by Cat Shinier
“Do you think you could get me a glass of water, too? Thank you,” I say to her.
And immediately she walks off. Shamar continues to watch me in the mirror where he can see the part of my backside that is not covered by the thong. Quickly I slip into the black dress and wiggle my hips to get in. It fits like a glove.
It is low-cut in front giving everyone a pretty deep view of my breasts. And when I move I see the pink lace of my brassiere peeping out along the side. Definitely the kind of dress to make a girl feel sexy and desirable. Jane, saleswoman number 1, has returned with the white dress. She glances at me and immediately starts saying how well the dress fits. I would like to see it with matching shoes, I decide.
So I ask her, “Would you happen to have matching shoes?”
She glances up at me and for a second looks irked, but then she asks for my shoe size and tells her colleague who is arriving with a glass of water to go find a pair.
I have some of the water while Shamar looks on, amused.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. He grins and lifts his glass to a toast.
“No darling, you’re doing just fine.” He takes another sip of water.
Saleswoman number 2 returns carrying a pair of shoes. She’s out of breath, and her immaculate hairdo looks a bit disheveled.
The shoes she is holding are high heeled stiletto-like sandals. They have a black velvet band around the ankle and discreet rhinestones along the high heels. They fit perfectly. And they are perfect for the black dress. Wow, I think to myself. Real professionals. Did not take her long at all to choose these shoes. And the effect on Shamar is pretty clear. He nods his approval.
“What do you think?” I ask him. “A bit too daring?” I give him my most innocent look, whereas I’m already imagining wearing the dress and the shoes.
“Perfect, darling,” he says and his voice is getting throaty. I know exactly what that means. It gives my feeling of self-confidence a real boost.
Before I’m able to slip into the other dress I ask the sales woman who was so talented in finding the right pair of shoes if she could go and see if they have a pair of shoes for the white dress, too. And sure enough, she turns and runs out into the mall. So I go back to the dressing room and slowly start removing the black dress and the shoes.
The white dress must be worn without a brassiere, even though I’m not used to presenting myself to strangers that way. So I turn around and shrug into the dress with my back to Shamar and the saleswoman.
The bangle at the top of the dress must be latched in back, and so I ask Shamar to help me. He walks up to me, and I again see that his eyes have that mysteriously sensuous color I have come to love. A dark, charcoal gray with a tint of mother-of-pearl. His movements seem a bit stiff, and the whole scene makes me laugh as I register the ambiguity of my thoughts.
“What’s so funny, darling?”
“I was just thinking of something, Shamar. That’s all.”
His fingers are warm and gentle while they glide over my skin and close the zipper. A zipper in front must be closed, too. I turn to the side and motion to him to zip up the dress. I can feel the soft velvety touch of his fingers, and it sends ripples of desire up and down my spine. My skin shivers and my temperature rises. I close my eyes. Shamar bends down to me and kisses my forehead, while he whispers into my ear, “Well, if you continue these shenanigans I will exchange Waterwall Park against the next best hotel.”
“But I’m not doing anything Shamar, all I’m doing is trying on two dresses.” I try to act as naïve as possible, but whatever he is about to say he doesn’t have a chance to say it because the saleswoman returns with another pair of sandals. They have small heels this time and match the dress perfectly in color. Off white. The sandals are also ancient Greek looking with straps reaching from the ankle to the knee. And since the dress is a bit long for me the difference in height is equalized perfectly. I look at myself in the mirror. The dress emphasizes my bust without letting on that the back and shoulders are bare.
My skin is not as pale as it is in Germany from all the sun I’ve been getting. It has a golden shimmery tone. Especially in the flattering light they filled the dressing rooms with. The dainty folds across my chest makes me look smaller than I actually am. I have no idea where I will be able to wear it, but the dress has found an owner for itself. Shamar is gesticulating wildly.
“We’ll take them both. Just pack them up.” He gets up and unzips the dress.
“Just get dressed, sweetheart, I don’t think I can take this kind of torture any longer.”
I slip out of the dress and hand it to the saleswoman, together with the other dress and the two pairs of shoes. Then I put on my own clothes and leave these luxurious and exclusive dressing rooms. Shamar is waiting for me outside and has a pretty urgent look on his face.
But that does not have anything to do with the sum of money he is about to spend on me. In fact, he’s already pulled out his credit card and is standing next to the cash register where the saleswoman is fiddling around with a touchscreen sensor display. “Sir, that will be two thousand one hundred and twenty-six dollars.”
I gasp, but before I can even say boo she’s yanked Shamar’s card through the card reader. Wow, that’s what some people make in a month, and here I’m with two dresses. I look at Shamar and wonder about the world he is introducing me to.
The salesgirl hands Shamar the bags and blushes one last time. I notice it, and so does Shamar, who grins at me mischievously.
Chapter Nineteen
After we’ve left the store and are outside again Shamar puts his arm around me and gives me a soft and gentle kiss on my cheek.
“What was that for?” I ask him.
“For the pleasure of being able to watch you. I’d love to take you right here and now.”
“Shamar, the clothes and the shoes are just fabulous. I don’t know how to thank you. If I’d known they were that expensive I would probably have not even entered the store in the first place,” I answer, while we continue strolling along the shopping arcade.
“Well, then all I can say is that it was good you didn’t know what the prices were like. But each of those things is really worth what it cost, and I’m already looking forward to seeing you in them. But even more I’m looking forward to taking them off again and having sex with you.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I answer while I stifle a laugh and smile to myself. We pass by the display windows of two other stores and head into a really exclusive-looking shoe store. Now I know where saleslady number 2 got the shoes for me so fast.
“Do you want to continue shopping or head over to Waterwall Park now, angel?”
“I think I’ve spent enough of your money and I also think it is time to head back outside for some fresh air. So how about Waterwall Park?”
We head over to the nearest elevator, which is glass. It brings us downstairs, and we head over to Shamar’s Cayenne, where he stows away all of my bags in the trunk.
The clouds have disappeared, and the sun is back out, bright and strong. Just the right weather for a nice walk in the park. It does not take long for us to get there and within a few minutes we’ve arrived.
It is a beautiful little park, the center of which is made up of the wall Shamar was referring to. It is a half circle, and that is why it is referred to as a horse-shoe, I think to myself. The depth of the wall is irregular, and is thicker in some places so that it almost appears to be made up of columns. The air is filled with tiny little droplets, almost like a kind of mist that covers my skin and clothes. It’s very cool when you sit close to the wall, surrounded by breathtaking scenery.
In the background, I see the shiny skyscrapers that reach into the sky. They frame the dark green and lush meadows of the park that feels like an island amidst all of the buildings. The park is beautifully landscaped and really well cared for. The paths we walk through are surrounded by a vast variety of flowers and from every point in the park you can see the wa
ter wall. We take a few pictures of each other with our cell phones, and I make a mental note to myself to remember to send a couple of them to Susan, to be able to show her what Shamar looks like and what Houston is like. After all, this is where I will be spending a lot of time in the future.
We even run into a guy selling ice cream cones, so we buy two and enjoy them while we continue our walk. There are huge chess figures in a corner of the park and we try to play a game together, but because I have not played chess very often Shamar checkmates me almost instantly and the game is over quickly.
I give him a huge kiss and realize that it is getting cool. Probably because the sun is starting to go down. It will be fall soon and I wonder what it is like here in the summer. Probably really, really hot.
“Are you hungry?” Shamar and I are sitting on a bench and watching the people mill around. I start to notice how hungry I am.
“Yes, now that you mention it, I am.”
“Then come.” He pulls me off of the bench, and we stroll out of the park. Two streets from here we see an Italian restaurant Shamar seems to know, and enter. The restaurant is filled with the mouthwatering smell of pizza and cheese. We head for a corner table from where we have a really good view of the restaurant, while no one else can see us. All the tables are covered with red and white checkered table cloths, and the candles have been lit.
The waiter approaches us with the menus while we take a seat, and takes the order for two glasses of red wine and a bottle of sparkling water. We take a look through the menu, but I already know that I’m going to have pizza. I study the different kinds they have to decide which one I feel like eating, which turns out to be pizza and salami with pepperonis, black olives and goat cheese. Shamar closes his menu, too, and the waiter has joined us again, jotting down our orders.
A short time later I’m eating my pizza and Shamar is eating lemon sole, his favorite fish, he informs me. I haven’t had pizza in what feels like ages and really enjoy the crisp dough and the salty cheese. Absolutely delicious. Seeing that I have discovered that this place serves Zabaglione, I decide to have dessert to celebrate the occasion. If there is something in the world I cannot pass up, it’s Zabaglione. And it really is excellent. I’m a specialist when it comes to Zabaglione. I spoon it and savor every bite, while Shamar watches me as he drinks his espresso. We finally are finished with our meal, and Shamar pays, giving the waiter a generous tip. I like that. I like men who tip generously. I think it is a good sign, even though I don’t need any more signs to prove to me just how generous Shamar is. He’s given me enough signs of that. Still, I’m happy for the waiter, who escorts us to the door.
We stroll back to the car holding hands, and when we get there, I realize just how cool it has gotten. I’m beginning to feel it. The traffic has died down now and the streets are empty, so our drive to Shamar’s house takes less time than this morning. We are quiet and peaceful during the drive, which may have to do with the fact that we are tired, but also because we’re becoming relaxed with each other. I lean my head back against the headrest and he puts his hand on my knee.
I fall asleep as we drive home and don’t even wake up until we have reached the house and wait for the gate to open. The lamps to the right and left of the drive have now been lit, and they glow in the evening dusk. Shamar drives the Cayenne around to the back of the house and parks it in the garage. He gets the bags out of the trunk, and we walk back to the front of the house, the entrance of which is brightly lit, while the rest of the house is dark. “Aren’t Matthew and Annie home?” I ask, surprised.
“No, they are generally not here on weekends. They wanted to go to Waco, because that is where Annie’s sister lives.
“Then they won’t be back until Monday?”
“No, I think they’re probably back by now.”
He puts his hand in his pocket and takes out a key and enters a code in the panel in the wall to the side of the door knob, which opens with a soft little click. A few lights are on, which I assume is due to the lighting system that turns the lights on automatically when it is dark.
After Shamar has closed the door we slowly walk up the stairs to our bedroom. I’m so tired and after using the bathroom to freshen up get right into bed and lie down. A short time later Shamar joins me. He crawls into bed and snuggles up to me from behind, and I fall asleep immediately.
* * *
It is the sun that wakes me up the following morning. I’m stretched out across Shamar, who is naked and on his back. I start caressing his cheek, not so much out of desire but more because I simply feel like touching him. When I reach his belly button his hand grabs mine and stops me.
“Good morning, darling,” I mumble.
“Good morning, angel,” he mumbles back. “Active already so early this morning?”
I kiss his chest.
The thought of finally being able to have sex with him without being separated by a condom is enticing. It appears that is what he is thinking, too. Our caresses and kisses get more intense and passionate. He rolls onto me and supports himself with his arms while his body presses me into the mattress. His penis is on the upper part of my thighs and with every movement he makes he stimulates my clit while his hands caress my breasts. I wrap my hands around him and grab him by the behind which makes him moan. He throws his head back and then falls to my breasts and sucks the nipples, which sends throbbing currents right to the inner core of my female being. “You’re already wet,” he moans while he penetrates me slowly. What a difference. He’s hot, and I can feel him completely. He expands me and fills me up.
What a wonderful feeling with his skin against mine. I start moving back and forth under him, unable to keep still.
“Wait darling, slow down,” he says and starts to move in me, circulating his pelvis and pushing up against me, which turns me on and causes my muscles to contract around him. But he retreats again and kneels down in front of me and places my legs over his shoulders and penetrates me again, caressing my clit with his finger, increasing his speed, which almost makes me explode. I scream, and he only gives me a second to rest, because then he turns me around and takes me from behind, taking me hard and moving my hips in a rhythm that contrasts his own. This time his penis touches a part inside me that gives me yet another orgasm, but a different kind, one that is limited to the vagina. I can’t stop moaning, and he pulls me towards himself again. He leans back and takes me on his lap. It’s like yesterday, like a saddle. I don’t even have to move. My inside is on fire.
Shamar hasn’t had an orgasm yet. He kisses me and turns me back to our initial position. I’m on my back, and I cannot move. My legs are up on his shoulders, and I cannot understand that they don’t just slip off, seeing they feel like rubber.
“Everything alright, angel?”
Shamar looks at me full of passion, and I nod and close my eyes. Then he takes me again, even faster and even harder, and finally he orgasms, and falls down beside me on the mattress. It takes quite a while for both of us to move again.
“I thought you’d never get tired,” I mumble into his chest.
He laughs so hard his chest shakes. “Do you mind?”
“No,” I answer. “But I do need to get into better shape for it. That’s all.”
“You’re doing just fine, angel.” He kisses my hair. We unwind our limbs and Shamar heads for the bathroom, while I take a shower elsewhere and put on clean clothes so that we can have breakfast together.
There are croissants waiting for us at the breakfast table, which I dunk into my coffee before eating them. The phone rings while we are having breakfast.
A short time later Matthew joins us and leans down to Shamar to tell him something.
“Mr. Shalazar, your father is on the phone and would like to speak to you.”
Shamar nods.
“I should have known. Please transfer the call to my office, Matthew, and I will take it there.”
He pushes his chair back and apologizes to me, then hurries
off in the direction of his office.
I wonder what he could have known. It takes Shamar almost half an hour to return again, and when he comes out of his office he is pale and his mouth looks drawn.
“What’s wrong, Shamar?”
I run up to him and hug him. It makes me worried to see him like that.
“Has something happened to your parents? Is there something I can do for you?”
I feel like helping him, whatever it is, whatever has made him this upset. But I don’t know what to do. He caresses my back and has a distraught look on his face.
“Luna, I have to go to Dallas to settle a family matter.
His voice sounds rough. What shook him up like that? Maybe something really did happen to his parents, and he doesn’t want to tell me?
“What happened, Shamar?” I repeat the question.
He shakes his head.
“I can’t talk about it right now, Luna. Please.”
He looks at me, and I realize that something must be deeply wrong. His eyes have a peculiar look, so worried he almost seems tortured. I wish he would say something as I feel absolutely powerless.
“There is something I absolutely need to take care of,” he mutters, while his gaze makes me almost feel like I’m the one at fault. “And I cannot postpone the matter. I have to go there now. Please be patient and don’t worry.”
“Well, it is a little too late to say that. The way you look it appears as if the problem is really serious and of course that makes me worried.”
“I will leave this morning and I’ll be back either late this evening or tomorrow morning. Then we can talk.” His voice still sounds muted.
The idea that I must spend the night alone without him in a situation like this makes me feel depressed. He takes a deep breath, messes up his hair with his hands and heads up to our bedroom. I remain in the dining room and look out of the window without even seeing anything outside. A few minutes later I hear him coming down the stairs. He’s dressed and ready to leave. He even has a small suitcase.
