As predicted, Sandra awoke the next morning to find herself spotting. The rain before the storm. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted but at least she understood her frustration and aggravation lately. It also explained why their wedding night had been so emotional. PMS was never one of her friends. Two weeks of hell for two weeks of sanity. Somehow it never seemed like a fair trade.

Creighton watched her over their breakfast as she finished reading Miriam’s book and set it aside. His eyes scanning her face as though he was trying to memorize every detail. When she looked up and caught him staring, she smiled.

“How was the rest of the book?” he asked, pushing the empty plate of crepes aside.

“It was good. I mean in a demented, perverted sort of way. There wasn’t anything else about her family though.”

“So, talking to her is going to be necessary after all.”

“I suppose, but you already made arrangements to meet with her. You can’t back out now.”

“I suppose not,” he said, looking down at the glass of orange juice in his hands. “I guess I was hoping to find a confession of sorts so we would be done with this and not have to think about it any longer.”

“But I thought you were looking forward to seeing her clinic?”

“What would make you think that?” A slight frown furrowed his brow as he looked at her.

“I could tell from the way you were talking to her. Why wouldn’t you want to see it? She made you the man you are… at least the lover you’ve become.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not really. I rather enjoy your perverted side, even if I’m exhausted beyond words.”

Creighton stared at her, an amused gleam in his dark eyes as he drank the juice then stood up.

“I can assume you’re not opposed to learning a few new tricks?”

Sandra followed suit as he walked into the kitchen, joining her plate with his in the double sink.

“I wasn’t aware there were any tricks you didn’t know?”

“Don’t know that there is, but it’s always a good idea to stay abreast of anything unique that could create a little added pleasure.”

“Any more added pleasure and I’ll never walk again,” she laughed, watching his smile widen when he pulled her into his arms.

“I’ll take it easy on you…for a while at least. You need to work up to an all-nighter.”

“Lord, help me,” she sighed in feigned exasperation.

“Let’s get dressed and get out of here.” He slapped her bottom as she turned to go into the master bedroom. “I want to have done with this mess and come home and relax with you.”

“That’s all you’re going to be able to do,” she smiled. “I am bleeding you know?”

“So?”

“That’s disgusting,” she snapped, coming to a halt by the bedroom door, her eyes wide as she stared at him in disbelief.

“What’s disgusting? It’s a part of life and marriage. I don’t care if you’re bleeding. I don’t want that to interfere with our honeymoon.”

“No way, not a chance,” she assured him sternly. “I will not have sex while I’m on my period. It’s gross enough just being on it and I don’t want to be all bloody when we’re finished. Yuck.”

“We’ll see,” he assured her, turning her back around and nudging her to walk through the bedroom door.

The road to Paris was wet but the ride was pleasant enough with the soft jazz music playing over the stereo. Sandra relaxed against the back of the seat. She really liked this car and was glad Creighton kept it available for when he was in France. The Mercedes was a true piece of work; elegant, sleek, and expensive. She was shocked at how easily she was getting used to having money. She had never had more than a few hundred dollars extra a year and that was usually after getting her tax return, so spending without thought was new to her. She had to admit, she would be a liar if she said she didn’t like not having to worry about the cost of an item.

The traffic was horrible in the heart of Paris, especially considering the rain. Sandra had assumed people would avoid driving as much as possible and use public transportation as she used to do, but it didn’t seem to make a difference here. The many cars continued to fill the streets and parking lots, while many people ran, or hovered under umbrellas in doorways and under covered shop windows to avoid getting wet.

Creighton was absorbed in his own world as they turned off the road that led into the business district of Paris. Knowing that Sandra wasn’t pregnant was a letdown, though pregnancy was not something he had ever considered before. Being a father was an idea he avoided like the plague but having her in his life made him rethink what direction he was traveling, and he didn’t like the prospect of where he would be now if he hadn’t seen her two years ago.

She said he was her Prince Charming, but in reality, he knew she was his savior. The one who rescued him from a dismal existence, a life filled with dark perversion far beyond anything she could imagine. He wanted to start over, and she gave him the opportunity to do just that. With her, he had hope, dreams for his future. He wanted a family, a home, a happily ever after that only she could provide for him.

“Are you nervous about seeing her again?” she asked as they stopped in the middle of the street for a group of pedestrians to cross.

“No, why?” He turned to her and frowned slightly.

“You just seem distracted. I wasn’t sure if it was because you were seeing your old lover or the reasons you were seeing her.”

“Neither one, actually,” he told her, turning back to the road and moving forward again. “I was thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

“We haven’t decided what to do about birth control. Do you want to see a doctor, or do you want to continue as we’ve been doing and just take our chances?”

“To be honest, I was rather getting used to the idea of having a baby,” she said softly. “Especially after seeing Kristin and how happy she is being a mother. I suppose I didn’t really think it would be an issue after as much sex as we’ve been having. I really thought I was pregnant, or at least conceiving.”

“There is always next month unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“I’m not very keen on hormones,” she said a few moments later as they headed out of town toward Dijon where Miriam’s private clinic was located. “I tried them once to control my cycles and it made me a lunatic.”

“We could stick with condoms?”

“Like you would remember them?” she teased with an amused laugh.

“If that’s what you want, I would remember them.”

Sandra sighed as she thought about their situation. She really wanted to have a family. In fact, she was subconsciously anticipating when she would deliver and how to set up a nursery once they were in their own home. If she were to be honest with herself, she was very disappointed that she wasn’t pregnant.

“Maybe we should just continue as we have and not think about it,” she told him at last.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked softly. “I mean, I didn’t consider it before we were married and as much as I really want to have a family now, the choice is yours.”

“No, it’s ours. It’s one we make together. I’m not getting any younger and having a family sounds like a wonderful dream come true. As I said, we don’t know if we can even have children. I’ve never tried before.”

“We’ll have a family. That I’m sure of. We’ll just try and forget about all the ifs and maybes until things happen. Agreed?”

Sandra nodded with a soft blush. Maybe there was hope for a normal life with this man after all.

Creighton pulled his car off the road and headed down a cobblestone path toward a small mansion, settled in the midst of a luxurious manicured lawn and garden. The house was brown brick, three stories, and looked to be around a hundred years old or more. It had a number of large windows looking out onto the landscape. A six-car garage was located some distance back from the main house, and just the edge of a swimming pool could be seen peeking out from the backyard. There was a large circular drive in front of a wide porch, that looked much smaller than one would imagine for the size of the house it was. Two separate sets of stairs led to the main entrance and the front was lined with small well-maintained rose bushes.

“This is not what I was expecting,” Creighton said in awe as they stopped the car in the circular drive by the front porch and turned off the engine. “I honestly thought it would be a warehouse of some kind. Not a bloody palace.”

“I wonder how she got it,” Sandra said quietly. “I mean, it looks old and rather expensive, even for a doctor.”

“Well, let’s find out. There she is.”

Creighton nodded toward the door that opened and the attractive blonde stepped out, followed by the young brunette they had seen in Paris at the book signing. He walked around to the passenger side, holding the door open for his bride then took her hand and smiled at the women who waited for them by the entrance.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” Miriam said, true enthusiasm echoed in her voice as she held her arms out for Creighton, who quickly hugged her in return.

“Miriam, you remember Sandra,” he introduced them, pulling his wife to his side.

“Of course, who could ever forget such a lovely lady,” she said shaking Sandra’s hand. “This is Juliet Harmon,” she said turning to the dark-haired woman who waited patiently for the reunion to end. “Julie is my manager, my agent, and my lover. Darling, this is Creighton Ashford, I’ve told you about him and this is his new bride.” They shook hands as Miriam led them inside the large double doors.

“Let me show you around,” she said, wrapping her arm in Creighton’s as Sandra stood near his side, frowning. “You’ll love what we’ve done. This is the most exclusive clinic in all of Europe.”

Creighton glanced at Sandra, taking her hand and pulling her closer to his side as they walked through the main entrance and into a sitting room-style lobby. There were six long plush sofas of wine and scarlet, four wooden tables, a massive elegant fireplace with carved angels, and enclosed bookcases filled with books. On the back wall were French doors that led out onto what appeared to be a veranda, and just beyond that, the edge of a swimming pool could be seen.

“I don’t know what to say about all that’s happened in Yorkshire,” Miriam continued softly. “I couldn’t believe it when your brother called us. Do they have any suspects?”

“One,” Creighton answered, tightening his grip around Sandra’s hand. Miriam stopped dead in the hallway that led to a number of closed doors and stared at him wide-eyed.

“You don’t think it was my father, do you?” she asked in a stunned voice.

“Miriam, I don’t know what to think. After reading your book, it makes me wonder if he had anything to do with it or not.”

“My father may have been an overbearing bastard, but he was not a murderer.”

“Miriam,” Sandra said, interrupting the two before they went any further in what started to look like an argument. “May I ask how you found this place? I mean, it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Miriam’s attitude changed immediately when she looked at Sandra, and the smile she had worn a few moments ago was back.

“Believe it or not, it was my aunt’s home. My Uncle Gustov made a fortune in oil and bought her this house as an anniversary present. It used to belong to an Earl or something of the sort. When she passed away, she left it to me, and I naturally took advantage of the seclusion and privacy to create my personal oasis and training facility.”

“Why didn’t she leave it to you and your cousin?”

Miriam frowned at the thought and looked like she was about to say something rude, but quickly changed her mind.

“My aunt did not like Konrad, and since he is not blood, she had no reason to leave the house to him.”

“What do you mean he’s not blood?” Creighton picked up, a deep frown pulling his brows together.

“Konrad was adopted. I thought you knew that. My Aunt Welda always wanted children but my Uncle Ludvig was injured in the war. He could not have them. They adopted Konrad when he was three years old from a neighbor woman who was a drug addict. She would beat him and lock him outside all day with no food, no clothing, even if it was snowing. My Aunt Welda took pity on him and would feed him and care for him, she even set up a room in her house just for him with toys, clothes, everything a young child could want. More times than not, his mother would be too stoned to remember him, so he would stay for days with my aunt and uncle. His real mother showed up one day and handed him to her and left, no word of explanation, nothing. They never saw her again. From what my father told me years later, they found her dead from a drug overdose.

“My aunt and uncle loved Konrad, cared for him, gave him everything he could possibly want, but he was always a messed-up kid. He was always into trouble, fighting, drugs, drinking. When he was twelve, he was accused of beating up a girl at school because she would not let him cheat off her homework. My Aunt Welda, who was a widow by then, didn’t know what to do with him. She asked my father if he would help her and sent him to stay with us. My father was ex-military and didn’t take any unruly attitude from anyone. He thought he could straighten Konrad out, but it didn’t work.”

They walked the main hall as they spoke. Miriam looked sad, whether for her father’s lack of restraint on his nephew or for the boy himself, they couldn’t tell.

“Enough of this. Let me show you around my clinic.”

The mood shifted immediately as she began showing them the many rooms she had designed for therapy.

They spent over an hour discussing the theory behind her starting this clinic, all of which she had outlined in her book. She insisted that lovers needed to address their fears and inhibitions, to explore their fantasies and desires in order to embrace a healthy, whole relationship. A fact Creighton had confirmed to Sandra when they first received his old friend’s book.

Miriam showed them several types of rooms. The first one that was closest to the entrance was very medieval in design, with a large four-poster wooden bed, a simple round wooden table and two chairs. There was an armoire and two nightstands with faux oil lamps to complete the furnishings. The bedding was white sheets and a dark burgundy cover, and the floor was wooden with a large burgundy area rug beneath the bed. In the corner was a chest of drawers, and hidden inside the armoire were a television, DVD player, and stereo system. She explained that every room was equipped with hidden cameras within the crown moldings and pictures that hung on the walls. There were six pictures, each a different floral design, and she showed the hidden camera and microphones inside the center of the flowers.

“This way, the entire session can be recorded from all angles, so a proper critiquing may be accomplished,” she explained. “It is important for the couple to see their actions and to understand what they were doing, perhaps something upset the other person, or perhaps there was something in particular they enjoyed. Either way, they can see and understand what was happening to them.”

“Do you videotape everyone?” Sandra asked as Creighton looked around the room, opening the drawers to reveal a variety of new vibrators, anal plugs and beads, creams and lotions, and more toys and instruments than he would have imagined, all sealed in new packaging.

“Yes, but only if they agree. I insist on having at least one session taped for their therapy and we critique it together. It’s the only way to understand how they perform. Most of my clients are here at least four days, at which time we discuss as a group their performances, and then individually. The final night is where they apply all they have learned, and that is mandatory for recording so they can see before and after techniques. I give them a disc to take home and review together instead of renting a stranger’s pornography.”

“What if the couple doesn’t want to be recorded?” Sandra asked again, fascinated that this woman found such a need in helping people explore sex.

“I will allow them private sessions, but it is important to have the first and last encounters recorded for teaching. Remember, my clients, are patients. They are here for specific reasons, so it is not a brothel. They have come to me for help and that is what I am doing. Helping them save their relationships, their marriages, in some cases even their own sanity.” She walked to the door and touched the switches.

“The cameras are controlled with the light switch over here,” she told them pointing at the two separate switches. One was white, the other tan.

“The white one is for both camera and speakers while the tan one is for privacy, a light only. When the white one is on, I can record it in my office as well. It helps with their therapy sessions.”

“I read your book,” Sandra admitted. “I found it very interesting, especially chapter four.” Miriam laughed out loud, bringing the eyes of Creighton and Juliet to her.

“Ah yes, my hayloft days,” she said smiling at the soft blush on Creighton’s handsome face. “Those were fun times…well most of them.”

“Why don’t we go have some tea?” Juliet suggested with a smug smile. “I’m sure Sandra would love to hear you reminisce somewhere other than a sex room.”

They walked down the hallway as Miriam continued to explain the many scenarios they had set up. There was a room where the sci-fi fan could live out their fantasy as a Storm Trouper or Captain Kirk, a jungle room where a couple could be Tarzan and Jane, another resembling the 1960s when free love was first being introduced. There was a room she called her particular favorite and that was an old Victorian-era bedroom, elegant and elaborately decorated where one might feel like a queen and her knight. The thought made Sandra blush when Creighton looked at her, his smile reminding her of just how erotic the idea was to them both.

Tea was served in a large cafeteria-style room with a buffet specifically designed for each fantasy. The one for the medieval room would serve a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables, meats, puddings, and wines. The one for the jungle room would serve escargot, fish, tropical fruits, nuts, and berries, while the sci-fi room would serve a little of everything, but with a variety of food coloring to make it appear out of this world. There were three full-time chefs on staff, who would prepare the food based on the type of clients that were currently occupying the clinic, and a dozen maids, with two who would attend specifically to the instruments and toys in each room. Each client would receive a kit that would go home with them for private use, and the items used in the room would be replaced with fresh, unused toys for the next occupant.

“I have to admit, this is much more than I ever anticipated,” Creighton said, sipping the hot tea as Sandra slowly devoured a cream Danish. “When you came to London and told me you planned on a specialized home to teach couples how to play, I never would have imagined this.”

“After I left you, I decided to see what university life was like,” she said with a smile. “I barely managed to make it through school the first time, but formal training was different. I found a passion for therapy and I loved learning about the mind and the reasons people do what they do. I have actually helped Scotland Yard on a couple of homicide cases, though I never had the misfortune of seeing your brother. I understand he’s a lead investigator now?”

“Yes, he is. He’s the one in charge of the bodies found on the farm.”

“I can’t imagine. I mean, I’ve studied and even counseled molesters, but to find something that gruesome is unfathomable. When Andrew called me, I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it.”

“It was a shock to us as well,” Creighton said. “Finding bodies on the day of our wedding reception was not what I had anticipated.”

“I’m sure. Crey, you don’t really believe my father could have done those crimes, do you?” Creighton sighed deeply, gauging his response.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think not, but after your book…you described his encounter with Lynette Stone. It makes a person wonder.”

“I never mentioned her name. How did you know it was Mrs. Stone?”

“She was the first body my crew found.” Miriam’s eyes widened, her cup perched in midair and she seemed to stop breathing for a moment. “You didn’t know?” he asked, watching her nearly drop her cup to the saucer, shaking her head softly.

“How…I, I mean…when,” she seemed to be having a difficult time forming a full thought and her hands began to shake. For a moment, Sandra saw a vulnerable, frightened child and wondered how she ever made it to be the person who sat in front of her now.

“Forensics estimates she’s been dead fifteen years. They are questioning her husband.” Miriam turned a shade whiter as she mentally calculated the timeframe.

“It can’t be,” she whispered. “My father would never have done that. I think he loved her, but he never said anything.”

“Miriam, what about Konrad?” Sandra asked in a quiet tone. “Where was he when your father had that encounter with Mrs. Stone?” Miriam looked at Sandra as though seeing her for the first time, her frown deepened.

“Konrad? Why would you think he had anything to do with this?”

“Because he pulled a gun on me the day of our wedding.”

“What?” If it were possible for anyone to turn paler without passing out, Miriam succeeded. “What the hell would he do something like that for?”

“He said Creighton owed him for the three years he was in prison.”

“Prison? When did that happen?”

“You didn’t know he tried to kill me?” Creighton asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as his brows pulled into a deep frown.

“No. My God, why wasn’t I told of this?” Miriam’s voice raised an octave as she looked to Juliet.

“Your father asked that you not be informed,” Juliet admitted with a soft coloring of her cheeks. “He was trying to protect you.”

“Bloody damn hell,” she said, anger quickly replacing the shock. “I had a right to know this. What happened? When did he try to kill you?”

Creighton began his story again, explaining how her cousin had asked for a job and how he had fired him when he learned of the thefts. Sandra watched her pale again when Creighton told her how he had come to his office and shot him three times and how he was sent to prison.

“Konrad was mental, that’s for certain, but I would never have assumed he could do something like that.”

Miriam looked sickened as she placed her forehead in her hand and closed her eyes.

“Where was he, Miriam?” Sandra asked gently, almost motherly.

Miriam drew a deep breath and looked up, focusing her blue eyes on Sandra, but not really seeing her.

“Konrad had been sent back to Germany a couple of weeks before Mrs. Stone showed up at the house,” she said, blinking as she focused on the woman across from her. “My father caught him in my wardrobe watching me undress. He put him on a plane and sent him back to his mum that same night.”

“Miriam, did your father visit you ten years ago?” Creighton asked. His tone was low but filled with a silent authority that Sandra had never heard before.

“My aunt died ten years ago,” she said softly. “My Uncle Gustov was my father’s youngest brother. He came here for her funeral. We had an argument about the property. He was angry that it had been left to me. He thought it should have gone to him since he was the last surviving sibling. He left Paris and went back to Germany the night after my aunt’s funeral. We didn’t speak to each other for nearly two years.”

“You said Mrs. Stone was the first body, how many were found?” Juliet placed a warm hand across her lover’s as she spoke, hoping to bring some calm to Miriam’s racing memories.

“Six total,” Creighton said, looking to Miriam who seemed to stop breathing again.

“Oh, dear God,” she whispered. “Crey it couldn’t have been Father. He was not in England ten years ago.”

“Andrew’s team is still investigating the matter.”

“Konrad,” Miriam said suddenly. “You said he pulled a gun on you, where was that?” she asked Sandra.

“At Creighton’s parents’ house.”

“Why?” Creighton asked.

“I don’t know if this means anything, but he tried to call my office last week. I was in New York so my assistant called and asked if I would call him back. I said no, I didn’t want anything more to do with him. He was so angry with my father for sending him back to Germany, he threatened to kill him. We never took him seriously. He was just angry, but after my father moved back to Berlin, he broke into his house and robbed him of everything he could sell. My father had him arrested and he spent nearly a year in jail, but when he got out, he disappeared. I have never heard from him until last week.”

“Do you have a contact number for him?” Creighton asked and she nodded, retrieving her phone from her pocket and pressing a button.

“My assistant emailed me his number, but I swear I never spoke to him. She tried to call him and tell him I was out of the country, but the number was a public phone in London.”

“I believe you,” Creighton said though his tone remained stern.

Miriam pulled up the email and showed it to him, allowing him to write down the information.

“If you hear from him again, I want you to contact Andrew immediately.”

Miriam nodded, putting her phone back in her pocket.

“Crey, I’m so sorry for all the trouble my family has caused you,” she told him, tears brimming her eyes. “Twice they have tried to kill you. First my father and then my cousin. I can never apologize enough for that.”

“I don’t blame you for either occurrence,” he assured her. “Your father thought he was protecting you and your cousin is a lunatic. You have no control over their actions.”

“I think I need to talk with your brother,” she whispered. “I need to tell him what I know, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you put an end to this madness. I’m just sorry this is interrupting your honeymoon.”

“It’s fine. Sandra and I are enjoying ourselves – immensely - regardless of what’s going on back home. I just want to make certain you’re safe, as well. Is there any possibility that Konrad can come here?” Miriam shook her head.

“I have a very sophisticated security system. He would never be able to get past the front door.”

“Who makes your system?” Creighton asked with a slight frown, watching as Miriam smiled, or tried to.

“New Hope Technologies, of course.”

With a sly grin, Creighton stood up and hugged her tightly.

“We have to go,” he said. “But I want to thank you, not just for the tour but for the information.”

“You know, you were the first and the last man I was ever with,” she said softly, causing Sandra to look down at her feet, fighting the jealousy from rising inside her. “I’m glad we knew each other.”

“So am I,” he told her, kissing her lips softly, but briefly and then reaching for Sandra’s hand and pulling her close to his side. “My beautiful wife has benefited from your lessons on many occasions.”

Sandra turned magenta as Miriam and Juliet laughed, then she accepted the hug both offered her.

“Any time you wish to use my facility, please let me know. I will always make special accommodations for you.”

Miriam turned to Juliet who walked back out of the door hand-in-hand with her as Creighton followed suit with his wife.

“We have a gift for you,” Juliet said when they reached the front door.

She walked into the office across the hall and returned a moment later, a brown wrapped box the size of a small fat pizza box in her hand.

“A gift to the newlyweds,” Miriam said with a wink.

Creighton smiled as Sandra blushed again, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Thank you,” he told her, taking the package and winking to Sandra. “I’m sure we’ll find it interesting.”

All three laughed and Sandra smiled, certain her face would never again be normal.

They left the house and climbed into the sleek black Mercedes, waving to the two who watched their departure from the step. Creighton pulled back down the cobblestone path, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the women who returned inside the house and closed the doors.

Their visit left him with more questions than answers and he was quickly becoming irritated with the delay in information. He wanted to start his life with Sandra and wanted this to end so they could move forward without the clouds of his past hanging over them. At least he was granted one piece of information that would help. He learned that Miriam’s security system was one of his. With a few phone calls, he would be able to tap into her system and monitor what was happening at the mansion. If she had been telling the truth about not knowing where her cousin was, then they would be able to help protect her if needed. But if she was lying, he would see his old lover in chains that were not as pleasant as she liked.

They returned to Versailles in a car thick with thought. Sandra listened to the one-sided conversation as Creighton and Andrew discussed all that Miriam had told them and her reaction to the information of what her cousin had done over the years. After nearly half an hour of discussion with his brother over the many possibilities, he hung up and called Clark. Once again, a one-sided conversation commenced, as the owner of NHT instructed his head of security to use the backdoor and keep an eye on Miriam’s clinic. If there was any sign of an intruder, or if she had been lying about not knowing where Konrad Bachmeier was, then he wanted to know about it immediately.

“I have reservations at Trianon Palace,” Creighton said as they stepped out of the car and underneath the umbrella once again. “But we need to pack. We’ll be there for the next three nights.”

“What is Trianon Palace?” Sandra asked, her heart beating at the thought of staying overnight in an actual palace.

“Chateau de Versailles,” he explained as the doorman opened the large glass door for them. “It was originally built as a hunting lodge in the early 1600s, but Louis XIII enlarged it and Louis XIV expanded it into one of the largest palaces in the world. During the mid to late 1600s, he began moving into the palace until he was forced to abandon it during the French Revolution.”

Creighton pushed the button for the lift as he continued to play her private tutor, making Sandra smile with amusement.

“The chateau has a great standing in history from Louis XIII to Napoleon Bonaparte. There are over two thousand rooms, a museum, a magnificent garden which we can visit if it ever stops raining, and now a luxurious hotel. I thought, since it is our honeymoon and you are a true romantic, I would give you something to look back on without all the craziness that has been happening lately.”

“No matter how crazy things get, it’s easy to go through it so long as you’re by my side.”

Sandra leaned her head against his shoulder as the lift doors closed, breathing in the scent that was pure Creighton.

“You are a work of art, do you know that?” he asked with a smile, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know what my life would be like if I didn’t have you in it.”

“It would be a boring combination of perversion and deviance,” she replied, then looked up at him with a wide smile. “Oh wait, that’s what it is now.”

Creighton narrowed his eyes to her and slapped her bottom, the sound muffled through the fabric of the dress she wore.

“I can show you exactly how perverted and deviant I can be if you’re interested,” he warned.

“You mean you haven’t already?”

“I still have many ideas for you, my love. But right now, we haven’t the time to discuss them. We have reservations.”

“And you hate being late,” she rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “I think that’s going to be your epitaph someday.”

Creighton chuckled as the lift opened and they walked across the foyer to their flat. He unlocked the door and pushed it aside, allowing her to walk through. She giggled as she stepped across the threshold and turned to him.

“Look,” she said in a mocking, childish tone. “I did it all on my own.”

“Funny,” he chided and slapped her bottom again.

They sat down the present Miriam and Juliet gave them on the table and began packing their bags, enough for the stay at the palace, and not forgetting their black backpack. Creighton dropped the bags by the door and picked up the package again.

“Shall we?” he asked with an excited grin. Sandra had no choice but to smile in return, as she nodded. They sat down on the sofa and she watched as he ripped the paper off like a child at Christmas. She felt the sting of her blush when he pulled the top of the gift box open. Inside was a set of handcuffs encased in black fur, a riding crop almost identical to the one they already had, a black silk bustier and thong panty set, and a book entitled Kama Sutra A Sexual Experience For Lovers by Dr. Miriam Bachmeier. Creighton laughed as he flipped through the pages.

“Trust Miriam to give a gift like this,” he said, then paused at the beginning of the book which had many photos of lovers in different perverted positions. He smiled, his brows rising as he turned from one page to another saying, “done that…done that…that’s a good one…tried that…now that looks interesting.”

He returned the book to the box and stood up suddenly.

“Time to go,” he insisted with a wicked grin. “And we’re taking this with us.”

The Trianon Palace was an amazing creation with its massive architectural design. The main lobby looked more twentieth-century than fifteenth, with angled white, black and grey tiles, conversation couch, and black and white décor. Creighton stepped up to the counter and once again spoke in French as he gave their names. The young woman’s eyes widened when she glanced up to him. The sudden pink color of her skin faded beneath her blonde hairline and she smiled shyly as she gave him the key card, nodding to a young man waiting to take their bags.

Creighton returned to Sandra who was admiring the surroundings and took her hand in his. They walked a long hallway with glass windows that looked out onto the world, decorated much like the lobby, with the exception of several green settees. The floors were diamond-shaped black and white tiles and the rest of the furnishings were white with black accents. They stepped inside the lift beside the dark-haired boy who looked about nineteen, then waited as he pressed the button. They were silent for several minutes while the small box moved from one floor to the other, then pinged softly at their arrival.

The bellboy stepped out first and walked to the door across the elegant hallway, unlocking the knob and pushing the door open. Creighton didn’t miss the admiring stare the boy gave Sandra and narrowed his eyes briefly, watching him precede them into the room.

Turning to his wife beside him, Creighton smiled a half-grin, sweeping her off her feet and into his embrace as he carried her across the threshold. Sandra had to bite her lip to prevent herself from giggling as he set her on her feet. She glanced around when the bellboy stepped out of the bedroom, smiling back at him as he accepted the money Creighton handed him, then left without saying a word other than merci.

“I should have knocked some sense into him instead of tipping him,” Creighton grumbled as Sandra smiled then turned to look around the room. She knew how he felt, but she never threatened to hurt the women who drooled over him. Though she wouldn’t mind it from time to time.

The room was very impressive, typical Creighton-style. He had chosen a suite as opposed to a room and she couldn’t help but shake her head in amusement. Once again, proving money spoke volumes. There were a sitting room, a den and a bedroom with a large king-sized bed. The bathroom was moderately sized with a jetted tub, hand-held shower, and double sinks. Two sets of French doors opened out onto a private terrace that overlooked the gardens below. The décor was a mixture of historical charm and modern accommodations. It was simply an amazing room and she felt giddy thinking of staying here for three whole days.

“You need to change,” he told her gently, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her lips. “I have reservations for you.” Sandra’s eyes widened.

“What kind of reservations?”

“A European spa treatment.”

“Spa?”

“Massage, facial, all those girly things to make you feel feminine and relaxed,” he teased. “Afterward we’ll take advantage of the pool and then have dinner. Tomorrow we’ll go to the hall of mirrors and take a tour of the palace. It’s supposed to stop raining tonight, so perhaps we can see the gardens as well.”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” she asked, her arms circling his neck. “I’ve asked you a thousand times to stop spending money and then you do something so romantic and outrageous, that I simply cannot possibly find a reason to be angry with you.”

“That’s the purpose of spoiling you,” he assured her. “How else will I make certain you keep coming back to me?”

“Right, like it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I love you, or I’m your wife, or I’m completely and hopelessly addicted to your body?”

“Nope, nothing at all like that.” He smiled, kissed her once again, and eased her away from him when things began to get serious. “We don’t have time for this,” he warned, seeing the passion glowing in her eyes. “You have to get ready for your pampering and I have to take a cold shower.”

Sandra laughed and watched as he walked into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a large fluffy white bathrobe and a wrapped gift. His smile increased as he handed the box to her, tossing the robe across the back of a chair then leaned against the arm of the sofa as she opened it.

Inside was a very delicate wine-colored glass bottle, about eight inches high, with a yellow and gold floral design wrapping around it. The top had a glass stopper and the bottom was fluted so it could stand. It looked like a genie bottle and she pulled the top off gently as if expecting one to come out of it in a puff of smoke.

“I pulled up your old television shows on the internet,” he explained. “I particularly liked the one with the genie, so I thought about getting you a lamp of your own. All you have to do is wish, and I will make it come true.”

“I thought genies were supposed to be blue with a schizophrenic personality?” Creighton laughed and pulled her back into his arms.

“That’s what you have,” he assured her. “I am true blue and crazy about you.”

He kissed her hard and passionate with the heat of a promise for more to come but stopped abruptly when the bell to their door rang. He moved away from her with a heavy sigh and walked to the entrance, adjusting the material of his pants across his growing affection. He glanced across his shoulder to her and smiled as he opened the door.

“Madame Ashford?” the young woman said as Creighton moved aside. “I am Vedette Fournier. I am here for your treatment.” Sandra smiled, finally someone who spoke English - sort of - at least she could understand her through her thick accent. She glanced from the very attractive brunette with big blue eyes to her husband who smiled as he stepped back to her.

“I need to change,” she said with a smirk, as Vedette began to set up her equipment.

Sandra set the bottle on the table and walked to the bedroom door taking the robe with her. She accidentally brushed against Creighton’s arousal with her hand as she passed by, smiling sweetly to him. This man was very much an enigma, she thought as she emphasized an exaggerated wiggle, knowing her husband was watching.

Sandra lay across a sheet-covered leather table in the middle of their hotel suite, her naked body pink from the vigorous massage, her face stone-hard beneath the layer of gray mud. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks and she sighed as Vedette painted her toes. Her nails were a dark red, her skin slippery and smelling like the soft scent of lilacs.

Creighton worked silently in the office, the clicking of the keyboard was the only noise he made for the full hour she was having her treatment. Sandra knew he was still frustrated and worried about the farm and Miriam’s cousin, but she was determined to try and make him relax. This was their honeymoon and she did not want the bad memories to interfere with the happier ones of love, passion, and romance.

Once her face was washed and Vedette assured her, her nails were dry she sat up and wrapped the sheet around her then slipped easily back into the robe as the girl repacked her kit of lotions and oils. Sandra’s skin tingled, her feet soft and smooth. She felt as if she was walking on marshmallows as she padded across the soft carpet. The girl, though barely eighteen Sandra suspected, was a wonder with her hands. She felt revitalized and relaxed at the same time and smiled as Creighton stepped out of the adjoining room, as if by a sixth sense. He said something to Vedette in French and handed her a folded paper bill, holding the door open as she stepped out.

“What did you say to her?” Sandra asked when the girl left, and they were once again alone.

“I told her you looked beautiful, as usual. Ready for the pool?” she sighed when he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her soft cheek.

“No,” she said honestly. “I want to stay here and make love.”

“Do you now?” he asked, surprise echoing in his deep tone.

“Do you have reservations for the pool?” He shook his head. “Good, then I expect you to take me to bed and make use of this slippery body. I want to be breathless come suppertime.”

Creighton erupted in an outburst of laughter, lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. He sat her on her feet and quickly moved the blankets to the foot of the large oversized king bed. It was a sleigh style with a headboard, but no footboard and no posts for tying her down.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his eyes inspecting her expression.

“There are no posts,” she said quietly.

“So?”

“No way of using your cuffs.” Creighton grinned, kissing her lips softly.

“Then we make up a new game,” he whispered. “This one is called pleasing each other. Besides, we have Miriam’s position book, I’m sure we’ll find a few ideas in that.”

“How do we play this game of yours?”

Sandra couldn’t help the butterflies that took flight inside her stomach and smiled as he walked to their luggage, lifting up the famous kinky kit.

“I teach you to play with your toys and you allow me to watch.”

“That’s not pleasing each other,” she scolded, feeling the blush creep up her neck.

“It will be very pleasing for me to watch you make yourself cum. I have wanted to watch you for a very long time. Afterward, I promise to reward you however you desire.”

“I just want you to make love to me. I don’t want to do it myself.”

He sat the bag on the foot of the bed and lifted her chin with his forefinger and thumb, so he was looking into her green eyes.

“I will make love to you, hard and fast just the way you like. But first, you have to play for me. There are no posts for restraining you, so we’ll have to change things up a bit until we get back to the flat. I promise, you won’t regret it and I’ll be right here watching the whole time.”

“Why is this so important to you?” she asked with a frown. “I don’t know anyone who plays with themselves.”

Creighton exploded in a burst of deep laughter, causing her blush to deepen.

“You are very naïve, my darling,” he assured her with a soft kiss. “I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t relieve themselves. Men or women, orgasm is something that is important to sustain one’s sanity. But tonight, I will allow you to drive me insane and in return, I will love you as you wish.”

“You are very perverted,” she whispered as he slid the sash of her robe off and slipped the fluffy fabric down her arms.

“Yes, I am, we’ve already made that clear and I am about to bring you over to the dark side and turn you perverted as well. At least for one night.”

Creighton lifted her into his arms and laid her across the mattress, kissing her hard and passionately until she relented and began to play with him. Their tongues battled and twisted with the other. She could feel the need rising between them, the heat burning in her blood as he slowly caressed her oil slick body. She began to feel dizzy with need and when he moved aside, she actually found herself moaning with regret.

“I want you to understand your toys better,” he told her in a soft, hushed tone. “I want you to feel free and comfortable with your body so you can love me without restrictions.”

“But I’m bleeding,” she insisted, watching his smile increase.

“I’ve already told you, that means nothing to me. Go to the bathroom and take that thing out but return quickly. I’m losing my patience.”

Sandra did as he ordered, then shut the bathroom door behind her. This was probably the most embarrassing moment of her life. Her husband of two weeks wanted her to masturbate for his pleasure. What would Cathy say if she knew?

Sandra pulled the string from within her and frowned as she glanced down, letting it fall in the toilet. There was barely any blood on it. That was not the norm for her. She was typically a heavy bleeder. Perhaps it really was the change in altitude or the stress they had been under. Either way, she hoped the flood gates didn’t open when they were making love or swimming in the pool.

Walking back to the bed seemed to take a lifetime. She was nervous, anxious, and embarrassed. She had danced for him, she had played with herself for his pleasure, but she had never used the toys. That was his thing, and she enjoyed it. Creighton smiled at her apprehension and reached up, taking her hand in his and kissing each finger in turn before pulling her to straddle his hips.

“I like it when you sit like this,” he told her in a wicked grin. “It makes everything I want very accessible.”

“Deviant,” she whispered, receiving a soft slap on the bottom as he rolled her onto the bed beneath him. He pressed against her hard, the firm shaft of his penis caressing her until she moaned.

“Let’s start with your rabbit,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers spreading apart her labia as he caressed her clitoris.

Sandra’s eyes closed, reveling in the feel of his hands on her, then her eyes opened wide when he wrapped her hand around the hard, blue tube of the vibrator. He flipped the switch and smiled as it started buzzing, his large hand holding hers gently around the plastic shaft, pressing it against her lower abdomen. He kissed her cheek, slowly moving to her ear where he bit the lobe gently, causing her to moan. He moved her hand with the vibrator further down her oily body to where his initials lay, his lips traveling down her neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

Sandra started to relax, her hand no longer tensing around the toy, her heart pounding between her ears. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved down to her collarbone, tasting the scented oil left behind from her massage. His hand moved hers to caress her labia with the tip of the buzzing object. She couldn’t help it. This was feeling wicked, erotic and she found herself actually enjoying it. Creighton chuckled, sensing her slow surrender. His lips and tongue bathed a hot moist path down her chest to the round globes of her breasts. Sandra moaned, allowing him to move her hand until the tip of the vibrator pressed against her wet vagina.

“You do it,” he whispered, releasing his grip on her.

Sandra drew a deep breath and did as she was told, slowly sliding the cylinder inside her tight body. Creighton moved his hand to her opposite breast, his teeth capturing her erect nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. They played for several long moments, the blue toy hidden within her vagina, the ears of the bunny surrounding her clitoris. Her breathing became labored as she relaxed into the moment. Creighton reached back down between her legs and placed his hand around hers, thrusting the device slowly in and out of her, smiling at the moan that escaped her lips.

“Tease me, baby,” he told her in a deep tone. “Show me you don’t need me for your release.”

Almost immediately, Sandra felt the heat begin to build, the dizzy sensation quickly mounting within her. She began to pant, her lips parted, her eyes closed. His mouth found hers and she moaned into it. Their tongues sparred and teased each other until she tensed beneath him, her lips breaking free of his, crying out her release. Creighton held her against him, his hand releasing hers as she continued to thrust the vibrator in and out of her, riding the waves of passion, her climax continuing until she was breathless, panting and begging him to stop.

“How does it feel to be on the dark side?” he asked against her when he took the toy and flipped it off. Sandra couldn’t speak. Her breath was ragged pants, her body slick with a mixture of oil and sweat. He laughed softly, kissing her cheek and neck.

“Derek told me the definition of a successful honeymoon is one that was filled with heat,” he whispered. “I think we’ve succeeded in making ours memorable.” Sandra smiled. She could feel the blush rising up her neck, tinting her cheeks.

“Another,” he told her, lifting the wand from under the pillow next to her and placing it in her hand. “I’m watching you this time,” he assured her, turning it on and moving her hand toward her body. “I want you to make me jealous. Show me where you like it. Find the spots that feel the best and tease me until I beg you to let me join you.”

Sandra could feel the embarrassment burning her face and chest as she closed her eyes. She had never felt such conflict. On one hand, she was ashamed, on the other aroused and eager to explore this new side of sex with her husband. Knowing he was watching her was somehow very erotic and wickedly delicious and she quickly adjusted to the sensations burning inside her. She began to caress her body as he had instructed, his warm hands pressing her knees apart gently, so she was spread wide enough that the wand found her clitoris.

Within moments she relaxed, the vibrating ball caressed her delicate skin and she found several areas of interest she didn’t know were there. She smiled when she heard him groan, his long fingers spreading her labia apart for her as he watched her torment him.

Creighton’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes were transfixed on her actions. She was driving him crazy and he could feel the need for his own release throbbing between his legs. He wrapped one hand over his firm shaft as his free hand caressed her wet body around the wand. He couldn’t resist any longer, the vision of what she was doing made him feel insane with need and he had no other option but to move between her legs. The tip of his quivering penis pressed against the wet opening of her vagina.

“Please Sandra, I need you,” he begged her, and she nodded, wordlessly.

He pushed into her slowly as she continued to run the buzzing ball over her labia and clitoris. It took barely three thrusts before he felt the walls of her vagina tighten around him. She lifted her legs to a bent position, her hips rising off the bed toward him as she cried out. Her passion and orgasm spurred him on until he relented and joined her, holding her hips to him as he spilled his hot seed inside her.

“I need a break,” she gasped as he lay beside her taking the wand from her hand and shutting it off.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked. Sandra nodded as she moved off the bed then padded her way back into the bathroom.

Creighton watched her walk away, a smile caressing his handsome lips. She was absolutely beautiful. His wife, his lover, his personal savior. If it weren’t for her, he would still be locked away in his flat in Chelsea. Fear and remorse would be his only allies.

He stood up off the bed and took the wipes he used for the toys from the pack and cleaned her vibrators, frowning at the long blue tube. If she were on her period, then where was the blood? He glanced at the bathroom door as the sound of the toilet flushing echoed through the stillness. The door opened a moment later and she walked out, a frown pulling her brows together. He sat on the bed and waited as she walked naked back to him then pulled her down to his lap and kissed her cheek.

“Are you alright?”

His tone was soft, barely above a whisper as he held her in his arms.

“I think my body is going crazy,” she said in a shaky voice.

“You’re not bleeding anymore?” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just the activity or all the excitement.”

“What if I am pregnant?” she whispered. “Would the blood mean there was something wrong?”

Creighton drew a deep breath and slowly eased her out of his embrace, looking at the fear shining in her eyes.

“I think it’s time we saw a doctor.”