Encounter in Red
by SilverPhoenix13
URL: http://www.bluecatsgraphics.com/pean/fanfics/45/

I was resting in a very large bed, with several large pillows, a newspaper and a glass of spring water on a bedside table. None of it was making me feel any better, however, and in fact I was becoming greatly frustrated by the whole thing. It had been two days since Aloysius Pendergast had saved me from the clutches-greatly skilled and terrible though they be—of his brother. In that whole time, I had been salved and soothed and treated like a queen on her throne. By his servant.

Not once in the entire two days had Pendergast himself been within spitting distance of me. He’d carried me to a hospital, whisked me off to a private flight, physically carried me from plane to car to apartment, laid me on the bed and then—poof! Vanished. It was enough to give a girl a complex, considering what we’d been through and how we’d celebrated our survival together.

Granted, I could see where he might not regard me as the sort of guest he’d want to pay personal attention to, what with me being a lounge singer and all; certainly no New Orleans debutante, but I thought we were getting along quite well. Perhaps he was embarrassed by the depth of emotion he had allowed himself to show when he untied me from the bed his brother had used to torture me near to madness upon. Still, it was a bit of a let-down. I’d assumed we’d actually take up where we’d never left off, because we’d never been lovers before, but he seemed bound and determined to keep us behind that very thin line between rather prickly, very mutually attracted acquaintances and two people actually having fun together.

I idly kicked against the heavy coverlet. A velvet trap. I was wondering how difficult it would be to break out and see the city—I could see out the large, floor to ceiling windows at the foot of my bed that I was in New York—when Pendergast’s servant, Proctor, knocked quietly and entered with a tray.

“Miss Marsden?” He began to unload the dishes from tray onto the bedside table. Hot tea, some shirred eggs, toast, crispy hash brown potatoes (at my request; Proctor’d almost had a coronary in a very discreet, controlled manner when I had asked if he knew how to get them really good and crispy. Thank God he was so agreeable or I’d have gone insane by now) and a very pretty gerber daisy in a narrow vase. It seems I am the prisoner of the head chef at the Ritz Carlton, I thought grumpily. “Here’s your breakfast. Do you require anything else?”

I pondered that question as I unfolded the legs of the lap table I’d been using as a desk to support the Sunday Times. I love their crosswords. “Yes, Proctor. I require transportation. I need to get out of here, if only for a few hours.” I moved the food onto my lap tray with Proctor’s assistance. “I hear there’s some good shopping in this town.” I picked up my fork and tasted the eggs. “Do you do the cooking? It’s really good.”

He straightened up and said, “Yes, I do some of the cooking myself. I made your eggs. And no, I cannot take you out of the apartment.” Proctor had the good common sense to look apologetic. “Mr. Pendergast has expressly forbidden it.”

I put my fork down carefully. I didn’t want to slip and accidentally plant it in his eye socket. “Oh, come on, Proctor! Please? I’m going insane in this room. He won’t even let me walk down the hall without you going before me in some sort of parade. I’m either a prisoner or a queen, and the line between the two is exceedingly fine. Can’t you unbend for two hours? I need to get some things.” I batted my eyelashes at him, even though I thought the gesture wasted. How did two such hard-hearted men cope with each other?

“Miss Marsden, you know that I cannot.” I pouted at him, and—was I imagining it?—he seemed to soften a bit. “I would be glad to obtain anything you need, if you would give me a list.”

I tilted my head at him, putting on my most innocent and sweet face. “Some things a girl prefers to buy for herself, you know.” I figured a coy smile wouldn’t entirely ruin the impression I was going for, so I tried it. “I promise, less than an hour. Cash only. No one but you and the clerk and I will even know I’ve left the apartment.” I was keeping absolutely still, trying not to reveal how twitchy I was. “Please?”

He paused for a moment or two, his eyes searching my face almost as astringently as his employer’s did. Thankfully, he didn’t seem as intuitive as Pendergast, because he relaxed.

“One hour, no longer, less if possible. Make a list of stores and shops you wish to visit and go straight from car to shop. Cash only.” Proctor backed out the door. With his hand on the knob, he leaned in again and said, “Finish your breakfast and be ready in an hour.”



An hour and a half later, I was deep into the shopping district, doing a level of shopping I’d only ever dreamed of before. I’d been to a clothing store (since I’d had no time to pack my stuff, I needed just about every article of clothing known to woman,) drug store (tonier than I’d ever been in before) and a bookstore. I was about to get into the back of the Rolls when a very nice lingerie store caught my eye. In the window was a satin and mesh teddy trimmed in lace. It was the color that caught my eye—it was a striking deep, blood red. Instantly, I realized that this was what I’d been searching for. I leaned over into the car.

“Proctor, one last stop.” I glanced in at him, his face grim as he glared at me over his shoulder. “Relax, you can watch me cross the street and everything.” I slammed the door and ran over to the shop. The saleslady was most helpful. We located the teddy and a matching thong in my size, got it wrapped, and then I bought another in a deep, velvety black, as well. Two brothers, two teddies. As I handed over my charge card, I contemplated the other things I’d need. I knew I’d have to make my move that night. I wouldn’t have much time.

I waited until after the evening feeding. I sat in my room, listening as Proctor subsided down the hall to whatever place he went when he wasn’t watching or feeding me. I grabbed the shopping bag I’d filled with supplies, quietly opened my door and glanced out into the hall. Thanks to that day’s shopping expedition, I knew which way was ‘out’, and I’d also learned another valuable tidbit: Aloysius was not at home. I had no idea where he’d gone or when he’d be back, but it served my purpose.

I snuck out of the apartment, carrying my shoes until I got into the elevator lobby. Once I was on the street, I asked the guard on duty to hail a cab (easy enough to do in this part of town, but I was not a native and didn’t quite know how.) I asked for and was taken to one of the nicer hotels in the city. I was so excited about my ‘adventure’ I barely noticed the drive itself.

I checked in, under my own name, using my charge card again just to be doubly certain. Once I got into my room (a very nice one, to be sure) I took a long bubble bath, washed and dried my hair, and put on the blood red teddy. It made a very pretty contrast with my pale skin and the purple bruises from my last encounter with Diogenes, something I was fairly certain he’d like. I made my way to the bed, threw the covers back and withdrew the silk handkerchief Pendergast had used to dry my face in the warehouse. He had never taken it back, but I’d rinsed it out in the apartment and air-dried it. This had made the weave much less silky, but somehow that seemed appropriate. I tied the handkerchief around my face in a blindfold and sat in the middle of the bed. I’m not sure how long I kneeled there, waiting for Diogenes, but eventually I got a little sleepy. I piled the pillows up by touch and arranged myself artistically against them and the satiny sheets. I must have dozed for a while.

I became aware I was not alone in a rush of confused panic. I sat up suddenly and reached for the blindfold, but a strong hand caught my wrist before I could remove it.

“My, you make such a pretty picture in red, Gwennie.” Diogenes’ dry voice was practically in my ear. “Did you buy that pretty little thing just for me?”

I relaxed a bit and smiled slightly, but only slightly; I was playing a very dangerous game. “You know I did.” I brought my other hand up to touch his around my wrist. “I thought you would like the color.” His other hand traced a line down my face, along my neck, along the edges of the teddy. It kept going along my torso and along the inside of my thigh until he could get a grasp behind my knee. He gave a sharp tug on both knee and wrist and I sprawled onto my back. In seconds, he was stretched out on top of me, pinning me to the mattress. His mouth came down on mine, hot and demanding. I willingly subsided into and answered his kiss with as much excitement and demand as he displayed. We lay there in that kiss until I raised my hands and began to slide them up the sleeves of his suit. It was a heavy fabric but still soft, and it brought his brother’s habitual jacket to mind. The strength in the arms in the suit also called Aloysius to mind, except they were larger, heavier limbs, and these limbs were not avoiding me. Actually, his right hand was wrapped around my left knee, pulling it up and over his hip. As soon as I wrapped both legs around his waist, he began to stroke my thighs from knee to hip, up and over to my waist and down again. I wasn’t sure if he was just touching me to touch me or if he was feeling for the welts he’d left there with the belt. The latter seemed most likely, for as soon as he’d find one he’d run his fingers over it, from one end of the mark to the other, caressing, massaging, awakening the nerves again, making me tingle from head to toe. Diogenes’ other hand was wound into my hair, pulling slightly, adding to the hypnotic crawling sensations his other hand was creating on my thigh. Between the kiss, his hands and the feel of his suit on my inner thighs, I was rapidly becoming aroused.

I slid my hands up his arms to his shoulders, intending to frame his face, but he caught both of my hands—a particularly notable feat, as he didn’t pull away completely and yet didn’t press any harder against me. I only marveled for a second at the strength in him that allowed him to accomplish that before he whispered hoarsely into my ear, “Now, Gwennie, your blindfold suits me admirably, as I am, ah, not quite myself right now. I only stopped by because your trail of breadcrumbs was ever so tantalizing, but I really do have other things to accomplish this evening.” He carefully pressed one of my hands into the pillow, released it and used the hand to stroke the side of my face. The fingers stroked around to behind my ear and into my hair line, where he began twisting strands around and yanking them out. “But I can take some time to finish our business, I suppose.”

I sucked a breath in, nibbling my lower lip, legs trembling in anticipation where I had wrapped them around his waist. He chuckled, reaching around to grasp my ankles firmly as he pulled away.

“My pet, you stay right there and don’t move. I must get out of this suit. Wouldn’t want to muss it up, now, would we?” I willingly allowed him to step away and off the bed. “Particularly as my time constraints will only allow for our delightful sport, but not for the hotel laundry to get it back to the room in sufficient condition.” I could hear him removing his clothes, the sound highly erotic in the self-imposed darkness in which I lay. “Besides, they always manage to singe the shirts.”

He must have finished removing his clothing, for suddenly his motions became silent. Then again, he could have been fully clothed, as I hadn’t heard him enter the room at all before. I realized I was lying on the bed, hands still on the pillows next to my head as he’d left them, legs splayed as he’d left them. For a moment, I lay there, letting the realization sink into me of how compliant I’d become with him. It was very strange and unsettling, particularly as I was so used to being the one in control. A hard shiver of fear came over my entire body, leaving an icy tingling in its wake—but I did not move.

“Ah, you’ve become excited, Gwennie. I can see it.” Diogenes’ voice came from the other side of the bed, but I didn’t move to face him. I seemed to have no will of my own anymore. No desire save his, no ability but those he allowed me to have. I could feel my nipples hardening against the satin of my teddy. Ridiculous, Gwen! He hasn’t even touched you yet!

He laughed softly, this time from the foot of the bed. I felt the mattress shift as he began to crawl up the bed and over me. The urge to move, to clasp him, was overpowering, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t, not until he told me I could. A heavy, warm sensation was stealing over me, centered on a sharp, aching emptiness, and I was trembling with excitement and fear. I wanted him, so very badly I wanted him, and I wanted to feel him and hold him and have him take me.

He held himself over me, not even touching me, watching me quiver. I moaned, the only sign I gave that I was still conscious, and realized I had lost control of my breathing. I was panting, almost sobbing, with the effort of holding myself back and away. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his body fully onto mine and I realized he was, indeed, naked. For a few seconds, the intense warmth of his skin soothed my shivers, made me still, almost satisfied me.

As his lips came down to almost upon mine, he whispered along my skin, “I was speaking metaphorically, but I rather liked the effect.” I felt a sharp scratch up my inner thigh and hissed in pleasure. “But you can move now. In fact, I’d very much enjoy it if you would.”

That was all the encouragement I needed to wrap myself around him, very carefully not putting my hands above his shoulders. I walked a thin line and I knew the penalties would be severe if I crossed it. I reached up and flicked my tongue across his lips, encouraging him to lower them to mine. He complied, momentarily, letting me chew lightly on his lower lip before trailing kisses along the side of my face and down my neck. He sucked on the ridge of my collarbone before sliding along my shoulder to the strap of my teddy.

“Mmmm.” His teeth nipped my skin, catching the strap of the teddy between. “I would remove this as I did your dress of a few days ago, but I find myself unaccountably fond of it.” His hand reached up to flick the straps down my arms and out of the way. “If I let you live, you will keep this as a memento, won’t you, pet?” I nodded frantically as he continued to nudge the teddy down my body with his nose and chin, lips tracing patterns along my over-heated skin, tongue occasionally darting out to taste me. I was fairly certain he’d cut me earlier and he’d be drawn to the blood. I could feel a slickness between my leg and his hip that had nothing to do with the fine sweat across my skin, and the sting of salt in a fresh wound was very sharp. My leg was on fire, so when he carefully, gently lapped along the scrape from knee to upper thigh, I nearly came off the bed with the sensation. He had no beard this time, but a slight sheen of stubble, and I could feel it scrape along my skin. I cried out and braced my hands against the headboard above me. Again, slowly, he ran his tongue from one end of the cut to the other, making me lightheaded. I lifted my hips off the bed, silently begging him, trying to bring the part of me that most craved his attention closer. He pressed me to the bed with a not so gentle hand to the stomach, splaying his fingers wide across me from navel to hip, and continued his torture, finally sliding my teddy down my legs and off.

I began beating a slow tempo on the headboard with my half-fisted hands, the pain in my knuckles an attempt to distract myself from his mouth and what he was (not) doing. It wasn’t succeeding, and in fact was spreading the fire. My muscles were so taut that his hand was the only thing keeping me from arching my body clear off the bed, and even the heat from his hand was driving me insane.

Finally, my body could take no more, and I climaxed so hard I almost passed out. Only Diogenes could have provoked that sort of response, I’m sure. I was so surprised by it, I hadn’t even cried out, so I’m not sure how he knew, but he did. He waited, his hand the only part of his body touching mine, until I’d started to come back to awareness again. My body was throbbing and still very tender when he spread me with his hands on my knees and entered me.

This time I did cry out. All of my skin felt bruised and swollen, especially that which he was focusing his attentions on, but he was not the least bit gentle. Tears were running down my face, I could feel his breath panting along my cheek, and he had my hands so tightly grasped in his that I could feel my own nails digging into the palms. His breathing turned into a constant growling, and this time when I climaxed, I did pass out.

When I came to, I had no clue how long I’d been unconscious. But I knew I was alone—completely alone. The hotel room was empty, save for me. I’m not sure how I knew, but I could feel it.

I lifted a weak hand to my face, removed the blindfold. I opened my eyes to find that a total of three hours had passed from the time of my daring escape. I won’t describe the mess I and the bed were in—it looked more like Diogenes had sacrificed a small animal than made love to a woman. After a good long while of languid contemplation, I rose from the bed and made my way into the bathroom. After another bath, a little cooler this time, and some minor reconstruction work on the scratch on my leg; he’d barely broken the skin in most places, he really was very adept with a knife; and I felt ready to face what was waiting for me in the bedroom.

I walked in, found and returned the now blood-stained teddy to its pretty gift box. I carefully retied the bow and put it in the closet. I put the black teddy on in its place, all the while moving very cautiously since it felt as if I’d been whipped that evening. I straightened up the bed and called for a maid for some clean sheets. The mark between a good hotel and a great one is a desk clerk that never questions a paying guest too closely. I was in a great hotel. Five minutes later, I heard a knock at the door of my suite, and tossed a robe over my teddy. I walked into the main living area and crossed to the door. I managed to persuade the maid that I’d prefer to change the sheets myself and would leave the others in a bag in the hall when I left. After a larger tip than I usually spend on maids, she agreed and left, glancing over my shoulder as she did so. I latched the door, wondering what had caught her eye.

I turned, and ran my gaze over the room. There was a large television in an even larger cabinet on one wall, a large sofa and chair on the other, and between the two was a large picture window with a table in front of it. On the table was a large vase with vast numbers of flowers—all a deep crimson red—artistically arranged in it.

I may be a fool, but I am not that big a fool. Admiring it from afar, I went back into the bedroom to change the sheets and wait for him to come for me. I would allow him to deal with the flowers—he was ever so adept at things like that.