Made For Sex (39 page)

Could Nicki say that she'd never had Indonesian food and still sound worldly? “Actually I don't think I've ever had it.”

“Great. Then I can introduce you to something new. Can I pick you up? You were kind of reluctant to give me any information about yourself when we last met.”

“That would be wonderful.” She gave him her address and they agreed on seven o'clock.

“And this one's my treat,” Clark said. “I guess I'm just old fashioned enough to want to pay since this is a date.”

Fran grinned. It was a date, with a nice, comfortable man and the evening would probably not involve the erotic tension that had flared between herself and O'Malley. “Yes,” she said softly, “it is and I'll see you at seven on Saturday.” As she hung up, she wondered whether Fran or Nicki would be at the door Saturday evening when Clark arrived. As she thought about it, the line between the two women blurred. She really was becoming the best of both.

Several minutes later, Carla returned. “Did you make a date?”

Fran grinned. “Yeah, I did. He was afraid I wouldn't call.”

“Of course he was.”

“He wants to introduce me to Indonesian food. I told him that I, Nicki, had never had it.”

“It makes a man feel wonderful to be able to show someone he cares about something he enjoys. It's not too different from O'Malley and sex.”

“I never really thought about it that way.”

“Maybe it's time for me to show you the upstairs of this joint.” With Carla leading, the two women climbed the thickly carpeted stairs and walked into a large bedroom, all done in shades of soft pink and greens. There were ferns and pots of trailing ivy in the corners and a heavy oriental carpet on the floor. “I want to show you my closet. Actually it was Ronnie's first, and now we share it.”

Carla opened the doors to a large walk-in closet filled with colorful garments. At first glance, there wasn't anything unusual about it. Suits, conservative blouses and tailored dresses filled part of one rod. The clothing that filled the rest of that side and all of the other was more unusual. When Carla pulled out a few items, Fran gasped. One section was filled with costumes, everything from a red vinyl minidress to a maid's outfit, from the Egyptian outfit that Fran had noticed when she looked through Carla's album to a sheer pair of harem pants and a matching bolero jacket.

“This is where I create the fantasies that my customers want to act out,” Carla said. “And on each hanger is a bag with any special accessories, like wigs, special jewelry, or particular underwear that goes with each.” She pointed to several shoe racks on the floor. “And the proper footwear, of course.”

Fran pulled out a short, fluffy, pink chiffon dress with a white collar and puffed sleeves. “What's this?”

Carla held the dress against her body, then put her index finger in her mouth. Her voice became that of a little girl. “This is my dress,” she said in a singsong. “I love to be with men who like to play with my bottom. I've got a wig with long braids, white socks and even a real pair of Mary Janes.”

“You're kidding.”

Carla's voice returned to normal “Not at all. Lots of men really like the idea of deflowering a little girl but would never dream of actually doing it. This is the next best thing.” In the child's voice she said, “You'd be surprised at what I'd do for a candy bar.”

“I never imagined real people would like to live out their fantasies.”

“Some dreams are wonderful to live out and my friends and I can do it in complete safety. Other fantasies are never meant to be acted out, just to dream about. And we do that sometimes by telling stories in the dark.”

Carla hung the dress back on the hanger. “And here are some entertaining clothes.” She turned and showed Fran dozens of satin lounging outfits, peignoirs, nightgowns, pairs of babydoll pajamas, both on hangers and in the drawers of a small chest at the back of the closet. “And in the bottom drawer are old sets of underwear that are ready for the garbage.”

“Okay, I give up,” Fran said, totally puzzled. “Why do you keep them?”

“Some men like to rip the clothes off a woman's body so Ronnie and I have our ‘disposables.'” She walked out of the closet and closed the door. “Luckily Ronnie and I are the same size. Actually, some of this stuff is stretchy one-size-fits-all, or is two piece and very flexible. If you ever want to borrow an outfit, I'm sure we could create something for any occasion.”

“I don't think so.”

“I wouldn't be so sure. Just keep an open mind.”

“You really do create fantasies for your customers.”

“And for men I date, too. I think every man has a fantasy and if you can find out what it is, you and he can have the most wonderful fun.”

“You really believe that every man has a fantasy?”

“Absolutely.”

Carla opened the door to a smaller closet on the other side of the room. “And for the evening out…” Inside were evening dresses in every color of the rainbow, sequins, laces, full, slinky, everything anyone could dream about for formal or semi-formal occasions.

“Wow,” Fran whispered.

“Again, the offer's open. Just say the word and we can rummage through and find something. Maybe for that party next weekend.”

“I'm still thinking about that one.”

“Hey, no pressure.” Carla paused, then said, “Are you interested in seeing the other room up here? It's a bit bizarre. If you hadn't had an unusual evening with O'Malley last night, I wouldn't show you this, but maybe now you'll understand.”

Carla led Fran down the short hall to what had originally been a second bedroom. She opened the door and stood back so Fran could precede her. Fran stepped inside and Carla flipped on the light. The room resembled a cave, with dark wood paneling and heavy drapes that completely covered the windows. The walls were festooned with eyelets and chains, straps and buckles, and there were several hooks in the mirrored ceiling. There were two odd-shaped wooden benches with attached hooks and leather straps and three large cabinets. Carla opened the door of one and Fran saw paddles and whips of all kinds. “Ronnie's a dominatrix and many of her special clients spend time in this room. Ronnie's incredibly adept and seems to know exactly what will excite a man beyond his ability to control his own body.”

“Oh,” Fran said. “Do you use this room, too?”

“I have a number of clients who like to tie me down, but I don't let anyone hit me. I'm actually learning a lot from Ronnie. Originally I was really passive. I loved being tied up or made to feel powerless in other ways, but now I can occasionally wield a paddle with the best of them. CJ is really into having his bottom spanked and I will probably be doing that next weekend.”

“I don't think I ever could do that.”

“Neither did I, but it's amazing how your horizons expand as time passes.”

“I guess.”

“Well, now you know my secrets.” She laughed. “As if I ever had any.”

“I think you're the most genuinely honest person I've ever met,” Fran said, embracing her friend. “And you've given me a lot to think about.”

“I'm glad. That's what I like to do, expand people's notions of what is just good fun.”

Together they walked downstairs and Fran got her coat. “I have a bit of a time problem for the next few days,” Carla said, frowning. “I'm afraid that between the kids and my social life, I won't be able to get together with you until Monday. Will you be able to entertain yourself until then?”

“Of course. This is New York and I've got a lot more to explore. And I'm probably seeing O'Malley tomorrow evening and Clark on Saturday. What could be better?”

“What indeed? I'll call you though, so you can give me all the juicy details.”

“Great,” Fran said as she opened the front door. “Have a great weekend.”

Carla winked. “I certainly will.”

O'Malley called later that evening. Without preamble, he said, “I had a great evening last night and I'd really like to see you tomorrow.”

“I'd love to.”

“Unfortunately I have a business meeting that just came up and it will run through dinner. Can I ask you to meet me at my place at, say, nine? I'm really sorry about not picking you up or inviting you to dinner.”

Fran was a bit let down. She was looking forward to spending some time getting to know the man better. “It's fine. But would another evening work better?”

“I really don't want to wait. Unless you'd prefer.”

“Of course not,” Fran said. “I'll be at your place at nine.”

Fran had lunch with Eileen the following day. Once again, Eileen suggested that the time was right to give her editor the proposal for another book. And again Fran promised to think about it. After lunch, the two women parted, and for a few minutes Fran was tempted to return to the apartment and bury herself in the TV and her writing and bide her time until her date with O'Malley. Be brave, she told herself. Be Nicki.

So, gathering her courage, she decided to get to know New York. For a few hours she wandered the crowded streets of midtown Manhattan. It was a magnificent day, as only April in New York can be, bright blue skies and a gentle, warm breeze. She browsed in several boutiques and bought a few things that she thought Nicki would want. Later in the afternoon she took a taxi to Chinatown and, when her feet were finally too sore to walk anymore, she stopped in a tiny restaurant that boasted something called dim sum. As she was guided to a table, she watched waiters push small carts covered with small plates of Chinese specialties.

When a young Oriental man in a white jacket arrived with a pot of tea and a glass of water, he asked her, “Have you ever been here before?”

“No,” she said, waiting for a menu.

“Well, there's no menu. just pick anything you like from the carts. Eat as much as you like, and when you're done, signal me and we'll figure out what you owe.”

Mystified, she asked, “How do you know what I've eaten?”

The waiter smiled indulgently. “Of course I count the empty plates.”

So Fran took plates from many of the carts. She tasted a dozen different concoctions, from dumplings filled with meat to small rolls of pastry stuffed with mushrooms and some sort of fish. With each item she selected she asked the person pushing the cart what the delicacy was, but many of them weren't very good at English so she ate several unidentified items. But everything was delicious.

After dinner, she looked at her watch and discovered it was only six-thirty so she walked through still-busy streets and found herself in Little Italy. She stopped at a small coffee shop and had a cup of tea and a super-caloric, whipped cream dessert. Finally, satiated, she found a taxi and returned to the apartment to get ready for her date. She showered, used a blow dryer on her hair and gazed into her closet trying to decide what to wear. As she stared, she thought about the closets at Carla's. Feeling brave, she pulled out the leather pants and vest that she and Carla had bought. She paired them with a white satin shirt and a pair of black leather boots. She pictured O'Malley slowly unwrapping her like a Christmas present. She carefully applied her makeup and sprayed just a touch of Nicki's now-signature scent, Opium, between her breasts.

At eight-thirty she went downstairs and, with the doorman's help, found a cab. She arrived at O'Malley's just after nine. “You're late,” he said, throwing open the door. “I was afraid you'd changed your mind.”

Fran gazed at him. He was wearing a soft yellow tennis sweater, brown slacks and loafers. “Of course not.”

He all but pulled her into the apartment and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her arms at her sides. He kissed her soundly. “You smell good,” he growled. “Makes me crazy.”

“I'm glad,” Fran said, wishing he would notice how nice she looked as well. But his kisses were dizzying and almost immediately her body was humming with excitement.

“I'm glad you found our games Wednesday evening as delicious as I did.” He pressed his groin against her so she could feel how excited he was. “I'm so hot for you already that I could explode.” He reached into the crotch of her pants and felt her heat. “And you're hot for me, too. I love that about you.”

O'Malley cupped her face and used his thumbs to push her head up. He quickly found her throat and placed deep wet kisses there. “You do such wonderful things to me. Come, darling, let me love you.”

He led her into the bedroom and quickly removed her clothes. Before she could think, she was again tied to the bed, her heart pounding, her breathing rapid. “Now, my sweet, let me appreciate my newest toy.” He stood beside the bed and stared down at her. “Wonderful. Hair spread on the pillow, red lips, a bit swollen and so ready for my cock, small breasts with large erect nipples, aching for my mouth, legs spread wide so I can play with your wonderful pussy.”

His words excited her still more and she ground her hips into the bedspread in what she knew was a useless effort to ease her need.