The sheer absurdity that the man with his fingers inside her after the beating they gave each other last night could be worried about the condition of her pussy, was too ridiculous to hold her laughter in. James raised a brow, then seemed to get the irony, chuckling as well.
Maura was happy to see that after her bath and his babying she was at least recovered enough to walk to the bed again. James had another tray of juice and small bites waiting for her- along with wispy, delicate lingerie that he insisted on putting on her, drawing the panties slowly up her legs.
Pouring juice for her, James held it up to her mouth. His eyes glittered cobalt tonight, and he had a sinful, inviting smile that made him look like the serpent offering Eve the apple. Maura felt tears of despair filling her eyes when he pulled back yet again, feeding her by hand and putting the juice glass to her lips. She decided to give the controlling bastard what he wanted, sitting passively and letting James manipulate her like a doll, refusing to speak or move.
He finished feeding her and then carried her back into the dressing area to blow dry her hair, brushing one hundred strokes. "I did this sometimes, for my mother when I was a boy," he said. "She had beautiful hair like yours, long and thick." James’s deep, sonorous voice captivated Maura, and she sat very still, barely breathing so as not to break the spell of sudden intimacy. "She had a set of those heavy, old-fashioned silver-backed brushes and combs- you recall the sort?" Maura cautiously nodded. Of course, she had never seen such a thing. Her family wouldn't in a million years have money for such a ridiculous luxury. "Her work in the... community, demanded by The Pastor," he said mockingly, "kept her busy. But occasionally we had a moment to talk as I brushed her hair, one hundred strokes." His hands suddenly faltered as if James realized he'd deviated from her smothering captor to a human being.
"Get up, Pet," he said briskly, "we need to dress for dinner. Put on your makeup. I quite like that bubblegum pink lipstick, do use that."
"How? Are you planning to carry me down and hand-feed me at the table?"
"It presents a rather arousing image," James agreed. "But I think you'll find you've never felt more energetic in your life, than…" he consulted his Rolex "about right now."
The hair brushing and his rare moment of intimacy had distracted Maura. Stretching her legs and arms, she wanted to cry. "You've drugged me again," she said flatly, forcing herself to sound calm. Her muscles were trembling with the need to move, her heart thumping wildly.
His eyes had faded back to arctic blue. "Get dressed. You have thirty minutes."
Putting on her makeup with precise, furious strokes, she thought about what she'd learned. So, James had a mother he adored, she knew that much from the piano in his living room. But their tender moments seemed shocking to her, hard to imagine the man she knew ever as a loving little boy. She pondered his comment about 'The Pastor' forcing his mother away from him for her community “duties.” Who was The Pastor? Their family's clergyman? A teacher? A parent? Her head nodded absently as she settled on the latter. There was too much emotion when he'd said the name for anything else.
Standing restlessly, Maura wanted to tear open the doors to their terrace, leap over the railing and run on the beach until her feet bled. She was used to some kind of serious physical exertion every day, and the average sloth had indulged in more exercise than she had for over a week now. Bouncing on her tiptoes, she found the outfit James selected for her on their bed. A short black dress, another pair of black heels, this time Louboutin’s, and yet another black velvet case. Yanking on the dress and shoes, Maura angrily tried to zip the back as she hopped from foot to foot.
"Good, you're ready." His dispassionate voice made Maura grit her teeth, but she turned. "Come here," he ordered. Picking up the black jewelry case, James placed a thick platinum choker around her throat, covering most of the bruises. She twitched, disliking the snug fit.
"Does this necklace have another clasp? Could it be looser, uh, Sir?"
James smiled, the apple tempting Eve so evident again. "No."
They took a private car that evening, meeting the Algerians and the rest of the Corporation at a restaurant on the beach. As usual, James ordered for both of them without consulting her, and Maura looked around the table automatically trying to memorize faces and names. She knew the uselessness of this, but she couldn't give up thinking like the agent she'd worked so hard to become.
Nezzar was especially loud that night, confident that no one would dare complain. He eyed her, drinking heavily.
"I see General Nezzar is enchanted with you." Maura turned with a smile, grateful to be placed next to Mr. Maaziz again. "Be careful there, Mrs. Pine. He is not... kind." His face was concerned but somehow resigned.
"Thank you for the warning, Mr. Maaziz." she assured, "I have met his sort before. Keep out of the way, out of the line of sight." Maura smiled, trying to lighten the moment, but her dining companion was not reassured. James watched the interaction carefully, but he didn't interrupt tonight. Maura asked more questions of her dinner partner, genuinely interested in the man. He talked passionately about Algeria, his involvement in the government. "You must have been so concerned about another civil war during the last election," she encouraged, seeing the worry behind his spectacles.
"It is always a concern in a nation as volatile as ours," he agreed. "My job is to reduce the number of casualties - particularly civilian casualties - in such a case."
Maura's brow furrowed, "That's a terrifying responsibility."
Maaziz shrugged tiredly, "Better the mantle falls to me than others."
General Nezzar stood. "Less talk! More celebration!" he roared, and dinner was over.
***
Back in the SUV as their driver took them to meet the others at a nightclub, Maura was moving from seat to seat, looking out the windows, playing the controls for the lighting. "I'll bet I could take on a mountain lion," she offered suddenly. "Or maybe a shark."
James looked at her with a brow raised. “Perhaps I've been too generous once again with my dosage. Have you never indulged in illegal pharmaceuticals before, Pet?"
Maura shook her head. "Drugs are for idiots.” She continued bouncing around the car, picking up bottles in the lit bar and putting them down again, fussing with her hair and skirt. "Have you ever wrestled a shark, James? You could hold onto the fins, and-"
"We're here!" he said with some relief. "Come, darling. Try to make some effort to keep your mouth closed, would you?"
"Why?" she giggled, "They've been questioning you about that ring of bruises around your neck? Feeling a bit shy, then?"
James rolled his eyes, pulling his sniggering bride out of the car. "Come, Pet. And remember, mouth," he mimed the gesture, and she followed along, still tittering helplessly, “shut."
"Shut," she nodded, breaking into helpless laughter at his irritated expression. "Shut! Always! Of course, James! Although, what should I do if a mountain lion does attack us? Should we have a signal? Like, I hold up my hands and pretend they're claws, like-"
