Title Page
THE EMERALD ROOM
Four Sexy Encounters Of Older Men With Younger Women
By
Scarlett Knight
Publisher Information
The Emerald Room published in 2012
by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Scarlett Knight 2012
The right of Scarlett Knight to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The Emerald Room
The Emerald Room bar was one of the classier joints where Nate got paid to play these days. Every Friday for the past two months, he put on a jacket and bowtie and sat at their shiny baby grand, tickling the keys for his two-hour set. It was a hell of a lot better than some of the trashy spots he was forced to waste his talent in, places whose patrons were so noisy and crude, where his music drowned beneath the sound of shrill laughter and glass breaking.
But not this place.
Aside from the nice paycheck, and aside from the sleek marble-topped bar and tall cherry wood seats, and aside from the polite, well-dressed folks who not only listened to him but tipped as well, there was the goddess.
She always showed up when he was about thirty minutes into his set, usually around the time he was playing soundtrack tunes from movies like The Godfather. In she’d stride, wearing one of her killer dresses. Sometimes it was the little black one, her hair cascading like a golden wave down her bare back. Other times she wore the sparkling red number. Tonight she donned a silver gown with a slit all the way up to the top of her right leg, the lacy band of her stocking peeking out whenever she moved just right on the barstool.
God, did Nate have a thing for stockings.
Her black stilettos only made her heavenly legs even more mouthwatering, the way they caused the calf muscles to flex just right. In between songs he took a sip of his bourbon and loosened his tie. To imagine those legs wrapped around him...it was the fuel for many a fantasy after he went home, too chicken shit to talk to her.
But tonight would be different. Tonight, he’d talk to her. He’d have the balls to approach her the way the foolish younger men always found something to say when they sat next to her. She was always accommodating to them, flashing that million-dollar grin as she humored them in their advances. She’d share a couple of drinks, but Nate never saw her leave the bar with any of them. She always left alone.
Last Friday, she finished her last glass of wine and gathered her purse to go before Nate was finished with the gig. And much to his delight, she stopped by the baby grand for the fist time and dropped a bill into his glass tip jar. He couldn’t have cared less about the money. She smiled down at him, her red lipstick accenting such a full, kissable mouth, and she told him she enjoyed his playing. Her voice was like one of those belonging to a James Bond girl: feminine, yet almost husky - a bedroom voice.
Stupid ass he was, he’d been too dumbstruck to say anything back. Only looked up at her and nodded. He’d chastised himself all week for that. But he’d make up for it tonight. He’d go sit by her during his break and offer to buy her a drink. He owed her that much for being the center of his universe.
Now to gather a fool’s amount of courage. Maybe another gulp of alcohol would help.
He’d been told he was still attractive. Running was one of his favorite pastimes, and it showed. He was in better shape than most guys half his age. He had those big chocolate-colored eyes paired with longish brown hair (just slightly streaked with silver) that women seemed to find handsome. Too bad he didn’t have that arrogant flair they also seemed to like. Sure, he was confident enough. You had to be if you were going to make it anywhere as a musician. But that whole “testosterone-driven asshole” gene, at least toward women, he didn’t have it and didn’t care to have it. He preferred the “don’t give a shit” attitude. Maybe it was something that just came with age.
Don’t give a shit. Don’t give a shit. Don’t give a shit.
He ran the mantra through his head as he took one last swig of his bourbon and headed to the bar. So far, there had been three of the younger gentlemen who tried to hit on her tonight. She hadn’t been especially receptive to any of them, other than her usual smile and what appeared to be small talk. Nate had to feel a little sorry for them. No doubt their inexperienced cocks throbbed for her against the crotch of their trousers as much as his did. Damn, his prick was already reacting by the time he reached the bar and stood close enough to touch her. There were times he thought he was losing his sex drive, but seeing her transported him back to his most hormone-driven days.
He had to fight within not to succumb to her intoxicating perfume, not to run his hand along the top of her stocking, not to pull her toward him and feel her firm breasts pressed against his chest. Yeah, the erection was pretty inevitable at this point.
Taking in a breath, he ran a dozen stupid conversation starters through his head, from “How are you?” to “You look lovely” to “Hi, I’m Nate,” when she interrupted him with her own greeting.
“If you’re here to offer me a drink, the answer is no,” she said, her voice the same lightly husky dream as it was last night.
“Oh,” he said. He blinked, taken aback. She wasn’t even looking at him, only staring into her wine glass with a coy smile on those red lips. “Okay. Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Not a problem. I’ve just had quite enough Pinot for the evening.” Then she looked at him. His heart kicked into high gear as her sea-colored irises glimmered, her eyes lined in sparkling black. “Is your break the usual fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Good. Then we have enough time.” She took another sip of her wine, her intense, long-lashed stare not leaving his wide gaze. “Follow me.”
Enough time for what? She began walking toward the back of the bar. He let out a shaky breath and tried not to let his fantasies get away with him. Whatever she was doing had to be innocent. They didn’t even know each other. She was half his age, probably saw him as more of a father figure. Safe. Someone she trusted not to put a hand on her. Oh, god, what the hell was he thinking? She probably had no clue he’d been dreaming about her since the first night he started playing here. Maybe she wanted a cigarette? Too bad he quit years ago. But for her, he’d buy a pack and start up again. Fuck the consequences. Hell, he’d light himself on fire just to have her look into his eyes again.
She turned a corner and walked down a long hall, its plush red carpet muffling the sound of her high heels. Her ass, an ample, gorgeous specimen of one, gently sashayed as she strode forward like a woman on a mission. When she turned left and pushed open a swinging door, Nate didn’t even stop to look where they were going. It was only when he was inside and face-to-face with a row of marble sinks and fancy stalls that he realized they were in the ladies’ room.
“What are we - ” He stopped as he heard the sound of a lock click and swallowed down the lump of excitement threatening to take away his voice. As he turned around, he found her standing with her back against the door, the deadbolt firmly latched into place. “I, uh, I didn
’t get your name.”
She bit her lower lip, pressing against its fullness with perfectly straight, white teeth. “You can call me C.J.”
“C.J.” Well, C.J., I am officially rocking a hard-on. Please, god, tell me you’re about to do something about it. “And that stands for?”
“Whatever you want it to.” She lowered her eyelids until she had that smoky Marilyn thing going on. “Come here.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. He approached her with a fair amount of caution, not because he was afraid something was wrong with her, but because he was worried about doing something stupid that might stop this magical moment from happening. When he reached out his hand and felt the smooth silk of her hair, she was the one who leaned in for the kiss.
God, blondes did have more fun, didn’t they? She explored his mouth with slow sensuality and pressed that hourglass figure up against his. Saints be praised, she actually let out a moan when he pressed his hard cock up against her and backed her against the door. He nibbled on those lips with the finessed skill of many years. Then he trailed a line of kisses to her ear and stayed there, careful not to disturb the dangling jewels as he bit on the lobe.
Then, out of nowhere, she was gone. Or rather, lowered.
On her knees, she worked at his pants, yanking at the zipper, reaching within the folds to pull out his cock. It had been so long. A shameful amount of time, really. He’d stayed so busy so he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that he was alone, that not one but two marriages had failed, and his prime dating time was just about over. Never had he imagined having a chance with such a creature of beautiful sexuality. The softness of her hands threatened to make him come instantly, but he wasn’t about to end this so soon if he could help it.
Christ, maybe he wasn’t going to be able to help it.
Stroking him, she coated his cock with the beads of precum that had already leaked out the tip. She picked up the rhythm long enough to drive him to the edge, only to slow down again at just the right moment. A shudder passed through him as he looked down at her, and she stared back up at him with a carnal gleam intensifying her gaze.
This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Any minute now he’d wake up in his shitty apartment with his hand around his cock and realize it was only a dream.
He pinched his arm. But he didn’t wake up.
“Oh,” he whispered, trying not to fucking shout it was so amazing. “Oh, god.” He pressed a hand on the door above her to keep himself from falling. “Oh, baby, I might - I think I might come!”
“That’s good, baby, I want you to come.”
Then she put her mouth on him. That did it. As her tongue swirled around the length of his prick, she gently cupped his balls. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt that old, familiar tingling start in his toes and build up like a sonic blast as it rushed up out through his dick and into her mouth. The world went black. Stars infiltrated his vision.
C.J. stood and licked the corner of her lips. Dear lord, she swallowed. She fucking swallowed. Damn it, she couldn’t get any hotter. She winked at him and made her way over to one of the mirrors above the sinks and pulled out a tube of crimson lipstick from her small clutch purse.
“I, uh, I gotta sit down.” Out of breath, Nate pressed his back against the wall. He let his body slide all the way to the floor, his deflating cock still hanging out of his trousers. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. You looked like you needed it.” She turned to him, her newly applied lipstick perfectly in place. “See you around.”
Then she walked up to the door, unlocked it, and left. Nate sat there, stunned, for a moment longer before remembering he was in fact in the women’s restroom, not the men’s. He quickly shoved everything back into place and zipped his pants. Catching a glimpse of his flushed face in the mirror, he cursed aloud.
“’Thank you?’ Really? Is that the best you could’ve done? Fuck.”
He had to at least get her number. No point in holding back out of fear now. She liked him enough to do this for him, so maybe he actually had a chance at seeing her again, getting to know her, writing her a song - the possibilities that suddenly opened up before him gave his life color once again. Bolting out of the bathroom, he ran his hands through his hair and raced down the hallway, back toward the bar. But C.J. had already gone.
Panicked, he waved down the bartender, a tall, gray-headed guy named Stephen, who was also the person who gave Nate his check at the end of his gigs. Stephen placed the tumblers he’d been drying on the shelf and casually made his way to Nate.
“What can I get for you? You’ve got about ten minutes until your next set.”
Wow, he thought. I lasted less than five goddamn minutes in there with her. He hoped she didn’t think he was like that all the time. If she gave him the chance, he’d last as long as she needed him to.
“C.J.,” Nate said. “Did you see where she went?”
“Oh, she’s gone. Paid in cash and had to leave. Said she was in a hurry.”
“Shit!”
“Anything wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” The thought occurred to him to run out to the parking lot and chase her, but he quickly dismissed it out of fear she’d think he was a stalker. “I just wasn’t finished talking to her, that’s all. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have her phone number, do you?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Sure don’t.”
“Damn. Worth a try.”
Stephen gave him a knowing look and raised his left eyebrow. “I do, however, have a message for you.”
“She left a message for me? Before she left?”
Stephen nodded, a grin creeping across his face. “You’re a lucky damn guy to have caught her eye. She wanted me to tell you she’d be back next week, same time, as usual. Said she hoped you’d have time to go out after your set, that she hoped you’d be able to return her favor, whatever that meant.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “What happened between the two of you? I’ve seen dozens of men try to catch her interest but they fail every time. You obviously did something right.”
Nate was lost himself in a cloud of thought, his mind spinning with gratitude, curiosity, excitement, and lust. When he spoke, his voice was distant, but the smile on his face revealed the joy quickly settling into his breast:
“Maybe she just likes my music.”
Conference Connection
After riding alone to the top floor of the hotel, Mia stepped out of the elevator and scanned the doors closest to her so that she’d know which way to go. The numbers were increasing to her right. She took in a deep breath and went that way.
Dark fingers, the color of which she’d heard described as “exotic” curled around the paper napkin Travis had written on. His handwriting was sharp and sure of itself, much like the tall, middle-aged man. Simple instructions told her what to do: Come to Room 713 at ten o’clock, if you’d like to continue.
Nobody would know exactly what they were continuing if they hadn’t been in her red high-heeled shoes only three hours prior. She’d been in attendance of the annual conference for three days now; the week-long event was never something she looked forward to. Typically dull, the only good thing about them was that she got to get out of town and away from work.
But that was the past. Now, there was another good thing: Travis.
She’d never been interested in older men before. A driven woman in her mid-twenties, she tended to go after guys within a few years of her age. But there was something about Travis that brought out another side to her.
She’d met him right after he gave that stellar presentation on the first day, having held the audience of hundreds in total focus. He’d signed a copy of his book for her and talked with her about the novel’s focus: getting what you want. After she’d run into him again later that evenin
g at the bar, they’d met there nightly, talking about everything from the weather to world news.
Mia liked to be in control of her relationships, even if they were one-night-stands. She enjoyed serving as the aggressor, and with men in their twenties, it was easy. Travis, however, with his elegant height and his searing blue eyes and his thick salt-and-pepper hair, had a way of turning the tables. He made Mia almost stupefied with desire for him, made her feel much younger and powerless, and she found she liked it very much.
As she walked down the hall and grew closer to his suite, her heartbeat quickened much like a little rabbit’s might when being pursued by a big bad wolf. Travis had made it crystal clear what he wanted from her this evening when he’d leaned toward her, suavely scooting their drinks to the side, and took her soft, caramel-skinned hand in his. The way he’d rubbed the pressure points had sent jolts of relaxation and arousal through her body. And those eyes, God, those eyes, so different from her deep, forest green orbs that peered out from her face. His eyes were magnetic, blue lightning that froze her in her thoughts and trapped her in their power.
No wonder he had literally written the book on getting what one wanted.
She took a deep breath when she reached his room and tried to remember a time when she’d ever been this nervous about anything. It was impossible because she’d always been in control before. And now she was letting someone else take the lead. Before she lifted her hand to knock, she looked down to do a quick inventory of the sexy red satin dress she’d worn to the bar earlier. No stains or smudges could be seen. She’d applied a hint more of the rose-scented perfume to her neck prior to leaving her room and hoped it was enough - Travis had said he loved the smell.
Knocking, she composed herself and put on her best game face. Sure, he had her in the palm of his hand, but she wasn’t going to totally let him know it. When he opened the door wearing a long, dark blue bathrobe, she thought her knees would give out.
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