Rock and Water Ch. 07

"Vanessa, Hi! I know! This city definitely feels like a small town sometimes." This sentiment is validated when I briefly look up to see Marc still watching us, a slight smile playing across his face. I immediately give Vanessa my full attention again.

"I'm sorry for being so lame about getting in touch with you and Gil after the interview. I have to admit I was a little embarrassed for getting so drunk that night. I can hardly remember what we were talking about towards the end."

"No worries, Corrine. I totally get it, and I also know you're a busy woman. Not to mention I know this guy's been keeping you busy for the past weeks..." She gives Patrick's arm a squeeze and a good shake.

Leaning closer to me, out of Patrick's earshot, she whispers, "As far as that night goes, you were cracking the three of us up with your hysterical online dating disasters; including the guy who put your hand on his dick under the restaurant table fifteen minutes into your date."

I let out a groan as the two of us laugh over the date I wish I could forget; Patrick watches on in quiet bemusement.

Vanessa links her arm in mine. "I've got your table right over here. I made it a four-top so Gil and I can join a little later. Hope that's ok?"

"I love it." I realize I really would. Seeing her again reminds me of how much we all clicked that night.

The table is right under the large plate-glass window near the door, affording us a view of downtown on a Saturday night. We choose, however, to sit facing the restaurant though, so we can take in the scene. Patrick pulls out my chair, then chooses the chair just around the table's corner and pulls in close so our knees are touching. It's only then that I realize we're sitting in direct view of the bar, and of course, Marc. Inwardly I role my eyes and realize I'm making a big deal out of a little kissing and groping.

It's only after we sit that I become acutely aware of the plug again. It wasn't the largest in his collection, but the base is wide enough that every movement I make causes the sensitive nerves to be stimulated and my arousal repeatedly brought to the surface over and over. I try to make a mental note to sit as still as I can, otherwise intelligent conversation will be out the window for the night.

Menus are brought over by our server, but Patrick stops me as I reach for one.

"I hope its ok, but Gil was hoping he could just send out some samples from his current menu." He looks at me with eyebrows raised, authentically caring for my approval.

"It sounds great. If it's anything like his spring menu, I won't be eating again for the rest of the weekend."

"No worries there." He says with a little chuckle. "I'm sure I can find ways for us to burn it off in due time."

He hands me the cocktail menu; I look down and am happy to see the gin and ginger cocktail that I'd enjoyed so much during the interview. I look up to see Marc is standing over us. Almost as tall as Patrick, but just a bit lankier, his trimmed dark hair, full dark brows and hazel eyes would be hard for almost any woman to resist; however, it was his ever present smile and sweet flirtation that won me over so many months ago.

"Hello Corrine and Patrick! Two of my favorite people here together." He leans down and surprises me with a quick peck on my cheek. Nothing inappropriate at all, but I feel myself blush a little. As soon as he kisses me, Patrick's left hand gently, but firmly, takes possession of my mid-thigh; his thumb slowly rubbing the skin just where the flesh curves inwards.

"It's good to see you again, Marc." I try to hide the mild anxiety in my voice.

"Marc, how are you?" Patrick reaches out with his right arm and the two men shake hands.

"Doing good, my man...doing good. It's a small world, isn't it? How did you meet this beautiful woman?" Marc looks at me appreciatively and I feel my face and chest flush.

"I met her at the gym, if you must know," Patrick goads. "You should try going some time, it would do you good."

They both let out an easy laugh and I can tell they're playing with each other.

"Marc pretty much runs marathons in his spare time, and when he's not doing that he's surfing at the coast." A flash of our night in the car together brings back a memory of an invitation to go to the coast with him sometime for a surfing lesson... Inwardly I cringe.

"Um...yeah," I brilliantly comment. "I remember you mentioned something about the coast..."

"I did... and the invitation for a lesson is still open if I can steal you away from Patrick some time." My mouth drops a little when he says this, until he adds "I've offered lessons to him, but he seems to be stuck on those kayaks for some reason. You should see him on those waves some time. It's amazing to watch."

I smile at Patrick. I knew he kayaked rivers but didn't know he also surf kayaked.

Marc attempts to look stern, but it's obvious he's holding back a smile. "Be good to me man, or I'll tell her about your close call with the rocks last year..." I don't like the sounds of that.

Patrick shoots him a look, that while friendly, warns Marc off of the topic. "Don't you worry yourself about that, I'll tell her myself." He clearly likes Marc, which is making me feel awkward as hell for not saying something earlier. He then adds, "Who do you need to blow around here for a drink?" This time it's my turn to laugh.

Marc gives me a wink and asks if I'd like the Gin-ger cocktail again. How the hell did he remember that after so many months? I suppose that's what makes him a good bartender. I blush, once again, and say yes. He walks away without asking Patrick what he would like.

"He didn't take your order, Patrick. What's that about?" I'm relieved that Marc's moved away from the table, with no need for him to come back any time soon. I don't think my face could get any hotter.

"He knows how I like to start my night."

I start to squirm in my seat a little, until I realize it only serves to turn me on again. Abruptly, I become still again with a slight sigh. It's going to be a long night.

I know what I need to do. "Patrick... in the spirit of transparency and honesty, I think I should tell you something... about Marc."

His smile drops as he removes his hand from my leg and he briefly runs it through his hair. Shaking his head a little, he asks, "Oh shit... do I want to know?"

Quickly wanting to dispel what he might be imagining, I blurt out, "We didn't sleep together!" I feel like I shouted it loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, but no one seems to have noticed. He just continues to stare at me, needing more information. No judgment, but definitely on alert.

"He drove me home the night of the interview because I'd had too much to drink, and we made out in front of my house. We were a little touchy-feely but all clothes stayed on and I haven't seen him since."

Patrick looks a little concerned. "You were drunk. Did he take advantage of you?"

"No," I laugh a little, shaking my head. "Not in the least."

"Okay. Good."

We sit quietly; his hand has returned to my thigh, tracing the same lazy pattern with his thumb again. I want to say more, to reassure him that I have no interest in Marc whatsoever, or anyone else for that matter, but it seems best to let him process this on his own.

Our quiet thoughts are interrupted by Marc himself, returning with our drinks. Patrick's eyes are on him in a flash, and a slight smile appears on the corner of his lips.

"So Marc... you fooled around with my girl here." His tone is calm, but there's an undercurrent of both amusement and possessiveness. I hold my breath waiting for Marc to respond.

To his credit, instead of being defensive, Marc smiles and replies honestly, "Damn straight I did, can you blame me? Besides, she wasn't yours at the time."

I can't believe this conversation is even happening, let alone in front of me as if I wasn't here. I can't decide whether to laugh, hide my face in my napkin, or get pissed off. In lieu of all three, all I can manage to do is just sit there with my mouth slightly open.

Patrick lets out a big sigh. "No...she wasn't, so I can't....and don't really have a problem with it. Let's just all be thankful the two of you didn't end up in bed together. That's one image I'd have to burn out of my memory."

I relax and release the tension I've been feeling since we walked in to the restaurant tonight. Under the table, I put my hand over his and give it a squeeze. He responds by gripping my thigh even harder, sending a warm thrill through my body.

Marc looks visibly relieved too, then realizes he still has our drinks in hand. He sets down my drink first, then Patrick's. "For you Corrine, I've got my original Gin-ger, with a little extra ginger muddled in just how you like it; and for you my friend, your Basil Hayden." He sets down a glass of amber liquor.

Patrick answers my unspoken interest. "Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey." "Marc has schooled me on the distinctions between the whiskeys, and this is the one I keep coming home to."

Despite the difference in their ages, these two men obviously have a strong friendship and I'm relieved there doesn't seem to be any discomfort between them. Marc returns to the bar, leaving Patrick and I to wait for our first plates. Patrick's hand has moved a little further up my thigh, but continues to alternate between gently rubbing with his thumb and being still. He removes it to gently run his knuckles over my cheek. I lean into his touch gratefully.

"Thank you Patrick for understanding, and not making me feel more awkward than I already did. I wish I'd have been as mature and accepting when I'd learned about you and Kym." I remember the way I behaved when I first met the young trainer and my ongoing avoidance of her.

He sits up a bit straighter and looks at me intently. "What came down between us about Kym had more to do with her behavior towards you than outright jealousy on your part. I'd like to believe if she hadn't been such a bitch towards you, that you would have had an easier time seeing it for what it was."

I have to be honest. "I'd like to believe that too, but I know some of my hang-ups with her also had to do with her age, and her looks..." I let out a sigh as I look down at the table, my eyes avoiding his.

We're briefly interrupted as our waiter drops off some bread, olives, and what appear to be purplish deviled eggs. He tells us they are beet-pickled deviled eggs before walking away. We dig into the starters; the eggs are surprisingly delicious.

"Is that why you've been avoiding the gym?" I look up; startled. I hadn't realized he'd noticed my absence; we hadn't really discussed it.

"I'm a little embarrassed to admit this even to myself, but yes, I think it might be."

He takes my hands in his. "We're going Monday morning, together, and we're going to talk to her." My stomach twists a little when he says this, but his hands are warm and strong on mine, bolstering my resolve to work through this lingering issue between us. Admittedly, I'm still pretty angry that I can't go to my own gym without worrying that this young woman is going to be glaring at me the whole time.

"Okay Patrick. I think that's a good idea. I'm in." I say with a smile.

His look becomes a little stern. "I'm glad for that, but it wasn't up for discussion, regardless. You'd do well to remember that I make the decisions through Monday morning. As far as I'm concerned that means you're mine until 11:59 a.m."

I look at him with an "oh, really" face, and he breaks into a laugh.

"Fine... I have to meet with your contractor, Pete, at eleven anyway so you're off the hook; unless you want to kneel at my feet while we go over the plans." I can see from his expression that he's picturing just that in his mind's eye, and enjoying it very much.

Before I can shoot off my reply, we're interrupted by Vanessa bringing us two separate salads, both simply prepared with vegetables and fruits from their own garden plot just out of town. They're almost too beautiful to eat.

She beams, and asks to join us. We eat and drink as if reunited old friends. Occasionally, Marc comes over to check on our drinks, staying to chat a little before returning to the bar. After our initial cocktail, both Patrick and I nurse one glass of wine each through dinner; an unspoken agreement between us to keep clear heads this weekend. The whole vibe feels laid back, and all of my earlier tensions have dissipated.

The dinner continues as small plates of locally grown and simply prepared foods adorn our table. The flavors are amazing, and by the time Gil finally emerges from the kitchen with a raspberry panna cotta and flourless chocolate cake we're all feeling full and happy. Marc drops off some cappuccinos before returning to the bar.

Whereas Patrick is tall and lean, Gil is a few inches shorter and very well-muscled. Clean shaven with spikey, tousled black hair and dark brown eyes, his presence is just as imposing as Patrick's, but the almost constant smile on his face softens him. The sleeves of his chef's coat are rolled showing the ends of vibrantly colored tattoo sleeves, while another tattoo of a rising Phoenix peeks out of his collar along the side of his neck. A silver ring pierces his eyebrow.

I remember that he is a good five to six years younger than Vanessa, and seeing the two of them together calms my nerves a little regarding the smaller age difference between Patrick and me. The two make a beautiful couple and it was obvious on the first night I met them how much they loved each other. They have two sweet boys, five and seven, who were briefly present during the interview before going home for the night with their grandmother.

Once he sets down the desserts, Gil practically lifts me out of my chair for a huge hug. "Corrine, so good to see you again!" As he squeezes me, I can actually feel the plug in my ass begin to slip and I have to clench my cheeks tightly to keep it in. Spikes of pleasure shoot through my body; I gasp from the sudden sensation and my body suddenly feels scorching hot. He sets me down in my chair and I see Patrick give me a smoldering look. He knows I just got turned on, and why.

I vaguely hear Patrick and Gil talking about a ride they have planned, but I'm so caught up in the sensations I'm feeling, I barely catch a word until I hear my named called.

As Gil is talking, Patrick is looking at him, but his hand is steadily moving up my inner thigh and pulling the leg aside so he can rest his fingers on the outside of my panties, cupping my pussy. I'm grateful for the tablecloth, but still feel incredibly exposed. He's walking a thin line with my hard limit on public play, but I'm also curious where this is going, and find myself wanting to explore my own boundaries.

As I'd explained to Patrick one night, my fear of public play lies mostly in protecting my public persona, but here in the intimacy of the restaurant and guarded by the tablecloth, I'm a little excited that he's pushing me. I find myself opening my legs a little more, and subtly inching my hips forward.

The tip of his middle finger begins to run up and down my panties with increasing pressure, just over my pussy lips causing the material to slip between my wet folds. I'm holding my breath as I try to listen to Gil tell me more about the band, when I feel Patrick's finger slip under the seam of my panties then slide easily inside my cunt. His thumb begins a rhythmic pattern over the hood of my sensitive clit as I feel every muscle in my body turn to liquid, every nerve begin to tingle. My gaze slowly turns to Patrick, only to see that his expression has remained unchanged. He appears fully engaged towards listening to Gil.

Orgasm control has continued to be a challenge for me, and as I quickly approach the edge I begin to panic. I've kept myself outwardly calm, but I'm not sure I'll be able to if I orgasm. I quickly realize I may be over my head this time.

I move to close my legs in a quiet plea for him to stop. Initially he pauses, slowly turning his even gaze towards mine, then squeezes a little harder, his finger penetrating a little deeper. He doesn't look upset, but it's clear he knows I'm challenging his authority. He's expecting me to control my orgasm, but once again I can feel myself slipping. Damn it. It's almost like a game of "chicken" as we both wait for the other to pull away.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Gil turns his attention towards me. "So Corrine, I'm trying to convince Patrick for you two to stay out tonight and go with us to hear a friend's band play, but he's wussing out. Help me convince him and I promise I'll have you home by one..."

Relief sweeps through me as Patrick removes his thumb from my clit, but he continues to torture me by adding a second finger to my cunt and fucking me slowly and deeply. He asks, "What do you think, sweetheart? I'm a little wiped out, but if you'd like to go...."

In a rush I say, "Gil, the music sounds great, but I have to agree with Patrick that I'm also in for an early night. Excuse me just a sec..."

I can't take anymore, and in my first act of defiance towards Patrick, I rise from my chair and push away from the table. Patrick pulls his hand out from under the tablecloth, and with his ice-blue eyes hard on mine, takes his wet finger and briefly sucks the tip of it before using his napkin to wipe it clean. Gil and Vanessa have turned their attention to a server, so our actions go unnoticed, yet I feel my face flush a deep red.

Walking quickly to the bathroom, conflicting emotions battle inside of me. I go in, lock the door, turn around and lean against it.

Shit! Feelings of inadequacy shake through me as I begin to doubt myself. What made me think at my age that I could be a good sub? I promised him that I was his for the weekend, that I would submit fully, and I've already fucked up. A part of me is also frustrated with him. How could he have not seen how close I was? Would he have stopped? I just don't know. Regardless, I suspect I'll have some penance to pay.

I walk back towards the table, but find everyone standing by the bar chatting with Marc. I approach Patrick and up on my toes whisper a quick apology to him. He responds by putting his arm around me, giving me a warm smile and a comforting squeeze.

Using his fingers to gently brush my hair to the side, he leans down and gives my neck the sweetest kiss before whispering in my ear, "No need to apologize, sweetheart. Your little act of defiance is going to give me so much pleasure tonight."

I slowly suck in my breath as the promise of punishment resonates through me, leaving me feeling soft and compliant. It feels so natural now, to bend to his will; to submit to his desires even if that desire is to cause me pain.

I want to take the pain for him, I crave it really. The intense connection it generates between us; the trust. He knows when to push me, to push my limits, and when, just before the pain surpasses the pleasure, to pull back. He knows the names to call me, the ones that make me pant and blush. Cunt. Whore. Slut. Names, which in proper society offend, but for me open my mind and body to the delicious freedom they bring; the freedom to explore all of my dark desires.

Vanessa comes over and steals me away from Patrick. "You two are so hot together Corrine. The way he was looking at you...holy shit. You two have some crazy chemistry going on."

She comes closer and whispers in my ear. "He wasn't the same you know. Those last few years with Maureen just killed him. We were so happy that he had the cabin to work on; it was the only thing that got him through it all. Since she split he's definitely come back to life, but seeing him here with you tonight is the first time I've seen the light in his eyes again. Outside of Gil, he's one of the greatest guys I know and I really, really hope you feel the same way...about him...that he feels for you."