“King?” came a woman’s voice behind
Kingsley. Without looking back he raised his hand and beckoned her inside. A
beautiful young woman in a forties-style skirt and blouse stood next to his
chair and waited.
He wrapped an arm around her hips and
dragged her down to his lap.
“You’re interrupting,” he said to her.
“Can’t you see how busy I am?”
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt
your,” she glanced down at the table and back into Kingsley’s eyes, “card game?”
Kingsley pointed at Søren.
“Blaise, I would like you to meet my oldest
and dearest friend…” he paused and looked at Søren when he realized he didn’t
know if he was allowed to tell anyone Søren’s name. Out in the world he’d gone
by the name his father had given him—Marcus Stearns. Even now he was Father Marcus Stearns, SJ according to
church records. Søren was the name his mother had given him and few called him
that. “Who the hell are you again?”
Søren stretched out his hand and took
“Søren. Kingsley and I went to school
“I’m Blaise,” she said and gave Søren her
brightest smile and the most unapologetic bedroom eyes Kingsley had ever seen.
So unfair. Why did Søren always turn every head in the room? Kingsley looked at
Søren who today wore normal clothes. Normal? Black jeans, a fitted black
long-sleeve t-shirt. They’d be normal clothes on anyone but Søren. In them,
Søren looked like something out of a fever dream. He couldn’t blame Blaise for
looking at Søren the way she did.
But he did wonder why Søren looked at her
the same way.
“Blaise, might I inquire what you’re doing
interrupting this incredibly important card game of mine?”
“Against my better judgment, I answered the
phone and took a message for you. But don’t get any ideas that I’m your new
secretary although you need to get a new secretary-”
“I will, chouchou. I promise.”
“You said that last week.”
“I got a new secretary last week.”
“Where is she?”
“Did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
Blaise turned her attention back to Søren.
“Can you please tell your oldest and
dearest friend to stop seducing his secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on him
when they catch him fucking someone else?”
“Kingsley,” Søren said, shuffling the cards
again. “Stop seducing your secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on you.”
“Thank you.” Blaise gave Søren a smile.
“My pleasure,” Søren said. Kingsley
mentally slapped them both.
“Give me the message,” Kingsley said,
running his hand up her thigh and caressing the bare skin above her flesh-tone
Blaise reached into her nearly translucent
pale pink blouse and produced a folded note from inside her lace-trimmed bra.
Kingsley unfolded the note, still warm from
her body and read.
at nine. – Phoebe
Kingsley tensed when he read the words and
briefly considered lying his way out of the situation. She’d understand if he
had to reschedule. He did have a guest after all. But no, he needed the
leverage. He couldn’t risk losing this chance.
“I have to go,” Kingsley said to Blaise and
Søren. “I won’t be gone long—an hour or so. You’ll keep my guest company, won’t
you?” he asked Blaise.
“Happily.” Her thousand-watt smile
brightened a few more watts. With her on his lap he could feel the heat
emanating between her legs.
“Good. You two have so much in common, so
much to talk about. Blaise, tell Søren what you do.”
“I run a non-profit,” she said, leaning
forward on the table and resting her chin on her hand. The move allowed
everyone in the room to get a much clearer view of her soft, ample cleavage.
“A non-profit?” Søren continued shuffling
the cards while never once looking away from Blaise.
“Tell him what it does.” Kingsley pinched
her on the thigh and she shuddered in pleasure. “Our Blaise is trés altruistic.”
“It’s called Slut Pride. We’re a non-profit
that helps educate people about women’s sexual freedom, especially in regards
to women’s participation in BDSM activities. Some people like to tell us that
it’s not feminist to like to get flogged. I say it’s not feminist to tell a
woman what she can and can’t do. Enough about me. What do you do?” she asked
“I’m a Catholic priest.”
Blaise said nothing. She gawked at Søren
with her full red-lipped mouth ajar. And then she laughed, a warm throaty laugh
that filled the room.
“You’re terrible. I almost believed you.”
Søren winked at Kingsley. Kingsley had
never guessed Søren had this flirtatious side to him. Back in their school days
Søren had been feared and envied by all the other boys and Søren had almost never
spoken to anyone but the other priests. Kingsley realized that other than his
sister, he’d never seen Søren around a beautiful woman before. Interesting. The
man was human after all. Even if he was a priest.
“I must be off. You two chat, become friends.
Blaise, peut-être you should explain
BDSM to my friend. I’m sure he’ll find it fascinating.”
“I’m sure I will,” Søren said. “We’ll be
fine, Kingsley. Have a lovely evening.”
Kingsley patted Blaise’s shapely bottom and
she stood up and let him out. On his way from the dining room he heard Blaise
asking Søren, “So what do you really do?”
And Søren replied, “You wouldn’t believe me
if I told you.”