Blaze - the Sandstone Affair Part 4 Page 2

  “Yeah, a bullwhip and a blowjob have a way of doing that,” I say sarcastically, even though my heart’s not really into this fight anymore. I’m just reacting. He scowls but continues gracefully.

  “I got to know some of the couples. Nice, neat people and discovered the power of dominance and submission as a lifestyle. I met female executives who dealt with the pressures of their power by submitting at home over the lap of a lover, much like you did with me. I learned the internal satisfaction of knowing I wasn’t just loving someone but guiding, helping and teaching them. It was a perfect world for me. Val just never got past the sex part. It was just a story and a game to her.”

  “I don’t remember Ladies World running a fetish article. Where would they even put it? Between a recipe for homemade shortbread cookies and a photo spread on floral centerpieces for spring dances?”

  “That’s exactly right. She worked that story hard, but the board refused to run it. They said it would alienate their base and bring them negative attention. Even Blake voted to can the piece. She went on to her next issue and wanted us to move on too. But I couldn’t. I found a home in that world and a way I wanted to experience and express my love. I refused to leave it behind. She left me behind instead.”

  Mark’s eyes grow darker and his gaze seems far away. It is clear he loved her once, yet the tone in his voice, sad but strong, makes it clear he made the right decision and he doesn’t regret it.

  “After the board vote and her disappointment, she started an on and off affair with Blake. It’s perfect for them both. He’s married so he just wants something fun and nasty, and she’s able to get his vote to swing her way when she needs support. They are using each other, but they both seem happy with the arrangement. I don’t judge. Now, who took these pictures and how did you get them?”

  I explain about the knock on the door and the envelope waiting for me. I tell him it isn’t the first incident, and talk about the text message warning me not to trust him, that I assume must have come from Valerie if she knows I’m dating her man. He interrupts me to remind me he is not anyone’s man at the moment. I chide him, but smile. It’s a fair correction.

  He reaches over and picks up the pictures. His mouth curls upward into a nostalgic smile that breaks my heart anew, then points out some things I hadn’t noticed before. The couch has been reupholstered since then and though the color is similar, the pattern is not the same. Valerie’s hair is a lot longer than it was the last time I saw her, and her clothes are definitely out of style for today. That’s the biggest clue. Valerie James is never out of style.

  I take a deep breath and look in Mark’s eyes, so deep, so beautiful. I place my hand on top of his while every cell in my body is remembering their rough touch as he holds my hips, the way he reaches inside me and enlivens my sexual core, the gentle sweet moments when those hands brush my hair from my eyes or trace a pattern down my neck to my breasts. His hands are warm and my fingers stiff and cold.

  “I don’t buy it,” I say.

  “What?”

  “It’s a beautiful story and why wouldn’t it be? Valerie is a lot of things but chief among them, even I have to admit, is that she is a damn good writer.”

  “Oh my god, are you kidding me?” He throws up his hands in exasperation.

  “Think about it Mark. What’s more likely? You and your long lost lover just happened to have a stack of five year old pictures laying around from intimate scenes you did in front of someone with a camera who you conveniently can’t remember OR you put her in a red wig, got out your spanking paddle and took some shots, Photoshopping the couch later as a nice touch?”

  “I can show you the receipt from the couch, if it helps. Or I can just tell you that these are pictures from a long time ago and I don’t know who took them. Or I can just call Valerie right now and clear this up.”

  “You’d do that? You’d call her so I could hear?”

  “Yes, I’m going to call her. I want to know who took these pictures, because there sure as hell wasn’t anyone that room but us. And if it helps you get over this so you and I can move on then that’s a plus in my column.”

  “You talk like an accountant,”

  “You make me crazy,” he responds walking over to the phone by the bar.

  “Speaker, please” I say, following him. I have no idea what he’s going to say but I can’t wait to hear it.

  He flicks the speakerphone on, pulls out his cell, gets her number and dials it into the big phone. He puts his finger up when she answers, and I instinctively cover my mouth with my hand to show him I won’t make a sound.

  “Val, it’s Mark Stone,” he says. “Got a minute? It’s important, and private.”

  “I’m on a deadline so hurry,” she says dryly. It’s Valerie James alright.

  “Listen, Val,” Mark stalls a moment, not sure what to say. “I ‒ I got some pictures in my office today. Looks a bit like a blackmail situation. Don’t worry, though. I can handle it. It’s just the pictures, well, they are old ones and I’m not sure how they even got taken.”

  “I’m waiting for the part that has to do with me,” she replies. She’s probably editing an article while he talks to her.

  “They are pictures of us, Val, in flagrante. Remember the ‘Love’s Lost Leather’ piece you wanted to do? They come from about then. Some pretty private moments, actually.”

  “Oh,” she laughs genuinely with just the hint of a bitter edge. “Those moments.”

  “What I don’t understand is who took these pictures and how they got to my office today.”

  “Well, I can only answer one of those. I took them.”

  “You did? How? I mean, you were pretty occupied at the moment from the looks of things,” he says cordially. They talk as old lovers do, but it’s also clear the feelings have long since passed.

  “Oh Mark,” she sighs. “I wanted some shots for the story and no one we met in the clubs was either willing or, well, photogenic enough. So I used the old ‘purse cam’ trick, and turned the video into a couple of stills. I was going to blur our faces or shop them out. When it didn’t happen I erased the video and filed the pictures in the ‘things that never happened’ folder. Haven’t seen them for years.”

  “No copies, no one else? You haven’t taken them out for a spin anywhere recently?”

  “I have more to do in life than drone on about the days we were paddle pals. That’s not even my thing,” she says. “Let me go check my files. I’ll call you back.”

  Valerie hangs up without a goodbye, and Mark shrugs.

  “Happy now?” He asks, heading into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He brought one out for me as well.

  “Not happy, really,” I say. “But, less sad.”

  Mark goes back into the kitchen and starts pulling things out of the fridge. He cracks enough eggs for two omelets and begins chatting while he puts everything together. He doesn’t bother to ask me if I want one, but between my emotional whiplash and weary acceptance, it’s not a big leap to assume I’m famished.

  “If it’s Blake or Kenneth, that’s going to mess up everything,” he muses as he cooks. “But, I don’t see who else it could be. We dated for a short time and no one really knew our business.”

  “Maybe Valerie just wanted to rattle your cage?” I offer. I’m not quite ready to wrap her in the pure white flag of innocence yet.

  “She has a lot more to lose from those shots than me,” he suggests. “She’s the one who is all about power. She’s the senior editor of a national magazine for women. A photo of her on her knees before me would kill her reputation and it would just improve my career. Trust me, she’s not any happier about this than we are. She just hides things better.”

  He sits my plate down and joins me for lunch.

  “Maybe I should be learning from her,” I say to poke at him a bit. He just smiles patiently.

  “Maybe, you should keep learning from me,” he leans over to kiss me but I move to the side and his l
ips fall softly on my cheek.

  “I’m not—” I start a sentence not knowing what the end will be but Mark’s phone rings, cutting off the need to go on. He jumps up and runs to hit the speaker button.

  “Mark, there has been a breach,” Valerie says, a clear panicked waver in her solid voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Val,” he says nodding to me and mouthing the words, “It’s Blake.”

  “I am too, those pictures are gone along with some picture of other ‘private moments’ I would really rather not see floating around. If you find out anything about this, I’d truly appreciate a call.”

  “You bet,” he says. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet for a few days, especially to Blake.”

  “I understand,” she replies and hangs up again.

  “We’re in trouble,” he tells me grimly. “But not as much as she is.”

  Chapter 2

  We chat about how Blake may have found out, and what that means to our ability to get the information we need in order to file the rejoinder. Mark says the last time he got a peek inside Blake’s office the file was still behind the books but if Blake knows about Mark and me, there’s no way Mark is going to get anywhere close to that file.

  “So that’s it,” I throw my hands up. “You can’t get it. I can’t get it. Can we make a case without it?”

  “Not really,” he admits. “I have some things, and Janice’s documentation might get a judge to stop the closure temporarily, but the minute it’s stopped Blake will destroy that file. With no evidence the judge will let it go through. Blake’s only holding onto that file for sheer ego.”

  “If it is Blake who sent us these,” I add. “If your ‘paddle pal’ Valerie is pulling the wool over your eyes then Blake won’t suspect you and you can get the file. Let’s face it, from the day I met her she’s been after my career. Why wouldn’t she take you from me too?”

  “Because she already had me and didn’t want me, remember? Come on,” Mark stands up and holds out his hand. I take it, instinctively. He pulls me toward the couch.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get back on the horse, or over the hurdle, or whatever we need to do to get this infatuation with Valerie James out of your head so we can focus on business.”

  I don’t want to sit on the couch, even though I know it’s been reupholstered since their lovemaking. But, he guides and I follow. I’m not sure how that happened, but it’s just the way it is. He sits down and I sit beside him. Wrapping his arm around me from behind, he leans back and we lay like spoons. I have to admit it feels darn good.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she was your lover?” I ask, pretty sure I already know the answer.

  “Because you’re so psychotic about her. You’ve been obsessed with the competition between you two for so long I knew you would never let your guard down with me if I told you she was my ex-girlfriend. I didn’t lie about it; I just didn’t make it a point to tell you.”

  “So anytime I want to trust someone I should ask them, ‘Did you screw Valerie James?’ and then I will know who to trust?”

  “No, but I bet you’d get some answers you didn’t expect,” Mark chuckled.

  “Well, I know she has half the journalism world wrapped around her fingers, but to her credit I thought it was her talent and the Ladies World brand, not her legs and her fake red hair.”

  “Oh, she’s a natural redhead. Trust me.”

  “Argh!” I pull and try to break free from his embrace, but he doesn’t let me go, just laughs. It makes me laugh too. “Fine, I don’t want to know any more about you and her.”

  “There is no me and her. There is just me, and I want you. Besides, you’re wrong about her.”

  “Oh really? Do tell,” I egg him on. I can’t wait to hear what bullshit she’s told him.

  “Val doesn’t like you,” he said bluntly. Mark’s right, he is honest. “But she does respect you. She told me you called her a whore in front of an assembly the first time you two met. She admitted she talked to an editor friend or two about hassling you when you applied because she thought it would teach you a lesson about playing nice in the sandbox. But she had no idea they would take it as a blockade. She was actually kinda proud when Lynx hit the stands. She thought you were a worthy opponent.”

  “I didn’t mean to call her that, it just ‒ well ‒ I was—”

  “Mad because she didn’t know or care who you were.”

  “She told you that?”

  “No, but I’ve seen you in action. That’s why you two could never work together. You’re way too much similar.”

  “See, how am I supposed to trust you or open my body to you if all I keep thinking is whether or not you’re comparing me to Valerie? All my life I’ve been behind her, cleaning up the crumbs off her table. In school I was in her shadow, when I got into the journalism field, I was in her shadow; she even had a Sandstone Ventures bailout before me. Now, I find out she’s had you too. Everything I do with you, I’ll know she has already done. You’re... used.”

  “I’m sorry, I forgot you were a virgin when we met,” Mark replies incredulously. It makes me laugh some more.

  “I wasn’t. By far,” I slap him on the leg. The feel of his body around mine, warm and luscious makes me want to forget this day ever happened.

  “If you don’t want to do something she’s done, then do something new. For this day, and this day only, I will be your submissive and you can give me the orders.” Mark moves around off the couch and gets on his knees before me.

  My eyes widen in shock. Is he serious? The Mark Stone who is always in control, will submit himself to my orders? Then a smile starts to play at my lips.

  I take a moment to imagine the possibilities. What do I want him to do? My first instinct is to look toward his actual bedroom, not the “playroom” he’s taken me in, and ask him to make love to me there for the very first time. I decide against it. If we ever make love in his bed I want it to be at his invitation, not some power play of mine. Reaching down I toy with his tie a moment. He bends his head down to kiss my hand.

  “Strip,” I say. Mark starts to undo his tie in a hurry. “No, no, no. I didn’t say take your clothes off, I said strip. Put on a show. Let me see your stuff, big guy.”

  Mark laughs. He rises and goes over to the windows and draws the shades. Stopping by the stereo he programs in some numbers and some slow R&B music begins to fill the room.

  “Sorry, that’s as close to strip-tastic as my music gets,” he says. I almost protest when I realize the song he has picked is “Let’s Stay Together” but decide to just lean back and enjoy the show.

  “Let’s see some moves,” I catcall from my position on the couch. Mark begins to slowly pump his hips with a big grin on his face. I can tell he is having fun with this even though he doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s doing. He opens one side of his suit coat grinding towards me then twists his back attempting to remove it fully. His arm gets stuck in the sleeve and he ends up spending the whole chorus (“Times are good or bad, happy or sad”) flopping around beating at the trapped sleeve like it’s some kind of parasite attempting to devour him. We both laugh as he subdues the monster and throws it across the room victoriously.

  He takes off his tie, clearly he’s had more practice at this, and kisses one end, then runs it up the length of my body until it rests below my chin. He draws close to me, like he is going to pick up the tie with his teeth, but instead leans over and kisses me deeply. The song changes to Prince’s “Kiss” just at the perfect time.

  “You timed that,” I say.

  “Nope, I had no idea that was next. I just took advantage of it,” he laughs and turns his back to me, wiggling his butt in the worst shake down I have ever seen. He is trying to unbutton his shirt but I see him fumbling with each button as he tries to undo them. I am just about tell him it’s okay when he abandons the effort entirely and just rips the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room. He turns an
d holds open his shirt, his chest peeking through the separated fabric, my reaction to this has gone from curiosity to humorous acceptance to arousal as I look at the chest and imagine my hands running across it.

  I reach out and pull him down on the couch with me, taking his hands and pinning him back as I push him against the arm. Leaning down, I rub my tongue up his abdomen to his chest, feeling his passion rise beneath me. He kisses me again and tries to get back up but I put my hand on his warm chest, feeling his heart pounding under my touch.

  “But I’m not done,” he complains.