Master of Two: Nascent Love (10 page)

Ross kissed his way up her neck and took her
mouth roughly with his own. She returned his kiss eagerly.

Finally, he pulled back and loomed over her
for a minute. "I'll call you this afternoon."

She wriggled beneath him with pleasure.
Claire knew that his call would be permission to get off in some
way or other. And, in these seconds after rapture, he felt like
being generous, so why not? He might change his mind by noon, or
maybe not.

Mostly, he wanted a cigarette and a hot
shower, preferably in that order.

* * *

Ross was home by six o'clock that night, and
it took him a moment to realize who the third woman in his house
was. It was Wendy Castle, his friend Mac's girl. Mac was off to
Iraq for about a year and wanted a safe place to park Wendy. Ross
and Mac had been buddies together in the corps and went back a long
way. When his friend asked if Ross would take care of Wendy for
him, Ross pretty much had to say he would. Of course, he made it
clear that he wouldn't take any guff from the woman. There had been
some jockeying for position when Ross wanted to have Wendy
available to him in bed as well as around the house, but Mac got
stubborn about it and in the end, Ross respected his friend more
than he needed another playmate.

So there she was. Ross had met her before,
of course. She was a handsome, statuesque black woman with a
genuine smile for him when he came into the room. He didn't return
her expression—why allow her to think she could call the shots? He
pointed down to the floor and Claire and Sandie both rushed over to
kneel at his feet. He lit a cigarette, waiting.

Wendy's smile faltered as Ross raised an
eyebrow at her and put his lighter in his pocket. The chair scraped
against the tiled floor as she pushed away from the kitchen table
and stood gracefully, her back straight as a poker. Ross hadn't
said a word, but the message was perfectly clear.

Stiff pride mixing with submission, Wendy
knelt on the floor near Claire and Sandie.

"Good. You're all released. Make
dinner."

* * *

Ross left the women to clean up after
dinner, and went to his home office to upload his stakeout photos
and document the efficacy of the operation for the client. Fitting
a CD into the player, Ross hummed along as he finished his
cigarette. He spent some time on the phone, and checked his
email.

To his surprise, there was an email from
Kevin Watson. He knew Watson from a private SM group, Boys With
Toys and, although they could hardly be called friends, they were
acquaintances. It was, however, rather unusual for Ross to be
receiving email from the man. Watson must have gotten his email
address from some mutual friend, because Ross didn't give that
information out to the BWT group generally.

The email was succinct. Call me regarding a
business matter. K Watson and the phone number. Curiosity clearing
the cobwebs of a rather long, dull day at work, Ross thought about
it for several minutes before picking up the phone to call.

Their conversation was brief but Ross felt
he'd kept the upper hand.

When he hung up the phone, he wondered if
he'd done the right thing accepting the job. The money was good, no
doubt about that, but working with a man as arrogant as Watson was
going to stick in his craw. He usually liked to keep his
professional life out of his personal life, and crossing the
BWT-to-work boundary was new, uncharted territory. Why had he
accepted the job? Money wasn't a big issue for him, though the more
you had the less you had to struggle for it. He remembered too many
school years when he and his sisters got their fall clothing at
secondhand charity stores.

Ross thought about how he'd feel if one of
his girls went missing like Watson's had done, and foul play was
suspected. He wouldn't like it, but would he pursue it?

Yeah, he realized, he would. Although women
were disposable, they were his women. No one had the right to take
one away. Now, maybe in Watson's case, the girl had run away. Maybe
there were some bad feelings between the two girls in Watson's
household, or maybe the missing girl had run away to another man.
Watson was adamant that those things were not the case, but Ross
was going to be skeptical until more facts were in.

He lit another cigarette, logged into the
secure site where his Swiss bank account deposits were recorded,
and leaned back in his executive chair to wait.

As he stubbed out the cigarette, and reached
for another one, the number on the monitor changed. A little smile
quirked his moustache up at the corners. Now, he'd make some phone
calls and start doing a little sleuthing. He wouldn't tell Watson
about the ground work. Let the man think Ross was a hard guy to pin
down.

Being predictable got you killed, and Ross
was far from through.

The End

Thank you for
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There are tribulations and dominance
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