by Velvet
“That sounds great.” Tyler couldn’t wait to meet with Mira one-on-one. They really didn’t have a chance to talk at the book club.
“Okay, I’ll give you a call then,” Mira said, and hung up.
“What did I tell you?” Jacob said. “She’s always working.”
“Not a problem. I totally understand,” Mira said, and rose to leave.
Once she was gone, Jacob gathered the file folders, but couldn’t get Naomi’s chipper voice out of his mind. He had banked that their lovemaking would make her forget about his impromptu London trip, and after hearing her voice he was certain that it had, or at least he hoped so.
30
KENNEDY HAD only spoken to Nigel once since their fiasco of a lunch, and during that call, he had rushed her off the phone, saying that he was heading into a meeting, and that he would call her back later that night, which he didn’t. She tried not to take it personally, since she knew how busy he was trying to develop the formula for a new skin care line. They hadn’t talked about it in detail, but she had overheard enough of his phone calls to surmise that he was up to his neck with deadlines. She wanted to erase her schizophrenic behavior at lunch, so she called and invited him over to her place to make up. Kennedy didn’t like that he had walked away that day upset with her, and she wanted desperately to make amends. She didn’t want to lose him, and realized that it was time she gave him the prize inside her Cracker Jack box. Nigel accepted, but told her that it would have to be an early evening, since he was still under a strict deadline.
Kennedy spent the better part of the afternoon at the market shopping for dinner. She’d planned to make broiled lamb chops, potatoes au gratin, broccoli rabe, and for dessert a triple-layer German chocolate cake with freshly grated coconut—her grandmother’s recipe. She wanted tonight to be perfect, so she took the extra time to bake.
After setting the table, Kennedy went into the bathroom to pamper herself for an evening of decadent indulgence. If she was lucky, dessert wouldn’t be the only thing that Nigel would be feasting on. In the shower, she slathered on a foaming body wash and shaved in between hidden crevices, getting rid of all unwanted hairs, so dessert would be follicle-free. She grabbed a fluffy terry-cloth towel off the rack, once she stepped out of the shower, and patted herself dry. Her skin felt as smooth as a newborn’s as she rubbed on a rich fragrant lotion, and then layered it with the matching perfume, spritzed in all the right places—behind the ears, the back of the calves, and in between the thighs.
What to wear? she thought, standing in the doorway of her closet. She didn’t want to wear anything too formal, nor did she want to come to the door looking like a stripper in a G-string and boa. She definitely wanted to indicate to him that tonight was the night. She didn’t want to give mixed signals, especially after the lunch debacle.
“Ah, this is perfect,” Kennedy said aloud, taking a black silk wrap dress off the hanger. Normally, she wore the dress with a one-piece bodysuit, but tonight, for obvious reasons, she decided to go commando—sans underwear—for easy access. Kennedy slipped on the dress, tied it around her waist, and walked over to the full-length mirror. “Perfect,” she commented, admiring the sexy imprint of her ripe nipples underneath the thin silk fabric. “They look good enough to eat.” She giggled, slipped on a pair of five-inch CFM pumps, and strutted out of the bedroom, ready to bag her man.
The doorbell rang the minute she took the lamb chops out of the oven. Before going to the door, she quickly took an ice cube out of the freezer, reached inside the dress, and rubbed the cold cube across her bare nipples, creating the ultimate tweak. Kennedy threw the ice in the sink and sauntered to the door.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, kissing him full on the lips and then stepping back so that he could get an eyeful.
Nigel gave Kennedy an appraising look. He zeroed right in on her hard nipples. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that she was trying to seduce him. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake twice. The embarrassment at lunch was enough for him. He wasn’t about to get his jimmy excited for a big letdown. So he just said hello.
Kennedy noticed his stiff body language and realized that she’d have to do more work than she thought. She stepped aside and let him in, then in her most seductive voice asked, “Would you care to start with an appetizer or go right to the main course?”
“Look, Kennedy, I’m not in the mood for games. If you’re just going to tease me, and send me home with blue balls, then I might as well leave now,” he said, still holding onto his briefcase, ready to bolt out the door.
She walked up close to him and said, “Baby, I’m sorry for leading you on.”
Hearing her apology softened Nigel’s disposition. “And I’m sorry for being short with you over the phone, but I was still upset with you for changing your mind at lunch. Do you forgive me?” he asked, kissing her neck.
Kennedy leaned into his embrace. “Of course I forgive you, and I’m ready now.”
“Ready for what?”
“Ready to make love to you. I’ve fixed a nice dinner, and after we eat, we’ll have dessert in bed,” she said, suggestively rubbing her breasts against him.
Those were the magic words Nigel had been waiting to hear. He dropped his briefcase, loosened his tie, took off his jacket, and dropped it on the floor along with the briefcase. He then untied her dress, exposing her naked body. He rubbed his massive hands over her pert nipples, fondling them until they grew even harder. Kennedy instantly moistened with his touch. He then continued his exploration down her taut stomach and in between her thighs. Gently spreading her legs apart, he slowly inserted his finger into her clean-shaven vagina.
“Forget dinner. I’m going to start with a taste of this wet pussy,” he whispered, dropping to his knees.
Kennedy threw her leg over his broad shoulder as he began feasting on the first course.
“Now that’s what I call quality sushi,” he remarked with a grin, coming up for air and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“One good appetizer deserves another,” she remarked and sauntered over to the sofa. Sitting on the edge of the couch with her legs spread wide apart, she crooked her finger at him and mouthed, “Come here.” Once he was standing between her thighs, she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and watched them fall to the floor. Kennedy looked in amazement at the size of his erect penis bulging out of his underwear. Reaching for the band on his boxers, she ripped them off, releasing his captive manhood. Taking him in her ready mouth, she eagerly consumed the entire length of his shaft while massaging his testicles.
“Oh, yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it,” he moaned, on the brink of ecstasy.
Then, to her surprise, he switched gears, flipped her back on the couch, and slid in between her legs. He was by far the largest man she had ever been with, and she gasped as he made his grand entry.
He suddenly hesitated. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, please don’t stop.” She opened up wider to accommodate him, and they quickly found their rhythm, but the sofa was too confining for all the humping and pumping. “Come on. Let’s go to the bedroom,” she panted, eager for more.
Nigel didn’t say a word, just swept her up in his arms and carried her off to bed. Their desire for one another was animalistic, as they dropped all inhibition and hungrily devoured each other over the next few hours.
“Now that’s what I call sufficient dining,” he said, resting his head on her chest.
Kennedy laced her hands through his hair. “Hope I was worth the wait.”
He reached up and kissed her passionately, looked directly into her eyes, and said with conviction, “You’re what I’ve been waiting for all my life.”
Those words were music to her soul. No man had ever uttered such a sentiment to her in her entire life, and suddenly she craved him all over again. Wrapping her legs around his back, Kennedy began to grind into him until she felt his limp cock spring to attention. She didn’t think it p
ossible, but this round of lovemaking was better than before. She didn’t know if it was his endearing words or the exercising of her pussy that let his dick slide in easier. Their bodies naturally meshed, as if designed to fit perfectly together. As they lay in the aftermath, totally exhausted, she thought, I could love this man for the rest of my life, and then she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, nestled comfortably in his arms.
Soft rays from the morning sun peeked through the silhouette blinds, awakening Kennedy from a serene slumber. Blinking her eyes open, she glanced over at Nigel who was snoring lightly. She quietly crept out of bed and into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she decided to make a hearty breakfast, since they hadn’t gotten a chance to eat a proper dinner the night before.
Walking into the living room, Kennedy had a flashback the instant she saw Nigel’s briefcase and jacket strewn by the front door. Smiling at the thought, she bent over to collect his belongings. The moment she picked up his briefcase by the handle, it popped opened, scattering the contents all over the floor. Kennedy knelt down to gather his papers, and as she was putting the various reports back, a check slipped out of one of his folders. Thinking she still had remnants of sleep in her eyes, she blinked twice at the amount. The bank draft was made out to Nigel Charles in the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. There was a brief note clipped on the back that read:
ONE MORE TRANSACTION,
THEN OUR BUSINESS WILL BE COMPLETE.
THANKS FOR HOLDING UP YOUR END OF THE DEAL,
R. S.
One more transaction? she thought. “Who the hell is R. S., and what could be so important that it would be worth a quarter of a million dollars?” she whispered.
31
TYLER WAS playing “Beat the Clock.” It was five hours before tonight’s book club meeting, and she still had four more masks to design. The meeting was being held at Mira’s apartment, and Tyler wanted to be early. They had yet to have their first date, so she wanted to arrive before the other members, to have a little private time.
Tyler had finished designing masks for the first set of profiles that Trey had given her. He was so pleased with her work that he faxed over a second set of profiles. She read over each description, to get a sense of the person, and then whipped up two different renderings for Trey to choose from. Even though Tyler had a degree in graphic design, drawing came naturally to her, and in no time flat, she was finished with the list.
She went to the antique armoire to choose an outfit for tonight’s meeting. Tyler didn’t want to wear all black like she did the first time she met Mira. She wanted to look a bit more fashionable. She browsed through the hangers, and decided on an ankle-length Jon Berry camouflage skirt, one of the few designer pieces that she owned, a hunter green blouse, and to add a little punch to the outfit, she selected a thick, red leather belt. Tyler showered, dressed, and applied a touch of makeup—FACEZ, of course. She checked out her reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. The skirt hugged her hips suggestively. The silken-wool top fit like a glove, accentuating her ample breasts, which she rarely displayed, and the belt pulled her waist in at least two inches. She turned from one side to the other, admiring her transformation. Gone was her normal attire of baggy jeans, T-shirt, and artist’s smock, and she now resembled an accomplished professional, instead of a college student. She fingered her dreads, and added a pair of hoop earrings. “Perfect,” she said into the mirror.
Tyler looked at her watch. She still had two more hours to kill. She was so anxious to get to Mira’s place that she had raced through work and dressed in record time. What the hell am I going to do now? she thought. Tyler wanted to be early, but not two hours early; she didn’t want to appear desperate. She turned on the television, but nothing worth watching was on, so she turned it off. Tyler began to pace with nervous energy. She felt like a caged animal ready to be set free. The adrenaline flowing through her bloodstream was making her edgy. She thought about going downstairs to make a sandwich, but didn’t want to eat before the meeting. Besides, the belt was squeezing her stomach, but she didn’t want to loosen it any, since it made her shape more defined. There was only one thing that would cool her jets and that was sex. She hadn’t been with another woman since she left Liz, but since sex wasn’t an option now, she opted for work instead. Tyler went to the nightstand, picked up the phone, and dialed the Black Door.
“Trey Curtis speaking.”
“Hey, Trey. It’s me, Tyler.”
“Hey, Tyler, what’s up?”
“Well, I finished the last list you faxed me, and was wondering if you have any more masks for me to design?”
“Damn, girl, you’re fast! You’re like the Evelyn Wood of designing,” he joked.
Tyler laughed, and said thank you.
“As a matter of fact, it’ll really help me out if you can finish the last few profiles for me. They’re for members who want a different look, and I promised them that I’d have their new masks ready in two weeks. In order to meet that deadline, I have to get the designs to the manufacturing company by tomorrow. Can I fax over the list? It’s short, and as fast as you work, I’m sure you’ll have ’em done in an hour,” he joked. “But seriously, I won’t need them until tomorrow morning.”
“Sure, no problem. Consider it done.”
“Thanks a million,” he said, and hung up.
A few minutes later, Tyler heard the hum of the fax machine and went over to retrieve her new assignment. She put her smock back on and sat down at the drafting table. She was grateful for the distraction. She rolled up her sleeves and reached for her sketch pad. Tyler read the first profile, which was for a frumpy housewife whose current fantasy was to be like her husband—a successful stockbroker. She immediately got an idea for the mask. She outlined the design and colored it in. She tore off the paper and held it out. The mask was the exact hue of money, and instead of being angled like cat-eyes like most masks, she chose an oblong shape resembling a dollar bill. Tyler also made a small sketch at the bottom of the page, detailing what the woman should wear—a pinstriped suit jacket, sans pants, and a pair of stack-heeled Mary Janes.
She then turned to the next page and read the profile. A young CEO of a major cosmetics conglomerate, and her password is Powerbroker Pussy. She enjoys both male and female servers. Her original mask wasn’t designed by the club, but was made in Venice. She wants a second mask, but wants it to look completely different so that she can switch between the two. One for when she’s fucking women, and one for when she’s fucking men.
Tyler’s mouth dropped open. “It can’t be,” she said aloud. She read the description again. The words described Mira to a tee. Tyler knew she was gay, but not bisexual. Suddenly the image of her ex-girlfriend flashed through her mind, and she didn’t know if she wanted to get involved with another switch-hitter. The pain of being jilted for a man still stung, but at least now she knew up front that Mira liked a little dick on the side. Unlike Liz, who hid her desire for the beef, until she got busted.
Tyler put down the profile, took off the smock, gathered her things, and headed out the door. She had the keys to Jacob’s spare car, jumped in, and sped off for the city. Forty minutes later, she had parked and was entering Mira’s building. Tyler walked through the lavish lobby and admired its old-world charm. The fresco-covered cathedral ceiling was at least thirty feet high, with dimly lit chandeliers throughout.
“I’m here to see Mira Rhone,” she said to the doorman, who looked as old as the building.
“Your name?”
“Tyler Reed.”
After calling up, he said, “Go right up. She’s in PH5.”
From the looks of the opulent building, located in the exclusive section of Tudor City—a city within the city—Mira was probably a spoiled-rotten brat who had grown up with a house filled with servants, eating out of silver spoons. She may be filthy rich, but she’s a stone freak, Tyler thought, and rang the bell. As soon as Mira answered, she said, “Do I need a pa
ssword?”
Mira looked at her oddly. “What do you mean?”
“Powerbroker Pussy. Does that ring a bell?” Tyler knew that she was taking a chance of getting slapped, but she said it anyway. She thought there was no better way to break the ice.
Hearing the words, Mira instantly started smiling. “How did you know I was a member of the Black Door?”
Tyler stepped into the foyer. Since Mira was already a member, Tyler didn’t see the harm in revealing that she was working for Trey. “I’m doing some freelance work designing masks for the owner, and I ran across your profile. There was no name attached,” she added, making sure that Mira knew Trey wasn’t giving up her identity to strangers, “but I took a wild guess, and guess whose name popped into my head?”
“So, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?” Mira asked, walking up close to her.
“First, I want to know if you have a boyfriend?” she asked point-blank. Tyler wasn’t trying to walk into another situation blind.
“A boyfriend?” Mira seemed shocked at the question. “Why do you ask?”
“The profile mentioned that you wanted two masks. One for when your have fish on your plate, and one for when there’s beef on the menu.” Tyler raised her eyebrow and gave her a look like “don’t even try to deny it.”
Mira couldn’t help but laugh at her analogy. “It’s true, I have been known to pony up to the pole. But to answer your question, no, I don’t have a boyfriend. And don’t want one.”
“Good. The last person I dated wanted me and a man, and I couldn’t deal with that. I’m a one-woman woman, and don’t double-dip,” Tyler said, making her feelings clear.
“Then I take it that you don’t go both ways?”
“No, I’m strictly on a fish and vegetable diet.”
Mira put her hand on each side of Tyler’s red belt, pulled her in, and gave her a sloppy, wet kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day I met you.”
