O+F Part 6

Oliver opted for horseradish, not a usual choice for him. "Not bad," he said when she came back, "the horseradish." Jacky took a long swallow of ale. She had taken off her jacket and washed her face.

"It's been a good truck," she said.

"Starters go," Oliver said. "Toyotas are fine. Where do you work?"

"I'm a banker," she said. He sat straighter.

"Fooled you," she said.

"I wouldn't have guessed. I thought maybe you were a teacher." When I saw you with Francesca, he almost added.

"Bankers are discreet," she said. She looked at him directly. "Are you--discreet?"

He considered. "Yes." He was apologetic for some reason.

She approved. "You look like someone who keeps things private."

Well, it was true. He confirmed with a nod and took another bite of sandwich.

"Have you explored your s.e.xuality, Oliver?" Whoa! His throat closed, and he sat there chewing foolishly.

"I was married," he managed to get out.

"I didn't think you were a virgin. I mean, for instance, have you ever been restrained?" She spoke quietly, but Oliver felt the tension ratchet up a notch.

"Restrained?" Jacky left the kitchen and returned with a pair of handcuffs which she placed on the table.

"Oh," Oliver said. "No."

"It takes a lot of character and trust," she said, matter of factly.

"Not many can do it. Would you like to see how they feel?" He hesitated and felt something inside him start to slip, to accede to her. "Hold out your hands," she said. Her eyes were large. He held up his arms without taking his eyes from hers. She smiled and closed the handcuffs around his wrists. "There," she said. "How do they feel?" She watched him, still smiling.

"Not bad," he said.

"You like them, don't you?" He swallowed. "Come with me," she said.

"I'll show you something." He followed her into a large bedroom. She opened a dresser drawer and took out a long belt. Oliver held his hands near his waist feeling foolish and short of breath.

"Are you the sheriff?" he asked.

She laughed and came toward him. "Much better than that," she said. She looped the belt through his arms and pulled him slowly across the room.

"Let me know if you are not O.K. about this." He heard it as a challenge. She dragged a chair over without letting go of the belt.

"Put your hands over your head." He raised his arms, and she stepped up on the chair. She pa.s.sed one end of the belt through a heavy eye bolt that was screwed into the ceiling and which he hadn't noticed. She buckled the belt so that his arms were held above him.

"Much better," she repeated, stepping down and placing the chair back against the wall. She studied him. "You look very nice, Oliver. Just a moment." She went out to the kitchen and came back with their ale. She drank some of hers and said, "Let me know if you are thirsty." He nodded. She was happier. Her color was higher. Good looking, actually, he thought.

She read his mind. "Yes--you are feeling new things now." She moved a step closer. She arched her back and slowly rolled her shoulders. "Do you like my body, Oliver?" He reddened and swallowed. "How sweet! You blush," she said. "You are my captive. I can tease you now . . ." She went to the dresser and took another swallow of ale. She tugged at the bottom of her jersey, tightening it against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She moved closer and swiveled slowly from side to side. "Mmmm," she said. "You do like me!" Oliver's mouth opened and he began to breathe harder. He nodded dumbly.

Jacky stepped back and looked him up and down. "Very nice," she said, "but you have a lot to learn. Would you like to? Learn?"

"Yes," he said.

"Nothing leaves this room," Jacky said. "I don't even tell my girlfriends about this." That was a relief, he registered in a far corner of his mind. She brought over his gla.s.s and held it to his lips.

"Yes?" He nodded, not trusting his voice. She tipped the gla.s.s enough for him to take a small sip of ale. "I am in control," she said, looking down at him. She was close, almost touching. She smelled of honeysuckle. "You will learn to please me, to care only for _my_ pleasure. You will suffer for me. When you are good, you will be rewarded. But you must prove yourself." There was a practiced sound to her words.

To his surprise, he wanted to prove himself. He wanted to please her.

"Well?"

"Yes," he promised.

"You will serve me without question. Then, you will be happy." She freed him. "Come back Friday at six o'clock. Bring a heavy wooden ruler that you have decorated. You are to buy it at an office supply store, saying that it is for your mistress. You may go. Oh, and take the rest of that steak sandwich with you." She went into a bathroom and closed the door.

Oliver drove away shaking his head. What was that all about? He couldn't deny the urge he had to surrender to her, to obey her. It pulled at him like an undertow as he crossed the bridge. He walked down to Deweys.

Mark was holding up one corner of the bar. "Hey Buddy, how's your love life?" Intuitive b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"What love life?" Oliver said and listened to Mark crow about Duke.

Mark could probably explain this s.e.xual strangeness, but it was none of his business. After a Guinness, Oliver felt more like himself, but as he walked through the Old Port he pa.s.sed an office supply store, closed for the weekend, and he remembered the ruler. Decorate? Could you even buy a wooden ruler any more? It was disturbing. Too much. He put the experience in the back of his mind and resumed working on the box and the mailing list program.

On Wednesday, he entered the office store and asked if they sold wooden rulers. An elderly lady with exaggerated make-up showed him a blue box in a far corner of the store. "We sell mostly plastic ones," she said.

"But some prefer these. They last." He bought an eighteen inch ruler with an inlaid bra.s.s edge. "For my mistress," he said, "yuk, yuk." The woman gave him change without replying.

He sprayed the ruler with black paint he had in the cellar. "I wouldn't call it decorated," he said to Verdi the next day. The dovetail template caught his eye. He took it down to the cellar and found a can of Rustoleum.Using the template as a stencil, he sprayed a pattern of triangles along both sides of the ruler. The reddish brown color on the black background gave it a Navajo look. _If you're going to do something, do it well,_ he reminded himself, pleased. That was another of Owl's sayings; one that Oliver had made his own. Poor Owl. He had not done something well the night he disappeared from his boat. Did he have time to regret that he never won the Bermuda race? Was it a relief or just a stupid accident? Oliver imagined dark water closing over Owl.

He s.h.i.+vered and put it out of his mind.

On Friday, Oliver nearly backed out. But the ruler glowed on his kitchen table like a promise. "I don't know," he said. He took a shower, put on clean clothes, and parked tentatively in Jacky's driveway. He rang and waited. When she opened the door, he held the ruler up in both palms. She looked at it and asked him in. Her eyes were bright.

"Wine, Oliver." She pointed to gla.s.ses on the kitchen table. He poured Was.h.i.+ngton State Chardonnay for each of them and held up one gla.s.s in a silent toast. "Salud," she said. She turned the ruler over in her hand thoughtfully. "Did you say it was for your mistress?"

"Yes," Oliver said. "The saleslady didn't say anything--probably happens every five minutes."

"Good job," Jacky said, looking at the ruler.

"Kind of raw out," Oliver said.

"An indoor kind of night," she said. "Finish your wine." She spoke gently but firmly. Oliver looked at her and felt the same urge to yield that he had before. He was ready for her to tell him what to do. He wanted her to. "Yes," she said as he put down his gla.s.s. She waited.

His eyes opened and a little thrill ran through him as he surrendered to her. "Go in the bedroom and strip to your underwear. Kneel on the floor with your hands on the bed."

She sipped her wine. He did as he was told and waited. There was a beige s.h.a.g carpet under his knees, a pale pink bedspread under his arms. Jacky went into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing a red cotton nights.h.i.+rt, open in front. She put the cuffs on his wrists and placed a blue rubber ball in his right hand.

"Squeeze this," she said. "And if what I give you is too much, let it go." She weighed the ruler in her hand and cracked him across the a.s.s.

His body surged forward against the bed and he grunted. "It was a long week," she said. "A long week." Crack. He grunted more loudly and squeezed the ball. "Yes," she said, hitting him again, harder. To his astonishment, he began getting an erection. She reached underneath him and felt it. "You like it, too, don't you?" He grunted and then made a louder noise of pain as she hit him. Each blow rammed his c.o.c.k into the mattress. He hung onto the ball as she hit him faster and faster, stopping finally to get her breath.

"Very good," she said after a moment. Pain had spread across his body; his mind reeled. "Stand up." This wasn't so easy. He lost his balance, lurched against the bed, and stood with his feet wide apart. "Over here." She hooked him to the eye bolt and slowly pulled down his shorts. "You please me," she said. Oliver's senses were spinning. "You present yourself well," she said. She put her hands on his chest, feeling his nipples through his T-s.h.i.+rt. "Mmm," she said brus.h.i.+ng her fingers down his sides and trailing them over his hips. Her cleavage was close to his mouth. Honeysuckle. She stepped back.

"Watch me," she said. She played with her body, rubbing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s slowly and hitching up her nights.h.i.+rt. She took a vibrator from the dresser and stood directly in front of him. She brought herself toward o.r.g.a.s.m, looking into his eyes, making small noises. He began to whimper in sympathy, encouraging her. A broad smile spread slowly across her face. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and cried out.

"Oh," Oliver cried out with her. She came back to herself and took several breaths.