The Sound of Submission Pt. 01

Author's Note: This is a spin-off from Alice and Mateo's story. It's a complete work posted in 3 sections. I had meant it to be shorter, but it needed some closure. Taking some feedback from readers of The Archer, I've varied up the story categorizations, but, like The Archer, it doesn't fit nicely in any one place. Thank you for reading.

"Remind me again why we're in this hellhole?" Thad grumbled, tugging at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

"Because you're my friend, and friends do things for each other," Mateo replied drily, biting back a smile.

Thad pulled again at his collar, and Mateo swatted his hand away.

"What was that for?"

"It's meant to be like that," Mateo answered. "You wear things too loose."

"This is too tight," Thad corrected grumpily. "I'm choking."

Mateo snickered his disapproval, beginning to circle Thad to assess the current suit.

"I still don't get it. Why am I even going to this thing?"

"This thing may change your life," Mateo replied, pursing his lips. "Gerard will be there."

"I'm not selling the restaurant," Thad barked, feeling a flash of anger.

"It's an opportunity, Thad. Even your skull isn't so thick that you can't see that."

Thad said nothing, glaring at his own scowling face in the floor length mirror of the upscale men's boutique.

"Besides, I need you there for Alice."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your being there will make her calmer."

"Well, we'd both be happy campers if we could just stay home."

Mateo pursed his lips again, and Thad could tell he was stopping himself from a rebuttal.

"She's nervous about meeting Elena. It's ridiculous, Elena will love her. But you know Alice, she's nervous about everything."

That wasn't quite fair, Thad thought. Alice was skittish, yes, but he could hardly blame her. Going to a party full of wealthy socialites was like diving into a shark tank. Anyone with an ounce of sense would stay far away from this bullshit. And here he was, squeezing into a fucking wetsuit.

"Elena is the first of my family Alice meets, you know. Other than talking to my mother on the phone," Mateo mused, holding up first one tie to Thad's broad chest, and then another, cocking his head as he considered.

Thad hadn't known that Alice was talking to Mateo's family in Brazil. That meant shit was getting serious. The wayward image of Mateo and Alice tangled in bed together rose unwelcome in his mind, and his lip curled. It was one thing for Mateo to bed every little drunk sub he met at the club, but it was quite another to be romancing his sous chef. Alice was more than an employee to him, he'd known her since she was fresh out of culinary school, even more gangly and timid then than she was now.

He'd taken her under his wing, instinctively knowing the kind of mentor she needed to flourish on her own as a chef. He could see she had what it takes, and he had the patience to make sure she saw it in herself. He was proud of how far she'd come in her work, and he wasn't about to let her go squander it all to play slave girl to a rich playboy. Sure, Mateo was his friend, but the man was as slick as they come.

Alice didn't need slick. She needed reliable. And Thad wasn't so sure Mateo fit that bill.

Mateo mumbled something about the lines of Thad's lapel, turning to examine a different jacket hanging in the fitting room, and Thad let out a heavy sigh. It felt like a bizarro scene out of some rom com flick. In a dressing room with another man, Thad thought, shaking his head at the stranger in the mirror. His father was turning over in his grave.

"Don't look so disgusted," Mateo laughed, holding out the new jacket as Thad pulled it on. "Your face is ruining the effect of my hard work."

"This is ridiculous, Mateo. We've been here for hours. It's just a fucking suit. Any one will do. Nobody's going to be looking at me anyway."

"We have been here for less than one hour. And we are almost done."

"At least let me get a black one," Thad complained. "So I can wear it to funerals and weddings. Where the hell am I going to go in a gray suit?"

"You're going to go to my sister's welcome party, that's where."

When Mateo was finally satisfied, the two men looked at the result in the mirror. Thad didn't look like himself, but he didn't look like an idiot either. He had to admit the tailoring of the suit made him look a little less like a boor.

"Don't look so happy," laughed Mateo.

"It's fine," Thad grumbled as he began stripping to put his old clothes on. "Can we get out of here?"

"You know," Mateo mused with good humor, reaching for the suit clothes as they fell away. "You and Alice are really so alike. She would be just the same as you, so eager to be invisible. I could put you both in the finest silk and you'd stand there like fish trying to walk on land."

Thad bit his tongue, zipping his jacket violently. If this motherfucker broke Alice's heart, he'd beat the shit out of him. Then they'd see who couldn't walk.

***

The party was every bit as awful as Thad had expected it'd be. The suit already felt tighter than it had in the store, and he was working on pit stains already. He realized only after his shower that he should've buzzed his borderline scraggly hair and goatee, but by then it had been too late.

Gerard the angel investor had found him brooding in a corner, nursing a drink. Gerard wasn't an ass, but he was pushy. He kept going on about how Thad shouldn't take the restaurant's current success as a reason to get complacent. Of course, he wanted Thad to seize one particular opportunity: selling. Thad's eyebrows rose at the ridiculous figures Gerard was throwing around. With that kind of capital, Thad could build a whole new restaurant from the ground up. He trained his stoic face into "listening" mode, resisting the urge to tell the guy to just fuck off already. But when Gerard's lovely French wife appeared and pulled him away with a smile, Thad breathed a sigh of relief and returned to moping.

The worst was, Alice didn't need him. She looked beautiful in a sparkly silver floor-length gown that complemented her tall and thin figure. Thad suspected Mateo had played dress up for them both. She seemed more self-assured than Thad had anticipated, chatting with groups of people for a while before coming to his side. She was no fish out of water.

"What's this?" she asked him breathlessly, pointing at his glass.

"Whiskey. Want?"

"God, yes," she laughed, taking the glass from him and shooting back the remaining liquor.

Thad grinned. "You're doing great out there with the sharks."

She chuckled. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I can put on a good show when I try."

They stood a while in amiable silence, taking in the splendor of the party. Usually Alice thrummed with nervous energy even outside of work, but not tonight. It was rare for the two of them to be together doing nothing, though they had spent countless hours cooking together, always in sync. With both of them here, Thad had left the restaurant unattended, something even rarer. It was a testament to his unspoken loyalty to Alice, that when she asked him to go to this, he agreed without fighting. He hadn't taken the news of Alice's pseudo-relationship with Mateo well, knowing firsthand how little doms had to offer by way of intimacy. Things had been strained between him and Alice, and it was killing him. So when, after a few months together, it seemed like Mateo wasn't going anywhere, Thad had relented and tried to accept it. When he'd suggested the three of them have dinner, Alice had been overjoyed, getting teary even. There had been an uneasy truce between Thad and Mateo ever since, one that left Thad feeling like he was alone in his lingering concerns about Alice's future in the arms of a tall, Brazilian tech mogul.

"Is it almost over?" Alice asked, and Thad laughed, glancing at his watch.

"Unless the party ends at 9, no."

Alice groaned. "Mateo still has to give his speech, and then there's Elena's concert. I don't see why we can't just do that and be done already. I want to go to sleep, and these shoes are torture."

"She's going to play?"

"Well, that's the whole reason she's come to America. Mateo invited all sorts of music people, I don't know, orchestra directors and producers. They're here to listen to her."

Thad considered this. The idea of playing an instrument in front of a crowd this large was like something out of a nightmare.

"Have you met her?" Alice asked, turning to him.

"What, the sister?"

"Yes," she laughed, smiling. "Elena."

"No," Thad replied, smiling too. Alice seemed happy, and relaxed. He was almost surprised to see it. He had thought she'd be as uncomfortable as he felt. Maybe it was possible that Mateo wasn't being an unmitigated ass to the woman he considered closer kin than his own sister.

"Oh, you've got to. She's so . . ." Alice's voice drifted as she searched for the word.

"I don't know. She's . . . lovely."

"You sound less than sure about that."

"Oh, she's stunning. And sweet. But she's got something else too, she's not like her brother."

"How so?"

Alice glanced at him, a mischievous smile on her elven face. "She's tough."

"Tough? A rich musician is tough?"

"Yeah," Alice shrugged with a laugh. "I don't know. You'd have to talk to her to get what I'm saying."

"I think I'll pass on schmoozing the belle of the ball," he said sardonically, wishing he had more whiskey.

"Too late for that," Alice replied, hooking her arm in his and dragging them away from the wall.

Thad's jaw clenched. Chum for the fucking sharks.

***

He recognized the woman who must be Elena even before he half-heard himself being introduced to her. The woman turned at the sound of Alice's voice, drink in hand, and her gaze traveled slowly up the length of his body before coming to rest on his face. Thad felt his toes curl.

She was gorgeous. And tiny. Towering over her, Thad suddenly felt like an oaf bursting out of his ridiculously small suit. She had honey colored skin and dark, shining hair that cascaded in soft waves down her back. Her face was small like the rest of her, and heart-shaped, with big, dark eyes. His gaze lingered on her mouth, luscious and full above a small, pointed chin. He could practically see down her dress at this angle, some dark green silken thing with a halter top. The only jewelry she wore were a half dozen thin silver bangles on one wrist.

He only realized he was standing there like a buffoon when Alice elbowed him sharply in the side, and he groaned.

"I said, Elena should come to the restaurant sometime. We could make something for her."

"Uh, yeah," he managed, nodding.

Elena said nothing, looking at him straight in the face, one eyebrow raised.

"Did you learn any Brazilian recipes when you were in school?" Alice asked him, her elbow at the ready for another jab.

"No. I mean, probably. Maybe."

He glanced at Alice, whose expression was equal parts plea for assistance and clear desire to throttle him for his social ineptitude.

"Yes," he said with confidence, nodding at Alice. "Yeah, I can make Brazilian black bean and pork stew, and cheese bread."

"Feijoada, and pão de queijo," Elena replied in a melodious alto.

"Right," he replied slowly, pivoting his still nodding head to her. "That."

"But I think in general, culinary school is lacking when it comes to South American cuisine," Alice went on, tucking her short, blonde bob behind her ears absently. "We're still all so focused on the European tradition. It's a shame."

Before Thad could answer that, someone appeared at Alice's shoulder, speaking discreetly in her ear. She leaned back, extricating herself.

"Mateo's ready to introduce you in five, Elena?" Alice spoke the statement as a question, and the woman nodded placidly. Then Alice smiled at her, moving off and avoiding Thad's panicked eyes.

He stood next to Elena, his mind turning frantically as he thought of what to say. He hadn't ever expected to meet Mateo's sister, let alone have to charm her. But the deeper he searched for a good opening, the longer the silence stretched, until he felt desperate to fill it with something, anything, but it was Elena who spoke first.

"I hope my brother brings Clio out. I won't be carrying her across this marble floor in these shoes."

Elena's voice was placid, echoing none of his panic. Her accent was thicker than Mateo's, he could feel the Portuguese underneath the English.

"Who is Clio?" He frowned. Had he blacked out during the earlier part of their conversation?

"My cello," Elena clarified mildly, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

Thad waited for her to say more, but she didn't.

"Your cello is named Clio?" he repeated, feeling like a complete idiot.

"Clio, the Greek muse of history," Elena replied. "The cello, it is very old. It was called Clio before it was mine."

Thad turned to her, drawn by the strangeness of what she was saying. He let his eyes roam over her face for the second time, trying to find some resemblance to Mateo's angular good looks and coming up short. Literally, short. The woman must be a foot smaller than Mateo. All they had in common was that burnished skin and dark, wavy hair.

"Old?" he echoed. It was all he could manage.

Elena rewarded him with a small smile, just the corners of her mouth lifting by a few millimeters, and he felt his nostrils flare as his cock twitched.

"A family heirloom," she went on, emptying her flute. "By the time it came to my mother it wouldn't even play, its wood warped badly from a flood. We used to hang towels on it to dry them. But then, when I had the money, I brought it to be restored."

A waiter briefly interrupted them, offering her more champagne, but she smiled and shook her head, placing the empty glass on his tray with the softest clink.

"It is like when you buy an antique car, and you pay to have it almost made completely new, all the parts new, but you still call it an antique. That is my cello."

Yet again, Thad could think of nothing to say.

His silence didn't seem to bother Elena, who spun the bangles on her wrist as she looked at him and his suit.

"Do you enjoy music?"

"I guess," he replied stupidly, and felt his face flush as he saw Elena holding back a laugh. "I don't know anything about the kind of music I'm guessing you play, classical."

Elena made a small sound, glancing over at the grand staircase where Mateo was standing with Alice, fixing the height of a microphone.

Thad felt himself losing her, and dove further in.

"What song will you play?" he asked, and she looked back at him.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "When people make me play on command, even my brother, it annoys me. So I punish them by deciding at the last minute what to play."

This made him smile, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. He felt his cock hardening and grit his teeth.

"Obviously though, I will try to play something that impresses you."

"Impresses me?" he laughed, thinking she had misspoken. But she merely nodded, and Thad felt his chest unexpectedly tighten, confined already by the tailored dress shirt.

He swallowed, feeling how soon she would be up on the dais with the spotlight on her, how quickly the night would be over and how he'd probably never see her again.

"Alice was right," he said quickly. "You should come by the restaurant. I could cook for you."

Elena shrugged her shoulders, making the fabric of her dress slide briefly up and down her lithe body. "I am never much interested in food."

"You don't like food?" Thad laughed in disbelief. Everyone liked food.

"I could eat oatmeal every day. Or bread. Or rice. It doesn't matter to me."

He looked down at the slimness of her waist, the gentle curve of her hips. This woman didn't eat bread as her main source of nutrition.

"Maybe you haven't tasted the right food," he murmured, thinking irrationally of how her skin would taste. Caramel, he suspected.

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to my home this evening, where we welcome my beautiful sister Elena here to this beautiful country," came Mateo's booming voice over the microphone, making Elena jump.

He felt dozens of eyes turning to watch the young woman move to join her brother at the stage.

But for a moment she didn't move, as if she hadn't even heard.

"Maybe you have not heard the right music," she said with what looked like a smirk, in answer to his last statement.

And then he watched as she deliberately donned a bright, wide smile and walked away from him.

***

Thad sat stretched out on his sofa, leaning back against its soft, gray cushions, pumping his cock rhythmically in his hand. His legs were spread, giving him easy access to his throbbing dick. Completely nude, he breathed hard in the semidark of his apartment as his new nightly ritual began.

Closing his eyes, his mind went straight to the image that had been the subject of his masturbatory fantasies these past weeks. Elena, perched on the edge of a chair, her legs spread wide to accommodate the massive cello, cradling it in her inner thighs. She had swept her hair over one shoulder, leaving him with a profile view of so much bare skin. The line of her arm led the eye to her ribcage, where the cut of her dress left her back completely exposed, a fact unbeknownst earlier when her hair had covered her. Her dress held another surprise, a deep slit on each side, allowance for her stance as she played. Her legs were visible to mid-thigh, tapering to a shapely calf and strappy heel. She seemed nearly naked to him, and to everyone else, Thad had belatedly realized with an unexpected wave of anger. How could Mateo let her wear this? It was practically lingerie. Was everyone looking at her the way he was, undressing her mentally, their hands itching to grab her? The thought drove him wild.

But the music, it was the music that held him enthralled as he watched her, as he remembered watching her now, naked and horny as he stroked his dick. He couldn't even describe the music, had no words to even try to look it up. It had started abruptly, the sound of her cello deep and sensual, the notes rising fast in a playful swoop. Her body had moved with it, rocking a little in her chair, at times nearly bending over in a welcome embrace of the instrument.

Thad had felt himself tensing as he watched her, transfixed, and yet resentful. He saw naked women all the time, dozens of them on club nights, yet this woman's body was making him feel a kind of desperate craving. It was strange and unwanted. He felt exactly like Mateo had said he would, a fish out of water, a fish whose cock was hardening in public.

Her melody looped back in places before rising high, the pace increasing. As it reached a cataclysmic pitch her arms were flying, fingers spread as she worked herself in service of the notes, her gaze focused intently on the strings. It was physically tolling, he could see her breath coming fast, his own increasing to match. She gave it everything, keeping nothing for herself, and to see it happening right in front of him made him jealous of a fucking cello.

And then abruptly it was over, her bow poised over the strings as the final notes still vibrated in the room. The applause was immediate and loud, and Thad blinked, having forgotten he was in a crowd. He half expected people to be staring at him, pointing out the bulge in his pants, laughing. But they were all mesmerized by Elena, as he had been.

Pumping his cock now to the memory of it, his grip tightened finally. He liked to edge himself needlessly over and over as he replayed the scene in his mind, denying himself the satisfaction of climax until his replay reached the final, pivotal moment.