Chapter 32
EMILY
“Where are we going?” I say as Lorenzo ushers me into the waiting limousine.
“A secret for now,” he says, putting his hand on my knee and giving it a little squeeze.
At Lorenzo’s signal, Ernesto pulls the limo into traffic.
Once again, I feel a sense of unease as Ernesto meets my eyes in the rearview mirror.
Something about the chauffeur still unsettles me. Those broad shoulders and careful eyes belong to a man who has done more serious things than ferry people to dinner or shopping.
When the car stops in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I look at Lorenzo in surprise.
“You’re taking me to a museum? That’s the secret?”
“It’s a very special exhibition I’d like you to see.”
A spark of excitement moves through me. “Interesting. What’s the subject?”
“You’ll see, carina,” he says, as we get out of the car.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art looks just as it did in The Devil Wears Prada.
At least from the outside.
Those scenes were filmed during the red carpet MET Gala. Seeing it now, it’s something of a disappointment with tourists eating hot dogs on the steps.
It’s not as glamorous as my imagination.
As we approach the entrance, a man in an elegant suit comes up to us and shakes Lorenzo’s hand.
“Good evening, Mr Ricci, Mrs. Ricci. Please allow me to escort you to the exhibition.”
“Nice. White glove service,” I whisper to Lorenzo as we follow him.
The escort stops at an exhibition on the second floor where a museum guard sits on a fold-up chair. Near him is a red rope and red velvet curtain.
“Here you are,” our guide says.
“The exhibition hasn’t opened to the public yet. You’ll have the gallery to yourselves.”
The guide bows to Lorenzo and leaves.
I smile up at Lorenzo, impressed by how much power he must wield at this lofty museum, before glancing at the giant placard before the red curtain.
Bound: Art, Power, and Desire from Sade to the Surrealists.
“Wow. Sounds … enticing,” I say.
I turn to see Lorenzo’s dark eyes on me, curious about my reaction.
“It is. Come. Let’s go inside.”
The guard remains seated while Lorenzo pushes aside the heavy red curtain.
“Lorenzo! Isn’t that the guard’s job?”
I can’t help feel that we’re trespassing in this hushed, private exhibition. Even though it’s clear Lorenzo was expected and treated as the highest of VIPs.
I turn to look at the fully closed curtain as we step into the small anteroom. It’s closed. We’re truly alone.
And it’s a good thing. I gasp at the first piece of art on display. It’s a sketch of a woman hanging from the ceiling, completely nude.
A man in a suit flogs her while another nude woman sucks his cock through the open fly of his trousers.
“Shocked?” asks Lorenzo, his dark eyes upon me.
“Yes. No …”
“Make up your mind,” he says, his tone light.
“Yes. I didn’t expect to see something so … jarring.”
“Who sketched this?”
“The artist is anonymous. But they were commissioned by the Marquis de Sade to show scenes from his many books.”
““Over here is a portrait of the Marquis de Sade. It was painted by Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo in 1760.”
I step closer.
I didn’t major in art, though I’ve certainly seen lots of old portraits in Boston.
He looks like the average aristocratic man of the period. I move to the next wall and see the same man, but this time he’s behind bars.
“He was imprisoned?”
“Yes. For the subject of his stories.”
“People were flogged in his stories?”
“Among other things.”
“This looks like … antiquated pornography. But the exhibition title calls it art.”
“It is art. This is all art. By famous artists.”
Lorenzo escorts me deeper into the exhibition. I see bound saints, their hands bound while their eyes lift heavenward.
Then I see a modern-looking woman about my age, completely nude in red high heels. She’s tied against a tree, the rope cutting into her bound hands, midriff, and thighs.”
“I feel sorry for her.”
“Why? Do you think she’s suffering?” Lorenzo asks.
Instead of answering, I ask him another question. “Why did you bring me here?”
Lorenzo moves a spiral of hair from my forehead and smooths it back.
“I have something to ask of you. And I want to make sure you understand it first. Come. There’s more to see.”
Lorenzo takes the lead, stopping by the various pieces of art.
“What do you think of this piece?”
He stops in front of another work of art. I look at it.
A nude woman kneels blindfolded before a fully dressed man.
“Are you intrigued by this?” Lorenzo asks.
“A little.”
“What do you think is going to happen to her?“
Lorenzo moves close enough to me that I feel his breath hot on my neck.
Then he inches closer, his cock hard against my ass.
Is Lorenzo planning to have sex here, at the museum? With the guard just outside the red curtain?
Oddly, it excites me.
Lorenzo moves me in the direction of another painting. This one features a man in a black suit holding a whip.
The woman next to him is nude, seen from the back. Her tiny G-string is just a string, and a tall feathered plume rises from behind her like the tail of an exotic bird.
“Which piece of art do you like best so far?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I certainly wouldn’t want to be whipped.”
Lorenzo looks at me a long moment.
As I say it, he slides the tip of his tongue into my ear while his hands cup my breasts.
He turns to face me, his forefinger, running down my down the curve of my cheek.
“I want to escalate our relationship. Move it in a different direction.”
“Haven’t you been satisfied for me?”
“Yes. But I want you to submit to me in all things. Have you heard of a ‘submissive’ before?”
“Vaguely,” I say.
“Good start. Part of my enjoyment of sex is knowing that the woman submits to me totally.”
“Are you saying you want to tie me up?” I say after a brief hesitation.
“I’d like to do many things to you. But first I need to know that you’re willing.”
I have no idea how to answer him. When I see the images, when I see the excitement in his dark eyes as he looks at them, I feel a curious thrill that sets my body on fire.
“Yes, Lorenzo. I’ll submit,” I say, wondering what he has in mind.
“There are some rules to this game,” he says.
“Why rules?”
“Because in my excitement, I can take things too far. I need to know you’re okay. That I’m not taking things further than you can handle.”
“Okay. So what are the rules?”
“We’ll start with what’s called a ‘safe word.’ For example, a lot of women have a rape fantasy.”
I fight the wave of horror that washes over me. “Why would a woman want that?” I ask, keeping my expression neutral.
“Lots of reasons. Some want sex, but because of the way they were raised they want to make it seem like they have no say in the matter. That being ravished is out of their control.”
“How does a safe word help?”
“Let’s say it’s you who have a rape fantasy. You enjoy the struggle against your rapist. It’s part of your sexual fantasy. In this case, you would not use the agreed-upon safe word. But if rape was reprehensible to you, in this case you would use the safe word and I’d stop.”
“Makes sense.” It doesn’t make sense at all, at least to me. But it must for Lorenzo.
“So let’s find a word. You choose.”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“How about the word ‘pinkie’.”
“Sounds good,” Lorenzo says with a nod
“Shall we try it out now?”
I look toward the red velvet curtain? “What if the guard walks in.”
“That’s part of the fun.” Lorenzo takes a final look at me before putting his sleek briefcase on a bench and taking out a length of rope.
“Remove your clothing.”
Immediately, I unbutton my blouse.
“Not like that!”
I realize he wants a provocative strip tease.
“Like this?” I unbutton slowly, swaying my hips as I do so.
“Yes, exactly like that.”
Next I wiggle out of my tight pencil skirt, leaving on the stockings and garter belt Antoine demanded I purchase.
From the look of Lorenzo’s eyes, he’s enjoying this show immensely. I reach down to unhook my garter.
“No.Not yet,” Lorenzo orders.
He takes the rope and ties my ankles just above my high heels. Then another rope to tie my hands behind my back.
There’s no mirror anywhere here. But I could already tell I’m a more glamorous version of the girl in the paintings.
Lorenzo orders me to turn around and thrust my hips toward him. I hear him unzip. It arouses me.
Then I feel his pulsating cock against my pussy. I’m dripping wet as he nudges himself inside me, just enough to make me gasp in pleasure.
Then he enters slowly. Too slow. Eager for satisfaction, I buck against him, wanting more.
“Yes, Lorenzo,” I say.
My desire fuels his. And within moments he’s rocking against me. I can tell he’s using restraint, trying to prolong the experience
His free hand grasps my breast. Pinching my nipple so it hurts. Really hurts, not just a gentle pinch.
“Ouch!” I blurt by accident.
“Up to naming any colors?” he says.
Colors?
Now I remember. The safe word, pinkie.
“No colors.”
“Come for me,” he commands.
Needing no further encouragement, I explode in a spasm of pleasure.
A few moments later I feel Lorenzo climax with a powerful growl.
We stand together for a moment before he leads me back to the bench. Then he takes out a pack of moist towelettes. He uses a wet cloth on my inner thighs and a fresh one for my sex. Then he cleans himself.
When we’re dressed, his dark eyes meet mine.
“So we have an agreement?”
I nod.
“This time I was gentle. I can’t always promise that would be the case.”
“I will submit,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I will submit.”