Leon
Instead of vacating the room in the early morning, I run the shower and
invite her to join me. This isn't me. I don't linger in the dawn light. I should
be telling her to get dressed and hurry her on her way. The shower is tepid
and rains down on us as if we're standing under a monsoon downpour. She
lathers up a sponge and I switch the shower off.
She kneels in the puddle at my feet and begins to clean me from the ankles
up. The way she does it is perfect, devotional almost. When she reaches my
erect cock, she kisses the tip of it.
"Open your mouth," I order.
She obeys. Fuck, she's giving me doe eyes as she looks up at my tattoos.
I glide in and out of her mouth, slowly, leisurely. I savor her, as she savors
me. While she sucks and licks, I bundle her wet hair into my fists and hold
on to her. I half-close my eyes, allowing each of those gorgeous minutes to
last a lifetime. Below, she strokes my balls, massaging them with her
slender fingers, and I let her. God, why am I letting her touch me so
intimately? The cruel part of me wants to slap her hand away and take her
over my knee for another long spanking. I would admonish her with my palm, with harsh words. A good submissive would accept their punishment
without argument and learn from it.
I come in her mouth at the thought of Katrina's red ass, the way she
wriggles and squirms under my arms. I've never trained a submissive from
scratch. Perhaps… no, it's too dangerous. I can't risk forming an
attachment. I will stick to my plan of acquiring a new maid. One who will
always do as she is told… submissively, unthinking.
She's beaming, glowing almost, and it's deeply affecting. I find I'm drawn
to stare at her. As I help her rise to her feet, my gaze locks onto hers. It's the
final straw, I can't stop myself. I scoop her into my arms and smother her
with kisses, peppering her neck and breasts, delirious almost with the need
to be intimate, as if I've been starved of affection for years. She gasps in
little pants, acknowledging my feverishness with kisses of her own, and
gradually, we center on each other's mouths. I carry her to a long settee,
where we lie, kissing hungrily.
"Kat, Kat," I whisper.
She snuggles, the wetness of our skin forgotten in the heat of our passion.
"You like me?" she asks sweetly.
"I'll find a way." I can't actually say it, the 'like' word, when I've never
said it to anyone. Just admitting I really like her is a big step. "You can visit
me and, if we're discreet, we can go out and, you know, hang out… and
we'll go from there. What do you say?"
She tickles my chest with the tip of one finger. "Seriously. You're going to
give us a try. I thought this wasn't your thing, dating girls properly, openly."
"Don't push your luck, I might change my mind." I say this half-heartedly,
but I really don't know what I'm doing. I'm shifting into something new
and dare I think it, intriguing. What if I could convince her to stay with me,
let me teach her how to please me more than anyone ever has?
She pouts beautifully. "I'll take the risk, even if you end up breaking my
heart." For a second, I think she means it. As far as I'm concerned, love doesn't
happen that quickly. It takes time and persuasion, more than simply
fucking. It's about delving into somebody's soul and sharing every hidden
thought. Surely, she's teasing me about being in love? But what if she does
teach me commitment and love? Can I change? Maybe it's possible.
However, I don't really know; for years I haven't for anyone, and many
have tried to convince me. Just being willing to try is a huge step up for me.
"I suggest you keep your heart under lock and key for the moment. This is
going to take some thought on my part. For now, let's get dressed and go
out to lunch, somewhere by the sea and quiet."
The idea clearly pleases her Kat
I'm on cloud nine, floating in the skies with wings that will never burn up
under the sun. I'm soaring, wanting to pinch myself in case it's a dream. He
likes me, I'm sure of it, and more than that, I really like him too. Dare I
think it—would I be heartbroken if he rejects me now?
We're about to vacate the suite when Leon picks up the phone and calls
down to reception.
"Tell Aleks to bring the car up front for us."
We use the elevator, and in the brief seconds we journey down, he kisses
me hard, pressing my back against the mirror. I purr beneath him, oblivious
to the urgency in which he does everything with me, as if we were always
enjoying one last moment together. This is the beginning of things, not the
end.
We move together, walking side by side, my hand cocooned in his warm
one.
Aleks, the driver from last night, appears in the foyer, bleary eyed. "Sorry,
boss, you must have the keys."
"Damn," Leon mutters. He hands the room card to Aleks. "It must be in the
jacket pocket. I took them because I thought I'd be driving home alone
today. Change of plans. You can drive us. Go fetch the keys."
"Boss, I suggest you move back inside, out of the lobby." Aleks glances
around the vast space, which is separated from the rest of the hotel by
internal security doors controlled by a beefy man in a uniform.
"It's just a quick trip up, we can wait here." Leon is impatient, and I am too.
The less we are seen together, the better until things are official.
Aleks chews his lip and shrugs wearily. "Okay. If you insist." He pats his
breast, and I realize he's carrying. With a resigned expression, he passes the
lobby doors and disappears inside the hotel.
Leon walks toward the unlit fireplace and is about to offer me a seat when
he stops abruptly. I turn and see one solitary man approaching us. He's
dressed in a dark suit, wears shades, and his oily hair glistens. That's all I
have time to assimilate.
There's a flash of light and thunderous bang. Leon drops to the floor in a
heap.
I scream, or it seems like I did. Not a sound comes out of my mouth.
The security guard chases after the man, who moves like he's an Olympic
athlete. I kneel next to Leon. Blood covers half of his face. His eyes are half
open, his pupils are dark pinpricks.
"Leon," I say hoarsely. I touch his chest, and it isn't moving.
"Get out of the way." Somebody pushes me back.
I topple, and crawl backwards. More people crowd around Leon, voices
raised, calling for paramedics, a doctor. The police.
"It's Leon Murati, isn't it? The billionaire arms dealer. Fuck," says the hotel
manager. "This isn't going to look good."
I can't see Leon; he's surrounded by people.
"Who's the girl with him?" The inquirer isn't visible to me.
Somebody is working hard to bring Leon around, pressing on his chest. I
can't see Leon's face though. I can't tell if he's breathing or not.
"She's nobody. Just his usual one-night date. Probably picked her up at his
club. He usually ditches them the next morning."
"So, she's not involved?"
The man snorts. "Who knows. This was a setup. Where's Aleks, the driver?
Why isn't he here? He's the bodyguard on duty. Shouldn't he be here?"
I start to see what's going to happen. If Leon is dead, there'll be
consequences. Aleks is already in trouble, and I'm going to be questioned
as a suspect. They don't know who I am, or where I come from; I'm a
nobody.
I retreat quietly, on two very wobbly legs. I back out, avoiding the influx of
policemen, and leave the hotel. I don't think anyone saw me go.
I wander the streets for a while, tears streaming down my face. Sirens wail
in the distance, and I know one of them will be carrying Leon to the
morgue. I hadn't anticipated that one night was going to change my life so
dramatically. I never thought falling in love would be that quick, that
devastating. What am I going to do?