Claire rummaged through the break room cabinets for the silver bagged coffee— it was so much better than the one in the black bags. Friday was payday, and she would have to purchase her plane ticket today, so she decided to forgo the pricey lattes and stick to station coffee. She could afford it just fine, but she hadn't made her funds last all these years without learning small sacrifices here and there. She was quite proud of her self-discipline. Mistress couldn't properly coach others without embodying the quality herself.
"Morning, Claire."
Her commissioner leaned in the doorway with a smile, his hair handsomely soft, his shirt the same bright blue as his eyes and paired with a woven burgundy tie. She felt a little jump between her khaki-clad thighs, a reminder of her unsuccessful weekend attempts at self-satisfaction. They'd spent Saturday night together at the club but socializing in a group. It was a themed night with catered sushi and sake hosted in the club's large conference room. It had given Jim the chance to meet some new faces, members only, due to the lack of masks. Some attendees had adjourned to rooms after, but with Jim and Claire's late night date the evening before, they'd agreed to part with a few kisses and get a good night's sleep.
That night had been her first attempt. She was going on weeks now with no orgasms. For a mistress who was used to such things on the daily, her frustration was mounting. And nothing was mounting her. She'd scened with a couple of her other regulars over the last couple weeks, but she'd kept her promise to Jim to minimize the sexual contact. Jack, her favorite before Jim, had just wanted her to hold him and let him cry. For hours. She'd given the philanthropic wannabe genie Wilson his series of lashes with her riding crop and let him hump on her and kiss her a bit, but they never really fucked anyway. Claire was doing a wonderful job saving herself for Jim, all in all.
But she wasn't having orgasms with Jim either. Occasionally she allowed herself to give him a hand job or suck him off; as her sub, he needed the release. Of course he always eagerly offered to return the favor, but Mistress wouldn't allow it.
"This is about you, Pet," she'd say sweetly, and he would nod, clearly disappointed but now so perfectly obedient when at the club.
It wasn't that she didn't want to give in. With Jim standing there in the break room door looking like a sexy snack, Claire could see herself locking them in and letting him take her right there on the counter. But she was terrified of how she might react if she let him bring her to climax again. She was already teetering on a precipice, and the power of being with him like that would surely knock her off. The man did things to her.
"Good morning, Jim. Sleep well yesterday?"
"I did."
"Still at the hotel?"
Jim smirked as he leaned over her, raising an arm over her head to grab a coffee cup from the cabinet. "No, actually. I turned the key in yesterday afternoon."
"Really? You're back home?" Claire struggled to keep from squealing. It was her biggest success yet.
Jim chuckled and perched against the counter while he waited for the percolating Braun to finish working its magic. Claire's eyes were immediately drawn downward, her unmet needs even more painful at the sight of a semi already forming in his dark gray trousers. Without his normal jacket to cover it, it was quite obvious. Had he done that to her on purpose, to torture her?
"Yes, back home. And sleeping on a pillow that now smells like a certain Mistress."
She smiled innocently. "Just from those few minutes? I think you're imagining things, Commissioner." Claire waited for a lapse in coffee drips before shimmying beside him to pour herself a cup, relishing in the feel of his arm just barely touching hers. She could almost see the magnetism between them like particles suspended in the air. She stirred in her usual half and half with one yellow sweetener packet, then lifted the cup for the morning's first blissful sip, feeling his eyes on her the whole time.
"So were you able to get off?" Jim asked before helping himself to the coffee pot.
That first blissful sip sprayed onto the cabinet door, and Claire's eyes widened a second before her mind realized what he'd really meant. She cast him a flirtatious look. "That could be considered sexual harassment, you know."
It was Jim's turned to look perplexed, but a deep laugh took hold of him once the light bulb clicked. Claire glanced through the break room's small window to make sure they weren't being watched. The station seeing a loud, carefree laugh like that on Jim Gordon's face would arouse suspicions for sure.
"Cleveland, my dear. Were you able to get the day off to join me in Cleveland?"
"Ohhhhh... yes, that I was successful with," she replied. "Although Kay did do a double take when she pulled up the calendar and saw your out-of-office. She wondered if somebody died or something. But she thought our workload should be lighter with you out, so she said yes."
She winked and resisted the urge to run a hand along the turn of muscle she spotted through the crisp blue sheen of his dress shirt. She'd been panting a little through her mouth and realized once breathing through her nose that his "gentlemanly" cologne married intoxicatingly with the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She ran a hand through her hair and winced. Her pussy was fucking on fire. There, in the office break room, because of Jim Gordon.
"I need to get back to work," Claire muttered. "If I don't get the supply order in by ten I won't make the deadline."
"Yes, get to work, Ms. Greene," Jim agreed. His mouth was cocked at a maddeningly amused angle, his instincts clearly in tune with her agony.
This was going to be a long week.
XXXXXXXXX
A Dodge Ram pickup sat in the driveway of Barbara's parents' home when Jim brought the kids back Sunday.
Here we go, he thought.
Saturday had gone well. Jim had awakened bright and early in the Cleveland hotel and grabbed breakfast before picking the kids up. They'd rushed down the stairs to greet him with big hugs and even bigger smiles, which made Jim's heart warm in a way he'd almost forgotten. Barbara had greeted him with a tentative smile, arms crossed and holding her cardigan tightly closed in a posture that demonstrated a nervousness similar to his own. It was hard to believe they'd been married for twenty-eight years and could still feel so awkward around one another. Jim's eyes had darted to her left hand, struggling to see beyond the pink cotton that shielded her ring finger. He was almost certain her rings were gone. He'd thumbed his own with agitation, now embarrassingly conscious of metal squeezing flesh, a feeling he'd become numb to after so many years.
He'd taken the kids to mini golf and pizza, then to a nearby playground and for a nature walk down a couple of park trails. It had been a perfect fall Saturday, and the park even had a few booths set up with craft vendors, face painting, and a cider cart. Jim had bought Barbie a handmade necklace and Jimmy a small bow and arrow, which Jim had taught him to use as they wandered the trail. He'd dropped them back off around supper time and spent the evening relaxing at the hotel, going for an indoor swim and catching some football at the bar.
It was halfway during the second beer that he'd decided to slip the ring into his pocket. He'd flexed his hand and stared at the indention left behind, wondering if it would still be visible by the time Claire arrived Sunday night. He'd also found himself wondering if Claire ever noticed the gold band and thought anything of it. He was curious if the absence of it would frighten her, make her happy, or if she'd notice the difference at all. Jim sure hoped so.
It rained a bit on Sunday, so he'd taken the kids to see a Disney movie about Triple Crown winner Secretariat. Barbie really loved horses. Jimmy had been a bit fidgety but enjoyed stuffing his face full of popcorn. Barbara had invited Jim to stay for dinner, but she'd failed to mention Dan would be joining them, although he'd been prepared for such.
The kids ran upstairs to clean up at Barbara's request, and Jim followed his ex into the living room where Dan was reclined in front of the sports channel. He was a very tall and muscular man, clearly athletic, with short curly hair and just a bit of stubble. He definitely looked a few years younger than Jim. And in much better shape. Jim found his mind curious once again as to what avenues his ex may be exploring and if they were similar to his own. He promptly banished the thought.
"Jim!" the man said, beaming. "Really nice to meet you." He stood and grasped Jim's hand with the strength of a bear.
"H— hi." Jim pushed his glasses up and returned the handshake awkwardly. In spite of his recently adopted activities that would suggest otherwise, Jim was an introvert. He was brazen enough at work when he had to be, but only because it was required. He disliked small talk with a passion, especially when it was laden with so much complicated drama. Luckily Barbara knew him well and whisked him off to the kitchen with an offer of lemonade.
"Where are your parents?" Jim asked, taking it upon himself to grab the abandoned knife from the cutting board and pick up where Barb had evidently left off, slicing zucchini. Jim never cooked, but he needed something to busy himself or he would go crazy.
"They went to Chicago for the weekend to see a play. Since the kids would be with you most of the weekend, they wanted to give me some time... alone."
"Ah, I see."
Barbara poured the homemade lemonade into three tall glasses, the only sound being ice cubes clinking together and Jim's rhythmic cutting.
"You cook now?" Barbara asked lightly, setting his glass down beside him.
"No, not at all. But I'm supposed to be figuring it out."
"Supposed to? Who says?" she laughed.
"My, um, life coach."
Her eyebrows raised like she didn't recognize the man standing in front of her. "Well, that's good, I guess. You look well. Less overworked. A little lighter. I'm going to assume this life coach is young and female?" Barbara's voice betrayed a bit of insecurity, and Jim couldn't deny his satisfaction in hearing it.
"Does that matter?" Jim started in on an onion next, not even sure how she wanted it cut or what they'd be eating for dinner, but she didn't stop him.
"I'll take that as a yes." Barbara went to the living room to deliver Dan's lemonade then promptly returned, shooing Jim away so she could finish preparing the meal.
Rather than spend unnecessary time with Dan, Jim took his beverage upstairs and played a bit with the kids. He helped Jimmy build a Lincoln Log fort and line plastic cowboys up to defend it, while Barbie took care of the My Little Pony horses in their corral. The kids were very lively and talkative at dinner, much to Jim's relief, so he really only had to react to them rather than navigate communication with the man weaseling his way into the family.
Dan had a pearly white smile that seemed permanently plastered to his tanned face. Jim's gaze flitted back and forth between him and Barbara, surprised at how differently his brain processed images of her now. He still saw her as Barb, as the woman he'd known for decades, as the mother of his children. But his mind seemed to have released all claims to her in a sexual sense, without him even realizing it. He looked at her like he would any woman on the street or a friend or co-worker— well, not that co-worker. All traces of desire for Barb felt like a distant memory. Could he really have moved on that quickly? If so, he was doomed. Claire wouldn't even let him touch her lately. Putting all his eggs in this new basket was risky and could end up with him feeling even lower than he did before. He glanced at his watch. Her plane would land in ninety minutes. God, he couldn't wait.
Barb caught him looking at his wrist and cleared her throat. "I guess you have a plane to catch tonight?"
Jim finished chewing and shook his head. "No, I'm actually staying overnight. I— I took tomorrow off."
Her brow furrowed. "But the kids are in school tomorrow. It's Monday."
"Maybe he wants to sightsee?" Dan interjected brightly.
"In Cleveland? We came here yearly to see Mom and Dad, Dan. Jim's seen it all."
Jim shifted in his seat and fingered his chin thoughtfully. He almost divulged his destination for the next day, but he knew the kids would latch onto it immediately and beg to miss school. He couldn't have them meet Claire, not yet. Not when her feelings about him still seemed so erratic.
"Just taking a day for myself."
Barbara pursed her lips. She didn't look angry, just confused. Jim couldn't blame her. The old Jim never took time for himself.
"Life coach stuff?" she asked warily.
Jim gave a brief nod and polished off his last bite of steak before wiping his mouth. "I should probably get going."
Dan stood. "Nice meeting you, buddy. Hope you'll visit again soon."
Jim just stared at him, a bit dumbfounded. Yes, technically he was "visiting," but it was his family, damn it. He didn't need this guy's invitation. "Thanks," he replied awkwardly.
"Don't you want to stay for dessert?" Barbara asked, standing as well. "I made an apple pie. I know it's your favorite."
Jim glanced at his watch again and hesitated. He did really love apple pie.
"Maybe he could take some to go, if he's in a hurry?" Dan suggested politely. "Not that I'm pushing you out the door there, Jimbo. We'd love it if you stayed."
"Please stay for pie, Daddy," Jimmy begged. And so Jim did. He couldn't say no to that. And the pie was delicious, as always. He really did miss home cooked meals. He made a mental note to ask Claire if she'd be up for improving their kitchen skills together. It would be nice to spend more time with her outside of the club. And his ass could use a break. It seemed to be chronically raw these days, even now, as he turned just a bit too quickly to head to his rental car.
XXXXXXXXX
Jim stood off to the side of the baggage claim escalator, his coffee and pie dancing the jitterbug with his nerves as his sweaty fingers toyed with flower stems. He'd spotted a flower vending machine as he'd sought out a place to wait for Claire, and he figured a bouquet of peach roses and baby's breath couldn't hurt his chances with her.
It didn't take him long to spot her. She wore skinny jeans and a white tunic beneath a gray sweater, her waist encircled by a thin braided belt. A lavender scarf was thrown around her neck, and she wore large sunglasses atop her head, those beautiful dark blond curls swept back in a ponytail. She had traded Mistress's trademark stilettos for silver ballet flats. As she approached him with a shy smile, Jim realized he liked that. He enjoyed her being shorter and tinier than him- like he could sweep her off her feet, which he would do in a heartbeat if he wasn't afraid she'd get mad at him.
"Hey there, beautiful." He gave her a warm smile, his hand stuffed uncertainly in the pockets of his Dockers. His mind imagined taking a strand of her hair, kissing her cheek (at the very least), or pulling her into a hug. But instead he just opted to grab her oversized duffel and let her dictate the flow of the evening. He'd be patient, for now. But he had one goal for their time away together, and that was to hear Claire scream his name again. He'd like to experiment and see how many orgasms he could give her in one night— three, maybe? How many were possible? He should have Googled in preparation. But honestly he'd settle for one. It had been weeks since she'd allowed herself to climax with him, all the way back to the night of his first sensory deprivation. With all he'd learned the past few weeks, that seemed like a lifetime ago. It was driving him crazy and making him feel like a failure— a chore— instead of something she truly wanted.
"Hi, there, Jim. How was your weekend?"
In his distraction over seeing her he'd already forgotten the flowers. He jumped and handed them to her quickly. "Here, I thought you might like these. My weekend was okay. The time with the kids was great. Had a lot of fun."
"That's really good. I'm glad you got some time with them. And the flowers are beautiful, thank you."
"You're welcome. You hungry?" They made their way out of the sliding doors toward the parking garage, still not touching. Jim had allowed himself to fall a few paces behind as he carried her bag, like a true submissive. And Claire was evidently so used to playing Mistress that she didn't even notice, or if she did, she didn't seem to care.
"Hmm? Oh... no. I grabbed a sandwich while I was waiting at the gate. Would love a drink though. Does our hotel have a bar?"
Jim grinned. Drinks were good. Maybe he could get her to loosen up a bit and shake whatever it was that was holding her back. "Yep. We'll get you settled in then head back down. Rooms are nice. Bed's comfy. Big though. Room for two, I'd bet." He tossed her bag in the backseat and opened her door with a wink.
"Nice try, Commissioner." Claire smiled and shook her head.
"Worth a shot. Just in case someone else out there could use that room. I heard the hotel's full."
"Ohhh! A guilt trip now, I see. You really are persistent, Jim Gordon."
"Is it working?"
"No. This is only our second date, remember?"
Jim resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. He was beginning to think this was some kind of disorder, segmenting your personas and your relationships like this. It wasn't even three days ago she'd gotten him off in room 9, the room where they'd had their first encounter, where he'd thrown her legs over himself and thrusted her harder than he'd even known was possible. This time she'd just given him a hand job, but of course it was still incredible. Wet, twisting, squeezing — perfect. He felt himself twitch against the pressure of his zipper just thinking about it. But if she could do all that, why couldn't she let herself sleep beside him?
"Claire," he began slowly.
"You know who I sat next to on the plane? This little old lady dressed head to toe in Chanel. She and her husband live in Boston. She said he makes movies and that I have a face for film. She gave me their business card. How much you want to bet it's porn?" Claire laughed and turned to watch passing buildings out of her window, completely ignoring the fact that Jim was about to ask her a question.
He was agitated now and had to fight with every chivalrous bone in his body not to joke about making an audition tape this weekend and sending it to the woman. A sarcastic suggestion, of course, although the idea was intriguing. He took a deep breath to center himself. He wasn't usually a short-tempered man, unless it was with suspects who deserved it. But he just wanted so desperately to hold this woman, to cherish her, to spoil her— and it drove him crazy to watch her act so damn cavalier. If she didn't want him, why was she here? Why did she meet him three-plus nights a week in her club? It was illogical and was driving him insane.
Claire checked in at the front desk, her smile brilliant as she chatted with the front desk agent. The young Brit, Daniel, seemed enthralled by her, of course. Daniel... Dan... was the universe trying to irritate him? Daniel somehow deviated from telling her about breakfast times and pool location to divulging the fact that he once wanted to be an acrobat and was a great dancer. Claire — Mistress— just had this uncanny way of making men, even perfect strangers, open up.
"Everything all right with your room, Mr. Gordon?" asked Lila, the clerk who had checked Jim in Friday night. She passed behind Daniel and flashed a smile.
"Yes, Lila, thank you." Jim noticed Claire's gaze dart between the two of them, and he found himself grateful for that perfect timing. Lila was stunning, and that pretty peach pout of hers, along with the fact that she remembered his name, was unmistakable. Claire needed to realize if she wasn't interested, there were other women who were.
"Lila, huh?" Claire teased after they stepped onto the elevator. It had that distinct hotel smell of chlorine and fresh baked cookies.
"What?" Jim countered. "Sounds like Daniel was awfully keen on showing you his acrobat moves."
"Too bad we're not at the club," Claire said mischievously. "We could invite them to scene."
"Hmph." Jim gave a slight chuckle, but inside he was scowling. He was getting tired of the club. Getting sick of voyeurism and expected swinging and orgies and x-crosses and canes. He wanted Claire beneath him in a real bed, not some playroom, writhing and screaming about how good he made her feel... telling him she loved him. That last thought startled him so much he almost forgot to get off the elevator.
"You coming, Jim?"
"That could be considered sexual harassment, you know," he whispered, recovering quickly and turning her little remark from earlier in the week back on her.
She giggled and followed him as he sauntered down the hall to their rooms. When he'd checked in on Friday, he'd given Lila a heads up about Claire's impending arrival and requested the rooms be close together. Jim was glad to see Lila had honored the request, even if she did like to flirt with him. Now that she'd seen Claire, the woman was probably even more excited. Was the whole damn world having threesomes these days?
They decided to freshen up a little and agreed to meet back down at the bar in half an hour. Jim planned to get there early, in case he needed to fend off a certain young acrobat who might be ending his shift. And he really, really needed a drink.
