Title: Koji ma Oshi
author: Sol 1056
rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW
pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
The place was massive. A cavern wouldn't begin to describe it, but like the place on L2, it was mostly dance floor. There were bars along the edges, and places for people to sit and chat. At the very far back, I could see an archway. Zorya had said she'd be upstairs. I wound my way past the few groups of people standing around at the bar, and the edges of the dance floor. A few courageous souls had taken to the dance floor, but the overall feeling was mostly one of a loosely affiliated group of friends. It felt like the times my crew had all met up for drinks after work, and I tried to walk like I knew where I was going. People moved out of my way, so I know it worked, but inside it was just... lonely. I kept waiting for someone to call my name, someone slender, a little tall, with blue-black hair that fell in her eyes, and she'd dare me to take a shot.
No one called my name, and it wasn't L2, and I kept walking.
Up the broad stairs, and there was a little counter at the landing. A woman stood there in a sleeveless blue velvet gown, sorting through a box of ribbons and tags, and she glanced up at my approach. It wasn't until I was standing in front of her that I realized she was probably a foot shorter than me--if a very cute foot shorter.
"Here for play?" Her accent was unfamiliar, and thick, lilting and musical. I leaned over to hear her better, and she repeated it slower, raising her voice over the music coming from the dance floor. Dimples flashed in her cheeks when she smiled.
"No, uh... I'm here to meet Zorya. She's giving me a tour," I said. "I'm Dao." I'd decided on Wufei's old insult for me--although I liked to consider it a compliment--and gave her a small bow with the name.
"Dao," she repeated, and when she said it, damn, did my new name sound pretty damn sexy. The woman bent over a list, turning away from me, and I noticed her back was bare from the halter-neck down to just past the waist. Okay. That's seriously low-cut, but I was so not complaining. I enjoyed the view until she turned around again.
"Your name's on here," she said. "Zorya's at the little bar, doing paperwork. Do you know how to get there?"
"No. That would be the point of the tour."
"Right!" She laughed, dropped the chart on the table, and offered her hand for me to shake. "I'm Celestina."
"Pleasure," I replied, and she laughed again.
"Come on, I'll show you where she is."
Celestina lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing two sturdy boots, and trotted up the second flight of stairs with a quick smile over her shoulder. The streak of purple in her curly brown hair caught the lights, and I had to remind myself: here just to check it... the place... out. Not really here to socialize. Just checking out... I tore my eyes away from her hips, swaying with each step. Right, Duo. Squash the hormones, and focus, damn it.
Fuck, I really needed to get laid.
Zorya looked up from the bar when we entered the second room on the right. It was a good-sized room, with scattered tables. A woman in red was in the corner, sipping a drink and reading a book; two other women were chatting at the bar with a young man wearing a cowboy hat with a rhinestone band.
"Dao," Zorya said, waving. When I came closer, she slid from the seat, and I realized she was almost my height. She was dressed in a leather skirt whose hem was probably not more than a half-inch below the hairline, and a fuchsia corset laced tight enough to make her breasts curve dangerously close to spilling out. Her hair was down, and looked remarkably casual compared to the eclectic get-up.
She was sex on legs, really. Then I looked again. Sex on...
"How high are those heels and how the fuck do you walk in them?" I blurted it out, just too astonished.
"Oh." Zorya turned in a circle, then raised one foot to show me her mid-calf boots were actually four inch platforms with another two-inch heel. "Takes practice." She leaned close, as if telling me a secret. "Nearly broke my neck the first time I tried to walk down stairs."
"I bet." I glanced around the small room, and figured it was time to get down to business. "So this is the place to hang out, down here?"
"Yep!" Zorya nodded. "Home away from home." She held up a finger, then leaned over the paperwork, scribbling something on the bottom of several sheets, then stuck the papers in a folder and waved to the bartender. "Cy, put this away?"
"Sure thing," the young man said, and he winked at me before taking the folder.
I did a double-take--male? or female?--hard to tell, but it wasn't the first time I'd seen someone so androgynous. I worked with someone like that, after all. I realized he--she--was talking to me.
"Wanna drink?"
"Later," she told him, and turned back to me. "I'm the club's accountant. Fenris--you might've met him?--runs the staff. I do the numbers."
"So you're not just a pretty face," I teased.
"Oh, I'm far more than that," she shot right back. "Okay, let's start this tour before the place gets packed. Sound good?"
I nodded, and she led the way--still don't know how she walked in those unbelievable boots--out of the little bar. Along the way, she pointed out things like fire extinguishers, and exit lights. With a graceful sweep of her hand, she indicated the emergency exits, and the medical kits available between each room, along with cleaning supplies.
"One of our rooms allows blood-play," she added, with a quick look like she was checking to make sure I'd not turned green. "It's at the end here, and I think it's... " Zorya tapped a finger on the sign. "Unoccupied." She opened the door, and I caught a glimpse of tiled floors and a large drain in the center. "It gets washed down with bleach and water mixture by the staff after every use. Doesn't always need it, but it's a precaution."
"Oh." I blinked, trying to imagine bleeding someone half to death for fun. Reading a few web pages was a little different from looking through the doorway into a room where it was really fuckin' done.
She went on, explaining how rooms were reserved, who schedules, the number of Dungeon Masters on call, and even pointed out a roster of classes and lectures, with sign-up sheets for each. Most of the sheets were filled.
"Our Monday night classes are quite popular," she said, and led me through the warren of hallways.
Every now and then she'd open the door to an empty room, pointing out this use or that, or this precaution or that. Eventually we were back in the little bar, and I wasn't sure whether I'd just seen a dungeon or someone's idea of a strange fun house, with safety handles.
"Seen enough?" Zorya had the most peculiar look in her eyes.
"Yeah, thanks." I frowned, trying to collect my thoughts. The club definitely seemed to be organized; I'd noted things Zorya hadn't even pointed out, that made me suspect that any kind of scene in this place might be edgy but it'd be sane, and always consensual.
"Not worried about your friend anymore," she prodded.
"Not really," I said, hedging.
I glanced around the little bar; there were more people who'd arrived, including a curvaceous woman at the end of the bar in a green satin dress and a baseball cap. She was laughing with another woman, and stomping her finely-pointed spiked heels into the bar's carpet to emphasis her words. Those things looked like weapons, and I shuddered at the idea of being skewered.
"And what about you," Zorya continued, with that odd smile on her lips again. She leaned towards me, and the red tips in her hair caught the light, glittering like wet blood.
"Me?" I laughed, nonchalantly, and I'm pleased to say I even convinced myself. "Naw, not interested. Just wanted to make sure."
"I see." Zorya shrugged, a delicate motion that made her breasts rise up just a bit from the top of the corset.
I think she noticed me looking, because she did it a second time. Or maybe... shit, truth was, I wasn't sure. Damn hard to tell with her, I knew that already.
"Would you like to meet a few people? Some of these are regulars, and are often around on Thursdays, too." Zorya looked around the bar, and waved to several people. "It's probably easier to meet people in one of our get-togethers," she added, a bit regretfully. "It will get noisy in here, quite fast."
I'd seen lists of get-together dates on the club's pages, but had no intention of doing that. I wasn't actually going to check up on anyone else. No reason to involve them in my stupid little quest to make sure Heero--an otherwise capable person, really--was safe. Hell, I really was a moron. Why the fuck was I bothering? Really, Heero would be fine. And if anyone messed with him, he'd break their arm for touching him the wrong way. This was a damned moronic idea, and I started to back up, ready to give my apologies.
"Fuck!" A woman shouted from behind me.
I turned, ready to defend, in time to see a petite woman--the one in the red dress who'd been reading, I recalled--raising her hand over the head of a man kneeling at her feet. I wasn't sure whether to step in, but figured: hey, I'm here to observe. Just checking up, right? Don't need to get involved--but I stayed ready, hand open and relaxed near the knife hidden in my belt.
"Look, you bastard," she continued, waving him away. "I'm not interested. You either straighten up and fly right, or I'll have your ass banned."
The man--half-dressed and most of that looked like straps of leather--mumbled something and crawled forward. The woman took a few steps back; her black hair hung in her face and for all that she probably didn't reach past my chest, she didn't look like someone I'd want to piss off. She just had that way about her. I glanced to the side; Zorya was watching with a thoughtful expression. Well, if Zorya's not panicked, I reasoned, I wasn't going to be, either.
"Get out of my sight and don't waste my fucking time," the woman--girl?--said, stalking off to the bar. "I'm not interested in the drama," she yelled over her shoulder.
The woman at the bar in the cowboy hat moved to make room for the black-haired woman, and the two seemed to fall into an immediate intense discussion. The man on the floor got up with a sulky look, and scowled before leaving the bar.
"That's not common," Zorya whispered in my ear. "He lied to her, and then threw a fit after the scene."
"Lied?"
"Yes." Zorya shook her head. "It was his first offense, and a minimal issue, so the club decided to let him stay if he behaves himself. But it could have been much, much worse. Sometimes in our games... dark things come up. If the dominant doesn't know and isn't warned, a lot of damage can be done."
"Damage?" I raised my eyebrows, and Zorya gently guided me out of the way of traffic to sit at a side table.
"Not physical, but emotional. Psychological."
"Oh."
The dark-haired woman was over at the bar--arms akimbo in that tiny red slip dress--clearly decrying the situation. The baseball-hat woman leaned against the bar, fiddling with a strip of black leather before putting it on, and I realized it was a thick collar. Metal glinted on it, and another woman--with curly hair pulled into a ponytail--leaned over to help. The curly-haired woman was voluptuous, and wore black leather and a lazy knowing smile. She said something to the woman in the red dress, who practically hopped in place, waving her arms dramatically. Then all three laughed; it wasn't an argument or even a rant. It was simply three friends hanging out together, and I drew my attention back to Zorya, who'd been waiting patiently.
"But she's the dominant. I thought this was supposed to be discussed beforehand."
Zorya clasped her hands in front of her. She seemed to ponder for several minutes before giving me another sweet smile that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "Have you ever been tied up, Dao?"
"Yeah," I answered, slowly. Being imprisoned by OZ counts, right?
"Ever been trapped in a small, dark space?"
"Yeah." I leaned back, crossing my arms and regarding her with a wary look. I could play it cool, too.
"If you and I negotiated, and you told me you hadn't, how would you react if I bound you hand and foot and shoved you into a small dark cage?"
I shrugged. "I'd be bored."
"That's a disappointing reaction for a dominant," Zorya said, and chuckled. "Now, reverse it. If you were the dominant and discovered the person had this reaction, who would carry the fault for a failed scene?"
"The sub... " I stopped. "I'd still feel like it was my fault. The dominant's in charge, so the dominant... "
"Ever thought of wearing a diaper?"
I blinked at the sudden topic change. "Do what?"
"A diaper, and acted like a small child. Get spanked, soil the diaper... "
"No." I raised both eyebrows, trying to emphasize both my bafflement at the idea and my amusement. "Not really my kink."
"It's amazing how many people would say it is, if they thought it was the dominant's kink," she replied. "Honesty is crucial. Ever been whipped?"
I didn't want to answer that; I stared back at her.
"I see," she said, and I realized she probably did. It was a bit unnerving. "This is negotiation. If your friend plays here, he's probably been through it. At least once... possibly more than that."
"I read the web pages."
"That's important." Zorya gave me a smile, and I suddenly felt like I'd just been rewarded, but I wasn't sure how or why. "At some point, perhaps you should raise your questions with your friend."
"No, I don't really--"
"Perhaps you're not asking him... because you're more interested in finding out for yourself."
I shut my mouth suddenly, and just stared at her. Zorya leaned forward, and I had a good view of her cleavage, that dark crevice between. The lights played across the curve of the tops of her breasts. I can't help it. I'd prefer a man's body if I have the option, but failing anyone lining up, I was more than happy to ogle. I just tried to ogle as surreptitiously as possible.
"I think, Dao, that you really want to know... where you fit."
"I know where I fit," I informed her.
"You do... "
I shrugged, and realized she hadn't quite meant what I'd meant. Wait, what the fuck had I meant? I fit somewhere other than this club. Right. I fit in with mechanics and Sweepers, not in a dark club with red chili pepper lights strung around the ceiling. I fit in with former Gundam pilots and Preventers, not across the table from a woman who somehow made me want to keep talking to her, just to see what she'd suggest, what she'd do to me and would my brain shut the fuck up now?
I realized more than a few minutes had passed, as we'd stared at each other, and I had to shake myself back to the present. Just here to make sure a friend wasn't doing something stupid. That's all. And there wasn't really any reason to stick around for longer, and fuck, there hadn't really been a reason to show up if Heero and I weren't friends, right?
I stood up. "Sorry that I have to go, but I do have a long day tomorrow."
"I understand," she purred, and stood as well.
When she moved around the table, I decided the little bar table was as bad as the table in the office, blocking my dreams from being fully visible. When she'd sat down, had the skirt ended up around her hips? Oh, crap, do not go fantasizing about a woman who... fuck. She had reached into a cabinet on the wall, and pulled out a... I struggled to remember the term. A flog, a cat o' nine tails... no, a cat o' nine... roses?
"I'll be getting to work, then," Zorya told me, slapping the black rose-tipped flails lightly against her thigh. It was a quick, light rhythm, and I couldn't help but watch her thigh redden slightly from the impact. "My current playmate should be here soon."
My throat felt really dry. I wished I'd gotten a drink, after all.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Dao," Zorya said, and smiled at me from under her lashes. "Perhaps I'll see you again."
"Uh, yes," I said, and realized it sounded more like I was agreeing to the second, than the first. I pulled myself together long enough to give her one of my sharper smiles, and she chuckled.
When I left, I looked neither right nor left. I just wanted out of there. It was safe, the people were sane and knew what they were doing, and Heero wasn't into something really crazy. Everything I wanted to know, I'd discovered.
Right.
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I ate dinner. I took a shower, and got the feeling of the club off me. Changed into sweatpants and lazed around my place until midnight, when I was so bored I figured I might as well crawl into bed and give up.
But I couldn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling, mind spinning in circles. I imagined it had been Heero, kneeling on the floor with his forehead pressed to the carpet. What if it had been? What if he were the one, begging someone to give him a second chance?
I'd be a good friend, I decided. If he were to talk to me about why he'd be in the scene, I'd encourage him to be honest and open and... fuck, really, I'd just ask him why he was in the scene. What was he getting there, that he couldn't get somewhere else? He was a good-looking guy, and highly intelligent, and well-educated, and could be so much and why the fuck would he play in the dark with people wearing leather who'd...
I started thinking about if it were Heero at my feet.
The memories of his body, ten years before, the adolescent build, slim, almost scrawny, but solid. The sight I'd had the night I pounded on his hotel door: shirt open halfway, pecs rising and falling with every breath. Golden skin, scattered scars visible across his chest... would he crawl forward, would his hips dip and sway with each shift of his legs, his shoulder blades in stark relief as he stalked forward on hands and knees...
Damn, if I wasn't harder than I'd been in months.
I started to slip a hand under my sweatpants, and jerked it back like I'd been bitten. No. Not going to jerk off while thinking about a former best friend. I'm working with that damn former best friend. Letting myself go there... bad idea.
So I laid there, staring at the darkened ceiling and let my mind wander. It was excruciating. I wanted to just fucking jack off, get it out of my system, but I couldn't get that image out of my head. So I got the bright idea to replace it with something else.
Zorya, slapping the whip lightly against her thigh.
That would do. I licked my palm, and shoved back the covers, pulling my pants down to expose my cock. It's not the biggest, nor the thickest, but it's served its purpose well enough, and it fits nicely in my palm, curving just a little to the right and don't think about which direction Heero's curves--to the left, not like biking shorts cover much--and no, focus on Zorya. Easier. Simpler. Safer.
Slow, long strokes, just enough to raise the tension. I imagined burying my face in Zorya's cleavage, unlacing that hot pink corset to reveal firm breasts and red nipples.
Then I went and made the idiotic mistake of wondering what she'd do.
She'd tell me to stop.
I didn't even think twice. I imagined that soft accent, breathing into my ear, and I froze, hand wrapped around the head of my cock. It felt... strange. Like something I'd done for years--jacking off, just another fifteen minutes in the life of Duo--had just become something... more.
I waited for my imaginary Zorya to tell me I could continue.
My cock shuddered against my hand; muscles tensed, I was ready to come. Just a few more strokes... but I waited, and I could feel it slipping away. And then, at the last second, she ran a tongue up my ear, and told me to start again.
Frantic, I jerked, pulling quickly, building back up the pace until I imagined a light touch on my wrist. Obediently--what the fuck?--I slowed down, drawing it out. Waiting. Long, slow. Hot fire licking along my body, back arching with every stroke.
I wanted to come. I wanted to fucking explode.
Gentle breeze across my skin became her fingers, and I couldn't catch her whispers. I wanted to come. I tightened my grip on my cock, squeezing so tightly it almost brought tears to my eyes. Hovering, on the edge.
When she said I could come, I think I screamed.
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I laid there, afterward, with cum drying on my stomach. My hand was sticky, still wrapped around my limp cock, and I finally let go with a muttered curse. Getting up, I wiped myself down in the bathroom and stumbled back to bed.
For all that it had been a far more powerful orgasm than I'd had in a while... something was missing. I felt empty, and I couldn't figure out why.
I wondered if Heero ever...
No, I told myself, and pulled the covers up, rolling over on my side. Don't go there. It was just because she was cute, you were horny, and there's nothing wrong with jerking off to the vision of a stranger's face.
"Hey," I whispered to my best friend. "Am I crazy?"
There wasn't an answer, but I didn't expect one.
I fell asleep, and I don't remember my dreams. I don't remember the crazy desperate pace of running through tunnels, throwing open doors to find empty rooms with blood-covered walls. And I definitely don't remember the sensation of Heero's voice, whispering in my ear, telling me I could cum.
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I refused to remember any of it, to think about it, for a week. Maybe two. I worked with Heero, and we were friendly, if distant. We fell back into our routine of trading off on every day's meals, but this time, I started it. And I shoved all thoughts from my head and refused to jerk off at night and swore I would stay focused on my goal. I wasn't in Bremen to make friends. I wasn't there to worry about anything other than finding the bastards who'd sold the stuff that kill my best friend. The distracting question of Heero's mysterious other life was not an issue any more, if it had ever really been my business in the first place.
Then, on a Thursday night, I was looking down from my window while I brushed my teeth after dinner. There was Heero, stepping down from his door to walk to a cab. He was wearing the double belt--a harness, I knew--and the tightest damn black leather pants, and a leather jacket.
For a moment, I stood there, stunned, and then scrambled for the phone. Fuck this shit, I wanted to scream. Fuck this. He's going to clubs and he's scening with people and I want to know why.
I dialed a number, and the phone rang three times before someone picked up. It was a childish voice, high-pitched and excited.
"Esté, Esté," I called until the little voice stopped chattering. "Go get your mommy, sweetheart. Where's your mommy?"
She yammered something at me in three-year old speak, and then I heard the vid-phone clatter. A second later the screen came on, to reveal Dorothy leaning over the table. Her dove-gray shirt made her long blonde hair look like a white waterfall, and she gave me a surprised smile.
"I heard you were back in town, Maxwell," she said, and sounded disapproving. "But you've been back for months, now."
"I know, I know, but I've been working crazy hours," I said, feeling self-conscious. "Look, remember that time you came to L2 with Quatre and Relena?"
Dorothy smirked. It was probably a memory worth forgetting, given Relena's insistence that Dorothy and Quatre make an attempt to get along. It wasn't that they didn't, just that they had to spar constantly, if verbally. Relena hadn't been amused when I told her I'd hidden all the pointy things in the scrap yard--but after three days, she thanked me.
"Seventeen to fifteen," Dorothy murmured; obviously the memory was a more pleasant thing in her opinion. I didn't realized they'd kept score, but it didn't surprise me. She frowned, and arched an eyebrow. "What about it?"
"Remember what you wore the second night, when you three did that chick night?"
"Yeah." Dorothy tapped her nails on the tabletop. There was a high-pitched shriek off the vid-phone and Dorothy made an exasperated sound. "Esté, bath, now!" She turned to the vid-phone and gave me an annoyed look. "Well? I'm being paged."
"You make such a lovely babysitter," I couldn't help saying. Her finger hovered over the disconnect button, and I waved my hands to stave her off. "Okay, okay. Just... do you know any place around here where you can buy... clothes like what you wore that night?"
Dorothy blinked, paused, and opened her mouth, then blinked again. "Maxwell. If this is for a prank of some sort... "
"Not a prank." I ran a hand through my bangs. "Just that... I need to go shopping. I just want the name of a few good places."
Dorothy stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll tell Relena when they get home. Clear your calendar for next Saturday."
"Wait, I didn't mean--"
She disconnected.
I had just wanted recommendations. The places listed on the pages looked cheap and seemed to cater mostly to couples that wanted to add 'spice' to their life. I didn't want to look cheap. I wanted to look... dangerous. Then again, if Dorothy couldn't show me how to get that look, maybe no one could.
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The silence was unbroken--except for the usual work-related bits--until Friday afternoon. I'd taken a bite off my calzone just when Heero spoke, and I about choked at his words.
"Relena tells me she's going shopping with you tomorrow."
He waited while I tried to cough up the food that went down my windpipe. Eyes watering, I stared at him while he just smirked at me. Bastard, yes, the damn bastard was smirking. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth.
"What's so funny?" When he didn't say anything, I started to get worried. It was supposed to be a secret. But if I'd said who it was a secret from, I figured it'd tip Relena off, and she'd become almost as bad as Dorothy. I blamed it on seven years of marriage to Quatre. I glared at him. "What?"
"Nothing." Heero's eyes were crinkled up in slits, and it would've been adorable if it weren't so fucking annoying. He set down his sandwich, wiping his fingers, then smiled again, that crooked little twist to his lips that had always passed for a supercilious smirk. "Just that I would've thought you'd know how to shop for your own curtains by this point."
"I do," I snapped, not sure why I was still irked, if he didn't know the purpose behind shopping. "It's not like I've never had an apartment before."
"I thought you lived with--" He fell silent, and looked down at his sandwich. A light flush suffused his cheeks. "Sorry," he muttered.
"It's okay," I relented. "Yeah, we shared, then I moved out to get my own place." I wasn't sure why I was talking, but it... I didn't know. He just looked like he really wanted to hear it, or maybe that was just me. It was bizarre; once, I could read him better than anyone. That wasn't true any longer, and perhaps it hadn't been, for years. "But I ended up back at her place almost all the time, when she wasn't at my place."
"Oh." He played with a strip of lettuce, poking it back into his sandwich. "You must miss her a great deal."
"I do."
"She was an amazing person," Heero said, studiously avoiding my gaze. "I didn't know her that well, but... she was strong."
"She was."
He was quiet for another minute, then picked up his sandwich. "Trowa wants to meet with us next week, to go over the preliminary buys."
I knew the end of a conversation when I heard one. I replied with my own conclusions about the success of the buys in Moscow and L1, and no more comments were made--about shopping, or Hilde.
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Dorothy and Relena picked me up; Dorothy was driving. I belted myself in with trepidation when Dorothy took the car around the corner on what seemed like two wheels. Relena apparently thought it reassuring to turn around in her seat to tell me, "Dorothy drove because she's a better driver than me."
Now I knew why Quatre always insisted on taking a cab when they came to visit.
I held onto the handle as Dorothy guided the car deeper into the city, then out onto a freeway, careening between the other cars with only one hand on the wheel. Relena kept up a steady stream of conversation. Most of it seemed innocuous, but she's too sharp for me to believe that any of it was anything less than completely deliberate. Especially when she just happened to mention that Heero seemed happier now to be working on a case full-time, certainly happier than he'd ever been while in school.
Yeah. He's getting the crap beaten out of him on a regular basis. Naturally that would make anyone happier--and suddenly I had the worst hard-on. I slunk down in the backseat and focused on G wearing a lamé cat-suit. But it was hard to shake, that compelling image of running my tongue across Heero's back, red welts across skin as lightly flushed as his face the day before and fuck, I need to get laid.
I'd just gotten myself under control when we pulled up to the store. Dorothy screeched to a halt right in front, and smiled, showing way too much teeth.
"Everyone out," she said, and Relena hopped from the car, looking more like a girl in jeans and a t-shirt than she did when she'd been a teenager. Dorothy was just as casual, in jeans and a white blouse, and the two of them took me by each arm and marched me into the shop's cool interior.
Inside, the place reeked of leather and that odd chemical smell of vinyl. I'd barely made it to one rack when Dorothy shoved a pair of pants at me.
"Try these one," she ordered.
"But I wanted to--"
"Go on," Relena said, pushing me towards one of two doors labeled 'dressing room'. "And then come back out and model."
The girl behind the counter gave me a surprised look, and I waved the pants at her while Relena pushed me into the dressing room and shut the door. I wasn't gonna back down that easy, though.
"If I try something on, so will you!" I hollered. I heard Relena squeak a second later, and was satisfied. Dorothy must've heard me.
When I came out, Dorothy hemmed and hawed, walking around me in a circle. The leather pants fit nicely in the thighs, and were just long enough, but something didn't meet with her approval. She handed me another pair, when the girl came out from behind the counter. She was dressed in black vinyl pants that had laces running up the sides, and a flowing black shirt with ruffles at the wide collar; more ruffles on the cuffs were long enough to reach her knuckles.
"You need a shirt," the girl said, moving authoritatively to the rack. She stopped, looking me up and down, then spun me around and ran her hands across my back, then down to snap at the top of the leather pants. "Here," she said, and draped a dark blue shirt over my shoulder. "Put that on. Should fit."
"Right," I managed to say, while Dorothy just looked smug. It took a few minutes to struggle out of the first pair of pants; there'd been no sign of Relena. But when I stepped out of the dressing room--not at all sure about wearing a sapphire-blue shirt that was more hole than fabric--Relena was standing by the full-length mirror, looking uncertain.
"Oh, perfect," the salesgirl trilled, and ran her hands across my chest, straightening and tugging the fabric this way and that. I wasn't sure whether to slap her hands away or put up with it; she was a tiny thing, so I settled for backing away slightly. She just beamed, and shook her head; her dark brown hair was in a high ponytail, and the curls bounced with the move. "You need more shirts like that," she announced. "I'll get them. Then you try them on."
"Sure," I said, looking over the girl's head to Dorothy, who was giving Relena the most unbelievably seductive look. Relena seemed oblivious, and mostly worried.
Then I looked at what Relena was wearing. Black leather pants; they went from her hips to the floor and damn if she didn't have much longer legs than I'd ever realized. Her shirt was more of a corset-like tank top, hugging her body and showing off the curves she'd gained in adulthood.
"I don't know," Relena said, dubious. She tugged at the top of the pants, where a strip of skin showed between the pants and the bottom of the top. "It seems a little... "
"Sexy," Dorothy offered. When Relena snorted, Dorothy tossed her head imperiously, white-blond hair flying. "It is. You are."
"She's right," I said, coming up behind Relena. She'd grown as tall as Sally, and at five-eight rivaled Wufei's height. But it was just the right height for me to set my chin on her head, and she grinned at me. I placed my hands on her hips, brushing against the exposed skin with my thumbs. "You're gorgeous. I think you look great in that."
"It's not really my style," Relena said, a bit mournfully. "I mean... I've had two kids." She pulled up the edge of the tank top. "Stretch marks, Duo."
"So?" I shrugged, and wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. "You're sexy. So are your stretch marks, and I bet Quatre would just melt if he saw you in this. He'd be your own love slave." I shivered, suddenly, thinking of... no, no, not now. I slapped my brain back into place and focused on Relena.
"I guess," she muttered.
"I don't know what to say, but I know what Hilde would say." I sighed, and squeezed Relena tightly. Her hands came up, holding my arms in place around her shoulders. "She'd say you're sexy and powerful and you could wear a pillowcase and be a knockout, but in black leather you're enough to stop traffic and cause heart attacks."
Relena blushed deep red, a rare sight; Dorothy giggled, which was probably the second most rare event in the day. The salesgirl appeared, looking Relena up and down, then narrowed her eyes.
"You're missing something," the girl announced, and disappeared into the front of the store. A minute later she reappeared, her arms full of various black and purple leather items. She dumped them into a nearby chair, and picked several out. "Cuffs," she said, handing two leather straps to Relena, who fumbled and caught them in time. "Collar, anklets, and... a flog. Or a crop, but we also have paddles."
"Paddles," Relena said, quite faintly.
"Ah, I don't know," I started to say, and picked the crop out of Relena's overburdened arms. "I don't think--"
"Hold on," Relena replied, and yanked the crop back. She stared down at all of it, then at herself in the mirror, and suddenly smiled. "Should I use rope to attach my husband to the bed-frame, or do you have chains?"
"Chains," I repeated, and stepped away from Relena to turn her to face me. "Wait a minute. We're just here to--"
"Oh, please, Duo," Relena said, and grinned, but a bit embarrassed. "Look, we've been together for seven years. Our anniversary's in a month. Why shouldn't I get him something he's never had before?"
"But I don't think collars and anklets are quite--"
"Duo," Relena said, and shook her head. "We're married. He's not going to leave me if he finds out there's more to me than he knew about before. I... I think I'd like to explore, a little." She giggled, and it sounded kinda scary. It sounded rather Dorothy-like, actually. "Or maybe I just want to tie him to the bed and fuck him until he's begging for mercy."
"That's my girl," Dorothy purred.
"So, you'll take all that?" The salesgirl gave Relena a wide smile.
"All of it. And... " Relena dumped it back into the girl's arms, and tapped her finger against her lips. "Books? Do you have books on this stuff? I want ideas."
"Ideas?" I considered telling Relena what I'd seen in the club, and nearly bit my tongue.
"Over here," the sales girl called, trotting back to the register to dump everything on the counter. She turned to me with a wicked smile. "Strip, and give me that shirt and pants, and I'll ring them up."
"Yeah," I muttered, and she pouted when I headed back to the dressing room. I was out ten minutes later, clothes in my arms, and the sales girl looked like she was still sulking.
Relena, however, was a fuckin' kid in a candy shop. She had three different collars laid out, and was fingering the lining while Dorothy murmured in her ear about padding and fake fur and who-knows-what-else. The two moved onto paddles; the salesgirl demonstrated how to slap it against the palm of her hand to test the blow. I wasn't sure whether to snag the sales girl and hold her at knifepoint to ring up my sales so I could flee, or to stand around and blend in with the surroundings.
Eventually Relena waved at the pile of things she wanted, while Dorothy started her own little pile. It wasn't until the sales girl started to lay out and tag my purchases that I realized the selections had grown.
"What is this?" I pulled out a leather vest that looked like more laces than leather. A second mesh shirt, in silver; a black shirt of some thin material that looked like the lining to my old pilot's pressure suit. Another pair of leather pants, but in deep blue. "What is all this--"
"Clothes," Relena said, and swatted my hand away. "You're going to look quite delicious."
"I'm going to... " I narrowed my eyes at her. "Wait a minute."
"I'm not stupid," she retorted, while Dorothy rolled her eyes. Relena frowned. "I'm not. Maybe... " She sighed, and patted me on the chest. "Maybe you need to remember what Hilde would tell you."
"And what's that?"
"That it's time for you to experiment, too." Relena came up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek, pausing long enough to whisper in my ear. "He's seeing someone, but it's very casual."
When she pulled away, she winked at me, and I caught sight of Dorothy's puzzled expression. It probably mirrored my own, but Relena offered no more explanation, and I couldn't find the words to ask.
On to Chapter six
Back to chapter four