“Nigel, take my hand,” Vanity said, slipping her fingers inside of her husband’s strong hand.
After the prayer David spoke to the group, “Let’s make them want to buy everything you have on guys! Let’s give them a great show! Places please!”
Nigel was ushered into the seating area next to the runway and David plopped down next to him. He almost could not process all of the sensuous designs created by his wife as he watched the beautiful bolts of silk he had sold her come out in beautiful lingerie that she named the Strathmore Collection. Cameras flashed everywhere and all eyes were glued to the runway. He tried not to seem prideful as Conall made his way down the runway in silk loungers and an open pajama top. A glance at Giles found the very rigid man, wiping away a tear of pride for his young nephew. The ladies in the audience hooted as a shirtless Gianni made his way down the runway in silk boxers and silk evening slippers.
The collection was small and the show only lasted a good 30 minutes as Vanity’s collection was sandwiched in between two larger designers. The last catwalk run featured of all the models, and the designer made her entrance down the 80-foot catwalk. Dressed in red silk lady boxers, high heeled pink sandals with straps that came up to her knees, a pink lace camisole, and pugilist styled robe, Vanity Devons hit the runway. Her trademark hair billowed in the artificial wind that Clark was creating in front of the stage. She hit the pivot, thrust a hip at Nigel, and gave him a wink. Nigel began to rise up out of the chair as if he were going to follow her down the stage, but David and Giles both pulled at the back of his jacket, “Down, boy.”
Nigel, moon-eyed, grinned at David, “Wife, pretty, love the pretty lady...”
“That’s good, Your Grace,” David said as he patted his brother in law on the shoulder.
Backstage was chaos as Nigel tried to make his way over to her, but he could never get close enough. She was surrounded by well-wishers, lovers of her work, and his friend Sir Roddy with a bouquet of daisies. Gianni was running interference, keeping many of the male well-wishers from getting too close. Vanity held up her hand and all the commotion stopped. She held her hand out to him and Nigel was given a clear path to stand at her side. The cameras flashed as he stepped into the fracas. He remembered his training from Clarke: right foot out, left side. Hand over hers. Don’t cover the rings.
Jessica and Clarke were hard at work. David brokered deals for the new orders for boutiques and stores. Gianni covered rounding up models and issuing checks. Even Conall was assigned a task of getting all of the garments back on the racks for Clarke. Then he noticed that even his butler, Giles in the middle of the fracas. He wasn’t sure what his butler was helping with, and Nigel felt out of sorts.
Then a lone thought surfaced as he asked himself, if any room for him existed in this world of hers?
He started to slide away from all the lights and glam until Vanity Devons pulled him by the arm back to her side.
“Yes, those silks came from Strathmore Textiles. Here, speak with my husband, Nigel Strathmore,” she said, giving him a slight shove forward. And simple as that, he was in the midst of the fray. She had pulled him into her world and made him a part of the process. Nigel passed out business cards, took orders with his phone, and answered questions about the fabrics, all the while trying to keep up.
“No these silks are exclusive to only Vanity’s Pleasure. But I have others not in this line,” he told one aggressive buyer.
Nigel was fitting right in. It was her turn to make some adjustments to be a part of his everyday life.
Vanity Devons had a plan.
{30] Tell me again...
At the villa, Vanity went to the master suite, still wearing the hair and makeup from the show. Normally, Clarke would have stripped her down to Wilhelmina, but she needed to know. She entered their chambers still in character, dropping the robe to the floor.
Nigel watched her curiously, “You are still in costume Darling. Are you going to wash your hair tonight? I can help if you tell me how.”
He wasn’t in love with Vanity Devons. Joy filled her from head to toe with the realization that Nigel didn’t want to make love to the character she played for the cameras. Nigel Strathmore wanted Wilhelmina Devonshire.
“Sure, come help me wash my hair,” she told him as she unstrapped the first heel, then the next, tossing a shoe at him as she made her way to the shower. Agile fingers tested the water before she climbed inside, joined by him.
“What did Clarke put in your hair, it is stiff as a brick,” he remarked, allowing the water to cascade through the tresses.
Her eyes wandered down his torso, then back up at him.
“So are you,” she said as her hand reached for him. He winked at her. Gentle fingers surrounded him as she whispered, “I’d like to try Nigel.”
The words were so soft that he thought he misheard her. He continued lathering her hair, using the detachable head to rinse away the stiff mousse and gels. He focused on the task of rinsing away the gook from her hair and not her words.
“Did you hear me, Nigel?”
He continued rinsing, “Yes. I heard you.”
The water continued running as she stood before him. He added conditioner to the longs strands, soaking them through to the waist.
When he felt he’d found his voice, he asked, “Wilhelmina, how long has it been since you’ve made love.”
“Seven,” she said.
Nigel’s voice rose several octaves. “Seven what, months, weeks,” he asked thinking surely his wife didn’t mean years.
She whispered softly, “Years.”
Nigel dropped the shower head.
“I told you I wasn’t good at it. And the two times I tried it was painful and awful, and humiliating,” she said lowering her head.
He bent over to grab the shower head. Standing at his full height, Nigel continued to rinse her hair. Wanting to ask the question, but certain how to phrase, it, but he inhaled deeply, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
Nigel asked, “Wilhelmina, are you telling me that you are a virgin?”
Her face was scrunched as she looked at him. Her long hair still soaked in conditioner as she faced him, she batted her lashes, trying not to choke on the truth she rarely spoke.
“Technically no. Officially, kind of, I mean, well, you know,” she mumbled.
“No, I don’t know,” Nigel replied.
“He wasn’t very big, so I don’t know if he was in far enough to actually, you know,” she said with her head lowered.
Nigel burst into laughter. His wife, a rare bird and genuine good spirit, had a sense of humor. He touched her cheek, smiling at her.
“Well, we won’t have that problem,” Nigel offered with a great deal of assurance.
Her hand touched his chest as she grabbed for the large sponge and began to lather him up. Nigel watched her hands work as she found the courage to speak the words she needed him to hear.
“Nigel, I do want to try, but if I can’t go through with it the first time, will you try with me again?”
He took the soapy sponge from her, “I will try everything I know to make you comfortable so that you can enjoy our intimate times together.”
He gave her a wry grin, “I will make certain that Vanity receives her pleasure.”
“Oh, Nigel,” she threw her arms around him his neck, pressing her body close to his as he lifted her into his arms, pressing her back against the shower walls. He pressed the tip of himself into her but there was no give. She required time. Tonight, he would introduce her to something new.
As he turned off the taps, he carried her from the shower as they hastily dried themselves and made their way to the bed. Tonight he only used his mouth to introduce her to more pleasure as she cried out his name in the darkness of the bedroom.
It is a start.
The next morning she was on her plane and headed back to New York. He didn’t want to let her go, but she needed to get back to the office. After the show came the work and she
had so much to get done.
VANITY SAT AT HER DESK in New York, pondering over the sales figures from Milan. It was a good show with nice profits. In her overnight bag was one of the dresses she had made for Lisbane and she was toying with an idea. Lisbane Strathmore. Liz Strathmore. Lizzie Strathmore. All would be great brand name for children’s clothing.
She was having trouble focusing. Her mind kept going back to her intimate evening with Nigel. Who would have thought that is what all the fuss was about? However, her husband wasn’t amused when it came time for her to reciprocate and she declined with the excuse.
“No way Spiderman, you aren’t going to drown me!” She sat at her desk lost in the thoughts of the little girl who had wondered into her life. Nigel passing out kisses to little Lisbane during tea and fighting with Chuck. He’d also given David several bottles of rare wine, in which her brother couldn’t stop chattering about. Her husband.
Nigel. Nigel. Nigel.
As if he heard her call his name her phone rang. The clear, crisp British accent came through the line. “Hello Darling, are you missing me?”
“Terribly. I was just thinking about the last time I saw you. I know it has only been a week, but it feels like forever.”
“It’s almost quitting time on your end. Are you ready to call it a day?”
“I am, but for some reason, going upstairs to an empty bed doesn’t sound that appealing. I wish you were here,” she mused.
“Where in New York or in your bed?”
She swirled in her chair, going back and forth. “Both, actually. I think I might be getting a bit hungry,” she replied blushing at the words.
The line went quiet and then her phone chimed. It was an IM with a photo of Nigel. Then another. And another. That one showed the man taking off his shoes.
Followed by his pants.
Then his shirt.
The next one he was turning back the bed covers and Vanity stared at the picture on the nightstand. She also noted the colors in the room realizing...
“No way!” She dropped everything and took off running toward her private elevator. “Have a great night, guys!”
Clarke only smacked his lips, “Uhmm, her stuff must be upstairs or something. Or Mr. Duchy is doing some sexy video chatting.”
Vanity reached her upstairs apartment and made a beeline the bedroom. She opened the door to find a trail of daisy petals from the door entrance all the way to her side of the bed. On his side of the bed was her husband. Undressed and wearing a naughty smile.
“I wasn’t sure if I should have made the petals to the piano to get you to play first,” Nigel said.
She silenced him by jumping on the bed and rolling across him planting his face with kisses, “I missed you so much.”
“And I you,” he held her but pushed her back a bit. “I am here because I want and need to talk to you.”
“Is everything okay Nigel?”
For the next seven minutes, and she timed it, she listened to him speak about how much he loved her. Nigel spoke of his fear that she would bore of him and their life together and leave him for some Hollywood type with a cleft in his chin.
“I am scared that I love you too much and you are going to break my heart,” he confessed.
It was her turn to speak.
“Oh stop being daft!” she said to him.
His eyes were wide as her dismissal of his genuine fears. He’d traveled across the pond to come and see her to express his concerns and she called him daft. In a word, his feelings were hurt.
Her fingers ran up and down his arm as she spoke to him. Vanity confessed, “I have been playing the piano since I was five years old and it has never turned me on in that way. What turned me on was playing the piano and having you watch me play. Hell, being in the same room with you turns me on. Watching you sleep. Eat, drink cognac, and even when you walk in the room, my hormones go haywire.”
She straddled him on the bed.
“I have been hesitant to give myself to you out of fear that it would just be another conquest and once the fantasy was over, you wouldn’t want me anymore,” she told him.
Vanity also told him, “Greta Garbo once said, ‘The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secret elevators and other ways of getting in and out of places so that people won't bother me.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, “That is my actual life Nigel and I am so sick of it.”
He moved a strand of hair that had come loose as she was running like a mad woman to get to him.
He wanted to know, “So what do you propose we do wife?”
“I want you to know that I love you so much that it scares me as well. I am all in. I want it all. I want it all with you. Yes, I know I have to make concessions and let some things go, but I can’t see flying back and forth.”
“Tell me what is next, Wilhelmina, tell me what you need me to do to make us right,” he said as his mouth found hers.
“I need you to join us together Nigel and give me your son so that we can be a family and Conall will have a job,” She told him, trying to return his kisses.
“I can do that,” he murmured as his mouth found hers and he rolled her to her back. His kisses deepened as his fingers roamed her body, yanking at the skirt she wore, pulling it down over her hips. Patience Nigel, he cautioned himself. Take it slow Nigel, this isn’t a race. In the back of his head were her words that both times had been painful and awful. He could feel the tension in her arms and legs as he positioned himself.
“Relax Darling, we have time. I will take it slow,” he said as he felt her relax.
“Nigel, are you going to fit. I mean, is it going to be painful?”
His fingers touched her gently.
“No, it is going to beautiful. We are taking the first step to creating our son. I promise to make it good for you,” Nigel assured his wife.
Vanity got weepy-eyed. “I’m going to be a great mom, Nigel.”
“I know, Darling, but right now, I need you to be a great wife, help me out a bit, okay love,” he said as he moved over her. His hands, his mouth were everywhere. Her body was on fire as she felt him move lower in the bed to use his mouth like he had before she left last week. She liked this part. His tongue flicking, adding moisture, tasting, testing, touching her core.
“Oh my, Nigel, that feels... ooh,” she said as she felt his finger penetrate her delicate folds while his tongue worked some more. She moved against his hand, feeling the wonderful sensation building inside of her. The fingers of magic continued as his head came to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. Vanity bucked against his hand.
“Oh Silk!” She murmured into his shoulder.
The sensation stopped as he removed his fingers and placed his hands on her hips gripping them tightly, his mouth went to hers connecting them in a passionate kiss as he thrust forward connecting them at last. There was no warning. No attempts at a gentle entry. Vanity threw back her head as she tried to catch her breath.
“Oh, Shirttails, that hurts,” she said, closing her eyes, squinting through the pain.
“Give it a moment,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. The tightness surrounding him took all of his discipline to focus and not turn into a friendly, neighborhood, web slinger.
Nigel withdrew and pressed into her again. Harder this time and deeper. This time it didn’t hurt, but felt different. Freeing. Liberating. The sensations of pleasure rippling through her as she found the words coming from her mouth was less than lady like and she didn’t care.
“Oh Shit that feels good Nigel. Again! Do that shit again and harder!”
He withdrew and slammed back into her again, going deeper. Vanity cooed. The perfectly manicured nails scraped across his back as she rolled her hips upwards to meet his next thrust, and the lunge after that one, as she begged him for more. Nigel’s fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he raised them and planted himself all the way inside of her.
“Oh hell, yeah, Your Gra
ce,” Vanity yelled into his ear.
Nigel began to perform a series of long strokes, followed by short strokes, until he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Vanity had started to see stars, unicorns and puffs of cotton candy floating in the air.
“More, Nigel. More, Baby, give me some more of that,” she encouraged him as he pulled back and plunged deep, forcing her climax.
Vanity grabbed him by his hair, stared him in the eyes, and yelled a string of obscenities that were so loud and raunchy that Nigel stopped moving and looked at her. His face was full of concerns as he looked down on the timid woman who barely uttered a swear word but had developed the language of a drunken sailor.
“Did I hurt you, Wilhelmina?”
She was clinging to him, not letting go, shuddering through her climax. Trying to catch her breath she spoke in a husky tone while licking dry lips.
“Yes. No. That shit feels so good. I came so hard I see spots,” she told him as she moved with him. “Your turn Nigel, come inside of me and give me our son.”
He kissed her again, “I love you so much, Wilhelmina.” His movements became faster, his pace quickened, his breathing labored, and he prodded hard, breathy, anxious, excited, and rigidly he drove into her softness. He wanted to give everything he had inside of him to his wife. Nigel pumped harder. Gripping her hips, holding her still as he prepared to give her his seed.
“Wilhelmina,” he called her name as he charged hard again and again shuddering in the beauty of the release. Finally, he’d connected with his wife on an intimate level. Finally, making love to her as he wanted to for the past months. Finally, consummating his marriage. Nigel collapsed on top of her, spent.
Quietly, they lay in the bed holding on to each other, but Nigel was the first to speak.
“That was some language there, M’Lady. I thought you said no self-respecting woman used those kinds of words,” he said through a chuckle.
She pinched him playfully on the arm.
“I think you just shagged the respect out of me,” she laughed, covering her face with the bed sheet. “I am so embarrassed. I won’t make a habit of it, but M ’Lord, that was fantastic.”
Vanity's Pleasure Page 17
