O+F Part 7

"That--makes a girl feel better," she said. She held the vibrator in front of his face. "Clean," she ordered. He touched it with his tongue.

She shook her head and put it firmly in his mouth, waiting and smiling while he sucked on it. "Very good," she said, removing it. "You are learning your place." She was pleased, light hearted. "You like this,"

she said. Oliver felt himself smiling. He nodded helplessly.

"You will come back next Friday for more training. You are to save yourself for me." She cradled his b.a.l.l.s with one hand. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress."

She squeezed him gently. "Good. Now go--and behave yourself."

"I will," he promised. "Mistress," he remembered. She released him.

Oliver dressed and drove home. He was oddly elated. _Save yourself for me._ An order. An implied promise. Another thrill ran through him.

4.

Oliver worked on the mailing list all week. He tried not to think about Jacky, although she came into his mind regularly, especially at night.

Her big eyes held him before he fell asleep; her body was just out of reach.

When he wasn't sitting in front of the computer, he worked on the walnut box. He finished the dovetails. Fitting the bottom of the box was a puzzle. He had cut it to rest inside; it had to be supported just above the low bottom arches. He didn't want to put screws through the sides of the box, and if he put supporting ledger strips on the inside, the bottom would be raised too high. He fastened a small block to the lower inside of each corner. The blocks strengthened the feet of the box and supported the bottom just above the arches. He was satisfied with that solution, but when he pushed the bottom down on the blocks it did not fit perfectly flush against all four sides. The cracks bothered him.

By Friday, after much experimenting, he had made tiny moldings to cover the cracks. "Thank G.o.d for routers," he said to Jennifer Lindenthwaite.

"Took me about five tries, but I did it."

"I wish Rupert had your talent," she sighed.

"It's not talent; it's pig-headedness."

"Pigs are sweet, really," Jennifer said. "They get a bad rap." She stood. "Let's see the program."

She liked what he'd done and asked him whether Jacky had approved it.

"Jacky said that, as long as I included everything that she wanted, you should be the judge--since you would have to use it and train others to use it."

"It looks good to me," Jennifer said. "I'll have Mary mail you a check on Tuesday. We pay bills on Tuesdays."

"Thanks."

"It was good of you to help, Oliver. We may have to call on you again.

I think you should be ent.i.tled to a member discount. We have some nice trips lined up this summer--day trips, and a canoe trip: Marsh, Myth, and Earth Mother."

"Sounds buggy," he said.

"Oh, Oliver! Tents, silly. No-see-um netting."

"The cry of the loon across the night," Oliver interrupted.

"Right," she said. "Drumming for Gaia is a popular trip. Sometimes I go along--quality control, you know."

"Inspector Jennifer," Oliver said. She reached for his arm, to shove him or to slap him, but she stopped herself.

"Marshmallows," she said.

"Now you're talking. I'll let you know," he said, ducking out.

"We'll put you on the mailing list."

"Great," he called over his shoulder.

He went shopping for hardware. He found bra.s.s strap hinges and a hasp and a lock that were well-matched. He would inlay the hinges--a pain in the neck--but the bra.s.s would be fine with the walnut.

Oliver made progress on the box. He was pleased that evening as he described it to Jacky. She listened quietly and waited for him to finish. They were sitting on the couch in her living room. She was wearing a black silk blouse that fell loosely over white jeans. She stretched her legs, wiggled her toes in leather huaraches, and looked at him closely.

Oliver felt the moment approach. He had been in a different world all week; it was time to return. Jacky's face was firm and concentrated, her eyebrows raised slightly. He looked into her eyes and felt again the thrill of surrendering. He was hers. He wanted to be hers. He gave himself to her utterly.

That evening and the ones that followed, once or twice a week, continued the pattern. She beat him and humiliated him, bound him to her pleasure, taught him how to ma.s.sage her after a hot shower and how she wanted oral s.e.x. It was an alternate universe that existed only in her house and only for a few intense hours at a time. His reward was to be allowed to come at her command as she counted slowly to twenty or twenty-five. If he came too soon or not at her number, she whipped him with a riding quirt. "You are not thinking of _me. _ You are doing this for _ME! _" He learned to think only of her as he m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed, or, less often, as she worked him with her hand. When he dedicated himself completely, she counted him to o.r.g.a.s.m at the perfect moment; she was pleased; there was no whipping.

They went out to dinner several times, a normal experience--at least externally. Beneath the conversation, Oliver was well aware of what was coming after dessert. She would encourage him to be a.s.sertive and then she would pull him back, reminding him of his place with a glance or a small smile, a good natured cat and mouse game.

She told him about the two older brothers who had bullied her on the basketball court. She was a power forward in high school but too small for the team at the University of New Hampshire. "Same game, different scale," she said. "I should have been a guard." Oliver was impressed.

She had trained to be a referee and still reffed high school games.

"You just like the uniform," he teased. "The black shoes."

"You'd like one of them on the back of your neck," she said. "I know you, Oliver." He was rewarded that night.

Late one afternoon, toward the end of June, Jacky called. "I need you to come over," she said and hung up. This was unusual; their meetings were always planned in advance.

"Oh, oh, Verdi. She's not happy."

Things were going well for a change. The Wetlands Conservancy had asked him to recommend and install an accounting system. They'd gotten a generous donation, Jennifer told him, from a bank. "Did you know that Jacky Chapelle is on the Board?"

"I didn't," he said, surprised.

Jacky smiled when he asked her about it. "Community money," she said.

"Small community," Oliver said.

"Keep it in the family," she laughed.

The marinas were filled with white boats. Bikers and pedestrians were crossing the bridge in both directions. Oliver parked in Jacky's driveway. "Hi, Bubbles," he said. That was a mistake.