1. Other Colors -- Ch.16


    Date: 12/23/2014, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    he was leaving, “…Come where?” “Antwerp. I’m settling a little crisis for the ADB.” My mouth fell open. “You’re flying to Belgium tomorrow?” “I’ll be working long hours,” he nodded, “but I could hire a guide to show you the Rubens House, and the Royal Museum.” He paused, speculating, “I can’t fathom that you have any interest in visiting the Villa Tinto. But I might have time to meet you for a nightcap at De Vagant.” He tucked another strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you think, Miss Foster? Belgian waffles for breakfast?” I was struck dumb by his proposal. What the hell is he thinking? My mind raced. I can’t go to Belgium tomorrow… Yet even without full possession of my faculties, I was tempted. If the options for me were to stay behind, locked up and alone here at Lacoste, or else to go with him; to see the Venus Frigida of Rubens, and Fouquet’s infamous Madonna Surrounded by Seraphim , then I’d have to have been an idiot to say no. But just as I opened my mouth to assent, something stopped me. I was an idiot. And I’d utterly forgotten. Marie… She so seldom asked me for anything. But tomorrow, she needed me, and against every shred of my better judgment in my brain, I’d given her my word. “I can’t,” I murmured. His eyes cooled over, “Can’t, Penny?” “I, um…” I cleared my throat, and dropped my eyes, “I know I’m not supposed to go anywhere without your permission. But…something came up for me today too.” He took a half-step back, appraising me, “I’m listening.” The ...
    edge in his voice made me quiver. “My friend Marie. She asked me to come by tomorrow. I’m really, really sorry I didn’t ask you first, but… I sort of promised her I’d help.” He crossed his arms brusquely, “Help with what, Penny?” “It’s, um… It’s a sort of,” I winced, “a protest.” “A protest,” he repeated me incredulously. “And what, pray tell, do you intend to protest, Penny?” I took a deep breath, feeling more foolish with each passing moment. “Her theatre got shut down today. It’s a tax snafu of some kind—I don’t really know the details. But they were supposed to do a show in a couple of weeks… I think they’re just trying to get it reopened.” He stared at me; his eyes sharp, and blue, and, I think, just a little bit amused. “And this is the reason you can’t come to Antwerp with me.” I stared at the floor, nodding feebly. “And if I forbid you from going?” he leaned back against his desk, and cocked his head, “Would it change your mind at all, Penny?” I took a moment to mull it over. The implications were obvious, and by now coercion was so common to our conversations, it was on its way to becoming its own idiom. If he wasn’t going to let me go to the protest, I had no apparent reason to stay. Defying him was excluded from the get-go in the curved lines of my logic. Syllogistically, I think the major premise was too problematic. T ous les hommes sont mortels… I knitted my brow, and shook my head. “I just can’t,” I sighed, exasperated. “It’s the holiday rush. Madame will need me ...
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