Beauty and the Baritone

BEAUTY AND THE BARITONE

Copyright © 2012 by LORI GREEN

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

“Tell me why you’re here.”

She looked around the room, trying to find the man who asked the question. Trying to find
him
.

“David sent me.” Her voice trembled slightly. Of course she was nervous. However she wasn’t scared. He’d intended her to be terrified but either she was a great actress or this situation didn’t frighten her as much as he thought it should.

“David said he was sending me a gift.” Ah, he didn’t mean to tell her that. It was all right though, she already knew. “You can place it on the chair and leave. I will thank David myself.”

She didn’t move. She sat on the chair by the fire, her red hair tied loosely in a ponytail. Her shoulders were straight, her feet were sneakered and on the floor. Her hazel eyes were calm and looking toward the credenza where he hid.

He imagined she saw the shadow by the large piece of furniture. She wouldn’t be able to see him, just the darkness he cast as he hid where there was no light, no chance of being seen.

“Did he promise I would give you money for the delivery? Tell me how much and it will be waiting for you by the door.”

“Senor Lopez, David didn’t send you a gift. He sent me.”

“Is this the humor?” The anger in his voice was obvious. He didn’t play child’s games and now this woman sitting in his house, interrupting his life was playing some game initiated by a man he hadn’t seen in over a year.

The woman was still nervous, he could see it in the way she swallowed, how her fingers twisted in her lap.

“My name is Carolyn Gibbs. I was with the Met last season and I met David. At the end of the season I was told my contract wouldn’t be renewed. I decided to go to Germany to audition for a season but before I left I went to one of David’s private parties. Afterwards he suggested I come here instead.”

In only a few sentences her world was laid bare. She was an opera singer without a job and considering her attractiveness, her voice was average. She was rootless and David picked up on her.

David looked so all American; big, blond with a footballer’s physique. His sexual tastes were the stuff of legend. Mateo had been to a few of David’s parties back before his world shattered and although his tastes diverged from his friends, he had to admit the experiences had been heady.

“You like the things that David likes?”

“No. I didn’t care for the pain.”

She didn’t seem to have any pretense which was confusing. Why she was sitting in Mateo’s home, saying she was from David? She’s gone to a party but she wasn’t into the same kinks David was. Yet, she appeared on David’s suggestion at his home.

“What are you doing here?” She flinched from his words. His voice carried, he was a trained baritone. He could be heard unamplified in an amphitheater. In his own home, he could bring the roof down if he chose.

“I’m here for you.” There was finally uncertainty. She stood slowly, her body unfolding in leanness. She was wearing jeans and a loose peasant blouse but he could see the shape of her full breasts, the narrowness of her hips. She had long legs, an angular face.

She was prettier than he thought. If her hair was down, if she bothered with make-up and fine clothes she would be a true beauty.

“I do not need you Miss Gibbs. Whatever you and David thought, you were wrong.”

“I don’t think you understand.” She looked where he was standing and he took a step back. She couldn’t see him, he knew it. So why did he feel like she saw every flaw on his face?

“Senor,” she continued, “I didn’t like the pain but I discovered I like the belonging. I discovered that I have a bent and wish to be enslaved to someone for sexual purposes. That’s why David told me to come here, to you.”

His heartbeat thundered. The insanity of the moment screamed in his blood. Was this a joke? Some sort of strange humor that David alone understood?

“Leave my home.”

“I’m expected to audition for the Hamburg State Opera in three weeks’ time.” She acted as though he hadn’t spoken. “Until then I’m expected nowhere and have no one caring where I am. So I’m here.”

“I want you to leave.”

“David told me you became a recluse after the accident. He described your injuries to me and I don’t care. I know you were once the greatest baritone in opera. Now you live here. David says he doesn’t think you have sex with anyone, you have a dominant streak and you won’t hurt me. I’m here Senor for you to fuck. Then I’ll be gone.”

She took the bottom of her blouse in her hands and in a single movement lifted it over her body, dropping it on the floor. Her bra was a pale color and just as easily fell onto the discarded top.

Her breasts were full and without the bra, drooped slightly from the weight. He could imagine how they’d feel in his hands: heavy but soft, the dusky nipples hard.

Her hands were on her jeans, undoing them.

“No. Stop.” His hand reached behind him and grasped the door knob.

“I have nowhere to be,” Carolyn said.

Mateo slipped from the room, into the hall. He drew his cape around him and moved toward the large staircase.

“Sir?” He hadn’t heard Simon approach, but then, he never did.

“The woman,” Mateo said. “She can have the red room.”

“She’s staying?”

Mateo didn’t answer. He escaped up the stairs to his suite to try and decide what to do about this new turn of events.

*** *** ***

The gentleman had called it the red room. Carolyn didn’t know if he was the butler, major domo or just a British guy who liked scarred baritones. He hadn’t introduced himself; he’d just walked in as she was putting her clothes back on and offered to show her to her room.

“My things are at the hotel,” Carolyn said.

“If you’ll give me the key,” he said, “I’ll have everything delivered here and settle the bill. Now follow me.”

He was true to his word. Within an hour all her things were with her and she was now living in Mateo Lopez’s home.

It was everything and nothing she wanted. Damn David and his dirty games.

No, it wasn’t David’s fault, Carolyn amended. She knew what kind of parties David gave and she’d gone because she had nothing left to lose. Without the Met contract she was just a wandering singer again. Europe would have opportunities, she hoped, and the unexpected chance to experience what everyone in the opera world whispered about was just too exciting.

She hadn’t expected to like it.

Her pussy tingled remembering that night. It was, very simply, an orgy. But the women were bound and there were paddles and other things in play. She hadn’t enjoyed all of it and simply saying no was respected.

But when she’d been on her knees and a masked man stood in front of her, his penis the only exposed part of him, she hadn’t hesitated. Nor had she minded being taken by a different man later, spread open in front of others, eaten out by one man and then fucked by another.

She couldn’t feel shame from it.

David’s tales of Mateo Lopez were like Carolyn’s discovery of her desires: dark and tempting. The beautiful man damaged in a car accident of which he was the only survivor. The tortured singer who could no longer sing. Who would no longer sing.

“He’d love you.” David stroked her, his long fingers reaching deeper than she was used to being touched. Carolyn strained toward him but she was fastened on his table, the shackles holding her tight.

“Mateo didn’t like the pain either,” David continued. He’d asked her to stay as people began to leave. He had an idea, he said and although he’d led her to the table and fastened her to it, he really did have a suggestion for her.

“Mateo was more old fashioned; he liked the wooing and claiming of a woman. But he had a wild side too; he just didn’t indulge it that often. Like you, right here.” He stroked that place inside her that made her shake. The pleasure David created was more than any man had brought from her before.

“Does he want a woman?” Carolyn asked, when she could speak.

“He’s playing the cripple in that house of his.” David’s face twisted in displeasure. “The best of our generation and now he’s a waste. Fucker had it all, now he has nothing.”

“Oh my god.” He tapped high and hard and it was a turning in her body. More sensation than she knew tumbling hard inside.

“You should see yourself,” David said smugly. “You’re so hot. What man wouldn’t want you?”

She’d been crazy. There was no other way to accept it.

Her suitcases were on the floor by the bed and Carolyn opened the larger one. A woman had an arsenal of weapons against a man and her dresses were the beginning of her tricks.

David had opened the door. She hoped Mateo would take her to the other side of it.

*** *** ***

He never had guests. David had forced himself in on more than one occasion and Mateo had accepted that he was unstoppable. But this woman, this Carolyn, was sitting at his table wearing a dress of demure white lace, a dress made for a virgin to be worn with a chemise underneath. Not to be worn as Carolyn wore it with nothing under, her skin playing peek-a-boo with the fabric.

She was a red headed devil sent by a man who probably sat at Satan’s right hand.

“Do not turn around.” Mateo entered the room from the doorway behind Carolyn. “I have something I must say and you must promise to listen.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t believe you are here for why you say. I am not the man to keep a woman as a play-thing. That is David. If you are here to steal from me, whether my money or my privacy, you will be unsuccessful. If you plan to take advantage of me, it will be to your detriment.”

“I hear you,” Carolyn said. She rose and again the grace of her movements struck him.

Her hair was hanging loose and it swayed to the center of her back. He could see her ass through the dress, the sweet curves of her cheeks, the hollow of her lower back and spread of her chest.

“I know about your accident, Senor, David told me. You don’t need to hide from me. Just as I don’t intend to hide from you.”

She turned slowly, allowing him to see the fullness of her body below the lace. The slimness of her waist, the triangle of red hair between her thighs.

She turned and faced him and he waited for her revulsion, her disgust.

“Will you be joining me for dinner?” she asked.

*** *** ***

He was ugly.

The pictures of Mateo Lopez before the accident were of a handsome man with a beautiful smile, an olive complexion with flashing dark eyes. He had curly, black hair and with his beauty and his voice, he no doubt captured the interest of any woman who interested him.

His face was no longer the flawless, Mediterranean perfection of the past. A scar twisted one side of his mouth into a sneer. Another scar circled his left eye which drooped. His face had needed massive reconstructive surgery and despite life saving measures and brilliant doctors, there was no way to save his looks and his life.

He dragged his foot when he walked. Although he tried to hide it, he massaged his fingers after a few minutes of using his utensils.

She didn’t know how to talk to him. With most men she could flirt or tease, compliment their suit or play to their egos. Mateo ate slowly, his face turned away as often as he could. It was ridiculous and if this was anything but her life, she’d be amused.

“Your house is beautiful.” It was a conversation starter.

“Thank you.” He bowed his head but didn’t look at her.

“I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay with you. I’m hopeful that you understand I’m sincere in everything I’ve said.”

“Miss Gibbs, this is an impossible situation.”

“No Senor Lopez, it’s not.” She laid her cutlery down. “I’m not as good as a singer as I need to be. I’m good but I’m not great. Great can’t be taught.”

Saying the words aloud hurt. Some things were true but acknowledging them took a piece of your soul.

“I’ll get employed for a while because I’m beautiful and I can sing. But once I start to age I’ll stop getting jobs. Then I either get married and live a life of quiet misery or I’ll teach young singers with more talent than I ever had and live the rest of my life with envy and bitterness. Isn’t that a marvelous choice?”

“There are other options,” Mateo said quietly. He had lifted his head and was looking at her. Finally.

“You think? I don’t. I’m not going to become a doctor or movie star. I won’t discover a passion for painting, I don’t think. All I ever wanted to do was sing and I just don’t do it well enough.”