Naughty

by Velvet

  “Yes. I’m meeting my husband. The name is Reed, party of two,” she said, looking over the maître d’s shoulder into the dining room.

  He scanned his clipboard. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a reservation for Reed. Could it be under another name?”

  “No.” What the hell is going on? Don’t tell me Jacob forgot to make the reservation, Naomi fumed silently.

  “Would you care to put your name on the wait list?” he asked, running his finger down several names. “I have an eight-thirty reservation.”

  “No, thank you.” She smiled faintly, feeling totally embarrassed. Naomi slunk back to the lobby and wearily sat on the sofa. She had half a mind to go over to Jacob’s office and rip him a new opening.

  How dare he have me come all the way into the city and not have the decency to show up? She looked at her watch; it was six-fifty. “I’ll give him until seven, and then I’m out of here.”

  Seven o’clock came and went, and she was still sitting on the sofa, feeling too dejected to move. She heard a faint ringing, but it stopped, only to start again. Naomi opened her purse, realizing that the source of the ringing was her cell phone. It’s probably Jacob calling after the fact, to say he’s running late, she thought. But when she looked at the caller ID, she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Naomi,” said a husky male voice.

  She hesitated a moment, trying to recognize the caller. “Yes? Who is this?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Jacob?” she asked, surprised at his tone. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, don’t you recognize my voice?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  “Why are you whispering?” She was annoyed. “And where are you? I’ve been sitting in this lobby for over thirty minutes and I’m not waiting another second longer. You can have dinner by your damn self. I’m going home.” Naomi’s voice raised a few decibels. Not wanting to cause a scene, she immediately lowered her tone.

  “Whoa, whoa. Calm down, Naomi, I’m—”

  She cut him off. “I know, you’re still at work. Yeah, Jacob, I know the routine by now. Good-bye.” Naomi pulled the phone away from her ear, searching for the end button, but she could hear him yelling through the mini earpiece.

  “Naomi, Naomi, don’t hang up!” he shouted.

  “What is it, Jacob?” she asked, putting the phone back to her ear.

  “I’m not in the office; I’m—”

  “Then where the hell are you?” she asked in a tight voice.

  “If you stop cutting me off, I’ll tell you.”

  She held the phone. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m at the hotel.”

  Naomi looked around the lobby. “Don’t play with me, Jacob. You’re not at the hotel. I’ve been here since six-thirty and if you were here, I would have seen you by now. Jacob, you’re such a liar. You lure me out of the house with a false promise of a romantic evening; now you’re—”

  This time he cut her off. “Naomi, please be quiet and listen closely.”

  She didn’t say one word. Because whatever he had to say, she wasn’t interested in hearing. She held the phone as he continued to talk.

  “Take the elevator to the sixth floor and come to six-ten. I’ve booked a suite for us.”

  Naomi was shocked and nearly dropped the phone. She couldn’t believe her ears. Jacob had taken the initiative to seduce his wife.

  “Hello, are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” she finally said, finding her voice.

  “Well, come upstairs, so I can make good on my promise,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  “I’m on my way,” she answered with renewed hope, and bounced off the sofa and headed to the bank of elevators.

  In the elevator, Naomi’s mind was racing faster than Flo Jo in the hundred-meter dash. She was still having a hard time believing that Jacob had finally taken the initiative to resurrect their love life without her prodding him. She was giddy with excitement. The elevator stopped on six and she stepped out. The corridor was just as spectacular as the lobby, with whimsical colored carpeting in bright geometric shapes, and ornate prints hung on mustard-colored walls. Naomi followed the arrow pointing the way to room six-ten. When she reached the room, the door was ajar.

  “Hello? Jacob?” She gently pushed the door farther open.

  “Follow the trail,” was all he said.

  Naomi stepped into the suite and shut the door. The room was aglow with flickering candlelight, with Norah Jones singing softly in the background. She followed the trail of white tulip petals down a brief marble hallway leading into the bedroom. Unlike most boutique hotels, this bedroom was huge. A king-sized bed with a stark white down comforter didn’t begin to fill up the space. There was a chaise lounge in one corner and a teak leather-top vanity in the other. The room was also bathed in candlelight. Naomi looked around but didn’t see Jacob.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, approaching her from behind. He slipped his arms around her waist. “I keep my promises,” he whispered in her ear, and then began kissing the back of her neck. He stepped in closer and Naomi could feel his naked erection on her backside.

  Naomi was flabbergasted. Her workaholic husband had turned into Don Juan.

  As he began grinding against her rear, she could feel herself getting moist. In one smooth motion, Jacob reached underneath her dress, removed her panties, and began to tease her clitoris. “Oh, Jacob,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

  “Take your dress off,” he whispered.

  Naomi fumbled with the ties of the dress as Jacob brought her close to a digital orgasm. “Yes, that’s it!” she moaned as he hit her G-spot.

  “I want to fuck you by the window,” he whispered.

  Her mind was reeling, “What?”

  Standing there in only her bra, he walked her over toward the floor-to-ceiling window, unhooked her bra from the back, and began massaging her nipples. He then bent Naomi over the vanity, spread her cheeks apart, and inserted his rock-hard penis.

  “Yes, yes, baby,” she cried out, on the brink of orgasm.

  “Mir . . . Naomi, you feel so good,” he moaned in a low, nearly inaudible voice, almost calling his wife Mira.

  “What?” She couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. And she didn’t care, because he was speaking volumes with each deep thrust.

  He made love to Naomi in front of the floor-to-ceiling window like a man possessed. He usually treated her with kid gloves, but not tonight. And she wasn’t complaining. It had been a long time since she’d had multiple orgasms. Maybe he was guilt-ridden about working long hours and moving his sister in with them without consulting her. Guilt-ridden or not, he was inspired. She didn’t care to know who or what was the reason behind his inspiration as long as it signaled the end of their sexual drought.

  19

  “DO YOU need for me to bring anything?” Kennedy asked. She was having dinner at Nigel’s apartment, and didn’t know what to bring. Usually men brought women flowers or candy, but she didn’t know what a woman brought to a man’s apartment for the first time.

  “Yeah,” Nigel said, chuckling, “you can bring something for me.”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “You,” he said, in a seriously seductive voice.

  Nigel and Kennedy had been dating for two weeks, six days, and eighteen hours, but who was counting? “In that case, I’d better get a move on. See you in a bit,” she said, smiling. It had been years since a man had been head over heels for Kennedy, and she was elated. The thought of having a fifty/fifty relationship, not seventy/thirty, with her on the losing end of the percentage, made her happy.

  “Don’t worry about a parking space. I know how crazy parking can be in this neighborhood. I’ll have the building attendant park your car.” Not only was Nigel handsome, he was also extremely accommodating and thoughtful.

  “Okay.” She hung up the phone and raced to the bathroom to shower. Warm water pulsated from the dual showerhea
ds onto her body, instantly relaxing her muscles. Standing underneath the pulsating spray, she was transported back to the evening of their first date.

  Usually reserved for momentous occasions, Tru was one of New York’s premier five-star restaurants. That’s why Kennedy was taken aback when Nigel said he had made an eight o’clock reservation for their first date. The instant they walked through the black, cloaklike drapes into the restaurant, the outside world seemed to vanish like a magician’s sleight of hand trick. The focal point of the bar area, an exquisite cobalt sculpture of a woman’s torso, was breathtaking. They were immediately whisked away to the dining room, where original pieces of artwork adorned stark white walls. A velvet cube was placed next to Kennedy’s chair the moment she sat down. Initially she thought it was a footstool, but surmised that it was too tall to fit comfortably underneath the table to rest her feet on. Then one of the many well-versed waiters said, “For your purse, madame.”

  Kennedy was impressed. She had dined throughout the world, but never had she been offered a stool for her purse. And that was just the beginning. The wait staff was synchronized in their service. When one disappeared into the kitchen, another would appear at their table with an edible masterpiece. The French-influenced haute cuisine was presented with dramatic fanfare, from the caviar staircase tier to the tuna, salmon, and yellowtail tartars served on an oblong mirror. Over entrées of black bass with cannellini beans and milk-fed veal with a porcini mushroom sauce, Kennedy learned that Nigel was the premier chemist at FACEZ, the cosmetics conglomerate. The entire dining experience was long and drawn out, which was perfect for the dreaded “getting to know you” phase of their date. Over dessert, Nigel gave her the abridged version of how he had been jilted by his bride-to-be three days before their wedding.

  “And you know what the funny thing is?” he asked rhetorically. “I didn’t even see it coming,” he said, stirring raw sugar into his cappuccino with a faraway look in his eyes.

  Kennedy saw the sad expression on his face and wanted to kiss his pain away, but instead asked, “What was her excuse for calling off the wedding?”

  “She said that she felt like a fraud marrying me and couldn’t go through with the wedding.”

  “A fraud?” Kennedy crinkled her nose. “What did she mean by that?”

  “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to bore you with all the details,” he said, without any emotion.

  Kennedy couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact his voice was, like being jilted was no big deal. If she had been dumped days before her wedding, she would probably still be devastated. “You sound so calm and collected about the entire ordeal.”

  “Well, that was a year ago. Trust me, I’ve had more than a few private pity parties. Life goes on no matter what you’re going through, so either you get with the program or drown in your misery. Besides”—he stared directly into her eyes—“I’m looking toward the future, which is looking quite good”—he winked—“not the past.”

  The word future resonated within Kennedy’s soul; she could definitely envision a future with Nigel Charles. He was gorgeous, intelligent, and successful. In an instant, her mind fast-forwarded to their engagement, wedding day, and the birth of their first child. Within sixty seconds, she’d planned out their entire life, like most women do when they meet “the one.”

  Then he turned the tables and started peppering her with questions about her past. “As beautiful as you are, I’m surprised you’re not married with children,” he said, glancing down at her ring finger.

  Without sounding like the walking wounded, she told him about a few failed relationships, sans the gory details of how she fucked them too soon, bringing the end to a potential long-term union.

  “Their loss is my gain,” he said, with a sly smile spreading across his handsome face.

  He knows just what to say, Kennedy thought. This was going way too smoothly, when it suddenly occurred to her that he might have the usual ulterior motives in mind. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping with you tonight,” she blurted out. Though she had fantasized that her trusty vibrator was his dick, plunging in and out of her multiple orifices, Kennedy didn’t want to go back on her self-imposed rule. And if she put him on notice, then the chances of them sleeping together too soon were nil.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, with a perplexed expression.

  The moment the words flew out of her mouth, she regretted every single syllable and clumsy consonant. Now he probably thinks I’m a paranoid schizophrenic off of my meds, she thought, and then said, “I don’t have casual sex anymore,” trying to explain her sudden outburst.

  “I think we already established that fact on the plane. Relax.” He reached across the table and patted the top of her hand. “I’m not looking for random sex. You’re much more than a random booty call. I’m also looking for more than just sex. I’ve been ready to settle down for a while, and thought that I had found my future wife, but she turned out to be . . .” he stopped himself.

  “She turned out to be what?” Kennedy wanted to know.

  “Never mind, I really don’t want to talk about her. I’d much rather talk about you,” he said with a smile. “So tell me, how long have you been flying?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “For too long. It’s getting to be a bore. Initially flying off to different countries was fascinating, but now it’s become routine.”

  “Are you thinking about leaving the airline?”

  “Actually I have. Lately I’ve been thinking about either going back to school, or starting my own import/export business. If I start my own business, I won’t necessarily need a degree in merchandising. I’ll probably just take a few business classes instead. I’ve shopped all over the world and have a pretty good eye for unique finds, so I’m leaning toward import/export. I like the idea of running my own little company, instead of answering to someone else.”

  “I know what you mean. There’s nothing like your own business, and being in control of your own destiny.” He then reached over and lightly touched her necklace. “Where did you buy that? It’s quite unique.”

  “Thank you,” she blushed. “I bought it in Nigeria. It’s handmade from eighteen-karat gold, and the diamonds are rough cut, which gives the necklace an ornate look. I’m surprised you noticed. Most men don’t pay attention to detail.”

  “Well, I’m not like most men. And I notice everything about you, Kennedy Bryant,” he said, and then winked.

  Kennedy felt her cheeks getting rosy. She was enjoying his attention. Nigel was a great conversationalist, and she was feeling comfortable in his presence, as if they had known each other for years.

  Their conversation eased the apprehension that had begun to build within her, leading up to the obligatory good-night kiss, which usually led to sex on the first date. Reassured that he wasn’t going to connive his way into her panties—which, feeling the way she did about Nigel, she would have let him—she leaned back and enjoyed the rest of what was truly a memorable evening at Tru.

  NIGEL LIVED ON the tony East Side. The twenty-six-story, twin apartment buildings were reminiscent of the “Glass Houses” designed by famed architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. The parking attendant must have been on the lookout for Kennedy. The moment she pulled in front of the building, he magically appeared at the driver’s side.

  “Are you here for Mr. Charles?” he asked knowingly.

  “Yes,” she said, stepping out of the car.

  “I’ll park your car. Call down when you’re ready to leave,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “Kennedy Bryant, for Nigel Charles,” she announced to the doorman. Based on the waiting attendant, she was sure that the doorman also knew who she was, but followed protocol just the same.

  “You can go up, Ms. Bryant, he’s expecting you. It’s apartment 2510. The elevators are straight ahead,” he said, pointing the way.

  “Thanks.”

  Alone in the elevator, Kennedy began to fidget with her skirt
. Suddenly it seemed too tight. The minute she pulled the right side down, the left side rose up an inch. She looked down at her blouse and it, too, seemed too tight. She could see the imprint of her nipples against the silk fabric, even though she wore a bra, and the sight of them was making her hot. She and Nigel had gone out several times since their dinner at Tru, but had yet to make love, only juicy good-night kisses. This would be their first time alone without a hovering wait staff. Kennedy was extremely attracted to Nigel. She was getting bored with her vibrator and wanted the real thing, but it was still too early to consummate their relationship.

  An anxiety that she hadn’t expected crept into her body as the elevator neared his floor. She needed to take the edge off before entering his apartment and spontaneously jumping his bone. She pushed the stop button, hiked up her skirt, and stuck her hand into her panties. Kennedy immediately located her clit, and started flicking it with her index finger. The rapid back-and-forth motion was making her come faster than she normally did, and she spread her legs farther apart to get better access. She was working her finger so fast that she had to hold onto the railing with her free hand in order to keep her balance. Kennedy had been masturbating since high school, and was an expert at pleasuring herself.

  “Excuse me, miss, is everything okay?”

  The voice booming through the speaker jolted Kennedy out of her state of masturbation back to reality. She quickly removed her hand and silently prayed that there were no hidden cameras in the ceiling. “Yes, everything is fine,” she spoke into the air, and pressed stop again to restart the elevator.

  The doors slid open on the twenty-fifth floor, and Kennedy stepped out of the car a little calmer, now that she had released some tension. She walked toward Nigel’s apartment and rang the doorbell.

  “Hey there”—he swung open the door—“what took you so long? I was getting ready to call out the bloodhounds.” Stepping forward, he enveloped Kennedy in a tight bear hug. “You feel so good,” he whispered in her ear. Releasing her, he took a half step back. “And you look good too,” he said, zeroing in on her too-tight blouse and stepping aside. “Come on in.”