Page 58 of Mistletoe Mistake
“We could have, but then you couldn't try them on first.” I pulled a pair of fluffy pink wrist cuffs off the wall and held them out to her. “Shall we?”
Her eyes searched mine, and for the first time since she spotted the store, she smiled. “You're doing this on purpose.”
“Yes."
“There are photographers?”
"One, over there." I had hired him myself to take and ‘leak’ the photos. Besides him, the only person in the store was the owner. I'd rented the whole store for the evening so no one else would get in the way.
“Why?” Her question had no accusation in it; she simply wanted to understand, and I did my best to offer an explanation.
“The world got to hear one person's experience with you, something that should have stayed private. But since it didn't, I don't see how it hurts to show them there's a bit more to you than what they'd heard.”
I held out the cuffs again in invitation.
"You don't think this is a little too far in the opposite direction?" Though she still resisted, her eyes were sparkling again.
"I already told you, Gemma: nothing with you is ever too much."
I looked down at the cuffs once more, and that time, she offered her wrists without hesitation.
I snapped them closed around her, tightening them snugly. “How does that feel?”
“Softer than your ties. Maybe too soft.” She looked back over at the wall, really taking a look at it for the first time. “How does that one work?”
She pointed at a black leather contraption with three loops, so I removed the pink cuffs from her wrists and put them back on the wall before picking up the one she'd pointed to instead, looking it over to figure out how it worked.
“It's a neck collar, attached to some cuffs. Do you want to try it?”
She swallowed, no doubt thinking about the fact that photos of her wearing it could easily end up in tomorrow's papers, but a moment later, she looked up at me with determination in her eyes. “Okay.”
Satisfaction filled my chest as I slid the collar around her neck, adjusting the tightness before turning her around, pulling her arms behind her back to attach the wrist cuffs. The soft click of the camera could be heard in the silence of the store but we pretended not to hear it, and once she was secure, I took a step back.
“I think we're getting that one whether you like it or not.” My voice had grown thicker, matching the situation in my pants. She looked incredible tied up like that.
Gemma laughed, turning her head to try to see me. “Lucky for both of us, then, that I do like it.”
We spent the next half hour and a couple of thousand pounds buying up everything she put her hands on, even if she said she was only curious. Realistically, I knew we’d never have time to use everything we bought before I left London the next week, but I wanted to have plenty of options depending on where our mood took us. After arranging for it all to be sent to the hotel, we stepped out into the streets again, resuming our walk towards the theatre.
I didn't have any clue what theatre we were going to or what show we were seeing. I only hoped it would be short so we could get back to the hotel room as soon as possible. I couldn't wait to decide what we were going to try first.
~Gemma~
After a quick takeaway shawarma from a hole-in-the-wall place on Oxford Street, Cole and I settled into our box at the Palladium. That night, I had brought him to a pantomime version of Cinderella. Attending a panto was a classic British Christmas tradition but something not easily explained to someone who had never been.
So, when I asked Cole innocently if he had ever been to a panto before and he said no, I had to hide my grin. Between the audience participation and the random pop songs and the B-list British actors taking part, he had no idea what he was getting into.
Sure enough, once the show began, it didn't take him long to realize this was not a typical night at the theatre. He jumped when the crowd heartily booed the entrance of the villain, and by the time the first, “Oh yes it is!” was called out, he looked thoroughly bewildered.
When the lights came up for the interval, I couldn't hold back my laughter. “Your facial expressions are more entertaining than anything that's happening on stage.”
He narrowed his eyes at me in that stern way I loved. “You might have warned me. What the hell is this? And what does it have to do with Christmas?”
That only made me laugh louder. “Nobody knows, but you have to go to at least one every Christmas. It's a requirement of being British.”
He turned his chair to face mine. Our box had four individual chairs which could be moved around to find the best view of the stage, but that night, we were the only people there. “How much longer does it go on for?”
“It's probably a little more than half finished. The second act is usually shorter.”
