Tangled Passions Pt. 03 Ch. 32-34

Part 3 – SURRENDER

XXXII.

The Clubwas not so unusual as to not have a bulletin board in the corridor that held notices and postings the administration felt might be of interest to members. A simple letter-sized fax, dog-eared and held up with a tack, caught Matt's attention. It was a single page advertising a rather specialized cruise around the world. The notice announced that the cruise would be making a brief stop in Vancouver, and might be hiring. The idea was so intriguing that Matt made a copy to show Jenn. He left a message for her, arranging to meet her at the condo one night that week. "You've really got to see this." He added, "It's incredible – incredibly interesting."

Jenn was there when Matt arrived. She was dressed in silk pyjamas, and looked fabulous. Taking the proffered scotch in one hand Matt hugged her warmly with the other, kissing her appreciatively. There was no longer any scrambling out of their clothes, no urgent need to thrash about on the foyer floor. They were very happy to see one another. That was enough. Moving arm in arm to the living room, they exchanged pleasantries, inquiring after each other’s health, before settling side by side on the couch. "So what is this that I've really got to see?"

"It's a cruise advertisement," Matt said, underplaying the significance he had already conferred, while he unfolded the sheet. "Look at this."

Jenn skimmed the notice as he held it out, then she slowly took it from his hands and read every word over again – and again. Matt was watching her, trying to read her reaction. He wasn't sure what he wanted to see, so he watched all the more closely. He saw a slow flush suffuse across Jenn's face. He saw her body tense, but he couldn't detect the moist warmth that sprang to her pubis, nor the forbidden excitement that vibrated within, sparkling along her spine.

"Well?" Matt wanted to know what she thought of it; was she as tempted as him?

Her voice was soft and breathy, with a deep, classically alluring resonance to it. "Wow. It's incredible all right."

"What do you think?" Matt's voice rang with excitement and a barely concealed childlike impatience.

Jenn looked him in the eyes, puzzled. She was trying to read him as well. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly he was flustered. "I don't know. I mean, would you...? Are you...? I mean, what do you think – about that?" he smacked the page with the back of his hand.

Jenn looked at it again, reading all of the words once more just to ensure that she hadn't got the wrong idea. "Incredible. Incredibly – uh – interesting."

"Do you think you'd want to, ah, look into it, eh?"

"Yeah." Jenn looked into his eyes again. She felt a tingly sort of attraction to him. She knew that they still shared an amazing love and respect. They just might be able to make magic tonight, she thought dreamily, as she leaned over to kiss him.

After freshening their drinks, Matt launched into the serious discussion of should they, would they, how, why, and what ifs. Deep down, they both already knew what they would do. They would apply to the post office box, and if they got interviewed, they could decide whether to accept. Though neither would voice it, it was mutually understood that acceptance was inevitable once offered. "It looks like,” Matt stuttered, “– to me anyway – for me, um – like an opportunity that I just – that couldn’t – that shouldn't be missed."

"Yeah," Jenn agreed, dreamily. Already her imagination had taken the idea and was running with it. "It’s somewhere to go, at least – it has some direction."

"That's right – a destination." Matt looked at the notice once more, before capturing Jenn's eyes and going on. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling almost constricted byThe Club, now."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just little things. It's not that I'm unhappy about it or anything, but there's this little – I don't know... I'm just a little bit dissatisfied with things as they currently stand. You know what I mean?"

"I was thinking that myself, just the other day. I feel like I'm just treading water. Everything is actually static – mired. There's only the illusion of progress."

"That's funny, 'cause that's exactly how I feel. It’s like I've been moving along all this time only to find that I'm on a merry-go-round.The Club has gradually become a dead-end."

"Same withCelebration. I've think done as much as I can, there, with them. Not that it's not still fun, it's just that I'm not getting anywhere anymore."

"Maybe we've gone – or been taken – as far as we can go through those venues. I mean, sometimes, the sex seems almost prodigal."

"What do you mean?" Jenn was puzzled. Wasn't it always prodigal?

"You know, just a waste; excessive but to no avail." Matt stared thoughtfully at Jenn. He was struck, once again, at how beautiful she was. But just now she looked a little lost and distressed. It seemed to Matt that, once again, their lives had reconverged; they had reached the same crisis point. "Now, I need something else. And this cruise, if it's what they imply," he tapped meaningfully on the notice, "looks to me like just the thing."

"Uh-huh," Jenn agreed, "just the thing – just right." Then she paused, not wanting to let her enthusiasm escape just yet. "But it almost sounds too good to be true."

"Almost. There's only one way to find out, eh?" Matt rose from the table to get another drink – juice, this time. He offered more to Jenn, then went on as he stood at the counter. "In some ways though, it doesn't matter so much that it's exactly the right thing. It's just that, right now, it seems like it's the only thing – the only alternative – know what I mean?"

Jenn nodded. She was suddenly worn out. "I don't suppose,” she said, softly, “either of us could ever consider returning to a 'normal' existence." It was a rhetorical statement and Matt's glance askance was response enough. They both knew they'd come way too far – too far to turn back now. As frightening as it sometimes was, they each accepted that they were well past the point of no return. This was just another plexus; one they had propitiously arrived at together.

Matt shrugged, "Is there really any question?"

Jenn echoed his resignation. "What choice do we have?" Indeed, the cruise was basically a 'mandatory option' along both of their routes; routes they'd chosen independently many, many months ago.

Matt mentioned the cruise Roland, his mentor, showing him the advertisement. Although Roland studied the notice, Matt got the feeling that he was quite familiar with it – that he was looking past the page. Matt chattered, his speech accelerating the more he thought about it. "Come." Roland took him carefully by the arm and led him into the lounge, ordering them both drinks while Matt went on, asking questions then answering them himself. Roland listened thoughtfully, sipping his drink and nodding. Finally, with his eyes full of a somewhat neutral empathy, he said, "You've got to do what you think you've got to do, eh, my boy? If you think this is what you want, then go for it. Exercise your liberty, Matt – while you still have it." The final remark puzzled Matt, but he didn't question it. They had finished their friendly drink. Now the terms of his employment were in effect. Suddenly subdued, Matt muttered his thanks to Roland before departing toward the change room, the yoke settling almost visibly about his neck.

Jenn, on the other hand, was only very vague when she mentioned it to Lisa. She wasn't sure she wanted Lisa's permission or advice. She simply said she might be going on a bit of a cruise with Matt. When Lisa raised her eyebrows in surprise, Jenn just dismissed it saying it was nothing definite; "Just an Idea, really. I'll tell you if anything comes of it." But, she thought, she still might not. This was something for just Matt and herself – something very private.

They mailed a letter of application to the box number on the notice, giving brief biographies of themselves, including recent activities. When the reply came, a mere week later, Matt felt like a kid – excited and apprehensive, reluctant to open the envelope in case it contained bad news. Of course it wouldn't, rejection would have been but a single page. A thick nine by twelve manila envelope sat on the table before him, beckoning to be opened. Matt stared at it, sipping his coffee, waiting for Jenn. It was addressed to Matthew and Jennifer Anderson (Mr. & Mrs.). When Jenn arrived, after a quick kiss, she hung her jacket and sat at the table staring at the envelope as if it were some kind of sacred talisman. She fingered it gingerly while Matt poured her coffee, and waited, not tearing the seal until he was seated once again. "Go ahead," he said with a nod.

Inside was a sheaf of pamphlets and forms. One gave a few details of the ship – theCelestial Concubine; another gave a rather vague prospectus of the ‘Billionaires’ World Tour’ cruise, including the rights and responsibilities of both passengers and employees; there were a couple extensive personal information forms, and legal waivers; finally, there were directions for the initial interview, which would apparently be conducted on 'neutral territory' at a restaurant in Vancouver. The info sheets asked the usual age and weight sorts of things as well as some interesting questions, such as: "About how many orgasms have you had per week on average over the past six months? Describe in the space provided the circumstances of your most intense recent orgasm. Give the names of people or establishments from whom suitable references might be discretely obtained." The waivers were couched in quasi-legal terms and written in such a way that they would make little sense to anyone except those who already had an idea what sort of activities they might expect. In short, they conveyed that employees had the right to creature comforts – food and shelter, and would be safe from permanent injury or disfigurement. Other than that, they could expect that the basic rights and freedoms they knew ashore were not guaranteed. Jenn and Matt looked at each other without saying a word. They understood the stronger implication: during their period of employment, simple liberties and privileges would be withheld arbitrarily.

The instructions had been quite specific. "Wear light casual clothing without undergarments." Butterflies danced between them as the arrived at the restaurant nervously holding hands. Reservations for four had been made in their name and they were shown quietly to their table. It was empty. Ordering a drink each, they spoke softly, leaning their heads together and looking furtively about the room. They had been there ten minutes, the tension growing, their hands clasped on the table, before two men rose from a neighbouring table and approached.

They were dressed casually but expensively – both were probably in their mid-forties. “Good afternoon. You must be the Andersons.” Matt and Jenn nodded mutely. “May we sit down?”

Snapping out of his reverie – or enchantment – Matt stood and gestured to the empty seats. “Please do.”

“Thank you.” There was a studied calm, a deliberate slowness in the way both of the men settled in their chairs before speaking. “I’m Angelo – Ange. And my colleague is Hamil.” The silent partner nodded, as Matt reached over and shook his hand. There was, perhaps, a hint of a patronizing smile on his lips as Jenn stood and shook their hands as well. Once they were settled, Ange went on. “We’re associated with theCelestial Concubine – agents for the Billionaires' World Tour. We were rather interested in your letter of inquiry.” They all shared a tiny, wry grin – all, perhaps, understanding the necessity of such a euphemistic approach to the subject. Initially, Ange did all the talking, with Hamil simply nodding his agreement now and then.

Ange was most persistent, apparently trying to ensure that both Jenn and Matt knew what it was they were applying for. He never used the words 'sex', 'submission', or 'dominance' but manipulated the conversation so that both Jenn and Matt were required to use those words in their own replies, several times each. At last satisfied that the point had been made, he seemed to relax. His companion nodded sagely but otherwise remained impassive. Matt felt an irrational dread germinating in the pit of his stomach while Jenn felt only the excitement of a new adventure unfolding. She was amazed that she was able to speak of such things, there in public with no hint of reticence.

Finally, the other gentleman, Hamil, spoke up. His slightly accented voice was soothing and calm. "Some would-be applicants are still astounded when the enormity of their required commitment is fully explained. We try to avoid such unpleasant surprises."

Ange smiled beneath a large black moustache. "You seem to be under no misconceptions." His Italian accent was cultured, his voice low yet authoritative.

A waiter took lunch orders, and Matt handed over the questionnaires-come- applications, as well as the waivers. The two men scanned the information silently, passing sheets between them, curiously circling things and making brief notes in the margins. The Andersons sat immobile, watching intently. Jenn felt an odd curiosity. How many times before had those two done this same thing? How often did something like this happen? Matt only hoped for a quick decision, although, at that moment, he wasn't at all sure what he wanted more – acceptance or rejection.

Once they had been served, the interview proceeded. It was surprisingly short and casual. Jenn and Matt were told that they would be, if they were accepted for the positions, quite a novel pair by nature of their maturity; most submissives are young – up to thirty, maybe. And being married to one another, they would certainly be a curiosity. The combination could, conceivably, make them rather popular with the guests. Hamil, the more reticent of the two, smiled and nodded at that. "Yes, very popular, I would think." Still the interviewers warned them that they, themselves, did not make the final decisions – Matt thought of car salesmen taking the offer 'back to the manager', but said nothing.

“The brass,” Ange muttered, shaking his head while surveying their papers again, “might consider you a little too long in tooth.” He clicked his tongue quietly. “Still, with your eagerness and apparent determination” – Matt, with the aid of the past months and months of practice, had fortunately, not let any of his dread or indecision show – “and your related experience, your prospects aren’t, maybe, so bad.” As the men concluded the interview, gathering their papers, Jenn withdrew a videocassette from her purse and handed it to Ange. Inked on the label were the words 'collage résumés – Jenn & Matt A.' Ange looked at it and raised his eyebrows momentarily, then handed it to Hamil.

“Nice touch,” Hamil remarked, offering Jenn a smiling nod. Jenn was nervous – worried that she might have been too bold. The video had been an impulse. She held her breath, hoping she had improved rather than spoiled their chances. Exchanging a look with his partner, Hamil added, “Very good. We’ll look forward to viewing this.” Jenn exhaled at last as he read the label once more then handed it back to Ange who pushed the tape into his portfolio, along with the application papers.

Standing abruptly, Ange said, "Thank you, Jenn, Matt." He and his companion reached across the table to shake hands with the Andersons. "It's been a pleasure. We'll be in touch." They turned and left. There was something sly in their smiles as the two men walked from the restaurant. Jenn collapsed back into her chair. She realized she was ringing like a bell. Matt sat down more slowly.

"Well?"

Jenn felt twitchy inside. "I don't know." They had just been interviewed for positions that were entirely involved with sex, yet they hadn't even been touched, except to shake hands. Suddenly, she craved abuse. She wanted to be fondled and groped, fingered and fucked, pinched and hit. Her crotch began to leak, its fine forest gathering dew and mist. Reaching under the table, she molded her hand to Matt's flaccid cock. It immediately sprang to life, pressing out proudly against the thin material of his pants. "Well?" Jenn returned, her eyes flashing with unchecked lasciviousness. Matt's eyes had widened at the sudden intensity of his erection. "D'ya wanna give it the ol' college try?" Jenn whispered.

"Why not?" Matt hissed. "Couldn't hurt."

They called for the check, and Jenn finally unhanded her husband, after giving him a last affectionate squeeze as the waiter approached. She felt him, Patrick Penis, bob in return. Matt inhaled, carefully. He had come frighteningly close to coming in his pants. They might make magic yet. The waiter inclined his head and said respectfully, "The other gentlemen took care of it, Sir, thank you."

Rearranging himself as best he could, Matt stood and took Jenn's hand. As they left the busy restaurant, Jenn flashed a suggestive grin at their waiter and, leaning her head on Matt's shoulder, sang just audibly, "Sky-rockets in flight, Afternoon delight...." He returned her smile, somewhat longingly.

Suddenly brazen and wild, she felt a certain deja vu. Images and visions collided in her head. Jenn recalled burgeoning experiences, not so long before, when she had accompanied various guests fromCelebration back to an apartment or hotel room for the night. Leaving alone, standing outside the building amidst the rush of midday, she had thought, more than once, how very sheltered she had been all of her life. Perhaps she was being sheltered still – from the tawdry, down-and-out side of the trade, still, her eyes were now open; she had seen many sides of life – and death. Notwithstanding, she realized, she was, in many ways, not much more than a common whore – except maybe not so common. Rushing from the restaurant, hand in hand, with wide, slightly wild grins, Jenn felt whorish and conspicuously lewd. It didn't matter. She was Matt's whore, this time.

Matt could feel it too. He recollected a similar scene only recently when he had caught sight of an old acquaintance leaving a hotel in the middle of the afternoon with a woman other than his wife. Their eyes had met briefly. The fellow had shrugged guiltily with his eyes, in response to Matt's conspiratorial smile, and had hurriedly turned away. Matt smiled once more. Here he was in the same position, except that his mistress was his wife.

They could hardly make it back to the condo. Jenn's fondling cause Matt some difficulty driving, but kept him eminently aroused until they tumbled into their apartment and straight to the bedroom. There was neither submission nor dominance, just a wild, unbridled fuck. Jenn squeezed him into her with her ankles. Her fingernails, clawing viciously across his back, raised Matt to hyper-readiness. As Jenn's skyrocket ignited, she muffled her screams against Matt's chest, biting and sucking his nipples raw. Like a sea to air missile, Matt's ejaculation intercepted the fireworks already underway, and joined them to produce a mutual climax so bright and colourful that they both wondered why they would ever need anything else. They drifted back to earth, the ashes still glowing, still sparkling here and there, now and again.

So much in love, and such a torrid love, why were they seeking thrills in so exotic a venue as the impending 'cruise'? The question floated between them, unspoken, flickering from eye to eye. Yet, they both knew. High level, non-hierarchical sex like that had become, for both of them, an anomaly. It was wonderful, but rare – and getting rarer. Their needs were seldom satisfied so simply, any more. They would relish it when it happened but they shouldn't bank on it – they wouldn't. Rocking together on the bed, still fully engaged, Matt smiled rather sadly at Jenn and kissed her gently. She spoke his mind softly, "If only, eh?"