“Next time you want a night time dip, we’ll go together,” Ben says. He’s out of the water too, as naked as the day as he was born, only he still has a semi-hard cock. “Then I’m not losing my few remaining marbles thinking about you drowning.”
Isaac laughs. “I’m with you on that. The Prime Minister would be most upset if anything happened.” His tone is sarcastic, telling.
There’s more to this. More to their acquaintance than just a few passing moments when Isaac’s been at the castle. I rearrange my bikini and look from one to the other, see them both looking at my chest.
I roll my eyes, not that either of them would notice.
“Pair of perverts.”
They notice that.
“Sorry,” Isaac says, looking away. “And don’t worry, no one else will find out about this.”
“Not sorry.” Ben pulls on his trousers which cling onto his damp thighs.
I ignore them both and strop back to the estate, managing to remember to grab my sundress, now covered with fine grains of sand.
* * *
I shower and dry off in a room that’s lit only with a single lamp. Tonight I want the dark to envelope me, to smother me like a child with its concealing blanket. Ben was too open in front of Isaac; the memory of him holding my breast while the three of us treaded water replaying through my head. Ben didn’t take risks. Doesn’t take risks. If he’d been in the slightest bit concerned that Isaac would say something about me being held inappropriately by my security, he would never have done it, or walked out of the water naked.
I towel dry my hair and apply moisturiser, trying to stop the sun from drying out my skin. There’s a brief knock at my door and it opens. Just as he’d promised, Ben’s here, wearing fatigues and bare feet, carrying two glasses of whisky.
Every night since the first night he stayed in my bed, he’s been here. Sometimes it’s been the early hours before I’ve felt him climb in next to me, if he’s been away for a meeting or to pick something up. Every morning he’s gone before I’ve woken.
He puts the whisky down on the bedside table and sits on the bed.
“Will you come here?”
“What’s the magic word?”
He grins. “Orgasm.”
I laugh. “Close enough.”
I go to sit next to him, but he pulls me onto his knee and undoes the towel that’s tied just above my breasts.
“I told you to be naked.”
“I don’t always do as I’m told.”
His hands cup my breasts, carrying their weight, rolling my nipples with his fingers and thumbs. My arms are stretched overhead, allowing him easy access to do what he wants.
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing or bad.”
“It’s a good thing. You wouldn’t be interested in a well behaved sub.”
His lips are tender against the skin of my neck.
“You’re right. I prefer a switch.”
A person who can be both subordinate and Dominant. I’ve known who I was since I saw a woman play both parts at a club in Seattle. She was tall and beautiful, high breasts with full hard nipples and arms that were toned and muscled. She oozed power, even when I saw her at the mercy of a man who made her beg to come with a paddle and his fingers. I am none of those things; I have a label and it weighs heavy on my head.
“I’m sorry I went in to save you when you didn’t need saving.”
His apology freezes me.
“I lost sight of you and I panicked.”
