by Tracy Reed
“I’ll be right up.”
A few minutes later the door bell rang. Olivia walked over and opened the door. “Hello, Miss.”
“Come in.” She stepped to the side and he walked inside.
“Smells good.”
“Yes, it does.” They looked around the sea of flowers. “Where did they come from?”He handed her a black envelope. She took the card out and read it. “Where is he?”
He walked over to the intercom and pressed a button. “Send him up.”
“He’s downstairs?”
Clyde nodded. “He’s been here all afternoon. Miss, I don’t know what happened, but he seems like a nice man.”
“Thank you Clyde, but it’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Thank you.” She opened the door and showed him out as Eric was walking toward her door.
“All the best to you, young man.” Clyde patted him on the shoulder.
Eric stopped at Olivia’s door. “Hello.”
“Hello. Step into my garden.” He walked inside and she closed the door. “What’s the meaning of all this?” She spread her arms out.
“I knew I needed to apologize in a big way.”
“And you thought turning my apartment into a flower shop was the right way to go?”
He stepped closer. “Yes.”
“Eric.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I don’t have to give you a reason. It just isn’t.”
He stepped closer. “I know you’re scared.”
“Scared. What makes you think I’m scared?”
“Your body is screaming.” She folded her arms across her chest. “That right there.”
“What?”
“That,” he pointed to her crossed arms. “That, my dear, is your tell.”
She removed her hands and started backing up. “I resent that remark…I mean observation…comment.”
He smiled. He had her. He stopped walking. “Do you want me to leave? Or do you want to explore what’s going on between us?”
“There’s nothing going on between us.”
“So you want me to leave.”
“I need time…do you know how many questions, emails and calls I got today about your little performance last night?”
“No, and I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“You can’t…I can’t…how…”
He couldn’t believe how flustered she was. This wasn’t the cool, sexy woman he met on the terrace. No. This was a scared little girl playing make believe. He shook his head smiling.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“This mess you created isn’t funny. Don’t you understand, I move in a very tight circle, and your just showing up like that last night caused a problem.”
“From where I sat, it helped a cause.”
“What?”
“Your assistant said without that other bachelor, you were more than likely not going to make your goal. She said it was a good thing I called when I did.”
She rubbed the back of her neck again. “That’s not true.”
“Tell me, why did you bid?”
“What?”
“Why did you bid on me?”
“Everyone on the committee was instructed to bid.”
“Was everyone also told to bid six figures?”
“What? No.”
“So why did you do it?”
“Like you said, I was running short.”
“If that was the case, my lovely, you could have written a check for the difference and no one would have known.” He stepped closer. “No, that was your way of telling that room full of people that you had a new man.”
She laughed out loud. “That is absurd.” She scratched the top of her head. “I don’t have a new man.”
“Don’t you?”
“Just because we’ve gone on a few dates, doesn’t mean we’re a couple, or that you’re my man.” He stepped closer and she grew more agitated. “You need to leave.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I will not tolerate another outburst like last night.”
“Unless I’m mistaken, you were the one that shouted.”
She started laughing. “I did, didn’t I?”
He nodded and laughed with her. He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d get upset.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I had to do something. The way Tina Cartwright was looking at you was scary.”
“Which one was she?”
“The petite, dark-haired woman down front in the white dress.”
He squinted like he was searching his memory. “Oh, yeah. She had a serious look of determination on her face.” He shuddered. “I think she’d hurt me.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She looked around her apartment. “Next time you screw up, just buy me something from Graff.”
“You’re that sure I’m going to mess up again?”
“Yes.” She kissed him.
Chapter 8
Eric was working his game. He was excellent in his role as the perfect boyfriend. He never pushed Olivia. He followed her lead. It had been six weeks since they had made their relationship official. He desperately wanted to sleep with her. He knew once he did, she’d be putty in his hands. However, he knew he had to time his next move precisely. Too early, and she could feel like she was being used. But he felt she had to be wondering why he hadn’t made a sexual move toward her.
On the nights when he wasn’t seeing Olivia, he was at La Porte Noir, with his favorite therapist, Jasmine. He knew it was just her professional name, but the way she counseled him was music to his ears. She was a temptress, seductress and the best sex he had ever had.
Tonight was going to be the night. He planned the perfect date, beginning with dinner at his friend's burlesque joint. He knew the atmosphere would make Olivia a little frisky. When he took her there on their first date, he noticed how excited she got watching the dancing and enjoying the music. Tonight, he booked a private curtained booth and a meal complete with arousing food.
When they stepped inside the elevator, Eric stood in front of Olivia and she slipped her hands around his waist and kissed his neck. Let her think she’s seducing him. That was his plan. Let her think he feels she’s too good for him. Make the fish come to him. As they exited the elevator, she grabbed his hand and walked very close to him. She leaned in and whispered, "I like this place. It makes me feel…it has a very spicy feel."
Spicy. More like sexy and intoxicating. If everything went as Eric planned, he’d be waking up in the morning in Olivia Bennett’s bed.
After dinner and a lot of touching and kissing behind closed curtains at dinner, Eric drove Olivia home. He escorted her inside as usual. When they exited the elevator and he walked her to her door, she opened the door, looked at him and kissed him. “Good night.”
He was floored. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
She tilted her head and gave him a slight smile. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? We normally have a night cap.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t. I’ll call you later. Good night.” She closed the door.
He stood there shocked. No woman had ever done that to him. He stood frozen a few more seconds before ringing the elevator. When the elevator arrived, he rode down in silence, retracing the evening and where he had misjudged Olivia. Everything seemed to be working in his favor. By his calculations, he should be upstairs undressing her. He looked at his watch. No, his mouth should be doing things to her that would have her calling out his name. Instead, he was on his way home.
The elevator stopped and he exited. As he came around the corner, he heard the lobby phone rin
g. He kept walking toward the front door. “Good evening, Clyde.”
“Oh, Dr. King…”
He stopped. “Yes.”
“Miss Bennett said you left something in her apartment.”
“What is it?”
“She didn’t say. She called down and said to tell you to come back up.”
He looked at his watch. He wanted to get to La Porte Noir and catch Jasmine. If he wasn’t going to be spending the night with Olivia, he needed a replacement. Self service wasn’t on the menu tonight.
He exhaled and went back upstairs. He rang the door bell and she opened the door. “Clyde said you called and said I left something.”
“Yes. Come in.”
“I’m not in the mood for games Olivia.”
“Would you please come inside. I don’t want my neighbor to hear us.”
He looked down the hall at the only other door on the floor, remembering the old man he saw a few weeks ago. He stepped inside and stood next to the credenza.
“What did I forget?”
She stepped closer. “You forgot to kiss me good night.” She looked very vulnerable and sexy looking up at him. Her big brown eyes were like a laser piercing his forehead.
He swallowed hard. Now, it was his body speaking. She stepped closer, and he was finding it difficult to resist her. This is what he wanted. He wanted her to make the first move, then he would own her.
“I didn’t forget to kiss you.”
She stepped closer. “Are you angry with me?”
He was angry and excited, but he couldn’t give in to her. He wanted her to beg him. “No.”
She looked him up and down. “That’s not what your body is saying.”
He relaxed his mouth a little. “What’s my body saying?”
She inhaled and looked him in the eye. “Your body is saying, you want me.” He looked away and she turned his face back to her. “It’s also saying you’re very upset that I let you leave.”
“I’m leaving Olivia.” He grabbed the brushed gold door knob.
“Don’t you want to stay and talk?”
“Talk.” He let go of the knob. “No. I don’t want to talk.” It was time for him to change his strategy. Maybe being sweet and sensitive wasn’t the way to go. Maybe she really wanted someone a little more aggressive.
He grabbed her by the waist, pushed her up against the wall, and jammed his tongue inside her mouth. At first she fought him, and then she gave in. The non-verbal war had turned into a passionate fight. He eased his hands down her back, grabbed her behind and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, He walked them into the living room, never removing his mouth. He dropped her on the sofa, took his jacket off and climbed on top of her. The kiss grew more intense and they wrestled on the sofa. He eased his hands under her, pressing her against his body. He was growing more aroused as her hands traveled down his back.
He cupped her breast, kneading and massaging it. She let out a deep moan and it excited him more. He brushed his finger across her firm nipple and she grabbed his hand. He raised up and looked at her. She took his hand and guided it inside her blouse to her other breast. She licked her lip and smiled. He didn’t need commentary. Her body was speaking loud and clear. He pushed her blouse up and kissed her stomach and she cried out. His body began to writhe and dance. He almost had her where he wanted her. He kissed up her stomach to the bottom of her bra. Then he started massaging the firm lace covered flesh. She felt good in his hands. He wanted more of her. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her hard and suddenly, she pushed him away.
“What?”
She sat up, pulled her blouse down and stood up. “Please leave.”
He sat back on the sofa. “Are you serious?”
She stood up. “Here.” She handed him his jacket.
He looked at her, trying to read her body. He hadn’t seen this side of her before. He hesitated a moment. Then he stood up, took his jacket and followed her to the front door. She opened the door and he looked at her, searching for a tell. He had gotten very good at reading her. But tonight, she wasn’t readable.
He wasn’t sure if he should say anything or try to kiss her. He slipped his jacket on and adjusted his collar. The only emotion he could read was anger. He played a card he rarely used in relationships. “I’m sorry.” When he said those words, he saw her body relax. She wasn’t angry, she was embarrassed. “I overstepped and misread the situation.”
She shook her head. “It’s not you. I…I shouldn’t have…”
He closed the door, stepped closer, and brushed her cheek. “Is there something I need to know?”
“No, I’m just…it’s…”
He smiled. “We can take it slow.” He said the words, but was thinking, how much slower? If it wasn’t for his sessions with Jasmine, he’d be bouncing off the wall.
She eased her hands around his waist. “You didn’t do…it’s just…”
“Shhh…we’ll take it slow and when you’re ready…” She nodded. He cupped her face and gently pressed his lips against hers.
Chapter 9
Olivia’s reaction to their kiss took Eric by surprise. He was expecting her to take charge, not scamper back like a scared little girl. Two things came to his mind. One, she had been sexually assaulted, which would explain her hot-cold demeanor. Or, she was a virgin. Part of him was really hoping it wasn’t the virgin thing. He didn’t want the pressure or attachment that occurred with being a woman’s first.
He dodged in and out of traffic, making a fast beeline to La Porte Noir. He had a lot of pent up energy from his date with Olivia. He was in desperate need of an outlet. He pulled into the underground parking lot. He got out and handed his keys to the parking attendant. He pulled out the antique gold key, and the attendant immediately directed him to the matte black colored elevator.
He boarded the elevator, inserted the key and the elevator sprinted down to the next floor. The elevator stopped and opened up to a long dark corridor. The walls were painted the same matte black finish as the elevator. As he walked down the hall, dim sensor lights guided him to the door. At the end of the hall, was another matte black door with a simple antique gold finish lock and key hole. He inserted and turned the key and placed his hand on the door. The built in sensor scanned his hand. A few seconds later, the door opened. He stepped inside and stepped on the shoe outline. Then the door closed. Once he passed the security scan, a screen lifted.
He walked down a dimly lit hall to a heavy black velvet curtain pulled to the left. He continued inside and a woman dressed in a skin tight black sheath dress with a plunging neckline stopped him.
“Good evening, Mr. Black.” Everyone had a code name. Once you got on the elevator, your anonymity kicked in. Eric was known as Mr. Black. Most of the names that La Porte Noir used were codes of classification. In reality, there are twenty Mr. Blacks, fifteen Mr. Coals…as in charcoal, thirty five Mr. Grays and thirty Mr. Whites. The names are based on the clients frequency and membership. La Porte Noir is strictly members only. You can only be invited for membership by another higher ranking member. Eric is a high ranking member in good standing, making at least ten visits a month.
This wasn’t the kind of gentleman’s club where business deals were made. This facility was about self satisfaction. The only deals being made here were arranged prior to the members' arrival. There were no girls on the center stage, or buckets of hot wings. This was more like very expensive therapy.
He had heard about this place from a patient. His patient cited the reason their marriage was falling apart was because her husband was spending most of his free time and money on whores and strippers. Eric wasn’t sure how she knew this was where her husband was coming, because he never saw anyone else when he checked in. There were no servers, and the only stripping was done in private, upon request.
Once you were inside your suite, your therapist took over. Everything was so perfectly orchestrated, you never saw two clients in the hall. When a client
was ready to leave, the therapist alerted the concierge and she made sure the hall was clear and the client’s car was waiting the moment they exited the elevator.
“Good evening, Portia.” She handed him a short, crystal glass filled with two fingers of liquid. He sniffed the contents and inhaled the fine cognac aromas. He took a sip, tossed his head back and sighed. “I needed that.”
She looked at her iPad. “I see you’ve booked a session with Jasmine.” He nodded. “She’s waiting in suite fifteen.”
“Thank you.” He shook her hand and left a fifty dollar bill in her grasp.
“Thank you, and enjoy your evening.” He finished his drink and placed it on the table next to her.
He walked down the stairs, noting the door numbers. On the nights Eric was feeling a little tense, he would come here for some stress relief. This was a sweet setup. In all the time Eric had been coming to La Porte Noir, he never saw anyone else. For all he knew, there was no one else, just Jasmine.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was beautiful, as brothels went. No matter how upscale it looked, it was still a brothel. The walls were in the same matte black finish paint. There was a black velvet sofa off to the side, with a black lacquer coffee table in front of it. He was always amazed at how these rooms looked more like luxury hotel suites than what they really were…sex dens. The only thing not black were the bed linens. The black lacquered four poster bed was dressed in very expensive white sheets. He knew that because he saw the same sheets at Bloomingdales, and was shocked to see how much they cost. He liked the feel so much, he bought a set.
He scanned the room looking for Jasmine, but didn’t see her. He started to take his jacket off and felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He didn’t need to turn around. He recognized her parfum. The spicy floral scent was like a sedative for him. She eased his jacket down his arms, and hung it up in the closet. She walked back and slipped her hands around his waist and inside his pants.
“Seems you’re ready for our session,” she hummed. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. The more she enticed him, the more excited he got. Tonight, he didn’t need to be worked up. Olivia had done a good job of that.
