“Yeah, they can’t control how we feel. But we can control what we do about it.” 

“But you want to fuck me, though, don’t you?” 

I sighed. “What do you think? Or are you just fishing for compliments?” 

“I think you want me. I want you. You can have me whenever you like, you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t, not really. And right now, I need to be with Sa’afia. So you sleep, pretty Ana.”

At the door Ana called again. “Jaime?”

I turned back. Ana had pulled the sheet down. Her breasts were a little smaller than Sa’afia’s, paler brown than the rest of her skin. But they were very nicely defined. I thought of how they’d feel, in my mouth. Then, after half a second, she pulled the blankets back up and disappeared.

She lay very still and silent under the covers, legs together, arms at her sides. She’d be fighting back giggles. 

I thought of the explosion of Ana limbs and blankets there’d be, if I poked her in the tummy. I thought about the things, including the epic spanking and the long-delayed, hard but oddly loving fuck, that would follow from that. And I thought of things to say. I shook my head. No, there was nothing to be done, and nothing to say. 

I stepped into the hall, towards Sa’afia, and closed the door behind me.    

Ana patted an area of the couch. She wasn’t being flirtatious any more, or not exactly, but she was still only half-heartedly wearing my shirt, and she was distracting. I sat down, and said, “What is it, Ana?”

“I know I tease you, a lot. All the time. And you, you just do good things for me. Like today. You don’t deserve all my teasing. Do you hate me for it?” 

“God no. I couldn’t hate you for anything. Anyway, if you stopped teasing me I’d probably miss it.” 

Ana giggled and sat up a bit. The shirt opened a little, showing the undercurve of her left breast. “Would you really?” 

“All right. I wouldn’t miss it a bit.” I lied, and she knew it.

“So why won’t you fuck me?” 

“Awh.” I looked annoyed, and looked away. 

Ana said quickly, before I got up, “No, I’m not teasing. It’s a serious question. I want to know the answer.”

“Oh. Ok. First, they’d fire me. It’s totally against the rules. Second, there’s a code of ethics, and not fucking your clients is definitely on it. I signed it. It’s not like an oath, but in a way it is. I’m not going to break it.” 

“But why do they have that rule? You already care about me, more than just my being a client. You’d still care about me if you fucked me. You’d care even more.” 

“Um. I’d find it hard to put you in prison if you stopped coming to appointments. And that’s part of my job, doing things like that. And I have to be objective about what’s best for you. I can’t do that if I’m also thinking about my cock and what I want from you.” 

“But isn’t that true anyway? You already want me. And you already break the rules for me. I know it. So what difference does it make?”

We’d made the bed together. It looked comfortable to me. It was time to kiss and part. Ana stood beside the bed in a pose that reminded me of Sa’afia, waiting for me. But Ana wasn’t naked: she wore an old white shirt of mine, because she’d complained that she couldn’t sleep in her clothes, and she couldn’t sleep naked, if I wasn’t going to keep her warm.

I’d thought of some things I could say about keeping her warm, and instead pulled the shirt out of the hall cupboard, where I’d relegated it after the collar frayed. 

I know what happens when you lend an item of clothing to a woman. Or maybe it’s just me that gets my clothes stolen. Anyway, I knew Ana would never give the shirt back. It looked better on her than me, though this would be true of pretty well anything.

Ana had suddenly called me, I’d guess at the moment when she’d got her clothes off and hadn’t quite put the shirt on yet. But it’d occurred to me that she might do that, probably at the same time the idea came to her, so I’d said to the wall, “Yes?”  

Ana sounded pouty. I was supposed to turn round. “I’m not ready to just go to sleep yet.” 

“Put the shirt on. And get in bed.” After assorted rustlings and settling sounds, I’d fetched a lamp and gave her a book. I settled on The Saragoza Manuscript, because it’s too good to swap for anything else, but a bit discursive at the start, so that she’d probably drop off to sleep. 

I’d kissed her on the forehead, to show I was fond of her in a chaste, avuncular, sort of way. “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, Ana. You should sleep soon. Goodnight.”

She was warm, and she smelled nice and she was pretty, and if I pulled the blankets back she’d be mine. I didn’t kiss her forehead again. I straightened up and said, again, “Good night.”

“Jaime? Come back. No, really, I need to ask you something. Come back, just for a second.”

I looked at the door to the hall, which led to my room, and Sa’afia waiting for me. Take that door and I’d be out of here. I turned and went back to Ana. 

Ana shifted her weight, to press herself more tightly into me. We were turning each other on. She was still my damn client, though, and I had to stop this. I gave her ass a final squeeze and a pat, that could, maybe, just maybe, to justified as an act of affection and not lust. To show there were no hard feelings. Um, to show I had nothing against her. Um. Language, eh? Sometimes it tells the truth when you don’t want to. Anyway, I patted her goodbye and broke off the cuddle. 

I looked around, trying to arrange my thoughts. “Right. There’s a couch -“

But Sa’afia moved back in and held me tight for a few seconds. She looked into my eyes, smiling. The look was affectionate, mildly amused, and possessive. We lived in a world in which jealousy didn’t have much meaning, nor was it given much force where it existed.  But she was reminding me. I might be her Sir, but that was still a way of being hers, after all. 

I kissed Sa’afia. “Bed,” I said. “Soon.” Then I remembered that life was sexier when I set the rules, and the pace. “Go to my room. Take your clothes off. Wait for me at the foot of the bed. Standing up straight. Don’t you dare get in.” 

Sa’afia smiled. “Then I’ll see you soon.” If she’d doubted that I’d be coming to her that night, she no longer had any grounds for that. She looked at Ana, then me. “Goodnight, you two.” She went to my room. 

Ana was trying not to look as though she’d been listening. I’d given my instruction to Sa’afia quietly but I had no idea how much of it she’d heard.

“Okay, Ana. It’s the wondercouch for you. I’ll get you sheets and blankets and stuff. You can stuff those cushions into pillowcases.”

I let Sa’afia and Ana in to my apartment. I locked the door and then put the chain on. I don’t usually bother but I thought Ana would like to see it done. The world was shut out so it couldn’t get in, or not without a warrant or a sledgehammer, or both.

Canova’s Three Graces

Then we formed a three-way hug. We were like those statues of the three Graces embracing and dancing, except that one of the Graces was male, and he had his hands on each of the girl Graces’ arses.

We made noises like nuzzling animals, and with that I think we became lovers, in some sense, the three of us. It was a complicated kind of love. Sa’afia wouldn’t have sex with Ana, since Ana was a cousin, and a girl. I didn’t think that Ana objected much to having sex with girls, or cousins, or girl cousins, but she wouldn’t want to do anything that Sa’afia didn’t want. 

Though I wanted both Sa’afia and Ana, I needed to not fuck Ana. Not fucking Ana was important. I’d done so many stupid things and I was hanging onto what I still tried to think of as my professional ethics, though by the skin of my teeth. I’d decided that if I got through tonight, then I’d made my stand and I’d still be more or less a professional. So far.

Ana nuzzled in closer and kissed my neck. Then she squeezed my ass. I felt my cock stretch, and harden. Then I spread the fingers of the hand I had on her ass. I was exploring, loving the curved firmness of her.

I did the same, a fair and just king, with Sa’afia. She sighed too. Both girls pressed against me, so I was in a world of breasts and bellies and thighs, and thick black hair that smelled of apple shampoo and skin that smelled of chilli and cocoanut and soap, and two beautiful faces.

There was a short silence. Ana looked worried and Sa’afia looked guilty. I said, “Sa’afia? You were going to find a place for Ana to stay.” 

Sa’afia was horrified. She thought I was angry with her, and she hated that.

Ana frowned, defiant, and stepped in front of Sa’afia. “We tried. She tried, Jaime. But you said it had to be with people the cops didn’t know.”

Sa’afia put her hand on Ana’s hip and pushed her back slightly. “Jaime, all day today we thought the cops’d be looking for Ana tonight. So if Ana was going to stay with people, they had to be people the cops couldn’t get into trouble. Also, they couldn’t be friends or family. Because the cops would be able to find them easily, and we couldn’t do that do them. So we were still calling other people. Then you called and said you were coming over, and we waited for you.”

I nodded. “All right. So you were thinking..?” I already knew what Sa’afia was thinking. I just wanted her to wonder whether I was going to punish her, to be aware of her buttocks and thighs as vulnerable parts of her body while she thought and then spoke to me. That wasn’t something she’d had to worry about before, or not from a lover. I hoped, but I also felt sure, that she was enjoying the erotic novelty.

Ana interrupted, “So can I stay with you guys tonight? I mean, Jaime, we’re going to the Law Centre tomorrow. We can go together.” 

I considered. It occurred to me that in theory Ana could just go home tonight. But there was no reason to stop being paranoid just yet. Curnow was probably suspended, but he hadn’t been fired.

He was still a police officer, and it would be unwise to count him out. If he went to Ana’s, he might be intending to do a better job of framing her, or he might simply be angry and vengeful. That was no good. 

I said, “Ok. Ok. I have a very nice couch.”

Ana’s had cleared her plate of rohu curry and mopped it clean long before Sa’afia or I had finished. Ana did most things with enthusiasm, and eating was no exception. She’d be wanting more. Once Sa’afia and I had finished, several minutes later, Mr Shergill stepped forward, having reached a similar conclusion. He explained and praised Indian sweets: gulab jamun, kulfi, payasam and so on. 

I said, “So, you want dessert? Sa’afia? Ana?” 

Sa’afia shook her head and took my hand. She was ready to get home. To my bedroom. In spite of what I’d said about the rod. Or because of it. I considered which of those two it might be, and that put me off all thoughts of eating.

So I assumed we’d have a coffee while we waited for Ana. But Ana got Mr Shergill to repeat his description of kulfi, and then told him she’d have it next time.

“It sounds wonderful. Kulfi. I’m having that. But not tonight. I really should go to bed.” She said that so earnestly, looking up at Mr Shergill, that the man was briefly taken aback. Ana was a less subtle minx than Sa’afia, but she had a good teacher.  

So I gave Mr Shergill my credit card and a five buck note as a consolation, and we stood up and put our coats on. I went to the toilets while Mr Shergill processed the bill.

On impulse, I dropped a two dollar coin into the slot machine and puffed into the alcohol breath detector next to the condom dispenser. They aren’t very accurate, but I was, apparently, well under the legal limit. I’d taken in much less alcohol than I’d thought. I’d planned to get a taxi, but decided to drive.

I collected my card and a receipt from Mr Shergill, and joined the women at the door. I said, “So Ana, where are you staying tonight? We’ll drop you off first.”

That seemed to be enough attention for Ana for a while. I pulled Sa’afia’s face a little closer, by her hair, and whispered, “After I’ve punished you, tonight, where do you think I’m going to put the stick?”

Ana hadn’t heard what I’d whispered, but she stared at Sa’afia, hoping for a clue. After a few seconds Sa’afia blushed. So I couldn’t help pulling her back towards me. I kissed her cheek, and touched her skin briefly with my tongue, to feel the warmth. She turned to smile at me, and I mouthed, “You’re lovely.”

That was something I’d trained myself to say when I had the urge to say, “I love you,” and saying that would be a bad idea. Sa’afia took her hands off the table and pressed my cheek.

Even I sympathised with Ana when she coughed. “Ok. K, people. I’m here, ok?”

I said, “Sorry,” and disengaged from Sa’afia. “Ok, we’re back.”

Sa’afia took Ana’s hand, and some kind of cousinly communion went on. A waiter who’d hovered while Sa’afia and I were distracted closed in and and began taking away plates and glasses.  

It occurred to me that I’d noticed Ana’s jealousy early enough to avoid making her miserable. In fact I seemed to be far too clear-headed for a man who’d had five cocktails. They must have been exceptionally light on alcohol. Perhaps the barman had cheated us, but that seemed unlikely. It must have been one of the things Ana had been whispering while she placed her long and complicated order.  

That was one odd thing. The next happened after I said, “So, you want dessert?” 

I didn’t catch Sa’afia’s eye just then. She couldn’t spank Ana, partly because she now thought of spanking as sexual and she wouldn’t do sexual things with girls, or with her cousins. And she was submissive.

What do you mean, ‘harder’? I’m using both hands, aren’t I?

Once, having found my way into a threesome with two submissive girls (I damn near sabotaged it, with my own disbelief that something so wonderful was going to happen, if I let it), I’d tried to get one of them to spank the other. I’d thought it would be sexy, and how could it not be fun? But it had turned out to be almost impossible to get either girl to give the other anything but the lightest of love pats.

I’d persevered, but it had turned out to be as exhausting as trying to teach a cat to balance on its front paws. I’d realised that my attempts were only spoiling the mood. So I’d done my Homage to Brian Blessed act. Brian Blessed was a big burly, shouty, English actor, a bit like Oliver Reed without the vicious edge. My Brian Blessed act involve  lots of ranting and roaring and slapping. It brought the mood back to where it should be. Since then I haven’t tried making one submissive top another. Not all submissives are quite so averse to trying the other role, or at least play-acting it. But I knew that Sa’afia was. I’d just given Ana a completely empty threat.

But Ana wasn’t so sure she was safe from Sa’afia. “Aw no! That wouldn’t be any fun!” 

“Then behave yourself, Ana.” I said it as though I’d won a point. I wasn’t sure that I had.

Ana pretended to be shocked by Sa’afia’s slap on her arm. “Ow!” she said, not very convincingly. “Hey, you can’t smack me. You’re the only girl who gets smacked around here.”

Ana looked at me, then, to see my reaction. I said, “Ana, you definitely deserve a spanking. Beyond belief. But you know I can’t do it.”

“Why  n-“

“Ana, you know why not. And stop being a brat.”

“Brats get spanked. Sa’afia gets spanked. She showed me what you did to her bum. Aue!”

“Aue indeed. Sa’afia?”

“We’re cousins. We tell each other things.” 

“Hmmm.” Sa’afia realkised I wasn’t entirely pleased about that. She put her hands on the table in front of her, palms down, fingers interlaced, and stared down at her knuckles. The minx. So I said, “I’ll deal with you later.”  I was pretty sure she’d like to have that sort of thing said to her. And for it to be true. And she smiled, a little smug. 

I was worried that Ana would like hearing it too, a little too much. To Ana I said, “brat, you don’t get spanked by me. But Sa’afia isn’t your probation officer. She can spank you till you can’t sit down.”