Returning to the Pampering

Marc hadn’t wanted to leave Sinead, but he really did need to run back to the office to take care of a few things. It had been about three hours since he’d left and he was on his way back. He’d considered doing something more to apologize but realized that would likely be too much. His instincts were based on his ongoing pseudo-relationship with Felicity, and Astrid’s thoughts on the matter were still in his head even though he hadn’t spoken to the hacker since the previous week.

An apology for being late with Felicity was the way he made sure she felt wanted in their agreement. He didn’t need to do it, but it enhanced their connection when they were together much like the other gifts he gave her. They hadn’t ever talked about it, but Felicity was a bit of a submissive princess. The gifts and the dates and feeling adored aroused her and let her more fully give herself over to Marc’s wants. The whole thing was transactional, but the gifts weren’t part of that.

Marc wasn’t sure what sort of woman, deep down in the dark corners of her psyche, Sinead was. His instincts had him set up the pampering for that afternoon, and the outfit she would wear, but he wasn’t sure that was the route she would naturally fall into.

So he decided not to add anything else to his plans and headed straight home.

Inside his apartment, it looked like the stylists were finished. He’d paid and tipped them ahead of time, though Lorenzo had stayed behind talking with Sinead about her hair and better ways she should take care of it. Marc smiled a little - he’d discovered Lorenzo when he’d gone looking for a new barber, and while the man focused on women he had an eye for men’s looks and had taken on Marc as a client. This was the first time that Marc had ever invited the man to his home for a private booking, but he’d accepted it readily enough and even teased Marc a little about wanting to pamper his date.

“Mister Marc,” Lorenzo said when he saw Marc walking into the apartment. “We have done all we can, and we have turned out a masterpiece. Miss Sinead, she is bellisima.”

Sinead stood and turned with a nervous look in her eyes but her jaw thrust out just a little like she was daring him to say something.

“Lorenzo, Maestro, you have turned a flower into a work of art. Merci,” Marc said as he smiled and approached Sinead. He took her hands in his as he looked down into her eyes. Her coppery hair was perfectly styled, shimmering from whatever product Lorenzo had put in it but full and silky. Her makeup was immaculate, her freckles almost disappearing but still retaining her pale, cooler complexion as her eyes popped and her cheekbones looked a little more distinguished. Her lips looked inviting as hell, too. Even her fingernails shimmered with a natural tone except for the tips which looked like they’d been dipped in silver. “Are you happy with the results, petite rebelle?”

“I…” Sinead hesitated. “I’m definitely ready for a night out somewhere fancy.”

Marc just kept his smile fixed as he tried to read her through her eyes. She was nervous and annoyed at not being in control, and at being surprised by him. He could see the argument in her - that he thought she’d needed three stylists to make her up appropriately, but also that she knew the effect they’d had.

“We should be getting ready,” Marc said, dropping her hands and turning to shake Lorenzo’s as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, mon ami. Thank you again.”

“My pleasure, Mister Marc,” Lorenzo grinned as he shook Marc’s hand firmly. “And Miss Sinead, you are an absolute rose. If you ever need me, I will make myself available, yes? To work with you is to work with a goddess.”

Marc escorted him out, suppressing his desire to roll his eyes a little at the man’s dramatics, and then returned to Sinead. She was still standing, her arms crossed over her chest a little more defiantly now that they were alone. She was wearing a loose tank top in army green, and her tight jeans, though she was barefoot as her delicate toes shone with the same silver French tips as her fingers.

“Well, what now?” Sinead asked. “I’ve been pampered and done up for you - do you fuck my face now to ruin it all?”

“That could be fun,” Marc said, his smile sliding into a bit of a smirk. “But no, petite rebelle. That would be a waste. Now we both need to get dressed for our dinner. Our reservation is in less than an hour.”

“I need to know what I’m paying for all this with,” Sinead said, gesturing to herself. “All of this is more than I asked for.”

“Detective,” Marc said, hardening his voice just a touch. “The first time you came to me, all I asked you for was dinner. Now you ask me for one, and you seem to be entirely hostile. So let me put this to rest - I have no designs to fuck you tonight. Your payment, if you can manage it, is to be a delightful and sexy dinner partner in between whatever espionage you are enacting.”

“That’s all?” Sinead asked, her eyes narrowed.

“I’ve prepared an outfit for you upstairs,” Marc said.

“And I don’t need to crawl naked on my hands and knees to get there?” Sinead asked.

Marc thought he almost heard a request in there.

“Not unless you want to,” Marc said. “And I would certainly enjoy a show like that. But no, that is not what I’m asking you for tonight.”

Sinead swallowed and softly bit her lower lip as she frowned at him, clearly unsure of everything that was going on. More unsure than even when Marc had set about his hour with her last time.

He’d been right in the car - the gifts weren’t what was going to do it with her. She’d appreciate them, but they weren’t setting her at ease.

“Fine, Sinead,” Marc sighed. “I’ll be the monster you expect of me, at least a little.”

“That’s not-”

“Strip, Detective,” Marc ordered her.

Sinead sucked in a breath through her nose. Her posture, the way she clenched her hands, even the bent to her mouth all said her instinct was to fight that order. But the look in her eyes spoke of a battle going on inside her.

“You are going to strip, là, maintenant, espèce de tête de mule,” Marc said, a little more softly but still evenly. “And I am going to show you the outfit you will be wearing tonight, and I will watch you get dressed how I want you to dress. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sinead hissed softly and then started undoing her belt.

She wasn’t a princess submissive. Marc still wasn’t sure exactly what archetype she might end up closest to, but at this stage, she wasn’t interested in things being easy. She needed to be able to tell herself that she was being **** into what she very obviously wanted.

Sinead was focused on him, trying to read his face as she pulled off her shirt and then pulled off the black utilitarian bra that she barely needed. She was looking for him to prove to her that he was the horny monster she told herself he was; she wanted to feel superior to him. To feel like her nakedness, her sexuality, was what he was after. Marc didn’t take his eyes from hers though. She pushed down her tight jeans next, **** to bend to do it since they hugged her legs, but she kept looking up at him - defiant and not wanting to be the one to look away. Her panties went next, and she picked up her clothes in a bundle and stood straight and defiant, not covering herself.

When she was naked, Marc closed the distance between them. Her small breasts were rising and falling, and her nipples were hard, but he didn’t touch them. Instead, he took her chin between a thumb and finger and looked deep into her eyes, ignoring her nakedness.

“Good girl,” he said softly. “Now go upstairs. Lentement.”

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