"Ryan, you haven't properly greeted Deirdre, have you," Allie said softly.

Wordlessly, Ryan knelt before Deirdre. ''Good evening, Mistress."

Deirdre stroked Ryan's head absently, sifting dark strands of hair through her fingers as if Ryan were a favorite pet, her eyes on Allie.

"Will you allow me to command her?"

Allie savored the last of the fruit, licking the juice from her lips.

''Of course."

"Please make yourself comfortable," Deirdre said to Allie, nodding nearly imperceptibly toward the chair. "More champagne?"

'Thank you," Allie said as she stepped around Ryan's still form and settled into the large chair. She extended one arm along the broad armrest and held out her champagne gla.s.s for Deirdre to fill. As she sipped, she watched Ryan while Deirdre idly caressed her face and neck, judging by the rapid rise and fall of Ryan's shoulders that she was already excited. Allie knew from experience that just the thought of being dominated was enough to arouse her lover.

"She's a lovely animal, isn't she," Deirdre murmured, tilting Ryan's face up and rubbing her thumb over Ryan's mouth. "And so talented."

"Yes," Allie agreed, imagining Ryan's lips and the magic they were capable of. She saw Deirdre take a step closer, thread her fingers through Ryan's hair, and rub her crotch over Ryan's face. She knew Deirdre would feel the heat of Ryan's breath on her c.l.i.t even through her trousers, and her own c.l.i.t twitched as she watched. She hadn't known what to expect when Ryan had suggested that she come along, explaining that Deirdre had intimated more than once that she enjoyed watching a good scene. Allie was discovering the same was true for herself. "She has a marvelous tongue."

"Let's put it to work." Deirdre smiled lazily at Allie, then leaned down and kissed Ryan. "Help your mistress with her clothes, Ryan."

When Ryan reached for Deirdre's belt, Deirdre stepped back. "Allie's."

Ryan couldn't quite hide her look of surprise as she turned toward Allie, but Allie carefully kept her expression neutral, even though her pulse jumped. She sipped her champagne as Ryan moved to kneel between her legs and slid both hands along her thighs beneath her skirt, guiding the leather up her hips. Allie had worn nothing under it and she was wet. She knew Ryan could smell her excitement and wondered if Deirdre could see the glistening evidence of her pa.s.sion. Ryan caressed Allie's hips but made no further move until Allie cradled the back of Ryan's head and drew her gently forward.

"Slowly, Ryan," Deirdre said as she stepped to the side of the chair. "Let me see you lick her."

Allie caught her breath at the first touch of Ryan's warm tongue separating her swollen lips. She released Ryan's head as Deirdre's hand gently brushed hers aside. When Ryan delicately ringed the hard prominence of her c.l.i.toris, she shuddered. When the tip of Ryan's tongue teased at the hood covering her most sensitive spot, she drained her champagne gla.s.s and set it down with a trembling hand. Ryan knew her body so well that she could keep Allie on the edge of o.r.g.a.s.m for hours, but her stomach was already fluttering and she was afraid she would come too quickly.

"Don't suck her yet," Deirdre whispered, as if hearing Allie's fears.

She looked at Allie, her own lids heavy, her voice husky. "She makes you want to come right away, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Allie admitted thickly. Lids nearly closed, she rested her head back against the chair, a trembling smile on her face. Ryan's head moved in time to the steady thrusting of Allie's hips. "Especially when she flicks her...oh!" Her eyes opened wide. "She's making me come!"

"Ryan!" Deirdre said sharply, tugging Ryan's face away from Allie's s.e.x. Allie cried out, her hand flying to her c.l.i.t. Even though a stroke would push her over, she did nothing but press her thumb to the base of the rigid core, forestalling her o.r.g.a.s.m. Her chest heaved, nipples straining against the tight Lycra shirt.

"Did I tell you to make her come?" Deirdre demanded.

"No, Mistress," Ryan gasped, her eyes dark with desire.

"Take out your c.o.c.k," Deirdre ordered, walking around behind Ryan. "Quickly."

Ryan yanked open her heavy belt buckle and tugged at her fly.

Then she dug inside and pulled out the long, thick length of her c.o.c.k.

When she started to rise, obviously expecting to enter Allie, Deirdre pushed her back down with a firm hand on her shoulder. Then Deidre knelt beside her, angling her body so she could see Allie's face. She wrapped her fingers around Ryan's c.o.c.k, making an appreciative sound deep in her throat. Ryan groaned when Deirdre worked her hand quickly up and down the shaft.

Looking at Allie, Deirdre said, "Are you ready to come now?"

"G.o.d yes."

"Suck your mistress, Ryan," Deirdre ordered softly, her arm vibrating rapidly between Ryan's rigid thighs. "She wants to come in your mouth."

Ryan leaned forward, her eyes on Allie's, and closed her lips around Allie's pulsing s.e.x.

Deirdre smiled at Allie. "I'm going to jerk her off when you come.

Tell me when you're coming."

"Soon," Allie gasped.

"Is she making your c.l.i.t hard?"

Allie nodded, her head twisting from side to side. "Her mouth is so d.a.m.n hot."

Ryan was panting, her clenched fists pressed to Allie's thighs. Her hips jerked unevenly as Deirdre pounded the c.o.c.k into her tortured c.l.i.t.

"Lick me, baby," Allie sobbed. "I'm so close."

Deirdre ran her tongue over the rim of Ryan's ear. "Your mistress needs to come, Ryan. Suck her now, harder."

"Oh I'm coming!" Allie cried, grasping Ryan's head.

Deirdre pumped the c.o.c.k furiously and Ryan stiffened, moaning into Allie's c.u.n.t while Allie rode her mouth. Tears leaking from her eyes, her gaze riveted to Allie's face, Ryan came against the base of the c.o.c.k while Allie's c.l.i.t exploded between her lips.

Allie wasn't aware of Deirdre moving until Deirdre yanked Ryan's head from between Allie's legs.

''Get your c.o.c.k into her," Deirdre ordered.

Ryan, still shaking from her own climax, struggled to guide the fat head of her c.o.c.k between Allie's drenched lips. The added pressure against her overly sensitive c.l.i.t as she pushed inside made her stomach tighten reflexively. "I'll come again," she gasped. "Please...may I come?"

"Wait, baby," Allie said gently, bending her knees around Ryan's leather-clad thighs and setting the rhythm by pushing herself up and down Ryan's c.o.c.k. "f.u.c.k me nice and slow. You can come when I come."

"Allie..." Ryan's face was contorted, her face and hair dripping sweat. She braced both arms on the chair. "I don't think I-"

"Listen to your mistress," Deirdre commanded, her voice strained.

She hurriedly kicked off her shoes and pushed down her pants and underwear. She stepped close to Ryan, one hand opening herself, exposing her fully aroused c.l.i.t. "Bring me off while you f.u.c.k her."

Allie stared at Ryan's face pressed between Deirdre's trembling thighs. "Suck her c.l.i.t, baby."

Deirdre cupped the back of Ryan's head and, groaning quietly, smiled shakily at Allie. "I'm going to come on her face. Soon. Are you...oh f.u.c.k...she's so good." Deirdre's eyes closed for a second but she forced them open. Her breath came in short pants. "Is she making you come?"

"Uh-huh." Allie arched, slid her fingers to her c.l.i.t, and m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed, the c.o.c.k buried to the hilt inside her. "Coming now...so hard." She screamed, her shoulders jerking up from the chair.

Ryan thrust blindly, driven to climax by her lover's cry.

Deirdre laughed harshly, shooting off in Ryan's mouth.

When Allie opened her eyes, Ryan was slumped between her legs, her head resting on Allie's stomach. Allie caressed her damp cheek.

"Okay, baby?"

"Mmm," Ryan murmured, eyes closed. "Wasted."

Allie sighed and turned her head, searching for Deirdre. She was leaning against the bed, dressed once more, lighting a cigarette. "I think we might need to pay you."

"Oh, I don't think so." Deirdre drew in the smoke and exhaled with a satisfied smile. "Ryan alone is priceless. Tonight? This was bonus night."

MARKS.

RONICA BLACK.

he cigarette tip glows orange against the night, hypnotizing as it grows. The sound of it burning, like crinkled paper, is a T strange comfort. The wispy trail of its tail makes me cough, reminding me that I hate smoke. Yet I keep inhaling, relishing the pain and coughing it brings on. The brown liquid in my gla.s.s. .h.i.ts my lips, cold and aggressive. I don't usually drink either, but the raw emotions that are eating me alive have led me to open the tiny bottles from the hotel mini-bar. I blink back against the sting of tears and wonder at the cause. The smoke? The alcohol? The pain? I stare out at the night settling in around me and accept that it's all three. The sky is dark and clear, not a cloud in its wake. I look to the moon, small but proud, and wish for rain. The evening air is comfortably warm but I wish it were cold. I down more of the burning liquid and wish that everything around me would reflect how I feel. But that's not the way it works, I guess. The world doesn't care about your pain. It only cares about continuing. Am I going to be able to continue? Christ. I don't know. I know I have to, but my heart is beaten.

It started weeks ago, gradually. Just like everything does. We stopped making love. She stopped kissing me back. I would wake up in the middle of the night all alone and rise to find her on the couch. She started drinking again. They may sound like huge red blinking signs of trouble now, but when you live it, you don't see it that way. You stumble upon each sign, like a pebble in your path in the dark of night. It's small, but it still trips you up. And yet you recover quickly, regain your balance, acknowledge it almost unconsciously, and move on. You continue on your path and don't give it a second thought. Not until the next pebble comes.

Eventually there are so many pebbles, you find it difficult to walk.

Then and only then do you actually take a moment and step off the path to examine what it is that's happening. That's where I am. Right now. I'm off the path, rubbing the back of my neck and examining each pebble.

They're not all her, though. A good number of them are from someone else.

I caught her staring at me about a month ago, and later on caught myself staring at her. I found myself watching the way her mouth moved when she spoke and the steady, alluring pulse of the vein in her neck. I began to realize that I held my breath when she was near and then breathed deep as she walked away, wanting to capture her scent. Sounds pretty and pink and romantic, doesn't it? It probably would be if it weren't for three other tiny little things. Actually they're monumental.

One: I'm taken.

Two: She's taken.

Three: She's my boss.

But those three enormous factors can be cast aside, swatted away like mere gnats when you want what you want and need what you need.

But they always come back. They never die. They simply wait.

Wait for you to open the door to your hotel room after leaving her. They slip inside with you just before you ease it closed. You're in a daze, lost in her aura as you lean back against the door. And that's when you feel it. The sudden, hard slap against your cheek. The three things. .h.i.t you hard, one right after the other, inflicting a pain and guilt you never could've imagined.

You need to hear more to fully understand. Let's go back to yesterday. Back to when I was still innocently stumbling along my pebbled path.

"Good, good. That's it. Pull the tank top down a little farther in front."

The model complied and my camera raced, clicking a mile a minute. My body moved equally fast, circling her, ensuring I captured every possible angle.

"Excellent. Now lean down, rest your elbows on your knees."

My brain was flooded with the excitement of creativity. I had her now, suspended in that realm where everything was perfect. The sunlight, the sand, her eyes, her skin. She gave a c.o.c.ky grin from her pose on the old wooden chair. My camera continued, every click sounding like it had its own heartbeat. Like it was alive and feeding off her image.

I was in my zone, desperate to catch the perfect collection of all that encircled her. Around us people moved about, talking, testing light, setting up props. But I ignored it all, falling down to my knees in the cool sand for a shot underneath. She sat on the chair with her legs resting apart, her elbows on her knees. The white threadbare tank top pulled and stretched downward, offering just a peek of her dark mocha areolae. I stood and stepped to the side, snapping shots of the tattoo that had been drawn on her upper arm. I grinned, loving the look, the whole package.

This was my doing, the messy, textured hair, the fake tattoo, the tank top and tight men's boxer briefs. All of it. She grinned in return, liking my approval, turning her head oh so slightly as if she were flirting in a cool butch fashion.

"Yes, perfect."

I stumbled backward a bit, my camera glued to my face. My bare feet sank down into the soft mounds of sand, securing me, making me feel right at home there on the beach. And as I continued to capture the magic, I felt it. Felt her. I knew without turning that warm amber eyes were sprinkling their heated sweetness all over my skin. It was a feeling that was becoming all too familiar. She had arrived and was watching me.

My heart kicked alive at the realization, ignoring any ounce of reason my brain tried to summon. I took another step backward, trying my d.a.m.ndest to keep focused on my work. My feet kept on, unsure but determined, until they came upon something firm. I reached out, trying to gain my balance as the object beneath me moved suddenly. A strong hand gripped my forearm, steadying me. I lowered my camera and turned, searching for the source. Cal stood glaring at me, raising his feet to brush off the expensive shoes I had stumbled upon. The hand that had steadied me didn't belong to him, however. It belonged to the woman who stood at his side. The woman whose eyes had recently begun to haunt me. She stared intensely into me and I nearly lost my balance again. Alex, though, remained stoic, obviously not nearly as affected by my presence as I was by hers.

"Sorry," she offered, just as calm and collected as her gaze.

"Normally I wouldn't interrupt your session, but we need to talk."

I wished I knew her well enough to venture guesses as to what was going on in her mind. But I didn't. All I knew was that her presence moved me, caused my body to react in ways I understood but did not necessarily approve of.

Alex's gaze wandered over to the model, who sat patiently waiting for me to continue, and I searched desperately for a sign of raw attraction from her but saw none. It was rumored that she was gay and seriously involved, but I didn't know for sure. We never really talked.

We just watched one another. I looked to her left hand and found the simple gold band on her ring finger. I felt my face flush and glanced down to my own similarly decorated ring finger. I didn't know what it meant anymore. I knew what I wanted it to mean, but it wasn't totally up to me.

I knew why Alex and Cal were there and readied to defend myself.

I gave a nod to my girl on the chair and set down my camera. ''Take a break, Danny."

The young model rose hesitantly, her expression one of cautious concern for me as the two executives folded their arms. Alex spoke first.

"What's going on here?"

The color of her eyes fooled me, wanting me to believe that she was warm and pa.s.sionate. Her tone, however, left me feeling chilled to the bone.

''Cal tells me that you fired Isabelle."

I eased a hand down into one of the numerous pockets of my cargo shorts and let the ocean breeze play with my hair. Even though I was shook up, l had to remain calm. "Cal was mistaken." I glanced over at him and gave him an eat-s.h.i.t-and-die grin. "I don't have the authority to fire models."

''Then exactly what is it that happened? Where is Isabelle?"

I shrugged, inwardly cursing at the mention of the high maintenance, snotty model.

"I have no idea where she is."

Of course, in reality, I had a few good ideas of where I wanted her to be. But they weren't nearly polite enough to mention.

''Why isn't she here, Gina?" Alex asked, her voice lowering with frustration at my evasiveness.

I swallowed, strangely aroused at her sultry voice. My body and mind continued to conflict over the effect she had on me, I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak, "Because I refuse to shoot her."

I saw Alex's face lighten a little, glad, it seemed, to be getting an honest answer. Her reaction caused more stirring inside. An elation of sorts. My eyes skimmed over her pressed white polo blouse and khaki shorts as I waited for her to respond.