Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 11

"Yes, James." I slipped my shoes and panties off while he repositioned himself with his feet on the floor, his c.o.c.k protruding eagerly from his fly. He unb.u.t.toned his shirt partway from the bottom, revealing the firm abs I loved and the tuft of his pubic hair that proved he was a natural blond.

"Leave the skirt on," he ordered.

"Yes, James." I straddled him, then bent my knees on the seat on either side of him.

He reached under the skirt and rubbed his c.o.c.k up and down my wet p.u.s.s.y a few times. "Down," he said.

I sank onto his c.o.c.k slowly. Even though I'd done almost the same exact thing yesterday, at this angle he felt even bigger.

Before I could get all the way down, he had pulled the skirt up and given me the first hard swat. I yelped and pulled up without realizing it.

"Down," he repeated, and this time I didn't go slowly. I shoved myself down onto him, gasping at the sudden fullness, then again at the smack that followed.

"H-how... how many?" I asked.

"Oh, now you ask? Karina, I think it's a bit late for that, don't you?" he chided gently. "I am going to spank you until I am satisfied. However many that takes."

I bit my lip. "Well, it's no less than I deserve." Then I sucked in another breath. Under my skirt his fingers had found my c.l.i.t. Two of them pressed gently from either side, making it protrude, and his thumb slipped quickly up and down the little bulge.

I shook. He could make me come in under two minutes that way. I clung to his neck, unable to do anything but accept the sensation, trembling.

Of course he stopped just before I was ready to come, though. Of course he did.

And then he pulled the skirt all the way up over my back, and spanked me hard, five, six, seven times, each hit driving my c.l.i.t against him.

"Squeeze me," he said. "Inside you. Faster."

I couldn't stay still as I did what he asked, my hips rocking slightly as I contracted my muscles, and his fingers returned to their grasp on my c.l.i.t, this time rubbing in the same rhythm as my squeezes.

I broke out in a sudden sweat and he switched from pleasuring me to beating me again, the heavy flat of his palms raining down on my a.s.s, driving me to scream, driving me to come. I clung to him helplessly as the spasms shook me all the way down to my toes, and then I hung on as he drove his c.o.c.k upward into me, four, five, six times, deep sudden thrusts that signaled to me that he was coming, too.

As we lay there, still entwined but now limp, he tugged my skirt down and said breathlessly, "I... hope... you're... sorry now."

"Oh, very. Very sorry." This time I couldn't hold back a giggle.

"Good. I would say I am done forgiving you for the moment."

He guided my face to his with his fingers, still damp from touching me, and kissed me, tenderly exploring my lips this time.

"James," I said. "We're going to figure this out, aren't we?"

"I certainly think it's within our abilities to do so."

"I hope so. Because it seems like no matter what I try to tell myself, my body won't accept anything but being right here." I squeezed him once more, but now he was softening, and he slipped free.

"So long as we are continuing to rebuild our trust, I think we are headed in the right direction."

"All right."

"Now tell me, what do you wish to know?"

"Oh!" I blushed. "I didn't come prepared with a question. I didn't think we were going to have s.e.x."

"Neither did I until you got on your knees to make the promise."

I grinned and nuzzled his neck. "That was a good idea, wasn't it?"

"A very good idea. But don't think I've forgotten that I have a lot to make up for. How upset you were yesterday is proof of that. Even if your reason for being angry at me turned out to be insubstantial, your overall reason for being sensitive is still very much on my mind."

"I'll try not to fly off the handle. Why don't you tell me more about being an international rock star?"

"Why don't you get a little cleaned up and into a more comfortable position, and then I'll try to figure out where to start with that," he suggested. He handed me a kerchief to wipe up with.

Once we were settled again, with my head on his chest and his arm around me, he started again.

"It's much as you read about in the popular press," he said. "You record an alb.u.m; the record company mucks about with it; sometimes they make you change things. They solicit orders from the retail stores. They collect the money. If you are lucky, you even receive some of it."

"What? Surely you get a percentage, right?"

"Well, they pay you an exorbitant sum at the beginning of the contract, as a kind of down payment on what they are going to owe you later. It's not uncommon to receive ten million dollars but then be required to deliver ten alb.u.ms over the next ten years."

"Was that what you got?"

"Ten years ago, yes. The thing is that the royalty percentage is not very large, and various costs and fees on the part of the record company cut into it. Essentially, for every fifteen-dollar CD sold, I make about a dollar. Let's a.s.sume a platinum sale, which means a million copies sold. That's considered very good. However, they already paid me that million dollars ten years ago, so I don't receive anything additional on those sales."

"But all your alb.u.ms have done better than platinum."

"True. But sometimes not right away. Much of the money I've made has come from merchandising rights and from touring. Normally a record company makes almost nothing from what an artist brings in from ticket sales."

"Normally. Why do I hear a 'but' coming?"

"Because I have not always toured in the traditional manner. Bride of the Blue, for instance, was an installation production in Las Vegas. It required a bit more investment than merely putting a rock band on the road. The theater had to be rebuilt with a custom stage and effects, for one thing. I allowed Ferrara and the record company to act as producers the way one would with a Hollywood film production. She invested money up front for a share of the profits later."

"But she turned into a royal pain."

"Yes."

A moment pa.s.sed between us.

"Okay, so in your e-mail to me you said you were going to explain why the business you thought was concluded... wasn't."

"Yes. Some time ago, when Huntington was still in charge of the company, before the divorce, he and I had planned that the final three alb.u.ms I owed him on the contract would be a double alb.u.m of Bride of the Blue, and then the farewell tour alb.u.m. At the time he was afraid I would be wooed away by another record company and was preparing to renew me for another multimillion-dollar deal. This was before I decided to quit."

"Aha."

"Then he split with Ferrara, she took him for all he was worth, and suddenly I was sure I wanted to get out. She's now claiming that the double alb.u.m only counts as one. She is not entirely wrong, but it was my mistake not to get that agreement in writing!" He twitched angrily, but calmed himself. "At any rate, she has been making various demands ranging from the sensible, like I fulfill the contract with a greatest hits alb.u.m that includes one new song, to the nonsensical, like the one that I move in with her, because I married her."

"But you didn't marry her. Did you?"

"I did not. It's a very strange claim." He shook his head. "I think perhaps she is a bit unhinged. All the more reason to have as little to do with her as possible. She is also demanding that I tour in support of the alb.u.m. I refused but agreed to do a new residency in Vegas, which will be simulcast into movie theaters, pay-per-view, and livestream on the web."

"And that will satisfy Ferrara?" I sat up to look at him.

"I hope so. The thing to understand about Ferrara is that she is quite motivated by the upkeep of appearances. Everything she has tried to force me to do has always been within the confines of a contract, an obligation. She's learning that I have limits, though, and when she pushes too far, she may push me to say to h.e.l.l with the contract, which would be bad for everyone."

I brushed his damp hair back with my fingers and it fell in soft, straight sections as it dried. "But the marriage thing... it sounds like she wants more than money."

"She's a complex creature." James pulled a water bottle from a compartment in the door and offered it to me. "I mostly have to convince her that she wants the money and the continued rights to my record catalog more than she wants to f.u.c.k me."

I almost choked on the water when he said that. I'd been tiptoeing around the actual issue and not saying it out loud. "Do you think you can?"

"I believe so. I've held her off for years, Karina. I just have to do it a little longer." He took the water bottle from me and drank a few gulps himself. "I have a proposal for you."

"I'm all ears."

"I don't want to only tell you about my life, Karina. I want you to join it. Be a part of it. That means being a part of what's happening in Las Vegas."

"What do you mean by 'be a part of it'?"

"Answer me a question first. What's happening with your university now?"

"I have to speak to the dean. Best case scenario, they accept my thesis as is, rubber stamp me with a PhD, and tell me to get the h.e.l.l out. Worst case scenario, they make me start over with a new advisor, writing a new thesis. Honestly, if that's what they want... I don't know if it'll be worth jumping through those hoops. If other opportunities are beckoning me, I don't have a lot of incentive to go back. Other than pride and not wanting to have wasted five years of my life." Not to mention the student loan money.

"I see. Well, I am hoping you might be able to defer whatever might occur there for another semester so you can join me in the performance."

"You mean-"

"As a dancer."

I shook my head instantly. "I can't measure up to a troupe of professionals. I'll look ridiculous."

"I a.s.sure you you're wrong about that. Well, if the performance were tomorrow, maybe. But we have a few months, Karina, and I'll be expecting you to work with a trainer every day. I need to get back in shape myself." He stretched one arm toward the far window and unfurled his hand elegantly, probably thinking about dance exercises. "I haven't danced or sung since the night we met."

"Have you missed it?"

"I have, a little. I don't miss the grind, though. I don't miss having to keep up the facade all the time. I never realized how exhausting it was until I stopped." He leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "I'm an incredibly lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Are you?"

"Yes, because if I had let my guard down for anyone but you, it would have ended in a ball of flames."

"It nearly did anyway."

"But it didn't, because of you. Because of the wonderfulness of you. You're special, Karina." He offered me the bottle again and I took another sip. "How much longer do you think you'll be in Ohio?"

"I'm not sure. My aunt Tera called today to announce she's showing up tomorrow to stay for two weeks. If that's true, I won't have to stay." I did have to get back to the city. To deal with my landlord and the university and who knew what else.

James was looking at me thoughtfully.

"What? What is it?"

He smiled. "I'm just noticing how many strong, independent women you seem to have in your life."

"Well, I don't know if I'd count my mother as strong... though it seems like she picked up a backbone in the hospital!"

"She raised you and your siblings on her own. I'd say she can probably lay claim to independence if she wants."

"True. And her opinions are never weak. Those are always quite strong." I glanced in the direction of the house. "I guess I should be getting back."

"Well, if you think you'll be staying more than a few days, I'll contract a dance trainer for you here, to start getting ready for the performances." He folded one of my hands into his. "That is, if you agree to my proposal. You still haven't said yes."

Of course he would notice that. "I think it's questionable I'm good enough to get on stage with you. Maybe you ought to have someone besides yourself look at me. I don't think you're exactly an impartial judge."

"And you're far more talented than you think. How about this? We'll hold an audition for princ.i.p.al dancer. I won't tell the judges who you are. We'll let them give their opinions. The final decision will still be up to me, of course, but you can get an honest evaluation of where you stand in relation to others. If they think you look ridiculous, they'll say so without hesitation."

I slipped my shoes on. "All right. When?"

"Let's say in a month. That'll give you time to prepare."

"Okay. I mean, yes. That sounds like a plan." I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him. "Now, are you and Stefan planning to sit out here all night?"

"I defer to Stefan on our security plans. If there is any hint of trouble, though, promise me, Karina, that you'll contact us immediately."

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Then you should probably sneak back into the house."

I kissed him on the forehead and grinned. "You know, I never did this when I was a teenager."

"Did what?"

"Sneak out of the house after my mother was asleep to have s.e.x in a guy's car." I kissed him on the mouth then. "Something tells me it was worth the wait."

Seven.

Look Out, World Aunt Tera blew into town the next day like a summer storm, flattening everything in her path, though in a good way. It was great to see her, but within an hour of her arrival she had us cleaning out the entire pantry, getting rid of canned goods that had been there more than a few years, vacuuming under the couch cushions, you name it. Tera had gotten rid of a few leech boyfriends in her time, she said, and the best therapy was a thorough turning out of the house. I think my mom's purge of her closets and jewelry boxes had been the same idea, but Tera extended it to the whole house.

By dinnertime we were all too tired to cook, so Tera took us out to eat. I brought up the e-mail I'd gotten from the head of the art history department about needing to schedule a meeting with me. They agreed that I should get back as soon as possible. I'd invested too much in my education not to fight for reinstatement.

I told them I could go back the next day. With James.