Other Colors - Ch. 17 - Sex Stories

Other Colors - Ch. 17

Part 2 – Blue (continued) Chapter 17 He kept his promise. He was gone by the time I woke up. And while he left no note behind with my dress that morning, he did, thank God, see fit to provision me with a pair of shoes. I stared down at them, crossed on the fuzzy black mat of the town car. They were cute, I guess; a pair of blue suede ballet flats, with narrow straps buckled loosely about my ankles. I watched one toe begin to tap the mat nervously. I curled it up, trying to stymie the tic, and gazed out to the wet snow whizzing by the window. I was on my way to the theatre, to meet Marie. He was still in the air somewhere, soaring over the Atlantic. I sighed, and leaned my forehead against the glass. I might’ve been seated right next to him. It would have been so easy to say yes. I could almost feel it; his hand resting heavily on my thigh, the coolness of his breath as we flew over a storm cloud, and he whispered to me his blue intentions for when we landed. Or maybe he’d make me fly coach. I smirked. Sadist. My toe uncurled, and tapped a little faster. The shoes themselves were no small matter to me. Just as he’d made a clear point of keeping me barefoot the day before, leaving me these was tantamount to allowing me a measure of freedom. It meant, through the twisted and tenebrous dialectics of Dmitri Caine, that he trusted me. At least, that’s how I chose to interpret it. I wanted badly to think he still believed that outside the bounds of our strange arrangement, I ...

... remained a fully grown adult; fully capable of doing grown adult things. I could find my way downtown without dying. I could forgo getting into vans with strangers. I could stay out of jail. Even if he didn’t believe it, I wasn’t about to take any chances to prove him right. I could imagine very little going awry at Marie and Renault’s demonstration. I was, nonetheless, immensely and irrationally anxious about it. My head pressed harder on the window as the driver swung us onto Crémazie , and turning us south out of Saint-Michel. I frowned. It was a bit bizarre to think I no longer lived there. I’d only come up north that morning to put in my hours with Madame d’Aulnoir. Working there was, after all, one of just two outings he’d authorized for me while he was away. The store had been swamped all morning, overrun with holiday shoppers hunting through Madame’s unusual array of tchotchkes. And even with both of us half-buried beneath gift wrap, she’d wasted no opportunity to tease and harangue me about Dmitri. “Oh, il est tres beau, chéri. All devils are,” she tossed me a roll of ribbon. I was boxing up an old camera for a girl whose face I vaguely recognized from back at McGill. “But beware, chéri, of a man who has everything. Vraiment, he will want just one thing from you…” I rolled my eyes, smirking as I tied off the bow, “Qu’est-ce que c’est, Madame?” She reached her hand out, and drew a suggestive outline of me with her withered and sapphire-studded finger. “Toutes les choses, ...