Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 04

Chapter Four

More Turns in the Road

After he got past Ginger, as if he could, Steve went back to work. Not just for Ginger's or Leah's but for his own sake he wanted to make the hospice thing a real success. Occasionally he reflected on his days before he lost Leah. He'd been so happy, but he'd been living in a fool's paradise. Sure he'd had fun, but he'd never done anything meaningful, nothing productive or worthwhile, and he hadn't been the greatest husband either.

He wondered what Cathy would have thought of him if she'd met him back then. For sure, he'd done a lot he wasn't real proud of.

The hospice gave him a purpose in life. While he worked, mostly begging for money, he thought about Cathy. He knew he loved her, but he just had these nagging doubts. Lately she'd disappear during the day for hours at a time. He had no idea where she went. He wasn't going to have her followed, and he didn't feel it was his place to start asking questions. Ginger's loss had touched her too. Still, every time he turned around she was bringing in more stuff, dresses, blouses, skirts, and shoes, and boxes of stuff she wouldn't open and share. He'd never seen a woman with so many shoes, well shoe boxes.

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Steve thought about including Cathy in the planning and work regarding the hospice, but Theresa's suspicions, backed up by Glynnis, put that off. He was sure Cathy could be a big help. She was good with computers, she knew her way around a lot of the business aspects of what he was doing, and Ginger was proof she was good with kids.

Ginger, that had been one homely little girl, he missed her. Cathy was a problem there; she looked so much like Ginger. Cathy wouldn't let Ginger's memory die. Cathy Ginger, Ginger Cathy. Ginger had been so good. Cathy looked like her. She couldn't be anything but good.

What about Cathy? He wasn't sure. What if he let her near the money, what if she started to get cute, that would be the end of any support he'd get from people like Theresa, and that would mean the end of the addition. Cathy had to stay out of the loop when it came to the hospice.

As the days dragged by Steve grew more suspicious about Cathy's comings and goings. Still too proud to ask, and too insecure to hire someone he decided he'd find out his own way. He'd bring things to a head. Yes, and he'd do it in his own way.

Finally he came up with a plan. It was probably a stupid plan, but under the circumstances, the circumstances of him being too stupid to think of anything else, the plan still looked pretty stupid. He decided to go with it anyway. Cathy, he figured liked bondage. OK, he'd do a bondage number on her. He'd do a bondage deal on her that would knock her socks off. He'd do such a number she'd cave in, she'd crack. He'd so terrorize her she'd confess. Confess to everything. Confess to what he wondered? Did he say it was stupid?

OK it was stupid, but he couldn't think of anything else. Sure he could be sincere. He could be totally completely and blissfully honest. He could just come out and ask her. He could ask, 'Cathy I've been told the only reason you're here is to get me to marry you so you could steal my money?' He could ask that. But what would she say? What if she admitted it? What if she said that it had been true; it had been true but she'd changed her mind? Could he believe that? He knew he would if she said it, but Theresa would tell him he was stupid. He trusted Theresa, and Theresa was usually right

Then again he could tell Cathy he loved her. He was convinced she loved him. She'd already put up with more crap from him that he had a right to expect. His deceased wife Leah would never have agreed to anything as dumb as playing house maid. Leah would have told him to forget it. Leah would have told him to shove it up his ass. Heck, Leah would never have let him get involved in anything like the hospice; that just wasn't Leah's kind of thing. Leah liked parties and dining out, and going to the theater.

Steve bet if he confronted Cathy she'd tell him the truth. But what of she really didn't love him? What if she lied and said she loved him when she didn't? No, he knew, she loved him. Of course she did. But then again, what if?

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Cathy had been back and forth with the Methodist pastor. Since she wasn't Methodist, like that really mattered, and he couldn't get her to commit, he'd sent her to another man of the cloth for a second opinion so to speak. The other man, a Catholic, had persuaded her to go to confession. She had. Her confession sort of made her realize she had to tell Steve she hadn't been completely honest. That scared her. Steve was a good person, but she sensed an underlayment of steel to his normally affable persona. She was afraid. What of she told him the truth, told him everything. Would he let it go? Would he forgive her? Actually there wasn't anything to forgive. She really hadn't done anything wrong. All she'd done was find a way to meet.

Cathy figured it out. She didn't have to tell Steve anything. All she had to do was follow her heart. She loved Steve. She knew he loved her. She loved his ministry. He didn't know what he was doing was a ministry yet, but she'd show him. She had a plan. She'd prove herself, and in the proving she'd pull Steve to a better understanding of what he was doing. One thing she'd figured out from the pastor and priest was there was a spiritual piece to the hospice that was still missing. She had to find a way to get that in the picture. Imagine, her, Cathy Shoreham, a disciple. Go figure.

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The weather was pretty warm; spring seemed to be coming fairly early. He and Leah had built a gazebo in their backyard. It was a nice size, homey and warm; it was well furnished, it had a refrigerator, an Internet hook up, a television with satellite reception, and it was well heated. The place was clean, had good thermal windows, blinds and shutters for privacy, and a pretty good view. Nobody had bothered with it since Leah had passed. Now he thought he had a purpose for it.

Steve got some people out to look the gazebo over; tidy it up, shampoo the carpeting, restock the refrigerator, and just generally get the place up to speed. He thought he had it figured out. Cathy was a loner; nobody beyond the few people he knew even knew she was alive. He'd put Cathy on ice, scare her, and then he'd wring the truth out of her. He thought about it some more; it sounded even more stupid than he'd originally thought. He decided to do it anyway. If it started to work the way he wanted, he'd move the operation into the house. He gave his Spanish ladies a month off with pay, and put the plan in high gear.

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One early evening Steve invited Cathy out to the gazebo. She'd noticed there had been workmen out there. She supposed Steve had done something with it, and wanted to show it off to her. She had no idea what she was about to be lured into.

Steve led Cathy up the four steps of the gazebo, and held open the door, "Come on in I want to show you the place."

Cathy walked in with Steve right behind. It had been nearly three weeks since they'd made love so she was happily surprised when he took her in his arms and kissed her. He said, "This place is special to me, and I want to share it with you."

His comment made her feel all warm inside. Her imagination started to ramp up. She eagerly returned his kiss and presented him with a warm smile, "I'm glad you invited me."

He looked her over. She was wearing a pretty white blouse, most certainly a camisole underneath, probably just panties, and a very pretty skirt that came down just above the knees. More important, since Ginger, she'd been a lot less concerned about the superficialities of her appearance. She'd started keeping her hair extra nice, shorter even than he expected. Her clothes were all always young and demure looking, and the make-up was minimal.

Steve guessed she'd been reading his mind; a less shallow babe, more genuine girl even if she wasn't the hottest honey in six states. But he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Theresa would have said it was part of her scheme. He didn't think so though.

He kept kissing her, but as he kissed her he started to take off her clothes. He got her blouse and camisole off. He undid the zipper on her skirt, and down it went. Last came the shoes and socks. All that was left was a pair of pretty white cotton panties. He let her keep those on.

The gazebo had a smallish sofa at one end. There was a rather large stand alone mirror by the door. Both would be a part of his initial plan. He kissed her neck again, "Come back over to the sofa. I have a special gift."

Together they moved to the couch. She wondered what he had. Maybe he wanted to give her a ring? That would be great. If he did, she'd take it, and she'd take it for real.

They got back to the sofa. He reached under and pulled out a small box. It was too big for a ring. He opened it. He pulled out a collar.

She looked at it diffidently, "What's that?"

He smiled and held it up, "It's something I got for you to wear."

"That's a collar!"

"Yes, I know. Here, try it on." He handed her the collar.

At first she simply sat there. She couldn't believe it. He was giving her a collar, "You want me to wear this?"

"Yes, here," he pressed it toward her again.

This time she took it. She held it in her hand like it was something that would bite her, "You want me to wear this?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, try it on."

She held it in both hands. She turned it this way and that. It was heavy, and made of metal, "It's heavy."

"It's stainless steel. See how it glistens? It's quite solid, and extremely well made. Put in on."

She kept staring at it. She never thought... This was a far cry from the pretty ribbons from the other night or the sexy bustier with the waist cuffs. She thought about that. A few nights before while they were in bed he'd pulled out a box of red ribbons; he'd tied her hands together behind her back. It had been a little kinky, but it had been fun. Then there had been the night with the bustier, that was the hottest night of her life. But this was a lot different from a few ribbons or a tight fitting corset. She looked at him, "Why are you doing this?"

He put his arm around her shoulders, "Look inside, see what's inscribed there."

She took the collar and read what was inside.

He asked, "Well, what does it say?"

She was incredulous, "It says property of Steve Murphy."

He grinned, "Isn't that neat? Put it on."

She put it down on the sofa, "What does that mean, property of Steve Murphy?"

He let the object sit there between them, "What do you think it means?"

She looked at him suspiciously, "I think it means whoever wears this collar belongs to you."

He smiled, "Or it could mean simply that collar belongs to me."

She paled, she felt a little afraid, "Well, which is it?"

He kept smiling, "It means whatever you want."

She wasn't smiling, "No I want to know what you think it means."

He stopped smiling, "I think it means...I want it to mean that the collar belongs to me, and anything inside it is mine too."

She was visibly disturbed by his comment. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but she was afraid, or was she just excited. This was something new, totally different from any experience she'd had before, it was different from experiences they'd had before. She'd seen pictures on the Internet, bondage pictures, spreader bars, harnesses, gags. She wasn't into that. Everything they'd done before had been fun. This seemed different. She didn't know whether to be scared, angry, or maybe, what, she didn't know, "I don't know."

He took the collar off the sofa, "I thought this might scare you, but look." He opened it up. There aren't any locks. It's held together by this tiny clasp, a tiny bolt with an eye ring, and another equally small bolt that fits into this small hinge here." He fiddled around showing her all the little parts. It looked innocuous enough.

She took the collar back and held it. She looked at it more closely. It was true there were no locks; only a little hooked clasp that would hold it in place, then a small, very small, threaded cylinder about the circumference of one of her fingers, with a small hub and a ring at the end and threads inside presumably to screw over the clasp, and she also saw another small bolt that apparently screwed down into the place where a hinge would normally be. It was a simple device. She could put it on, and if she wanted she could take it off. Nothing about it locked in place. She held it in her hands like it was something scary, something dangerous, like it was a snake or a hand grenade or something, "I can put it on and take it off whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want."

"I'm not promising anything."

"No promises."

She took the collar and put it up to her neck. She let it wrap around her neck without closing it.

He looked at her like they were experimenting with something together for the first time and in fact they were. He said, "When you close the clasp it will make a tiny click. That's how you'll know it's on."

She still had it around her neck unclosed, "I can take it off whenever I want?"

"Anytime."

She took it away from her neck and closed it together in front of her. She saw the little clasp snap shut. She took her fingers and undid the clasp. She looked at Steve, "That's how it works?"

He smiled, "That's how it works."

She stared it again. She looked back at Steve, "This is not a trick."

"No tricks."

Cathy put the collar back around her neck. She squeezed the ends of the collar together. There was a faintly discernible click when the small clasp went into place. She took her finger and felt all around it, "It feels heavy."

He answered, "It's made of steel. Let's look at in the mirror." He stood up and proffered his right hand.

She took his hand in hers and together they walked to the full length mirror.

He still had his arms around her shoulders, but he was careful not to obstruct her view of the collar, "It looks beautiful on you."

"I can take it off when I want."

"Absolutely, but don't you want to tighten the clasp with the eye ring, and maybe screw in the hinge bolt?"

She didn't really want to, "You do it."

"OK," he said, let's go back to the sofa."

They walked back to the sofa. She sat stiffly while he used his fingers to tighten the eye-bolt over the clasp. This concealed and fixed the tiny clasp in place, and it also left a small O ring on the end. He knew he could use this if he wanted to fix a small chain, or maybe a leash to it. He didn't tell her that though. He took the other small bolt and screwed it down into the hinge. He told her again, "This last bolt serves as a hinge that holds the collar in place.

She just stared at him. She wasn't happy.

"One more little thing," he said. "I have this small screwdriver I need to use to tighten the hinge bolt. I only need to do it so the darn thing won't just come loose and fall out on its own." He held up the screw driver. "Here see it's a star shaped screwdriver that fits into the hinge bolt. Just a single turn..." He tightened the hinge bolt, "There now it won't fall out." He handed her the screwdriver, "That's yours."

She took it, not knowing what else to do she placed it on the sofa.

He leaned back and smiled again, "You look lovely."

Cathy wasn't so sure. She sure didn't want to go back over to the mirror and look at it again. She was just about ready to tell him she wanted to take it off when he said something else.

"I have something else."

She looked startled, "What?"

He reached back into the box and pulled out a small object. It was a metal disc, like a coin. He handed it to her, "Here look at it."

She took the small fixture. It was like an amulet. She saw there was something written on it. She was afraid to find out what it said so she asked, "What's this?"

He said, "Read what it says."

She read it.

He asked, "What does it say?"

She fidgeted with the little coin like object, "It says Property of Steve Murphy."

He kept smiling, "Let's put it on."

She was absolutely unhappy with the turn of events, but was afraid to stop, "I don't know how."

He said, "I'll do it." He took the silver object. It had a small snap on clip at one end that would allow it to hang loosely once it was in place. He leaned forward and attached it to the O ring on the collar.

She sat back and felt the circular object, "Now what's this mean that I belong to you?"

He put one hand on her left shoulder and pulled her close, "If you want. Would you like to be mine?"

"How do you mean?"

He answered, "How would you want it to mean?"

She kept her eyes looking down and away. She was afraid to tell him what she really felt, that she wanted to be his wife, his life's mate. She wanted to tell him she wanted to start to go to church. She wanted to tell him she wanted to be a help around the hospice. She wanted to tell him how she'd been scouting around on the Internet about nursing school, and how she could be a nurse at their hospice. She wanted to tell him she wanted to have his children. She wanted to tell him she would do anything, anything, to make him want her. But she was too scared to say anything like that. She figured he'd back off. Still she had to say something so she copped out, "I want to be what you want me to be."

Steve pulled her over and kissed her again. He caressed her breasts again; he reached down and felt the warmth and the wetness between her legs. He knew she was scared. He wondered if she was ready for the next step. He thought he'd try, "I have something else."

She froze, "What?"

He reached under the sofa and pulled out another box, "This was really just an afterthought. I thought we'd both like them." He opened the box and held up a pair of shackles, "They're for your feet. Look."

She saw them. They were a pair of stainless steel shackles made of the same high gloss steel as the collar she now had around her neck. She saw there was an expensive looking connecting chain with maybe seventeen or eighteen inches of links holding the two shackles together.

She took one look at the ankle shackles and said, "No, I won't wear them."

He chuckled, "I don't blame you. I only bought them as a kind of afterthought. You know a kind of what the heck. Here I'll put them away." He put them back in the box, and put the box on the floor, but he didn't slide the box all the way back under the sofa.

She pressed up against him. She thought that was close. She leaned up for another kiss.

Steve leaned back down and reached under the sofa, "I got something else that's better." He pulled out yet another box.

For Cathy this was getting to be too much. She felt around her neck, the heavy metal collar scared her. She touched the metal ornament and felt it move. It emitted a soft jingling sound she hadn't noticed before, "What have you got now?"

"I got you two bracelets to go with the collar." He opened the box and took out two bracelets. Unlike the leg shackles they weren't connected by anything or to anything. They were just two harmless looking metal bracelets.

She looked at the two bracelets in near disbelief. This was really happening. He'd gotten her to put on a metal collar, and now he held out these two metal bracelets. Then again, there weren't any locks, only little screws and a clasp. She could take the collar off any time she wanted. In another sense she looked at the bracelets with relief. They weren't anything like the ankle chains he'd just shown her. These were just two metal bracelets.

She looked at Steve, "You want me to wear these things?"

"They're bracelets Cathy. Yes, I would."