For Whom the Bells Toll

Deidre pushed her wire rimmed glasses gently up the bridge of her nose with an unconcious tap of one long, slender index finger. Behind the round lenses her tourmaline green eyes studied the tiny gold loops of chain to which she had spent the afternoon attaching tiny golden bells. Now, with her latest creation nearly completed she smiled thoughtfully and sighed, holding the magnificent unique piece of jewelry up for a final inspection.

The lilting jingle of the necklace and bracelets filled her shop with a soft, sensual, musical caress.

Laying the neck piece back down on the black velvet work pad Deidre fingered the ends of the chain as she prepared to connect the clasps. She paused only for a half moment, when the wind chimes attached to the front entrance door heralded a visitor. Her heart skipped a beat, her cheeks colored softly as she glanced up briefly to note the customer’s arrival. Immediately she bent her head to concentrate once more on the bells in her hands.

Thank God she had completed this before he had arrived. Her hands trembled slightly with each step he took to close the distance. Keeping her head down she bit her lower lip and quickly closed the clasp to the bell necklace just as he came to stand across from her, on the other side of the glass counter.

“Hello, Deidre.”

Those two simply spoken words were her undoing. She swallowed thickly, inhaled the arousing air that surrounded him and filled her world with him; his clothes, his cologne, his skin, his hair... even his car, she was sure of it as she recognized the scent of leather. She inhaled his aroma and it filled her. Filled her nose, traveled down her throat, into her belly, her arms, her breasts. It filled her loins, her most private parts, her legs, reaching finally her knees, her calves and her toes.

She reveled in the sensation of his presence completely overtaking her and filling her- without so much as a single touch from his impeccable, strong hands.

“Hello, Mr. Montage.” The sound of her voice came in a soft whisper, evidence that his presence drained her of any strength previously occupying her slender body.

She moved her gaze from the bells in her hands to his two tanned hands clasped casually just inches from her own. The sight of his fingers--well manicured, well shaped, thick, nicely defined appendages-- made her heart swell, her blood run warm and her cheeks redden once more as she pushed away certain thoughts before she even had a chance to form them.

“I hoped you hadn’t closed yet.” The deep timbre of his voice filled her as thoroughly as his scent did, and Deidre fought the urge to lick her lips. She imagined his lips moving against hers as wonderfully as they moved when forming such a simple sentence.

A silent shake of her head, a half smile curving her parted lips, was all she could offer in response. He made her feel like a school girl, shell shocked and tongue tied and completely at a loss for something intelligent to say.

“My mother would like a set of those chimes I purchased last week for my sister- remember?”

Again, Deidre could only nod and smile, lost in the brilliance of the smile he flashed her way.

“Only, she was wondering if you had one a bit fuller. If not, could you custom design one for her?” Mr. Montage glanced about the room searching for a set of chimes that compared to the gold butterflies he had purchased for his sister.

“I-I could add to the one hanging up over there.” Deidre set the bells on the counter, removed her glasses and laid them beside the bells. Carefully, she moved out onto the floor, walking towards the last set of butterfly chimes she had. “These, no?” She reached up with a hooked pole to retrieve the chimes off a ceiling peg, freezing in her actions as the gentle tinkling of bells sounded from behind.

Oh, no! she thought, a vision of the man holding the bells flashed in her mind. The very man who had inspired the damn things in a dream the night before was now holding them, inspecting them, making assumptions about them.

He confirmed her fears as his voice filled the shop. He held it up and examined the long loops of chain, chuckling softly as he figured out where the attached cuff-like bracelets went. “Exquisite work, Deidre.”

A warm rush of blood flowed through her body as Deidre turned to look back towards the counter. A deep stirring weakened her as her gaze focused on the necklace and bracelets laced between Mr. Montage’s hands. “Thank you,” she half whispered, her face flushed, her eyes bright.

His eyes drew Deidre towards him as he caught her gaze and smiled knowingly. “What will you charge for this?”

With a quick shake of her head Deidre looked down at the chimes in her hands and calculated a price difference. “I can put another four strands on without it looking too gaudy... I’ll charge another $20... how’s that?” Her smile faded as she glanced from the chimes to the thoughtful expression on Mr. Montage’s face.

“That is fine, whatever you have to do, I’ll take it.” He smiled deeply, dimples cutting lean caverns into the fine lines of his handsome face. “But I was referring to this-” he held up the bells, their music serenading her peacefully as she walked back around the counter.

“Oh... that...” Her cheeks flushed again, for that had been a creation she hadn’t actually planned on selling. “Well... I ... I hadn’t really thought about it...”

He raised an eyebrow at her and his smiled deepened. “You hadn’t, eh?”

“Well. I mean-I don’t know if I want to sell it--”

“Ahh. I see. Hmmm...” He gazed at her thoughtfully, a slow fire sparking in his dark eyes. “Well, unless, of course, you designed it with someone special in mind, perhaps I can persuade you?”

With a slight cough to clear her throat Deidre suppressed a giggle and thought there would be very little this man would have to do to persuade her to do anything. She started to shake her head but when he lifted his hand, she stopped.

“Don’t answer now. Think about it. Are you ready to leave yet?” He glanced around at the empty shop.

Deidre eyed the bells in Mr. Montage’s hands. He didn’t appear as though he would be handing them back to her anytime soon. She hadn’t even gotten to try them on once . She sighed aloud and shook her head. “I was going to work late.”

He shook his head. “It’s too nice an evening to stay cooped up in here.”

“Well...”

“How soon can you wrap up?”

“Well... I’d just have to prepare the bank deposit...and ...”

“Great...decide on a price and write this up... whatever it is I trust you... I’ll pick up and pay for the butterfly’s Friday. Is that alright?” He didn’t even wait for her answer as he turned to walk out the door.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Deidre watched him walk out the door, confused, surprised and a bit dismayed that she had just sold the one piece she’d ever made exclusively for herself.

She ached to put on the collar and bracelets delicately connected by gold threads of chain, adorned with more than one hundred tinkling little bells.... She lifted the jewelry and shook it lightly, sighing as the music filled her shop. She estimated a price... arguing silently with herself not to place too high a number on it in an effort to dissuade him. Then she crossed the showroom and made her way into the back room, faced the mirror and carefully slipped the choker chain around her neck, lifting her slender arms carefully to clasp it at her nape. She quickly clasped the bracelets about each wrist and lifted her arms, palms extending upwards. Her silk sleeveless white tank top complimented the piece, with the scoop neckline leaving plenty of skin for the bells to rest against

Deidre sighed at the thought of selling the piece... particularly with the thought of who it was going to... to be worn by someone other than she. The soft tinkling sound caressed her senses as she lifted one arm and shook it gently as she peered into the mirror, recalling last night’s dream.

Paul Montage had been in it, rightfully so since he’d been the one to inspire this work of art. He had been visiting her shop every Tuesday and Thursday for the last two weeks, always in search of a gift, whether it be for an aunt, a sister, and now his mother. He had been in this past Tuesday to pick up a gift he had selected the Thursday before for his youngest sister. It was then the seeds of this dream were planted, for he complimented Deidres’ handiwork that adorned her wrists and fingers--bracelets that lay softly about her wrists that were then attached by chains to two rings--heart shaped rose quartz stones set in gold.

He had slipped his thumb and forefinger about the chains and gently rubbed the thread between his fingers. The action was so sensual that Deidre felt her self grow warm and then burn hot as his skin met and melded against hers.

Last night her imagination had turned that tender caress into a full blown lovemaking session. Her imagination had turned that simple bracelet into an intricate web of golden chains, roping from wrist to neck, then down to her other wrist. She sighed softly and raised her hands to the clasp at her neck when the door chimes sounded, announcing Mr. Montage’s return.

“Damn!” Deidre fumbled with the clasp, but it would not budge. “Oh,no. not now...” she muttered as he called her name.

“I’ll be right there...” she answered in a tremulous voice. He could not see her now. Not wearing the piece he’d just purchased from her. But it was already too late. She felt his presence even before his voice filled the back room.

“Leave it, Deidre.”

“Oh, no. Mr. Montage. It’s just that I wanted to see what it looked like before I sold it to you.”

“I don’t mind. I like it on you. Leave it.” He came up beside Deidre and placed his hands over hers to still her fumbling actions. “My name is Paul. If we’re going to enjoy our dinner I suggest you drop the formality.”

“Dinner, oh no, Mr. Montage. I couldn’t.” Deidre shook her head as she studied his reflection in the mirror. He stood a good foot above her, with the top of her tawny haired head barely reaching his broad shoulders. There was a quiet strength in those shoulders that so nicely filled out his grey suit jacket. A commanding sort of power that silently informed who ever was around that Paul Montage was now in control.

His hands rested with a sense of familiarity at her nape, beneath her curling locks, and he smiled back at her reflection, nodding in pleasant disagreement. “Yes, dinner. I take it you have no other plans since you mentioned working late.”

Another wordless shake of her head was ignored and within ten minutes he was ushering her out the front door. Despite Paul’s protests Deidre had been allowed to don her black cotton blazer, partially to cover the choker chains, partially to hide the quite visual impact his proximity had on her. More than once in the last few minutes prior to their leaving the shop, Deidre had watched his eyes caress with amused interest hardened tips of her breasts that lay just beyond reach beneath her blouse. She cursed herself silently, trying to will her body to relax, but scenes from her dream the night before kept flashing through her mind.

The couple sat at a quiet table on the upper balcony of an Italian restaurant overlooking Port Jefferson Harbor. He with his formidable dark looks, she looking like a jewel offered up as a sacrifice to the sun god, drew more than an average share of second glances.

Deidre was uncomfortably aware of this, but Paul was seemingly oblivious to the attention they attracted. By the time their last glass of wine was emptied and the espresso was served Deidre was basking in the soft warm glow of the setting sun as it dipped into the horizon and slipped beneath the awning they sat under. Her cheeks were flushed from laughing, her eyes were sparkling, her lips slightly stained from the Merlot she had consumed.

And she had never ever felt more aroused, more sensual in her entire life. Throughout the meal Paul had teased her relentlessly about the jewelry she wore beneath her blazer. He’d pleaded and begged with her to take her jacket off, but Deidre would not listen. Each time she shook her head in defiance Paul would chuckle to himself and warn her that she would pay for her lack of obedience. His words sent delicious shivers up and down her spine.

The jacket remained on.

It was only during the short walk back to her shop, as her apartment was located on the floor above, she explained, that Paul was finally able to convince Deidre to shed her blazer. Her soft protest was ignored as he slipped the cotton cloth off her bared shoulders and down her arms, awakening the bells from their slumbering muffled existence immediately.

Passers-by paused and gave Deidre’s trim body second and third glances as if summoned by the bells lilting call. She blushed feverishly, both from pride at being the woman who created this piece and pride from being the woman who wore it while standing beside this man. Paul chuckled as he acknowledged more than one furtive wink from men who took in the chains that wrapped so seductively about the woman’s shapely torso.

Once safely inside the shop Deidre closed the door behind them and exhaled in a long sigh. “Paul! I cannot believe I did that!”

His brown eyes filled with warmth as he came to stand beside her. With one hand he pushed her curls back and away from her cheek, tucking the locks behind her ear. “You can’t believe you did what?”

Her thoughts faltered as she gazed up into his eyes... “This...” was all she could say as she touched a chain that lay across her breast. “I cannot believe I wore this in public.”

“It’s only jewelry...” He leaned down slightly, his lips parting as he closed his chocolate brown eyes, stopping within inches of her face. He caressed the tip of her nose with his, then ever so lightly brushed her mouth with his lips, only to pull away seconds later.

Deidre had no time to think, no time to respond, no time to return the favor. She just stared at him wondering what kind of hold he had over her.

“Come on...” he placed his hands on her shoulders and twirled her about... “Take me to your apartment.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Why must you always argue with me?”

She giggled. “I don’t argue with you...”

“Then listen to me and show me your apartment.” He emphasized his command by placing a playful slap on her bum, causing her to shriek in surprise.

Seconds later he was opening up a bottle of Long Island Pindar’s Cabernet Sauvignon while Deidre was filling her cd player with discs. He came to kneel beside her, handing her one of the crystal wine glasses he cradled in his hands while waiting patiently until she had finished.

“Nice place you have here.”

Her green eyes glanced quickly about the apartment over the rim of her wine glass as she sipped at the deep red liquid. “It’s home.”

“How about a tour?” he stood up again taking her free hand in his and pulling her to stand along with him.

“Well.... This is the living room.” She motioned with a sweep of her hand.

“That’s the kitchen...” She pointed to her left as if he might have a question as to where she was referring.

“Beyond that door is the bathroom. That one in the middle is a closet...” She hesitated as he dragged her towards the third door.

“And?” He nudged the third door open with his booted toe. “Ahhhh. The bedroom...”

His words lit fires within her belly, her heart, her thighs. She had to get a hold of herself! “Yes. Very perceptive of you.” She tried to step out of the room, but he held fast to her hand, putting his untouched wine glass down on an antique wooden dresser. He walked over to the bed and chuckled again, running a hand along one of the four posters. “Nice...Very nice...” he half murmured to himself.

Lifting her glass to her lips, Deidre drank down the rest of the wine, knowing full well where this was leading and not sure whether she had the power or desire to stop it. She watched as his eyes swept the room, pausing momentarily on the white eyelet curtains with the red ribbon tiebacks.

Paul took the empty glass from her trembling hands and set it on the night stand by the full sized bed. Then he turned towards her, smiling softly as he recognized the look of doubt in her gaze.

“I don’t think--” her words were silenced as he laid his finger over her lips.

“Shhh...”

“But--”

“Deidre? Don’t speak unless I tell you to, do you understand me?” His voice was firm, but his eyes were teasing and smiling. He kissed her nose and ran his hands down her bare arms, causing the bells to shimmer and jingle at his touch, causing sparks to ignite her blood.

She nodded and he rewarded her with a simple, “Good girl.”

The soft strains of Vivaldi’s four season’s drifted in from the living room. This combined with the jingling of the bells with every breath Deidre attempted filled the room with a very sensual music.

As Paul tentatively positioned himself on the edge of her bed he beckoned Deidre to stand before him.

She did.

“Raise your right arm up over your head, Deidre.”

Her eyes grew doe like but she obeyed, the bells chimed softly with her actions.

“Now your left...”

Again, the bells chimed with her submission.

Ever so slowly Paul raised his left hand to her wrists, sliding his hand down, down over her right arm, until it rested on that undefined place a scant finger’s breadth away from of the soft underside of her breast. As she flinched he warned softly, “Don’t bring your arm down.”

She obeyed.

His right hand followed suit and again Deidre trembled visibly as his hand sought it’s resting place. This time she moaned softly, swallowing thickly and closing her eyes.

He smiled gently at her, kissing her lids softly. “Good girl.” As he spoke he began unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her blouse. After the first three came loose he paused and slipped his hand inside to cup her soft flesh, now separated from his hand by nothing more than a thin piece of lace.

He squeezed hard, rubbing the already pearl-like nipple with the soft flesh of his palm. She whispered his name with a husky voice, but he clucked his tongue sadly in answer and removed his hand. “I told you not to speak, non? I don’t like to be disobeyed.”

“I’m sorry,” Deidre opened her eyes and stared hard through the sensual haze of desire that now consumed her as she focused on his handsome face. The warmth was still there, the teasing light still glowed in his brown eyes. She had nothing to be afraid of. “It’s... just...” Her breath came in soft gasps as he raised his hand and took both of her wrists in one clutch.

“Yes?”

“I -I... It ... you... feel... so ..good...” Her face crimsoned with her statement as she watched him grin.

“That was my intention, Love. Now. No more talking. Until I say so, do you understand?” His brown eyes narrowed as they focused on her own gaze.

She nodded, aching to feel his touch once more. But that was not to be as he finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it out the waistband of the black skirt she wore. It was his turn to moan softly as he paused to unclasp the chains from each wrist, then proceeded to slip the scrap of a blouse off of her arms.

Deidre bit her lip to stifle the cry of pleasure that threatened to escape her lips as the silk caressed her arms and lower back. Paul acknowledged her effort by kissing her deeply, his tongue slipping between her lips searching, conquering, invading. As his tongue mastered her mouth his hands possessed her body, slipping behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing the soft mounds so that the warm flesh of his hands actually and finally paid homage to the budding peaks. She cried out at the feel of his touch and began to bring her arms down to encircle his neck but he lifted his lips from hers immediately.