lucky she is, how good he's going to be to her."
That got Malcolm thinking. Yes, how would he treat her? Some of Malcolm's lessons to Wyatt had stuck. Did she know about them? Had he told her? If she only found out after she'd committed a punishable transgression there was a good chance she'd be absconding from that marriage straightaway.
It was all such a disappointment.
And all of it based on a sexual fantasy Malcolm had had since forever. He wanted to find out what would happen with one girl and two men. Simultaneously. He wanted to hear the scream . But that of course required another man's participation and he couldn't risk just any man. No, he'd decided it would be Wyatt. Perfect. He'd begun Wyatt's careful grooming vis-à-vis his confidential preferences on the day Wyatt had turned eighteen. A very high quality prostitute young Wyatt had enthusiastically accepted. And more. Then, with his expensive ladies of the evening Malcolm had instructed Wyatt regarding the proper disciplining of a female into obedience. And Wyatt had gone along. But then Malcolm had attempted to segue Wyatt to the next step, the enjoyment of the female after obedience had been achieved and at this Wyatt had blanched. No, at this Wyatt had been horrified. His student had fled. And forever after there had been that judgmental disapproval from Wyatt, the little snit . And George? George hadn't even accepted the proffered prostitute on his eighteenth.
Malcolm smiled. Maybe he should resume his search for another man to assist him with his fantasy. Maybe he could find one in time so that Angelique could be the other participant in his little reverie. That would be nice, he thought. That would be very nice.
*****
"I have to, Wyatt, I'm under contract," Angelique reproached him.
"You are my wife now, you do not have to perform. I'll buy out your contract."
"That would still make me a welcher. I don't want that reputation. And besides, it's at the most elite private club in the city --even you are a member!-- it's not like I'll be lounge lizard singing someplace."
Wyatt stiffened truculently. They had been living in his home for a short while and this was their first disagreement. Angelique was committed to perform at Malcolm's very exclusive atop-the-Performance-Center-club on Friday night but Wyatt didn't want his new wife singing and shaking her booty for his friends, business associates, competitors, enemies, all of them, to gawk at.
"The answer is NO."
"I have to Wyatt. It's... all arranged." Wyatt peered at her quizzically knowing she was hiding something and that she was practicing a look on him.
"What," he said, his features set in hawklike intensity, "is going on?"
"I couldn't... stand the idea of me not saying anything to your parents when we got back from Vegas. What if that made them hate me? So... I got your Mom's email address off your phone and I sent her the video of us singing that duet at your Gala. And she emailed me back."
"And what," he sensed trouble, "did she say?"
"She invited me to your birthday party Friday night which you told me nothing about! I told her I couldn't, I was working at the club. But we... worked it out."
"And how," he fought to control his temper, "did the two of you do that?"
"She's changed her plans. She's going to serve an hors d' oeuvres buffet, not a sit down dinner, at six o'clock, not eight, and then, after--" Angelique took a deep breath and plunged in, "we're all going to the club and you all are gonna watch me perform and after we're having a birthday cake there
That got Malcolm thinking. Yes, how would he treat her? Some of Malcolm's lessons to Wyatt had stuck. Did she know about them? Had he told her? If she only found out after she'd committed a punishable transgression there was a good chance she'd be absconding from that marriage straightaway.
It was all such a disappointment.
And all of it based on a sexual fantasy Malcolm had had since forever. He wanted to find out what would happen with one girl and two men. Simultaneously. He wanted to hear the scream . But that of course required another man's participation and he couldn't risk just any man. No, he'd decided it would be Wyatt. Perfect. He'd begun Wyatt's careful grooming vis-à-vis his confidential preferences on the day Wyatt had turned eighteen. A very high quality prostitute young Wyatt had enthusiastically accepted. And more. Then, with his expensive ladies of the evening Malcolm had instructed Wyatt regarding the proper disciplining of a female into obedience. And Wyatt had gone along. But then Malcolm had attempted to segue Wyatt to the next step, the enjoyment of the female after obedience had been achieved and at this Wyatt had blanched. No, at this Wyatt had been horrified. His student had fled. And forever after there had been that judgmental disapproval from Wyatt, the little snit . And George? George hadn't even accepted the proffered prostitute on his eighteenth.
Malcolm smiled. Maybe he should resume his search for another man to assist him with his fantasy. Maybe he could find one in time so that Angelique could be the other participant in his little reverie. That would be nice, he thought. That would be very nice.
*****
"I have to, Wyatt, I'm under contract," Angelique reproached him.
"You are my wife now, you do not have to perform. I'll buy out your contract."
"That would still make me a welcher. I don't want that reputation. And besides, it's at the most elite private club in the city --even you are a member!-- it's not like I'll be lounge lizard singing someplace."
Wyatt stiffened truculently. They had been living in his home for a short while and this was their first disagreement. Angelique was committed to perform at Malcolm's very exclusive atop-the-Performance-Center-club on Friday night but Wyatt didn't want his new wife singing and shaking her booty for his friends, business associates, competitors, enemies, all of them, to gawk at.
"The answer is NO."
"I have to Wyatt. It's... all arranged." Wyatt peered at her quizzically knowing she was hiding something and that she was practicing a look on him.
"What," he said, his features set in hawklike intensity, "is going on?"
"I couldn't... stand the idea of me not saying anything to your parents when we got back from Vegas. What if that made them hate me? So... I got your Mom's email address off your phone and I sent her the video of us singing that duet at your Gala. And she emailed me back."
"And what," he sensed trouble, "did she say?"
"She invited me to your birthday party Friday night which you told me nothing about! I told her I couldn't, I was working at the club. But we... worked it out."
"And how," he fought to control his temper, "did the two of you do that?"
"She's changed her plans. She's going to serve an hors d' oeuvres buffet, not a sit down dinner, at six o'clock, not eight, and then, after--" Angelique took a deep breath and plunged in, "we're all going to the club and you all are gonna watch me perform and after we're having a birthday cake there
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