Tease

by Stevens, Camilla

  “Oh…yes,” I breathe, my eyelids lowering as the feeling begins to overcome me.

  “Honey,” he groans, forcing my eyes back open just to watch the pleasure on his face as it consumes him.

  That’s enough to send me over the edge, my body arching, even as he holds my hands into the mattress. Like rolling thunder, it forces its way from that very spot inside me he continues to stroke through every inch of the rest of me. Even my fingertips tingle in tiny spasms as they flex to dig into the back of his hands.

  “Honey,” he says again, this time more of a growl as he explodes inside of me, one last hard buck as he sinks all the way in until he’s completely spent.

  Giuseppe gradually lowers himself, falling to the side on this fine bedspread we’ve just sullied. Something about that is so delightfully filthy, a wicked smile comes to my face as I turn to curl into his side.

  “I think that definitely deserves champagne.”

  “I think that deserves a whole lot more than champagne,” he says with a grin as his arm comes around me.

  * * *

  We’ve finally gotten around to ordering room service, yes, with champagne. Just for me, it’s Veuve Clicquot Rosé, which means he’s allowed me the lion’s share.

  We’re both in fluffy bathrobes, being that neither of us wanted to get dressed again.

  The fantastic dinner is nothing but scraps and we linger over the rapidly melting ice cream sundae (no need to get too fancy).

  “You could have got what you prefer to drink. I only order the rosé because I like the color.”

  “Nonsense,” he says, causing both of us to grin. “I wanted to make this special, just for you.”

  My smile goes so wide it hurts.

  “Besides, I had to make up for Valentine’s Day somehow. Hopefully this worked out better for you than Indian food and beer.”

  “I happen to love Indian food and beer, mister. Don’t feel you have to go all out for me. I was raised on grits and chitlins.”

  “Chitlins, isn’t that—?”

  “Yes, it is, and let’s change the topic right about now,” I say with a laugh, sitting back to drink from my glass. “It was a nice event. I enjoyed having a chance to dress up.”

  “Speaking of topics to avoid, let’s drop ABC as well.”

  “You really don’t like it there do you?” I say with a laugh. “Have you thought about applying your skills elsewhere?”

  Giuseppe wrinkles his brow. “If I didn’t work at a firm what would I do?”

  “Lots of attorney’s have their own practice.”

  Giuseppe snorts out a laugh. “Chasing ambulances isn’t exactly what I signed up for.”

  “Ohh,” I say with a frown. “That sounded just a bit snobby.”

  He winces then grins. “I suppose. But, working for myself…it sounds nice in theory, but the money I make I help my family out with. Besides, it would take a huge chunk just to get started on my own.”

  “Show business is nothing but contracts. I could ask Frankie to set you up with something. If you’re that good, I mean,” I say with a taunting smile.

  “I am,” he says with a grin.

  “You’re so sexy when you’re confident.”

  “That’s all the confidence boost I need. As for show business,” a frown forms on his face. “That world is so foreign to me. I could easily apply the law, especially with contracts, but there would still be a learning curve when it comes to the industry itself.”

  “Fortunately you have me to help walk you through it.”

  “Speaking of which,” he says, leaning in closer. “When do I finally get to see you perform?”

  I pull my champagne glass away and study him.

  After tonight, I have no doubt that Giuseppe adores me. And I don’t want anything standing between us.

  Having experienced deception and betrayal at the hands of Francis, I’m not happy about doing the same with Giuseppe.

  “Tuesday night,” I say, with a firm nod. “I want you to come see me.”

  “Perfect,” he says, his face lighting up.

  “I’m off Monday so I can bring you a ticket then.”

  “Let’s make it a full-fledged date. We need to make up for last week when I didn’t see you at all.”

  “Sounds good,” I say with a smile.

  “I’ll finally get to see the mysterious Honey Dewberry in all her glory. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  My smile tightens, wondering exactly what he will in fact make of Honey Dewberry…in all her glory.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Giuseppe

  Monday morning, I’m one of the few people on the subway that seems to be in a sunny mood. The weather is sleeting and the trains are running even later than usual, but I might as well be lying on a beach in Tahiti.

  Tonight, I’m meeting Honey for what I suppose is our first real date.

  Tomorrow, I get to see her perform.

  It isn’t lost on me that she had a tendency to do this to my mood those mornings we happened to cross paths with one another.

  I can only imagine what it would be like if I woke up next to her every morning.

  I’m so lost in that idea that I almost miss my stop.

  I squeeze my way out and take the long stairway up two at a time in the Whitehall exit. I brave my way through the cold, wet weather and head straight for the coffee room once I get to ABC.

  There are few things that could darken my mood today and three of them manage to arrive at the same time, as usual.

  Honey told me word for word what her exchange with Todd was at the gala. We both had a good laugh over it.

  If Todd is still sore about it, it certainly doesn’t show on his face, which has that irritating sneer he always sports around me. It seems even more smug than usual this morning.

  “I was hoping to catch you early. You disappeared from the gala Saturday. I’m guessing maybe your date had to work?”

  For some reason that seems especially amusing to the three of them.

  “My date was just fine. How about yours?” I ask, casting a glance at both Vaughn and Andrew, then returning a taunting smile to Todd.

  A brief look of irritation flashes across his face. “My date, Margot, happened to enjoy herself, thank you very much—and managed to at least keep her clothes on.”

  I have no idea what that little detour about clothes is about. Does he know that Honey and I got a room at The Plaza?

  “Perhaps if you spent less time with these two, she might be more inclined to take her clothes off around you.”

  Todd’s eyes go wide with fury.

  Andrew coughs out a short laugh.

  Vaughn glares at me. “For fuck’s sake, Todd, just tell him.”

  Whatever it is he has to tell me, Todd seems annoyed at Vaughn stealing some of his thunder.

  Which means it’s bad.

  “Perhaps you and the two other stooges can get to the point, some of us have work to do.”

  That really sets him off.

  “Your girlfriend is a stripper, you asshole.”

  At first, I show no reaction at all. Only because the suggestion is absurd.

  I think of Honey, sweet, charming, intelligent, too good to be true, Honey. Nothing against strippers but surely she could use those talents for something more.

  “He doesn’t even know,” Vaughn crows.

  “We found out this morning, based on her name and the fact that she mentioned being a performer,” Andrew says, studying me with disbelief. “She’s not a stripper but—”

  “Close enough,” Todd says, giving him a quick glare. He turns back to me with a gloating look. “David was certainly surprised when I showed him the web page for the, ah, place she works at. I guess you could call it a strip club.”

  I’ve had about enough now.

  My hand lashes out and grabs Todd by his tie. I force him three steps back, him nearly tripping over his own feet as I crash him into the wall.

  “H
ey!” It comes out so high-pitched he sounds like a girl.

  “Here’s the thing about boys named Giuseppe, Todd,” I say leaning in closer with a dangerous look on my face. “When you grow up in my part of New Jersey with a name like that, you learn early on how to fuck someone up so hard they learn to keep their damn mouth shut around you.”

  “Dude, you’re strangling him!” Vaughn whines.

  “Jesse!” Andrew hisses.

  I ignore both of them.

  “The only thing stopping me from putting my fist through your damn mouth is the fact that we’re at work. But you put her name in that mouth a yer’s again and you’ll get more than just this accent you hear from me, capisce?”

  He’s so terrified I wouldn’t be surprised if he pissed himself. I’m guessing this is the first time he’s ever been treated like this in his entire privileged life.

  I let go and he sinks against the wall, cowing away from me.

  It’s only when I take a step back and adjust my suit that he regains his composure, nearly snarling at me.

  “You are so dead, Giuseppe. When I tell David—”

  “Tell him what? That I bullied you?” I taunt with a disgusted smirk.

  “Y-yeah…I mean, you can’t just do that.”

  I take a quick step forward and he jumps, crashing back into the wall.

  “You ain’t gonna say a damn thing,” I growl. “Else I tell certain individuals about a late filing with the Abernathy trust.”

  His face goes as white as his eyes, which are now wide with horror.

  “How did you—I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  And now I know it’s the truth. I say a secret thanks to Allison for her lack of discretion.

  A smile curls my lips. “Sure, just like I don’t know what you’re talking about when you claim I roughed you up.”

  I give Vaughn and Andrew cool, penetrating looks.

  “Enjoy your Monday,” I say, then walk away, no longer interested in coffee.

  It’s only when I’m back in my office that I feel my discomposure set in. I stare at the blank computer screen absorbing everything Todd said.

  I wouldn’t put it past him to make up such a lie, but why something that outrageous?

  How much do I really know about Honey Dewberry?

  I sigh and log in to my computer. At the very least, I could just google her name, despite her warning me against it.

  But how bad could it be?

  I make a promise to myself, that I won’t use it to bias me against her show when I finally see it, which is what she was worried about in the first place.

  Then, I do a search.

  Her name is unusual enough that the results are few. The first one is for something called Gideon Theater. Her name is in bold, listed in the preview blurb.

  So she works for an actual theater, not a strip club as Todd implied.

  I relax a little bit.

  Then, I open the link.

  Chanteuse Femmes.

  Underneath that heading for the name of the show is a carousel of images. I recognize a few of the faces from Honey’s party. The three women who were dressed so well. At the time, I couldn’t put my finger on why they seemed so particularly seductive.

  Now, I know.

  In the images, each of them is showing far more skin than at that party. In fact, the only thing keeping certain, far more scandalous parts of them hidden are strategically placed umbrellas, boas, scarves, and various other props.

  No, not quite strippers.

  Burlesque dancers.

  And there’s Honey in all her pink glory. Except, she’s showing far more brown than pink in the image I see.

  I fall back in my chair, perfectly stunned.

  For some reason, it all makes so much sense now. That sense I had about her nightlife activity.

  It wasn’t so far off the mark after all.

  Before I can think on it or investigate further, my phone rings.

  I snatch it up.

  “Hello?” I answer, hearing the impatience in my voice.

  “Good, you’re already in.”

  I recognize congressman Bowen’s voice and internally sigh. This is the last thing I need right now. But I suck it up and shift gears in my head.

  “How can I help you, Congressman?” I say more patiently.

  “Have you seen the latest? Online they posted even more cartoons! At this point, Ideal Gentlemen is just being deliberately provocative. We need an injunction or something. This nonsense needs to stop!”

  I rest my elbow on the desk and pinch the bridge of my nose underneath my glasses.

  “Congressman Bowen, going for an injunction will only fan the flames. I guarantee you, they’ll use it as fodder to show how much they’ve riled you up.”

  “I am riled up, dammit! Take care of this, James. Today! I’ll check in with Doug this afternoon to see that something is done about it.”

  He hangs up before I can respond.

  “Jesse,” I hiss at the phone as I slam it down. The bastard couldn’t even get my office name correct.

  It does nothing to sweeten my mood.

  I look at the time and see it’s still early. There’s no way Doug is in yet, but I know he’ll want something in the way of an injunction by this afternoon when the good congressman calls him up to blast his ear off.

  It does little to take my mind off this news about Honey.

  But at least it’s a distraction.

  I sigh and get to work on it.

  By noon, I have enough to present to Doug. I call him up to see if he’s free. It rings, but I hear the tell-tale noise that tells me he’s on the other line.

  At least he’s in. I can just walk it up and wait for him to end the call. Being proactive will let him know I’m on the ball. Something too add even more goodwill than that which Honey created during the gala.

  How much goodwill will there be now that David knows about her and this burlesque show of hers?

  If I was worried about my image before, this will do nothing to help it.

  The bigger question is, how much do I care?

  I haven’t been stupid enough to google her on my computer again. Thus, my phone is nearly half-dead from my constant searching and scrolling her image and information about this show of hers. It was all more of the same, Honey in the spotlight playing peek-a-boo from behind a prop.

  I pinch my forehead to ward away the headache that threatens to come. I can’t afford to think about this now.

  Frankly, having not stepped foot out of my office all morning, I could use the walk to Doug’s office. When I get there, his door is closed and his personal assistant is out, I assume at lunch.

  I think about knocking but lean in first to see if he’s still on the phone.

  “I’ve got this kid Jesse working on it, you met him Saturday night, the one with the black date?”

  My ears perk up, realizing he’s talking to someone about me. I lean in closer to listen, despite knowing how bad it will look if I’m caught.

  “Him? I just found out something interesting about that date of his today.”

  I recognize David on speakerphone.

  “Todd tells me that girl was a stripper. Can you believe it?”

  My entire body goes tense with rage.

  “You’re kidding,” Doug says with a laugh.

  “Don’t let the congressman find out. I mean, what the hell Doug, are these the kind of people we’re hiring these days?”

  “Not my call,” Doug says in a tone that rapidly works to cover his ass. “You know his real name is Giuseppe? Giuseppe…Casti—something Italian and complicated. Like something straight out of The Godfather.”

  I’m seeing red now, my fists curled into a ball.

  “Good grief,” David says. “No way is that one going on the wall of partners.”

  “Agreed. He’s a decent attorney, but it’s obvious that he’ll contribute nothing in the way of business to the firm.”

&nb
sp; I pull away, having heard enough.

  The deck was always stacked against me, even as I played Doug’s pet dog on this idiotic Bowen case.

  Suddenly, I just don’t give a shit.

  I decide to take the stairwell back down to my floor.

  When I get back to my office, I pull up all the work I put in for this injunction.

  At least the hours were billable.

  Not that it matters anymore.

  Partnership is officially off the table, if it was ever there to begin with.

  The anger rushes back in like a tidal wave. Doug was just using me. Hell, he probably picked me because he knew how easy it would be to manipulate me, knowing I “contribute nothing to the firm.” This is a case that doesn’t do a damn thing for anyone’s career, other than have a congressman “in one’s pocket.”

  I work my jaw to the side in thought, then go ahead and pick up the damn phone.

  I get through to Congressman Bowen’s office, talking to one of his staff.

  “Hi, this is Jesse from Abbott, Bradford & Carmichael, I need to speak with the congressman about an urgent matter.”

  “I, um, of course,” she says with alarm. Normally, I’d be amused at how easily just the mention of a legal matter is enough to get someone to hop-to, but I’m too bitter and angry right now to care.

  “Jesse?” Bowen says when he gets on the phone. “Have you finished—?”

  “You need to drop this case. Now,” I interrupt.

  “What? What do you mean drop—”

  “The only thing pursuing this does is make you look like a fool.”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “Beg away, just do yourself a favor and forget about it.” I note how close I am to saying “fugetaboutit” and I grin. This feels so damn good.

  “Perhaps I should be talking to Doug about—”

  “Hustler Magazine, Inc. v. Falwell.”

  There’s a silence on the other end.

  “I see you’re familiar with the case. I am too. Do you want to know how old I was when that case went down? As they say, I wasn’t even a gleam in my old man’s eye at the time. But I damn sure know the case, and not just because I went to law school. You want your name to forever be associated with those cartoons? You want to be the featured First Amendment law case in every Con Law casebook in every law school in America? And that’s after you lose, because, let’s face it Hustler Magazine already wrote the standing opinion on this matter, and let me tell you, You. Will. Lose. And right up until Election Day, pundits will be discussing those images and this case, probably having a good laugh over it. You think what you found on your car at church was bad? Just think what will happen if you go through with this. Suck it up and drop it.”