The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel) (16 page)

“Don’t be dumb, Julia. We were screwing
because she was my lover and that’s what you do with lovers–you make love. Now,
where did you get these?”
“Oh, that explains it. You’re lovers. How
nice. How fucking nice. You make love. Well, if you two are ‘lovers’ then what
the hell have you and I been? Fuckers?” I stand up and open my arms wide. I
know I promised myself I wouldn’t be histrionic but once again Mark has my head
messed up as the situation spins wildly out of my expectation.
Mark looks at me again and I can see he
finally gets the fact I’m on the edge here.
“Wait,” he says. “You don’t think this is now,
do you?”
“Now who’s dumb, Mark? Yes I think this is
now. The past is the past, the future is the future and this is fucking now!
Stop with the philosophy and tell me why.” I sit back down, the strength
bleeding out of me as I swing from anger to the other side of this equation–the
hurt. “I just want to know why. What did I ever do to any of you?”
Mark sits down on the couch, clearly having
trouble looking away from the pictures. I know that feeling. He sets them
aside, and gives me the gentlest loving gaze. I could slap him for it.
“Julia, come sit with me and I can explain
some of this. Then I need you to explain some things to me because I think we’re
in deep waters here,” he says softly as if he is trying to talk down a grizzly
bear.
“I’m not sitting on that fucking couch. Now or
ever, you jackass. The only thing I want to do on that couch is set it on fire.
How’s that for an explanation?”
“You need to stop,” Mark says with his
no-nonsense parental tone. The lessons of my submissive month kick in and I
immediately stare at the floor. I want to fight the hypnotic suggestion his
voice holds on me, but I fall into his spell every time.
“I want this to stop,” I cry quietly. “I want
all this pain to stop.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. First, you are
going to stop the cursing. It’s unhelpful at best, and grotesque on you.
Second, I am going to sit beside you and explain my side of this and you are
not going to interrupt me. Then, and only then, will I listen to you. Third, at
that time you will tell me exactly where you got these.”
I grab a Kleenex from the bar and nod like a
pacified child. He walks over slowly and takes the stool beside me at the
kitchen bar, placing the pictures on the counter face down. I reach over and
turn them back up. He can face his guilt while he faces me.
“Yes,” he says with crisp and accentuated
articulation, “Val and I were lovers. But it was at least five years ago and we
haven’t been together since.”
“Val, Val, Val… I give you credit for not
claiming this was Photoshopped, but really– five years later you’re still
calling her ‘Val’ but you opened me in my most private space just last night
and you still call me ‘Julia’ so don’t tell me it’s over with her.”
“I said no interruption, if you recall.”
“Sorry.”
“I will probably start calling you “Jul” in
time, but Julia fits you better, it’s prettier–like you. Anyway, we met when
the board of Ladies World was running out of cash options and looking for an
infusion of capital. She was part of the process. I liked her immediately. She
was so headstrong and smart. Val is driven and able, she is like the salmon
that swim upstream–always pushing, always forging ahead.”
She’s also got long legs, an hourglass figure,
and red hair that draws men to her like a beacon, I think to myself, but
refrain from interrupting him. He reads my mind.
“Val is very attractive, and that certainly
doesn’t hurt. In fact, she uses it quite well when the need arises. She’s,
well, she’s a lot like you—amazing and strong, attractive and inviting. But she
also has some of the same pitfalls as you. She’s so driven she can’t stop.
She’s up on power and out of balance about people. Eventually, we all exist to
serve Ladies World in some way or another because it’s her real love. As much
as I wanted her, I eventually discovered I’d never be anything more than a name
in the contributor’s column of her life.”
My mind flashes back to Greg and the way I
used him to dump my problems, dragged him to places because I was doing a story
and generally set him on the back-burner through most of our love. I did love
Greg, but not more than Lynx. I nod.
“She’s wanted to change Ladies World for a
long time, to keep it relevant. So, when we were dating, she decided to do a
series of edgy stories about the city and subcultures in it so she chose the
BDSM culture and fetish clubs as a topic. We both thought it would be fun to
get in some leather and hit the scene. We went to clubs, got invited to some
munches, and tried out some of the stuff–spanking, collars, leather and lace,
dominance and submission. Instead of bringing us together, it tore us apart.”
“Yeah, a bullwhip and a blowjob have a way of
doing that,” I say sarcastically, even though my heart’s not really into this
fight anymore. I’m just reacting. He scowls but continues gracefully.
“I got to know some of the couples, nice, neat
people. And I discovered the power of dominance and submission as a lifestyle.
I met female executives who dealt with the pressures of their power by
submitting at home over the lap of a lover, much like you did with me. I
learned the internal satisfaction of knowing I wasn’t just loving someone but
guiding, helping and teaching them. It was a perfect world for me. Val just
never got past the sex part. It was just a story and a game to her.”
“I don’t remember Ladies World running a
fetish article. Where would they even put it? Between a recipe for homemade
shortbread cookies and a photo spread on floral centerpieces for spring
dances?”
“That’s exactly right. She worked that story
hard, but the board refused to run it. They said it would alienate their base
and bring them negative attention. Even Blake voted to can the piece. She went
on to her next issue and wanted us to move on too. But I couldn’t. I found a
home in that world and a way I wanted to experience and express my love. I
refused to leave it behind. She left me behind instead.”
Mark’s eyes grow darker and his gaze seems far
away. It is clear he loved her once, yet the tone in his voice, sad but strong,
makes it clear he thinks he made the right decision and doesn’t regret it.
“After the board vote and her disappointment,
she started an on and off affair with Blake. It’s perfect for them both. He’s
married so he just wants something fun and nasty, and she’s able to get his
vote to swing her way when she needs support. They are using each other, but
they both seem happy with the arrangement. I don’t judge. Now, who took these
pictures and how did you get them?”
I explain about the knock on the door and the
envelope waiting for me. I tell him it isn’t the first incident, and talk about
the text message warning me not to trust him, that I assume must have come from
Valerie if she knows I’m dating her man. He interrupts me to remind me he is
not anyone’s man at the moment. I chide him, but smile. It’s a fair correction.
He reaches over and picks up the pictures. His
mouth curls upward into a nostalgic smile that breaks my heart anew, then
points out some things I hadn’t noticed before. The couch has been
reupholstered since then and though the color is similar, the pattern is not
the same. Valerie’s hair is a lot longer than it was the last time I saw her,
and her clothes are definitely out of style for today. That’s the biggest clue.
Valerie James is never out of style.
I take a deep breath and look in Mark’s eyes,
so deep, so beautiful. I place my hand on top of his while every cell in my
body is remembering their rough touch as he holds my hips, the way he reaches
inside me and enlivens my sexual core, the gentle sweet moments when those
hands brush my hair from my eyes or trace a pattern down my neck to my breasts.
His hands are warm and my fingers stiff and cold.
“I don’t buy it,” I say.
“What?”
“It’s a beautiful story and why wouldn’t it
be? Valerie is a lot of things but chief among them, even I have to admit, is
that she is a damn good writer.”
“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” He throws up
his hands in exasperation.
“Think about it Mark. What’s more likely? You
and your long lost lover just happened to have a stack of five year old
pictures laying around from intimate scenes you did in front of someone with a
camera who you conveniently can’t remember
or
you put her in a red wig,
got out your spanking paddle and took some shots, Photoshopping the couch later
as a nice touch?”
“I can show you the receipt from the couch, if
it helps. Or I can just tell you that these are pictures from a long time ago
and I don’t know who took them. Or I can just call Valerie right now and clear
this up.”
“You’d do that? You’d call her so I could
hear?”
“Yes, I’m going to call her. I want to know
who took these pictures, because there sure as hell wasn’t anyone in that room
but us. And if it helps you get over this so you and I can move on then that’s
a plus in my column.”
“You talk like an accountant.”
“You make me crazy,” he responds walking over
to the phone by the bar.
“Speaker, please” I say, following him. I have
no idea what he’s going to say but I can’t wait to hear it.
He flicks the speakerphone on, pulls out his
cell, gets her number, and dials it into the big phone. He puts his finger up
when she answers, and I instinctively cover my mouth with my hand to show him I
won’t make a sound.
“Val, it’s Mark Stone. Got a minute? It’s important,
and private.”
“I’m on a deadline so hurry,” she says dryly. It’s
Valerie James all right.
“Listen, Val,” Mark stalls a moment, not sure
what to say. “I‒I got some pictures in my office today. Looks a bit like
a blackmail situation. Don’t worry, though. I can handle it. It’s just the
pictures, well, they are old ones and I’m not sure how they even got taken.”
“I’m waiting for the part that has to do with
me.” She’s probably editing an article while he talks to her.
“They are pictures of us, Val, in flagrante. Remember
the ‘Love’s Lost Leather’ piece you wanted to do? They come from about then.
Some pretty private moments, actually.”

“Oh.” She laughs genuinely with just the hint
of a bitter edge. “Those moments.”

“What I don’t understand is who took these
pictures and how they got to my office today.”
“Well, I can only answer one of those. I took
them.”
“You did? How? I mean, you were pretty
occupied at the moment from the looks of things,” he says cordially. They talk
as old lovers do, but it’s also clear the feelings have long since passed.
“Oh Mark.” She sighs. “I wanted some shots for
the story and no one we met in the clubs was either willing or, well,
photogenic enough. So I used the old ‘purse cam’ trick, and turned the video
into a couple of stills. I was going to blur our faces or shop them out. When
the piece didn’t happen, I erased the video and filed the pictures in the
‘things that never happened’ folder. Haven’t seen them for years.”
“No copies, no one else? You haven’t taken
them out for a spin anywhere recently?”
“I have more to do in life than drone on about
the days we were paddle pals. That’s not even my thing,” she says. “Let me go check
my files. I’ll call you back.”
Valerie hangs up without a goodbye, and Mark
shrugs.
“Happy now?” he asks, heading into the kitchen
to pour himself a glass of water. He brought one out for me as well.
“Not happy, really. But, less sad.”
Mark goes back into the kitchen and starts
pulling things out of the fridge. He cracks enough eggs for two omelets and
begins chatting while he puts everything together. He doesn’t bother to ask me
if I want one, but between my emotional whiplash and weary acceptance, it’s not
a big leap to assume I’m famished.
“If it’s Blake or Kenneth, that’s going to
mess up everything,” he muses as he cooks. “But, I don’t see who else it could
be. We dated for a short time and no one really knew our business.”
“Maybe Valerie just wanted to rattle your
cage?” I’m not quite ready to wrap her in the pure white flag of innocence yet.
“She has a lot more to lose from those shots
than me. She’s the one who is all about power. She’s the senior editor of a
national magazine for women. A photo of her on her knees before me would kill
her reputation and it would just improve my career. Trust me, she’s not any
happier about this than we are. She just hides things better.”
He sits my plate down and joins me for lunch.
“Maybe I should be learning from her,” I say
to poke at him a bit. He just smiles patiently.
“Maybe, you should keep learning from me.” He
leans over to kiss me but I move to the side and his lips fall softly on my
cheek.
“I’m not—” I start a sentence not knowing what
the end will be but Mark’s phone rings, cutting off the need to go on. He jumps
up and runs to hit the speaker button.
“Mark, there has been a breach,” Valerie says,
a clear panicked waver in her solid voice.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Val,” he says nodding
to me and mouthing the words, “It’s Blake.”
“I am too, those pictures are gone along with
some picture of other ‘private moments’ I would really rather not see floating
around. If you find out anything about this, I’d truly appreciate a call.”
“You bet,” he says. “I’d appreciate it if you
kept this quiet for a few days, especially to Blake.”
“I understand,” she replies and hangs up
again.
“We’re in trouble,” he tells me grimly. “But
not as much as she is.”