I studied Thomas Langely with a new eye now. I wasn't looking at him as a pupil looks at a teacher, or even as a woman looks at a man. I was looking at him as a dominant looks at a submissive. And I liked what I saw.
I was used to seeing him in suits, but the more casual clothes looked good on him. The usually neatly combed hair was disheveled by his fall, lying across his forehead and down into his eyes. He peered up at me through the strands. I remembered what Kurt had told me about the importance of a submissive begging permission before being allowed to make eye contact. Just to yank his crank, I scowled at him.
The effect was startling. His shoulders tensed, and he looked down quickly, with a murmured, "Sorry."
Experimentally, I said quietly, "Sit up straight, Langely. Don't slouch like that."
His spine straightened, but he kept his head bent down, looking at the pavement. He didn't speak.
Oh my, oh my. Wasn't this bizarre and perfectly delicious? It occurred to me that I had it in my power to cause a scene and heartily embarrass him.
Instead I said, "Are you all right?"
"Yes." It was almost a whisper.
If I were in a relationship with him, I thought, I'd probably slap him for that bald reply. No name, no title. I wasn't in a relationship with him, but I could have a little fun teasing him, now that he was in a vulnerable position. Nothing mean. Just let him know that maybe he wasn't as superior and set off as he seemed to think.
"Tell me, little boy, does your mama know you're out here all alone, about to get your round little butt kicked? "
"I... there's never been any trouble before..."
Which means you're a regular, and this isn't a one time thing. I snorted. "Your goodies have gotten knocked to hell and gone. I'll help you get them up."
"No, please. I can manage."
I ignored him, scraping the magazines into a pile. I flipped through Tender Flesh. Yes, the photo layouts featured men being bound, whipped, and molested by women, and other men. Ooo, naughty boy, Thomas. I caught him looking at me again, and smirked as I dropped the magazines in the damaged bag.
I picked up the riding crop, and suddenly smacked it down on the pavement beside him. It made a pop like a firecracker going off, and he flinched. "Looks like your play pretty is still in working order." I dumped it in the sack.
Then I picked up the length of chain. I let it trickle from one palm to the other, listening to the muted chink of its links. He watched it, eyes riveted on the silvery strand. At last I dropped it, too, into the sack. Then I held out my hand.
He took it tentatively, and I helped him to his feet. I picked up the torn sack, holding the ragged edges together so the contents wouldn't spill out again. I shoved it into his arms, and he took it.
Then I reached out and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It was soft and silky. His eyes flickered, but he didn't look at my face.
"You go home, Langely." I started to walk toward my bus stop, calling back over my shoulder. "Go home where you'll be safe." Grinning, I turned and walked a couple of steps backward, calling, "Before a big bad wolf comes along and eats you right up!" I turned, and made it to the bus stop just as my ride was pulling up.
Kurt was in bed when I got home. I suppose I should have waited for morning, but I didn't. He'd wanted to be kept abreast of any development in the Langely/Benoit situation.
I had enough courtesy not to snap on the overhead and blind him. I just left the door open, so the hall light could stream in. I made out the spill of his dark hair over pale shoulders as he lay on his stomach amid the lumps and folds of the bed sheets. There was a gently rasping snore.
I sat on the bed and shook his shoulder gently. "Kurt."
"Mmm? Wha..?" He blinked sleepily, turning on his side to face me. "Emmie?" He smiled, reaching up to touch my breasts. "Change your mind?"
I pushed his hands down. "No, sweetie, sorry."
He shrugged, yawning. "Thas okay. What's up?"
I told him what had happened. Somewhere along the line I realized that the snoring hadn't stopped. I peeked over and saw a petit, bosomy blonde cuddled up against Kurt's back. But she wasn't snoring, either. It seemed to be coming from the foot of the bed. There were a pair of masculine feet resting on the pillow on her other side, strong hairy legs disappearing under the covers toward the bottom. I had to shake my head.
"He's a submissive, Kurt." I finished. "He couldn't not be. I mean, everything about him right then was just screaming..." I waved my hands, confused at how to put it, "Hurt me, don't hurt me."
Kurt nodded, propping himself up more comfortably on the pillows. "I know. It's the look a really good submissive gets when he runs into a really good dominant unexpectedly. Their first instinct is to respond, but they don't dare if it's too public. And it goes against their grain to resist it, so they get really confused."
"I can't believe this. Langely, of all people."
"You said there was something about him."
"Yeah, but the way he acts I assumed he'd be on the giving rather than the receiving end."
"And I'm sure there are a lot of people in your life who'd say, Emily? Controlling? Dominant? Don't be silly. She's the sweetest, meekest thing around." I growled. "And they'd be wrong, too. Sometimes Mundanes can't see what's right in front of their noses. You're just coming out of the Kingdom of the Mundanes, so it took you a little while to see it."
There were sleepy murmurings on the other side of the bed. One lump moved on top of the other, and began to rise and fall in a slow, grinding rhythm. A hand, I couldn't tell in the dark if it were male or female, wandered over Kurt's hip and started skating up and down my arm. I heard someone coo.
"You'd better decide how you're going to handle Langely from now on."
"Same as ever, I suppose. Keep my head down, avoid kicks, and pray for the end of the semester."
"No, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Well..." He scratched his chest. "Langely isn't with anyone right now. Sacristy left him last year. A submissive without a Dominant is a lonely, miserable person, Emmie. He's got to be looking. And you like him..."
"Stop it right there Kurt. I do not like the man. He drives me crazy. I could just... just..."
"Beat him?"
"Yeah."
"On his bare ass... with a belt, maybe?" I felt a sudden jolt of heat. Kurt laughed softly. "You should see your face. I don't know if anything substantial will come of it, but you two have each other's scent. Now, I don't want to be rude, Emmie," Another hand had scrabbled over Kurt's hip, and was gently stroking his penis "But I have guests to entertain. And if you're not going to do more than watch, I need the bed space. So scoot or strip." He rolled over and plunged under the sheets, greeted by giggles and chuckles.
I peeked under the sheet for a moment, marveling at such a complex configuration. Then I left, shutting the door.
