Page 19 of Currency in Flesh

“You’re not helping,” I muttered. I probably looked like a damp tomato, which didn’t lend me any confidence. “But yes, I would.”

She gave me a noncommittal nod. “As you wish.” I chuckled, and she lifted a brow.

“When I was younger, all I ever dreamed of was hearing a man in a black mask say that to me.”

The sheer confusion on her face sent me into a fit of giggles. I laughed until my face hurt, and her sour expression just made my laughter more uncontrolled. Her narrowed eyes scanned my face for some sort of explanation, and when I finally caught my breath, I grabbed her hand and grinned. “There is a movie I watched a lot as a kid, and the main love interest’s big line is ‘as you wish.’ As a kid, it was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard.”

“Why would a man in a mask seem romantic?” she asked, her lip still slightly lifted in disdain.

“I think every woman wants a man to pledge to do anything to make her happy, and that’s what he does.”

“It is a foolish dream of youth indeed to think a man could ever make you truly happy,” she said. Her fingers tightened in mine, and I had an odd thought.

“Do you only… um… enjoy women?” I asked. Though she could listen in on my thoughts, I wasn’t sure if she knew I had never been with a woman. The only time I had ever even kissed one was in the midst of an alcohol-drenched failed threesome early in my marriage to Sean. He couldn’t get it up, and I was jealous, and so we sent her home in a cab and fought until he stormed off and I slept on the couch.

“I tried men a few times, and I did not find them to be anything worth repeating,” she replied. “They tended to be clumsy and selfish lovers and I do not find their bodies to be particularly appealing.”

“But you find my body appealing?” I asked, for once, not trying to stifle the vulnerability in my voice.

“Oh, Grace,” she said, “you have absolutely no idea how much.”

I wanted her to show me. I wanted to see how she would touch me, what she would look like when she did. But I couldn’t say it. I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted, so I looked away, tugging my hand from hers and sinking down into the water.

“You do not believe me,” she spoke, more a statement than a question.

“No, no. I do,” I replied. “I’m just not sure what to do about any of it.”

I felt her body slide closer to mine, pressing against the soft warmth of my thigh. I felt her eyes on me, burning holes into the safe shell of my avoidance. If she truly broke through that protective layer, what would seep out? I didn’t even know what lay beneath, certainly she couldn’t know either. And that’s what it always came down to—was the person I had once been meant to be even worth it? Or was she just as weak and soft-edged as the woman I had become.

“Little flower, have you ever—of your own volition—been submissive with a lover?” Her words cut through the voices in my head.

Turning, I found her face open and non-judgmental. It was a genuine question. “I’m not sure what you mean. Like, have I let a guy tie me up? Yeah, a couple times.”

She responded with a subtle shake of her head. “No, pet. That is not at all what I am asking. I suppose that is an answer, anyway.”

“No, what do you mean? How can I answer accurately if I don’t understand the question?”

“Precisely.” The finality in the single word grated on my nerves, but she went on. “If you do not understand the question, it is because you have not experienced what I ask.”

Lady Cora stood, leaving every space that had pressed against her feeling cold despite the heated water. It ran down her body in glimmering droplets, faintly illuminated by candlelight. Her pink nipples were high and round, still hard and defined by temperature or lingering arousal. The soft hollow above her stomach held the tiniest bit of shadow, and I wanted to let my fingertips brush against it. A breath caught in my chest when her arms raised to wring out her long hair and secure it in a tidy knot. Her body seemed unreal—legs too long, alongside curves that rarely blessed women her size.

And yet, she genuinely seemed to want me. Or, at least, to find me attractive.

I didn’t try to hide how I watched her. What did I have to hide anymore? Yes, it was foolish and thoroughly idiotic to lust after Lady Cora, but I was unable to shake off the constant, insistent pull of her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Her steps were silent and graceful, pausing to wrap herself in one of the plush towels and to pour a measure of golden liquid into a glass. The light of her eyes reflected on its surface as she took a long sip, draining it with a single swallow before setting the glass back atop the table. “You may remain, if you so desire,” she said, voice echoing slightly. “You will find your own bed easily.”

Daring or recklessness slipped from my tongue. “What if it’s not my bed I want to find?”

She chuckled from the bottom step. “You will find it all the same.”

I stewedin my bed for hours. I’d thought she’d have liked my boldness, but she shut me down with a laugh on her lips. I didn’t know what the fuck she wanted from me. Whatever game she played, it was one I did not understand. I’d faced Sean, broken his fucking wrist, taken off my own clothes without covering myself, and it still wasn’t enoughbitefor her. Maybe it never would be. Lady Cora could keep me for all of eternity, demanding my service in whatever ways she deemed necessary, and I would have no choice but compliance. She didn’t owe me anything, certainly not sexual favors of her own. But why, then, would she tease me so goddamn much? Was it some kind of sadistic pleasure? Seeing me squirm and feeling how wet I became just from her presence?

Even now, hours after returning to my room and crawling into bed clothed in another silk nightgown, I knew I’d find slickness between my thighs. I replayed the image of her coming around my hand in my mind, over and over and over. My fingertips skated over my hip, wanting to touch myself, to ease some of this overwhelming tension, but her words stilled my hand.You do not touch yourself, ever again.

“Fuck!” a frustrated scream tore from my chest. What was I supposed todo?I didn’t need to eat, didn’t need to work. Hell, I didn’t even need to take a shit. Other than entertaining Lady Cora and taking revenge on Sean, I had nothing to do but read. Now I couldn’t even masturbate without fear of what she would do if she found out. And shewouldfind out. I believed her promise to not read my thoughts, but it was absurd to not realize that she likely had eyes all over this place. Shewasthis place, certainly she could see what occurred in her domain.

Her domain.

Shoving off my covers, I walked to the wardrobe, tugging the nightgown over my head and pulling on a simple black top and a pair of skinny, black jeans. It struck me as odd to find there were purposeful holes and distressing on the knees andthighs, but maybe Lady Cora’s clothing choices had all come from somewhere deep in my subconscious. Yeah, the internet regularly assured me skinny pants were out and a ghastly level of uncool, but I liked the way my hips and legs looked in them, and had no intention of going back to the baggy wide-leg pants I’d worn as a preteen. I made a face remembering the inches of wet denim that had dragged over my puffy skateboarding shoes. God, I had looked so bad. Desperate to fit in, but never getting it quite right.

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