Slater helped Swan into “The Mystic” and led her to a soft canvas seat.
“Sit,” he demanded.
Disgruntled, she asked, “Do you have a dog?”
“Yes, why?”
“Perhaps you could practice your commands on him,” she replied quite sweetly.
The corners of Slater’s mouth twitched as he pulled up the billowy sails, unwound the rope from the iron anvil, pulled up the anchor, riveted up the motor, and slowly began the voyage out to the placid Pacific. The ocean was calm and many boats dotted the horizon. Some were fishing, some were boating, but most were just enjoying the lovely fall day. Colorful hot air balloons filled the sky above as if they too knew that the weather was perfect for their outing. It was peaceful and quiet.
Slater handed Swan the swimsuit package. “Go below and put this on, I’ll adjust the seats so that you can lie in the sun while I sail the boat.”
Swan was getting a little uncomfortable in her plum suit and the prospect of resting on the chaise lounge in warm sunshine with a cool ocean breeze was very appealing. So, she did as ordered and told herself not to make a habit of it.
Below deck was a galley with a small stainless steel kitchen and a small cozy living space. One bedroom with a mini-shower was at the end of the boat. Swan went into the bedroom and shut the door where she began to change into the newly purchased bathing suit.
Pulling out the knot of hair at the base of her neck, Swan took a moment to fluff it. She then shook the small bathing suit out of the bag. It was a pretty skimpy bikini, but at least it was not a thong. Although she was used to being almost naked in her profession, she probably would not have chosen one quite so revealing to wear on an outing with a man; especially, Slater. It was black. It was much too small to be anything but very basic. The bottom covered her backside crack--- just barely, and the front was only an inch above her pubic hair. The top covered her nipples with small triangles, but the rest of her breasts were bare. At the bottom of the sack was a pair of very large sunglasses with dark red rims. How charming, she thought, the glasses are bigger than the swimsuit.
Swan entered the lower deck with a towel wrapped around her near naked body. In one hand she carried some suntan lotion and in the other a glass of ice tea. As she reached the chaise lounge, she let the towel float to the deck and began rubbing lotion all over her body very slowly and very thoroughly. First, she rubbed the slick liquid over her neck and down her arms. She then dropped the straps and spread it over her full globes and slowly under the small triangles. After she had covered the top of her body to her satisfaction, she began a descent downward over her belly button and onto her flat stomach in spite of having birthed a child. Then, with extreme slowness, she ran her finger under the edge of the bikini bottom before she continued down her long legs. She never glanced at Slater, but she knew he was watching. The show was his punishment for the choice of such a small bikini.
Slater was indeed watching. Swan’s traveling palms over her sexy body made his lower body region react in extreme pain. He had followed the entire journey that each palm and finger made and he was beginning to be very uncomfortable. He felt like he was watching a porn movie and he could not remove his hypnotic stare from the amazing performance. PERFORMANCE!!! His eyes narrowed, he suddenly realized that the little minx was totally enjoying the stir she knew she was creating. He suspected that her goal was to make him as uncomfortable as possible. She was successful. When they got a little farther out and away from prying eyes, paybacks would be in order.
Slater had been watching Swan snooze in the warm sun for over an hour. He knew that she wasn’t as well as she needed to be, but that didn’t keep him from fantasizing what he was going to do to her delectable body once they were a little farther out to sea where nosy eyes from other sailors would not be anywhere around. If she thought that she could tease and tempt without getting a reaction from him, she was sadly mistaken.
Having secured the anchor and turned off the engine, Slater descended the stairs to the lower deck. He changed earlier before they left into comfortable cutoffs and deck shoes. He remained shirtless as it made him more comfortable and free. It showed off his muscular tan torso and upper body. His back muscles rippled with each activity that he was doing. He had a bumpy tummy with a dusting of black chest hair that narrowed past his waist; then, continued in a straight line past the waistband of his shorts. He had well formed legs and a cute muscular butt to go with all the above. None of which Swan had missed.
Swan had turned over on her stomach a few minutes ago and had quickly fallen to sleep again with the rocking of the boat. She was startled when Slater sat down beside her, leaned over, and whispered in her ear, “You missed a spot,” as he began rubbing lotion on the top of her shoulders.
Unhooking the tie of her bikini and getting no objection, Slater proceeded down Swan’s back to her buttock. Dipping his finger under the edge of her swimsuit, he ran his fingers along it as he had watched her do earlier. When his fingers touched the crease between her cheeks, she gasped and flipped over holding the top triangles in one hand in place. Their eyes locked.
Expecting some sort of indignation, he was surprised to hear her say, “I think the weather has change.”
Sure enough, Slater looked up at the clouds. They were ominous, black, and billowing. Slater swore. A storm was due soon, perhaps in the next fifteen minutes or so. It was never smart to get caught out on the ocean during a storm. It had come up suddenly and unexpectantly, but it was irresponsible of him to have gotten distracted from the gathering of the dark clouds by Swan’s siren body. He chastised himself as he realized that he had not called in for a weather report. The wind quickly picked up and blew over Swan’s glass of tea. The waves were beginning to look foamy and thanks to thinking with his dick, they were farther from land than they should be. Shouting orders at Swan, he ascended the stairs to the second deck. Pulling up the anchor, he pointed the nose of “The Mystic” toward the shore mustering as much power as he could while still keeping her smooth and steady.
It took about 30 minutes to return to shore. By that time, the storm was in full swing. The boats in the cove were bobbing up and down as the wind and rain pounded fiercely at each one. It took some expert maneuvering, but Slater soon had “The Mystic” in her slip and anchored securely. Swan was ordered to run ahead and take cover at the back of the restaurant that they had patronized earlier in the day while he finished adjusting the sails. By the time Slater and Swan entered Pepe’of Paris again, they both were severely damp.
Swan managed to redress into her plum suit, but she still continued to shiver a little. Slater had slipped into a blue Cambridge shirt, which now was more than a little soggy. He slung his arm over Swan’s shoulders for body heat as they winded their way through chairs and tables to a cozy fire in the bar.
Swan soon excused herself for the ladies room in hopes of finding a hand dryer that would double as a hair dryer. She was not disappointed. Turning the dryer’s nozzle upward, she soon had her hair fluffed and dried. It was a little wild looking, but that could not be helped. She was surprise to find Slater outside the door tapping his foot.
“I thought that you might be sick or had climbed out the back window. What took you so long?”
“I was drying my hair and warming up.”
“Well, you took your sweet tushy time about it.”
Swan was about to disagree, and fire back, but thought better about it. He seemed to be snarling for an argument---again.
“Hot buttered rum is on the table. Drink it. It will warm you up.”
Swan obediently followed another order. By the time the storm had passed, she was indeed feeling quite cozy.
It was getting near the supper hour and Quinn would soon need to be fed and put to bed after being at preschool all day. Swan and Quinn would follow their usual routine of bathing and making bubbles in the tub. Then, nursery rhyme songs would be played while she got him ready for the night and before she read hi
m a story. Quinn’s sleepy eyelids would begin to shut long before the story ended.
Insisting that it was time for her to go, Swan picked up her bag and started out the door. Slater was in step right behind her making sure that she was safely in her car before closing the door. Indicating that she should roll down the window, he reached in, took her chin in his grasp, and planted a soft short kiss upon her lips.
“Drive safely.”
Slater got in his black jag and he began to reflect on the day’s events. He hadn’t gotten to a chance to make his move yet, but he was satisfied that it was on the horizon.
Accelerating down the highway, Swan was soon at her condo. She got Quinn ready for bed and tucked the covers around Quinn. She kissed him “good night” and turned out the lights thinking how much he reminded her of his father. Putting on a DVD of Mozart and pouring herself a glass of red wine, she walked out on her balcony and also reflected on the day’s events.
CHAPTER 32
The next week passed without incident. Slater and Swan were involved in their own job, but each was not far from the other’s mind. Swan jumped every time a door slammed at Global Genetic Research Inc. thinking that she was not up to any more confrontations or interrogations. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened----yet.
Swan had twisted and rung her hands all week trying to decide when it would be the most appropriate time to tell someone that they were a father. There didn’t seem to be any manuals to follow that mammoth and gloomy decision.
After an apprehensive and dreadful twenty-four hours, Swan decided to tell Slater about Quinn on Saturday night over dinner when there would be lots of people around. Hopefully, he would not make a scene, but he was such a complex man she knew there were no guarantees. She could just picture him standing up, leaning over the table, and picking her up by the collar. His style would be getting two inches from her nose and saying very distinctly, “I’m a what?!!!”--- Perhaps, it would be smart to wear something that he could not easily grab hold of clothing wise.---- That was not exactly however the whole scenario unfolded, but close.
Saturday night soon arrived. Swan had twittered all day about the evening events and how Slater would react. He was taking her to a bar called Skyes in Hollywood. It was an exclusive bar and restaurant that many of the movie stars patronized. The bar was outside under the stars. In the middle of the bar and under the stars, there was a sort of huge mattress that couples could lay down on together for a semi-private interlude and count the galaxies. Each couple had their own private secluded spot with votive candles. It was difficult to tell who was who, which is probably why it was so popular with the Hollywood crowd.
Swan had decided on a scarlet power dress with four-inch heels, peek-a-boo toes, and sling straps for her date this evening with Slater. The four-inch heels would make Swan close to being nose to nose with Slater when they were standing. That was a comforting thought. She always felt that looking up gave her a decided disadvantage, perhaps because that didn’t happen very often.
Swan’s strapless crimson dress clung to her figure with three floaty/flouncy tiers. The top was a low-cut sweetheart strapless version with an added touch of cleavage she could at least mellow Slater to the point of reason.
Swan’s hair was French braided on the sides with the back tucked under low on the neck making it look like a pageboy style. It gave her an elegant and sophisticated look.
CHAPTER 33
Slater rang the doorbell promptly at 6:30 P.M. Swan was almost ready, but still needed a few more minutes to put finishing touches on her ensemble before she slipped into the ruby red dress.
Excited for company, Quinn ran to answer the doorbell that Maria had already opened. Taking his thumb out of his mouth he asked, “What’s your name?” Apparently, he had not been awed enough to remember Slater from a week ago.
Slater squatted down and said, “Troy, but you can call me Slater.”
Slater was impressed that he stuck out his hand for a handshake even if it were the one with the wet thumb before he ran back to finish building with his Lego blocks. Slater looked at the little dark head bent over the pile of blocks concentrating on building a small animal. He watched him for a few minutes as he assembled his stack before he decided to join him on the patterned rug. He thought that this was the perfect time to pump the little guy for information. He did not feel the least bit guilty as he sat down and began fiddling with stray blocks.
“What’s your name?”
“Quinn,” (which sounded like “win”) the small boy answered after removing his thumb, “but you can call me, Ace.”
A grenade went off in Slater’s head. Trying to appear calm, he asked, “Who calls you, Ace?”
Quinn frowned at being interrupted from his toy Logos. Somehow that frown seemed familiar to Slater, but he was too focused on getting some answers to objectively evaluate why.
“Mommy, she said it’s my daddy’s name.”
Slater jerked from his frozen position on the floor and headed for Swan’s bedroom door with three angry strides. Quinn was oblivious to the turmoil that he had created, but Cleopatra sensed the storm and disappeared under the couch. Slater yanked open Swan’s bedroom door and slammed it so hard that it almost came off the hinges.
Swan had one leg on the bed and had just finished hooking the sheer red nylon to the red ribbon garter belt. She stood almost naked in a red strapless bra and red thong bikini. She had color coordinated her underwear with her outer attire as fashion would dictate, but at this point it was totally lost on Slater.
Swan wrapped her arms around her body in a protective gesture as Slater stormed over to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and lashed out, “When were you going to tell me? Next week, next year, never!” he fired at her.
Swan knew he was barely holding his anger in check and that she was probably toast. Although she was not afraid of him, he certainly had her attention. She tried to put some distance between them so that she could compose herself and hope that he would calm down. That didn’t work as she soon found herself thrown on the bed and his body holding hers in place with his nose two inches from hers asking again, “When? Damn you! When?!”
Swan bit her lip; she didn’t pretend to misunderstand him, “Tonight.”
Slater rolled onto his back, slung an arm over his eyes, and was totally silent trying to curb the anger that raged inside him.
The bedroom door quietly swung open and a concerned little boy with big gray eyes asked, “Is Mommy ‘kay?”
“Absolutely, darling, we’re only having a little discussion,” Swan reassured him, lashing angry eyes of her own at Slater and indicating the need to “back off”.
Knowing that Quinn would be a buffer between them and knowing that the time had arrived for introductions, Swan opened her arms, “Come here, sweetheart, I want you to meet someone.”
Quinn ran on his little stubby legs eager to climb into his mommy’s open arms and sit on her near naked lap. With her arms around him and facing Slater, Swan said, “This is your daddy.”
Quinn stared soberly at Slater through his long sooty eyelashes so much like his mom’s before climbing onto his lap and giving him a slobbery kiss. All the anger went out of Slater like a puff of smoke.
“Maybe Daddy would like to read you a bedtime story while mommy finishes getting dressed. Would you like that?” Quinn bobbed his little head up and down. “You’ll need to show him your room and books.”
Taking Daddy’s hand, Quinn led this now docile hunk down the hall; however, as they left the room, Slater turned with a glare and mouthed the words, “You’re not off the hook, yet.”
As father and son walked out the door, Swan slumped against the side of her dresser. She was somewhere between relieved and apprehensive about the unscripted Scene I that just unfolded in the bedroom. She knew that Scene II would be unscripted as well and she felt that she needed to get Slater off her family territory before the explosive atmosphere erupted in front of Q
uinn. She would protect her son at any cost. She hoped that Slater would do the same.
Swan stepped into the neon red dress, tided her hair, and slipped on the four-inch heels before she knocked on Maria’s door to inform her that they were leaving. Then, she quietly tiptoed down the hall and peeked in on father and son. The two dark heads were close together revealing how much the two resembled the other. She stood there for what seem like an eternity and watched with churning emotions.
Slater was very patient with the toddler’s questions. He listened with interest as he said his prayers and snuggled under the covers. As he turned to go, Quinn asked, “Daddy, will you be back tomorrow?”
Slater looked directly at Swan as he answered, “I’ll be back for the rest of your life,” daring Swan to challenge that statement. He kissed Quinn on the forehead and tucked in his covers before heading for the mother of his child silhouetted in the doorway.
Slater’s calmness was only temporary. Swan could feel his contempt and imagined that she saw smoke emanating in a curl from the top of his head. He none too gently put her on the passenger side of the sleek jag and climbed in under the steering wheel. He reached in the glove box for a package of cigarettes. She realized that she hadn’t seen him smoke since she had been a part of his life again. She suspected that this was his emergency cache.
Rolling down the window, Slater slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Taking a deep drag and exhaling he snapped, “Let’s hear it! What excuse do you have for depriving me of my son for the past three years?”
Swan gnashed her teeth together and tried to answer with “lady like” words, “Because,” she enunciated, “you Neanderthal Ape, by the time I understood that I was pregnant, I didn’t know where you were, who you were, or even what you looked like!” She took a little breath, “I didn‘t even know your name,” she confessed in a deflated quiet voice. “I would never have kept something like that from you or from our son. I didn’t expect to ever see you again. The only part of you I knew to share was ‘Ace’-- that’s his middle name.”
Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) Page 10
