I was pretty sure a sub wasn't supposed to jump a Dom's bones, at least not without permission first, and I had no cleavage to flash. And I sure as hell didn't have Exotic's stupefying beauty, so the best I could come up with was to mutter, "Thank you for letting me stay here last night. I'm not sure how to make it up to you."

"It was nothing," he replied, with a faint shadow of his beautiful smile.

"You have to let me repay you somehow," I protested.

"I had a very pleasant evening with a very charming young woman. That is more than payment enough."

He wasn't going to make it easy for me, and I suspect he knew damn well the quandary he was putting me in, because his lips were twitching in the corners, obviously chomping at the bit to break into one of his full throttled smiles. 'Mixed metaphors!' my school marm voice screeched. That was one voice I didn't miss in the least. And why the hell had all the other voices been so quiet as of late? Now when I needed their debate to help me solve my Francois mystery date, they were all off sunning themselves in Tahiti. Except for a couple I could as soon have done without.

"Francois," I complained, sounding entirely whiney. "You're the Dom. Tell me what I can do for you!" At last he ducked his head, no longer able to hold the smile in.

"That's not how it works, Skylar. I have not agreed to be your Dom and you have not agreed to be my sub. We are two people enjoying each other's company. If you want something, you simply need to ask for it. Now what is going on in that busy brain of yours?"

I blushed furiously. "I want to have sex with you but I'm afraid you're just babysitting me as a favor to Randy and DeDe." I got it all out in a rush and refused to meet his eyes. He simply sat in silence until I finally had to look up. He was gazing at me with a very serious expression.

"Did I not tell you last night that you were desirable?" he asked with the same lecturing tone my Dad would use when I would come home with my head hanging because I got a B in some class. Or when I dropped out of college. Or when I took a job doing data entry. "Come with me," he said, standing and taking my arm to pull me from the bed. He may not have agreed to be my Dom, but I suspected some things were just in the blood.

He pulled me into the bathroom and turned me to face the mirror, standing just behind me with his hand resting on my shoulders. Real close behind me. It was most distracting. When I focused on the mirror, I cringed. My hair was a tangled mop and there were shadowy smudges where I hadn't been entirely successful getting DeDe's makeup job cleaned up. "What do you see?" he demanded.

"I see a hot mess," I answered in a squeaky voice.

He leaned down by my ear, and said in a low voice, "I see a hot woman who doesn't let makeup or hair style get in the way of giving and receiving immense pleasure. I'd rather be with this woman..." His hands squeezed my shoulders, just in case I wasn't sure which woman he was referring to, "Than a perfectly coifed, air-brushed drama queen.

"Do you know why people like me, and Randy and DeDe – and you – enjoy BDSM?" he continued. I tried to shrug, and his hands shifted to my hair, toying with it in a way that made concentration difficult.

"Because of the intensity. A Dom is freed to demand what gives him or her intense pleasure. A sub is freed to experience intense pleasure. There is no guilt, no social norms to follow, there are no rules about tab A having to go in slot B and nowhere else. There is only what two people consent to, which is to enjoy each other in any way they find pleasurable. Is that what you want, Skylar?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Then let's make it so," he said with a last tug at my hair. "Come join me in my shower." I turned to follow those broad shoulders and tight ass down the hall to the master bedroom and into an utterly modern bathroom all chrome and glass and bright white porcelain. The shower was nearly as big as my whole bathroom and had multiple sprayers. I was staring at it and wondering what those jets of water would feel like, given where they were aiming, when he grasped the hem of the tee shirt I had slept in and pulled it over my head.

I suddenly realized there was something even more interesting to look at in the bathroom and spun around. He was just pulling his own tee shirt off. I started to drool. Where Dr. Tom had been a carved-in-stone hard body, Francois was both more muscular, yet softer, like you could melt into that strength and feel safe and protected. Which was just exactly what I needed at the moment. When he pulled his shirt free of his head and saw me admiring his yummy chest, he smiled warmly. "Would you like to do the rest?" he asked, hands resting on his hips just above his jeans.

I nodded enthusiastically and dropped to my knees to free that part of him that was so obviously straining to escape. When his cock sprang free, I studiously resisted the urge to touch it until I had his pants down around his ankles and he stepped free. But once he had kicked them aside, it was all hands on board. I engulfed the head with my mouth, too impatient to even tease him. He kept one hand on his hip, and reached out with the other to play with my hair. I didn't remember anyone taking interest in my hair other than as something that either got in the way, or to be yanked on. I found I liked it. I also liked that he never gave any indication of wanting to shove any farther into my throat than I was already taking him. He was letting me be in control. What a novelty. Until, that was, he pulled me away and back up to my feet. "Not yet, little one," he whispered, somewhat hoarsely. "I want to savor you like a fine wine, one sip at a time." Just try listening to that said with a French accent and not get all hot and bothered. He pulled me close as he reached into the shower and started the water, like he was afraid I might disappear. Fat chance.

As he waited for the water to warm, he kissed me deeply, Frenchly, delicately teasing my tongue with his, like in an intricate gavotte. I moaned against his lips, feeling my knees getting weak already. Then we were in the shower, still kissing. The streams of water were coming from all angles, some as gentle mists and some like staccato massages. My hands were against his chest, but not to push him away. I could feel his heart beating, fast like mine. His erection was hard against my belly and his one arm about my waist pulled me against him, trapping his cock between us. It didn't seem to mind. His other hand was at the back of my neck, his fingers laced in my hair, and he was turning us slowly. I couldn't figure out why until one of those sprays of water shot right between my ass cheeks and I gasped. He immediately stopped turning and pushed me back slightly, toward the spray head, at the same time nudging my feet apart with one of his.

"Oh, my god!" I exclaimed, trying to squirm away from the wickedly intense sensation and gasping. He just laughed and held me tighter until I was sure I was going to melt into a puddle and run down the drain. After a moment, he relented and sat me on a molded corner seat and was abruptly on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs against the adjoining walls of the shower. I'd barely had a chance to draw a full breath before his tongue was on my clit, as soft and tender as the water jet had been thumping and intractable. From somewhere above me, one of the misting sprayers was covering me with its fine, warm fog. I leaned my head back and moaned as his tongue plunged inside me. The jets of spray from everywhere had set all my nerve endings on high alert, so that even the mist now seemed to possess an intensity that bordered on unbearable. That was before he reached over and twisted a showerhead to spray directly on my already hard, hard nipples. The spray was rotating in such a way that there was no squirming out of its range and the almost sting of it shot right down to where his tongue was so busily attending other overly sensitized nerves. It all combined to push me over the edge until I was screaming wordlessly and writhing, trying to escape from one sensation only to run head long into another. When he finally let up on me, I slid to the shower floor and he lay over me, protecting me from most of the rampaging water jets until I could catch my breath.

I wiped the water from my eyes and looked up into his beautiful smile. "Are you trying to kill me?" I demanded, "Cause the mortician's gonna have a hell of a time wiping the just-fucked smile off my face."

He gave a full-throated laugh. "You want to actually wash or would you rather just get straight back to dirty business?"

"Dirty business, please," I replied, but as soon as he lifted off me and all those myriad sprays hit me again, I curled into a ball and moaned. "Who knew showers could be so lethal," I whined.

"Janet Leigh," he answered, helping me to my feet and out of the shower. He pulled a huge bath sheet around my shoulders, then pulled me close again, rubbing my back through the soft terry. I tried to reach for his cock, resting impatiently against my belly, but he pulled my wrists away. "We have to get the gentleman dressed before he can go a courting. Come on. Bedroom."

I was still saying 'huh?' to myself as he somehow managed to wrap a towel about his waist and pull me toward the bed at the same time. When he reached into the night stand for a condom, I finally figured out what gentleman he was talking about. Just a little slow on the uptake. He pulled my towel off and rolled me onto the bed, then tossed his towel aside and 'dressed the gentleman' as I watched, licking my lips. Then he was crawling across the bed, leaning over me with a lecherous looking grin, saying "How can I please you?"