by J. J. Sorel
He raised his eyebrows and drew a tight smile. “But you hardly know me. I could be an evil motherfucker, for all you know.”
“Well, if you are, you’re a talented evil motherfucker.”
He laughed with a croaky husk while lighting a cigarette. “Even when you talk dirty, Clarissa Moone, you make it sound sweet. Your little witchy face glows delightfully as if you’ve entered a den of sin.”
“I’m not that innocent, you know.”
His eyes glowed playfully. “I know. I’ve watched how you gaze salaciously at Aidan, devouring him with those witchy eyes of yours.”
My face heated. “Have I been that obvious?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But seriously, Chris. Is there anything we can do? You know, rehab? I’d be happy to pay.”
“You’re too generous.” He snorted. “I’m a man born out of my time. I’m doing a Thomas De Quincey.”
“But you’re romanticizing it. Even De Quincey admitted to the drug’s hellish grip on his life.”
“I don’t know what impresses me more, the fact you’ve read De Quincey, or that you care about my well-being,” he said with a dismissive smirk.
“I’ve read heaps of books in my short life.”
“Then you will appreciate that I feel like a ghost passing through life. That it’s only when I paint that I escape something that seems inescapable. And that living in this technological, plastic world fills my waking hours with the need to drift about with my eyes half closed.”
“For an artist whose line is so confident and pure and color palette that, although reckless, is eye-catching and just right, you don’t strike me as someone who walks about with his eyes closed.”
“I couldn’t find those curves or juxtapose color and break every rule nature has thrown at us if I didn’t walk around with my eyes half shut. Can’t you see that? Reality is so beige, square, rectangular shapes that use asymmetry as if it’s making some fucking bold statement for originality. That does my head in. And there’s all the fucking plastic everywhere.”
I had to laugh. His eyes had gone all fiery and wide for the first time.
“We don’t have to go down the path of technology. There are books, art, and beauty.”
“Mm… beauty you say?”
“Well, yes. Europe, for instance, is filled with magnificence. It’s like one big glorious museum.”
“Even that is too sugary sweet for me. I like grungy, dark matter. Beauty is a subjective concept, Clarissa. I find old dilapidated buildings beautiful. I find old broken-down women beautiful, more so than the plastic chicks going around showing off their fake tits and butt implants. Fuck me, can someone shoot the dude who came up with that fucking invention.”
I had to giggle at his acerbic tone. “I am also born out of my time. I have a penchant for all things 1960s.”
He stared at my polka-dot shift and white boots. “I’ve noticed.” His face went serious. “Clarissa, you’re one of a kind, as is Aidan. His generosity and appreciation for art resonates with the Renaissance sensibility. While you, pretty little witch, are clever, talented and true to your soul. You’re so blissfully ethereal, I can imagine you floating through the air.”
I laughed. I loved hearing myself described like that, and Aidan as a Renaissance man—a kind of sweet version of Medici without being underhanded and murderous.
“Speaking of all things plastic, are you still seeing Jessica?”
“Meow…” Chris clawed his fingers. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m not seeing her as such. But she has this annoying tendency to drop in wearing very little under her designer coats. And she gives good head, so I overlook the fact that none of her is real.”
I laughed again. “Chris, you’re one of a kind. And we don’t want to lose you. Life would be dull without you.”
“Bullshit. I’m a tiny dot in the whole scheme of things.” His face cracked into a lopsided grin. “Still, it’s nice to hear your words of encouragement. And hey, there’s no need to worry about me. I’m not drugging out as much as I used to. I’m more of a dabbler these days.”
“That gives me hope, Chris.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tabitha bounced along, her arm linked with mine. Aidan had gone ahead to chat with his pilot.
“I can’t believe we’re about to go to New York together, and in a private plane.”
Not as upbeat as Tabitha, I felt a tiny sizzle of nerves threatening my inner peace and breakfast. I was a nervous flyer, and my tight smile said it all.
“Don’t be scared, Clary. We’ll just sink back a few champagnes, and it will be all good.”
As always, Tabitha’s excitement was contagious, helping push the fear to the back of my mind.
I cast my eyes at my handsome husband-to-be. He stood there with those big arms crossed. His beige chinos showed off that firm butt that, only hours earlier, I’d grasped onto while supping on his thick cock in the shower.
After we boarded the private jet, we made our way into the lounge area. Decked out in red leather, the cabin looked inviting and unexpectedly spacious. Tabitha fell into one of the chairs and moved her head about like a restless child. “Clary, this is incredible. One could live in this.”
“Maybe you could.”
Her face broke into a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll have Aidan holding your hand.”
“Yeah, I guess it will be okay.”
Aidan came in and sat next to me. I felt better already. “Are you okay?”
“Now that you’re here, I am.”
He smiled.
A red-haired stewardess came out and asked us if we wished for refreshment. Tabitha went for the champagne, while I settled for a juice.
*****
I must have squeezed the blood out of Aidan’s hand as the plane bounced up and down before its wheels thudded onto the ground.
Aidan turned and looked at me. “We’re safe, baby.”
I looked up at him, expelling a long, sharp breath. “It’s the take off and the landing that I hate. Not to mention the turbulence.”
His eyes reflected understanding. “I was the same, princess. But the Forces ironed that out of me by making me jump from planes.”
I shivered. “Skydiving—now that would really be a hellish experience.”
Tabitha took her earplugs out. “What’s hellish?”
“Jumping out of a plane.”
Aidan smiled. “You won’t have to do that today. We can walk out.”
I giggled and kissed him on the cheek.
When we were walking along the tarmac, I said, “I’ve never really asked you about your army days and training. It sounds like an adventure.”
“Mm… adventure is a nice way of putting it. Let’s just say it made me what I am today.”
“Then it was miraculous. Because you’re miraculous, Aidan,” I said, wrapping my arm around his waist.
He smiled. “And you, baby, are looking sexy as hell in that little dress and those boots.”
I touched my dress with pride. “I love this little Mondrian dress that my mother bought on Carnaby Street.”
“With those scrumptious shapely legs, you wear it well. It’s eccentric. But I love it with the white boots. Reminds me of something 99 wore.”
I giggled at Aidan’s reference to Get Smart. That was another thing we shared, a deep affection for 1960s television shows.
“Aidan, thanks for letting Tabitha come with us.”
He played with my braid. “I’m going to be pretty flat out during the days. I didn’t like the idea of you roaming the streets alone.”
“What? You thought Tabitha would make a good chaperone?”
Aidan grinned at my incredulous smirk. “Not exactly. And it is risky considering her tendency to collect men everywhere she goes. But I figured there was little trouble you could get into shopping.”
“You’re so generous, Aidan. Tabitha will go nuts in the shops.”
He shrugged. “As
long as you go nuts as well.”
I stroked his white linen shirt. His face was clean-shaven for a change. Not that I minded his five o’clock shadow scraping along my thigh.
An older man was waiting by a black Mercedes.
“Hello, Aidan. Welcome back.”
“Mike, good to see you. How’s your daughter?”
“She’s much better. Thank you, Aidan. It meant everything. If there’s ever anything I can do.”
“This is my fiancée, Clarissa, and Tabitha, a friend,” said Aidan.
We both smiled and greeted him.
By the way Mike looked at me, I could tell Aidan had told him about me.
He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you at last. I’ve heard much about you.”
“Mike will be your driver. He’ll take you wherever you want to go,” said Aidan.
Tabitha sat quietly, but I could see her face was alive with excitement.
The closer we got to the busy city, the thicker the traffic got. There were cars everywhere, making it a gridlock as we remained idling.
It was as if we were at a theme park. Tabitha kept tapping my arm and pointing to designer shops and all the famous sites that we’d only ever seen on TV. We’d never been out of LA, which heightened the experience more so.
As we drove down the famous Fifth Avenue, Tabitha screamed with glee when we passed Dolce and Gabbana, especially after she discovered we were going to be staying close by.
I was more taken with Tiffany’s. “Hey, look, Tabs.” I pointed to the famous locale. “Should we have breakfast there?”
Aidan looked at me. “It’s a jewelry store, princess.”
I giggled. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s. You know, the movie.”
He nodded. “Ah… of course.”
Tabitha chimed in, “If you turn up in one of your little dresses, black, of course, and we tease your hair up into a French roll, then you could almost pull it off. Although we’ll have to strap down those big boobs of yours. Audrey was rather flat chested.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Aidan, drawing me close. He lowered his voice. “I want them free and in my mouth by day’s end.”
I laughed.
Tabitha shook her head. “You two are in heat.”
“Speaking of which, why didn’t Grant come along?” I asked.
“He’s got a gig tonight,” replied Tabitha. “He also has an aversion to New York for some reason.”
“Grant’s Venice, through and through, inside out,” said Aidan.
“I’ve noticed,” said Tabitha dryly.
We pulled up at the curb, and as I looked up, I stared at the sky-hugging heritage building. “Is this where we’re staying?” I asked, stepping onto the pavement.
Aidan said, “Yes, all the way up. We’re at the top.”
“Oh God,” said Tabitha, turning about on the pavement. She didn’t know where to look. There was so much going on. People moved along with purposeful steps, eyes pitched ahead, on a mission. We had to keep dodging them.
In fact, infinite streams of people and dogs cluttered the pavement. I couldn’t believe how many canines there were. I peered across the wide road to Central Park, which was where I imagined they’d been for their daily walk.
My eyes remained fixed on the abundance of green manicured trees that made for a relaxing juxtaposition to all the concrete everywhere.
“Central Park,” I crooned. “I finally get to see it.”
“Later on, today, we’ll take a walk, angel,” said Aidan.
“I would love that,” I said. Bubbles of anticipation that started from the moment I saw Tiffany’s shivered through me, with Tabitha’s contagious elation only adding to it.
The marble floor echoed under our feet as we made our way to the elevator.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” I said.
“Me, too,” said Tabitha.
Aidan’s lips curled into a faint smile. He was just happy to see me content. We’d been through much in recent times. For Aidan, this trip was about me letting my hair down and enjoying myself.
Tabitha and I ran around the penthouse suite, oohing and aahing at how grand and large it was. It had enough rooms to house a large family.
Aidan stood by and watched with a smile. He loved to see the excited child in me.
“Okay, girls, this is where I leave you,” said Aidan, coming toward me. I fell into his strong arms. “I’ve got a heavy schedule of meetings, angel. Have fun. I’ll call you when I’m done. Okay?” His eyes glowed with a warm, gentle smile. “Now, don’t get into trouble,” he said, waving his finger at me with a mock authoritative expression.
Tabitha said, “I’ll make sure that she doesn’t.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We headed for lunch first. Although Mike had offered to drive us around, we decided to walk in order to soak up the ambience of the bustling avenue.
An appetizing aroma of garlic, hot dogs, and burgers floated through the air, which made my tummy rumble. We’d lunched on the plane, but I’d only managed a few bites of a sandwich after nerves robbed my appetite. Aidan, on the other hand, with that healthy appetite of his, had enjoyed a three-course meal.
As we moved along, I noticed the black Mercedes following us. I supposed Aidan had requested Mike keep an eye on us. I didn’t mind. After what had happened back at the estate, having someone watching over us, offered comfort.
Nevertheless, I made sure that I didn’t pack the drama in with my mental baggage. Determined not to allow it to accompany me to New York, I’d pushed it away decisively.
Just as we were about to pass the Dolce and Gabbana emporium, Tabitha stopped. “Can we go in there, please?”
“I’m starving, Tabs. Let’s grab something, then we’ll go in. What do you think?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
We looked about for somewhere. It didn’t take long before we came across an attractive intimate café.
“How’s this?” Tabitha pointed.
I peered through the window and was instantly drawn to the establishment’s moody appeal via the black-and-white photos, memorabilia, and artefacts. “I like it. Let’s go in there.”
The menu was Italian, which suited me. I was in the mood for carbs, so I ordered spaghetti Bolognese and salad. Tabitha, who’d eaten a full lunch on the plane, opted for coffee and cake.
As we sat at the window table, watching the grand parade go by in their varied shades of fashion, a couple of men approached our table.
Dressed in stylish suits, they looked to be in their mid-thirties. Tabitha was all smiles and accommodating, which occasioned a kick from me under the table. I did not feel like the company of strange men.
Meanwhile, impervious to my subtle entreaty, Tabitha smiled sweetly at their banter, while I sighed silently with frustration. Considering Tabitha’s insatiable appetite for attention, it was only predictable that we would attract the attention of stray men.
“Right, you’re from LA, then?” asked the tall, blond, handsome stranger.
Having placed a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth, I had to swallow it and wipe my mouth before answering. “Yes. We’re just here for a couple of days. My fiancée has some meetings to attend.” I made sure I emphasized the fiancée bit and even flashed the impressive jewel beaming off my finger.
His face lit up with appreciation when he noticed the large diamond. Since we were in the ritzier part of New York, I suspected that they were accustomed to unabashed displays of wealth in the shape of big dazzling rocks.
The tall, dark, and handsome one was clearly taken with Tabitha. His eyes moved from her beautiful rosy-cheeked face to her cleavage and back again.
“Are you here with your fiancée, too?” he asked.
A sweet little curl formed on her lips as she shook her head.
“Do you mind if we join you for a drink?”
Shit. We’d been in New York for one minute, and the invites had already started.
Without consu
lting me, Tabitha nodded.
I jumped in quickly. “We’ve got a tight schedule, I’m afraid.” A subtle narrowing of my eyes cast a “what the fuck?” at Tabitha.
“What about later on?” the dark-haired man asked. I could see he was dying to get with Tabitha. While his friend, whose eyes had not left my breasts, remained quiet.
Determined not to give him anything, I remained deadpan—no pretty-girl smile, or breathy responses, like my cock-teasing friend was doing.
Tabitha gazed at me and bit her lip. She wanted to. I could see it.
I answered for her. “Might be difficult. Her fiancée’s joining us for dinner.”
Now it was my turn to get kicked under the table.
When they got the message and left, Tabitha said, “Now, why did you go and do that?”
“What do you mean? It was blatantly obvious he wanted you. He wasn’t going to catch up and talk about the weather, was he?”
She laughed. “He was sexy, though.”
“Tabs, need I remind you that you’re engaged to be married, and that your future husband’s son is here with us.”
“Yeah, I know. But a little pre-marital fling wouldn’t hurt.”
“Fuck, Tabi. You’re a restless little minx.”
“I know.” She cast her eyes down at her hands, then she looked up at me with a big smile. “And loving it.”
I could do little but laugh. She was ridiculously changeable.
She stood up. All was forgotten, and Tabitha was back into party mode. “Are we ready to rock n’ roll?”
“Where to first?” I asked.
“Where do you think?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“Um… let me guess. Does it start with a D?”
“Yeah, you bet. Let’s go a go-go,” she said, back her childish self. She’d forgotten all about Mr. Knight-In-Shining-Armani.
When we were greeted in Italian by a bevy of shop assistants as excitable as young children, it seemed as if we’d stepped into a nightclub. The only things missing were pulsing lights. The music was there, however, pumping away loudly while the staff danced about the customers.
“Do you think they’re on cocaine?” whispered Tabitha while dragging me by the hand straight to a rack of jeans.
