The Charade (2 page)

“What should we toast to?” I asked. I tried not to make direct eye contact with him. His eyes were full of fire.

“Let’s toast to making your pussy quake all night long.” My wrist went limp. I kept the glass from slipping out of my fingers. Our glasses clanged together, echoing off the walls of the decadent suite. This couldn’t be real. I wanted to pinch my thigh, but I didn’t want to seem lame.

We took a sip of the potion and he stood up, taking two steps back. “What do you think of the suite?”

I cleared my throat. “It’s nice.”

A deep crease formed in between his eyebrows. “Nice? Just nice? This is one of the top rated suites in the Midwest. It’s world class in fact.” He was even sexier when angry. “I see I’m going to have to teach you a thing or two.” The arousal sent me over the edge.

He unbuttoned his jacket and threw it on the black grand piano. Not a single drop of wine spilled from his glass. He slipped his bowtie off and his cufflinks tumbled off his shirt. They rolled right between my feet. Watching him undress was theatrical.

“That dress isn’t going to take itself off is it?” he asked. I obeyed. I’d rather go the cinematic route of him undressing me, but I went along with his command. I stood up and reached around my back for the zipper. “No. Stop.” I sprang back. “Allow me.” He floated over to me and his arms enveloped me. His stature towered over me. I stood up and felt his hands skim my back; I knew he was teasing me.

“That’s more like it,” he said. He slid down my zipper and my dress slivered to the floor. I stood before him, in my black bra and panties, my nipples harder than ever before almost burst out of the lace.

And that’s when I lost it. The entire ordeal felt surreal. His aura enchanted me. I saw vivid images of us stepping off helicopters decked out in expensive clothes met by a dozen or so paparazzi trying to get the latest scoop. I imagined month long visits to exotic locales and being waited on hand and foot, dining on whatever food caught fresh from the oceanside. I heard the sound of red crab leg shells being cracked open and dipped in sizzling hot butter. I saw us giggling, drunk, from the mimosas we knocked back. A quarter past noon and we had not a care in the world.

I basked in the moment. His fingers graced my shoulders and turned me around. He licked his succulent lips and leaned in towards me, grabbing my chin gently, I felt our breaths intertwine. As I jutted my tongue down his throat, there was a knock at the  door.

“I’m sorry. It must be urgent,” he said. He rushed to the door. He opened it and spoke to someone. I sat down on the bed as my heart returned to its normal pace. The story of my life – utter disappointment.

I couldn’t make out what was said or who the other person was; the doors closed causing their voices to be muffled. A personal assistant perhaps? Couldn’t business wait until morning? Life of a billionaire, I guessed. Always closing deals – no matter what time of night. But I was
his
for the night. This was my night. Good things came to those who wait, right?

The doors cracked open and a voice spoke behind them. It was the man who greeted me at the bar downstairs. “Miss Yancey?” he asked. I grabbed my dress and put it over my half naked body.

“Don’t come in!” I said. “I’m not dre…Can I help you with something? Where’s Victor?”

“I’m Marc, Mr. St. James’s assistant,” he said from behind the door. “I regret to inform you Mr. St. James has to board an impromptu flight out of town. He will be back tomorrow. He wanted me to let you know to help yourself to anything in the suite tonight. He sends his deepest apologies and dearest regards.”

I’d rather have his regards deepest in me.

Chapter 2

I awakened in the California king sized bed, the sheets twisted around my body like licorice. My forehead banged to the high heavens. I remembered why I didn’t like drinking champagne – especially when I didn’t eat much. It felt like a patch of sandpaper was lodged in my throat. I shot up out of bed – big mistake. I sat back down on the edge of the bed – the cold blanket of shame crept in.

Who was I kidding, I asked myself looking around at the plush furniture, luxurious drapes and fine European rugs. A chill slithered up my spine. I didn’t belong there. Not just in the suite, but in his life. That lifestyle – it didn’t involve a woman like me. I wasn’t fit for wearing a size zero dress on the red carpet. I didn’t belong on a yacht eating fresh strawberries with a destination of somewhere exotic. I didn’t deserve to be on the arm of a dashing billionaire – even for one night…even if it was charity. I felt shitty for believing the hype. I got up and put my clothes on before a tear fell on to the rug - I didn’t want to ruin it.

I cleaned myself up a bit in the bathroom and headed towards the elevator doors. I geared up for the walk of shame. It was a quarter before noon. I couldn’t believe I slept that long. Trying to not pay any mind to looking a mess, I flagged a cab down and headed back to my apartment.

***

My phone buzzed. The call came from a blocked number. Bill collector? No, all my bills were paid up to date. Maybe it was Deandre - again. Didn’t he get the hint we were done? I answered anyway. “Listen!” I said, “we're through. No more calls. No more texts. No more drunk dialing. What you did won’t be forgiven.”

“Natasha?” The voice was rich; more authoritative, intimidating, surely not Deandre’s. “This is Victor.”

“Victor!” How did he get my number? I sprang from the couch and ran over to my bedroom mirror to fix my hair. Despite the fact Victor couldn’t see me through the phone, I grabbed the comb on the dresser and nearly lacerated my scalp from stroking it so hard. “I…I…” I tried to find the best excuse to shroud my mortification. I found none.

“Interesting.” He let out a weighty sigh as if he were displeased. “Natasha, I apologize for my sudden absence last night. I hope you’ll join me tonight at ten. My driver will arrive at your residence at nine o’clock sharp.”

The line went dead. Words were too jumbled on the back of larynx to devise a subject and a predicate and respond. I didn’t know what to make of what happened. How could he have the audacity to call me after last night and make demands about where I needed to be? He had a lot of nerve. What a pompous asshole! I remembered why I had contempt for rich people – they thought they had the entire world and everyone in it on a string. Ugh!

I grabbed my keys and darted for the door. The mall was my destination. I had to get my hands on new dress for tonight.

***

The fitting room door flew open after I threw the last dress on the pile of some fifteen or so other outfits. I spent over two hours in the same store, ransacking isle after isle, bargain section after bargain section, and clearance bin after clearance bin. And no luck. Nothing cute. To be honest, there were a few cute things. Just cute. Just cute with a billionaire wasn’t going to cut it. And not just any billionaire either. This was Victor St. James – not some old decrepit guy who reeked of arthritis ointment. He had an impeccable eye for fashion. I couldn’t wear a bland old department store dress, but I couldn’t afford the higher end labels and wearing last night’s dress was unthinkable.

I was doomed. I rummaged through the bottomless pit called my purse for my keys when a somewhat familiar voice rang out.

“Miss Yancey?” asked the prissy feminine voice. It was Barbara Melynk, the host of the charity ball. I wouldn’t have remembered her if it wasn’t for her European accent. She was either of Czech or Ukrainian descent. I recalled her mentioning it but the half dozen glasses of champagne fogged my memory.

“Miss Melynk,” I said trying to hide my frustration with a shaky smile. “How are you?” Her thin lips curled into an inviting grin. Nice woman, but I hoped our greeting wouldn’t last long. I hated small talk. She sashayed over to my way. Her six inch high heels clacked above the floor and he carried two small bags in each hand.

She blew two air kisses on each of my cheeks. “I’m well darling. And you?”

“Not bad.” Her expression told me she knew I lied through my teeth.

“Tell me, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“Of course! I had a lovely time. Your organization threw a lovely event.” I counted the seconds for it to be over.

“Fabulous! We take pride in those fundraisers. It’s a lot of work to put it together.” There was silence for about two seconds which felt like two minutes. “So, how was he?”

“Victor? Oh. Great. Total gentleman."

"Well, of course. But I mean...how
was
he? Was his cock as big as we all presume?" My jaw dropped to the floor. She said it nonchalantly, as if she inquired about how I liked the hors d'oeuvres. How could this woman – old enough to be my grandmother – ask such a question like that?

“Oh my...” She gave me an incredulous look.

“Oh, I’m sorry I forgot. You’re a newbie. Don’t be so shocked. Everything is confidential. We keep close quarters around here and everyone is thoroughly vetted.”

“Wow, I uh…”
Thoroughly vetted?
“Are you…a…”

“A madam?” A jovial laugh bellowed from her thin frame. “This is just girl talk. He was phenomenal wasn’t he?” She sounded like she sampled Victor’s goods before. I couldn’t believe my ears. “I hope you’re not thinking I had sex with Victor St. James.” Her buoyant, scratchy laugh turned heads. Even from the lower level of the mall, people looked up at us. “Oh heavens no. Victor's not my type. He’s too young. But you can just tell by a man's demeanor that he'll be a good fuck.” She shot a wink at me.

I stood there – floored. I barely talked to Chandra about what I did behind closed doors – what love life I did have. Her face – blemished from years of baking under tanning beds – did not seem the least bit amused by my reluctance.

“Miss Yancey,” she said, “stop acting like you didn’t dish the goods about who screwed this boy and that boy back in the girl’s locker room in high school.” She was right. It took me aback by how relaxed she sounded.

But the more and more I spoke to her the easier it became. She spoke in a very comforting and inviting manner. Like an old friend you spill your guts out to – only forty or so years my senior. She appeared to be bombshell in her day. The type of mythical woman who could make neighboring nations go to war. She probably still could. I didn’t let the silver hair fool me. She had high cheek bones and green eyes the color of dollar bills fresh off the U.S. Mint. And she looked like she had the body of a goddess under that dress.

“You don’t have to answer that,” she said. “I can tell you’re the type who doesn’t kiss and tell.” I blew a sigh of relief. “You hooked the biggest fish of them all though. All the other girls got stuck with all the old farts who would need to pound a fistful of blue diamonds to even think about getting it up. You snagged a hot one. Young, muscular…” She fanned herself with her hand. “Whew! You lucky little bird.”

I blushed. An image of Victor’s lips between my thighs popped in my head. It made me blush even more. It was decided – if my life depended on it – I would make sure we finished what started. Even if I felt it wasn’t the smartest decision, my pussy had a mind of its own.

“We’re actually meeting again tonight.” Her green eyes lit up in what looked like a mix of shock and delight.

“Wow. You go girl!” She tapped my arm in delight. “You must have really made an impression on him. Usually these billionaires are so wrapped up in their business endeavors that they don’t have time for more than one night. A lot of them just like a woman’s presence. Some I’m convinced wouldn’t even have sex if a girl wasn’t wrapped in a spreadsheet.”

“Well that’s kind of what happened last night. Things got hot and heavy and right before it really got going, his assistant interrupted us. The next thing you know, I’m being told he’s on a flight and he won’t be back until the next day.”

“You poor thing. A wet pussy is a terrible thing to waste.”

“I realized that.” Did she really just say that?

“Well, make sure tonight he doesn’t slip from your clutches.”

“I will. I just have to find a dress.” I looked down at my watch. “I don’t know if I have much time.”

“Well c’mon,” she said grabbin my wrist. “We’ll go to Frisquē.” I knew the shop all too well. It was the boutique with all the trendy dresses and shoes. If I ever won the lottery, my first stop would be there. Every time I went shopping, I pretended it wasn’t there. Way too out of my budget. Yesterday, today and forever.

I stopped dead in my tracks, yanking my wrist away from her clutches. “Uh-unh. No, no, no, no no! No way. I’m not going in there. One outfit costs my rent for the next three months. And my rent is pretty high.” I waived my hand to brush her off. “Besides…they would laugh me out of the place as soon I step foot in there.”

“Honey. Stop.” She carried a mother’s expression – annoyed at her daughter’s jibber-jabbering. Her face put an end to my excuses. I knew the look. And I dared not defy it. “Stop your nonsense. We’re going to Frisquē.” She grabbed my wrist – gentler than before. “I own the place so don’t worry about the cost. It’s on me.” I heard the reassurance in her voice despite her thick accent.

“No, I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Goodness you’re stubborn. It’s on the house. I want Victor’s jaw to drop to the floor when he sees you in this dress. I know the perfect one.” I opened my mouth to spew another excuse. “And not another word,” she said. We made our trek to the boutique.

I worried if the store would have clothes to fit a woman like me who wasn’t a size zero. To my surprise, they had a lot. And they were sexy. A part of me didn’t feel like a charity case. I saw it as a womanly gesture. I guess she remembered how it felt like to be in my shoes.

Barbara assumed the role of an artist painting her masterpiece. And I was her canvas - blank and vast. She turned up the volume on the stereo and went to work on me. The champagne flowed and it became a party. Each dress that she came with from out of the back was better than the last, leaving me in awe. Each colorful shoe fit to perfection.

I walked the length of the store like a runway. All eyes were on me. Normally, a girl like me ran away from the spotlight into a deep, dark corner as quickly as possible, but not this time. I wasn’t sure if it was the influence of Barbara infectious personality and her employees, the tipsiness from the bubbly or the music I swooned to, but I reveled in the moment. I felt alive.

After we left the boutique, I bid my adieu to Barbara. She made me promise to call her tomorrow to let her all of the juicy details. When I got home I dropped all of my bags in front of the door and plopped on the couch. Despite spending all afternoon prepping and priming like prom night was in a few hours I couldn’t help but be reluctant about the night ahead. I wasn’t a no strings attached type of girl.

***

The limo arrived right on time. After the driver closed the door behind me, my palms became clammy. I would just fuck him and get out of there like a thief in the night – heels in hand and panties in purse. I took a shot of tequila from the mini fridge to settle down a bit. I never did anything like this. It was cinematic. On one end, I should’ve been grateful I even had the chance of being with a man of his stature, but sex with random – especially mysterious – men wasn’t my cup of tea. No matter how handsome he looked. Or no matter how his tongue literally drove me up a wall. Besides, I’m aware when I like a guy I tend to get a bit too clingy. Who was I kidding? The word
like
shouldn’t even have been in this conversation. This was sex only.

I could tell from the wayward tourists holding shopping bags, patrons galloping into high end restaurants and swarms of luxury cars snaking throughout the busy avenues that we were a few stoplights away from the hotel. I seldom visited downtown. Not only was it out of my budget, it was a bit too pretentious and glitzy for my taste.

The limo came to a halt in front of the bright lights of the hotel’s entrance. The driver handed me a key card and told me Victor waited in the presidential suite. He complemented me on my beautiful dress. I smiled.

Adrenaline laced throughout my chest as I walked closer to the door of his suite. The click-clack of my stilettos echoed in the expansive hallway. I stopped an inch short of sliding the card into the slot. My hand dangled above it. I swallowed hard. It was just sex. Okay, it was more than that. It was going to be back-breaking. Spine tingling. Hair-raising. I knew Victor would to take me to heights my pussy never knew existed.

A bead of sweat trickled down the ridges of my spine. I looked at my cell phone. Ten on the nose. The green light sounded and the lock unlatched.

I walked in and Victor stood in front of the door – stark naked. I shuffled back several steps. He stood their confident – his chest and abs rippled from hours of bench pressing. A look of bloodlust glazed in his fiery, cognac eyes. And his erect penis dripped with pre-come.

“Welcome, Miss Yancey,” Victor said. His voice was raw. It sliced through me, making my pussy heat even more.