“You’re dreaming,” she admonished. “Both Smith and Jenkins were out the last two games. They’re back tonight. You guys are going down. I’m calling it. Twenty-four to seven, Redskins. Fact.”
“Fact?” He leaned back with an amused smile on his face and looked her up and down. “While you are wrong, I am impressed with your football knowledge. You like fantasy?”
Her eyes widened as she swallowed hard, not sure she heard him right. “Do I like . . . what?”
“Fantasy?” he repeated. “Do you play fantasy football?”
A rush of relief came over Erica as she realized what he was talking about. Of course that was what he was talking about. Why would she have thought that he meant anything else?
“Absolutely,” she said, almost in a sigh.
He seemed confused by her reaction, but only showed it for a second before getting back on track.
“I’ll make you a bet, Erica. That is your name, right?”
She nodded. “I don’t bet money on games.”
“No money,” he assured her. “Dinner.”
“Dinner?” Her eyebrows arched in curiosity. He wasn’t wasting any time and she immediately realized she didn’t mind that at all. “What’s the deal?”
“If the Bears win, you treat to me to dinner. If the pitiful Redskins win, I treat you to dinner.”
She tilted her head to the side flirtatiously and pressed her lips together. “You see, I kind of have a problem with that bet. I mean, what if I don’t want to have dinner with you whether I win or not?”
He frowned with a slight pout. “Revised deal.”
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Same terms,” he continued, “but instead of me treating you to dinner or vice versa, let’s say I go to dinner by myself and send you the bill. You can do the same.”
“I have expensive tastes,” she offered, even though that wasn’t true. Erica was a neighborhood girl. She’d pick a local joint over a fancy restaurant any day, but she wanted to play this game.
He paused, his expression turning softer and more serious. His eyes held hers for a moment before he said, “As any beautiful woman should. Do we have a deal?”
She hesitated for a moment.
“If it makes it easier,” he said, “my Bears are definitely winning, so go on ahead and factor my dinner into your budget right now.”
“You’re smug,” she stated. “That overconfident look on your face is going to make the Redskins’ win all the more wonderful. You got a deal.”
She held out her hand and he took it, shaking it firmly. She liked his grip. It was strong, but not too forceful. Most of all, she liked the smile on his face. It was one of anticipation. Erica imagined that just like her, he wasn’t the least bit concerned about who won tonight.
They were both just happy to have an excuse to speak again.
As Justin caressed her round, firm breasts and pressed his hot tongue against her neck, Sherise felt a moan of pleasure rise in her throat and leave her body. His lips lowered and replaced his hands, taking her right breast in his mouth. He was picking up the pace, his mouth taking possession of her left breast now, his hands lowered to her hips where her body was grinding against his.
It was exciting to get back in this groove of great sex again. Getting back into shape after the baby took a little longer the second time around, but not once had Justin made Sherise feel anything less than sexy. But now she wasn’t just feeling really sexy. She was feeling like a sexual being again. She expressed that every time Justin touched her and it urged him on to be more aggressive, more exploratory. Their sex life was better than ever.
She felt his manhood getting harder and harder against her thighs and her body began to boil. She wanted to give in to the passion completely as she felt Justin begin to lose control, but she couldn’t. Something was in her way. Despite wanting her husband very much, Sherise had something other than sex on her mind. There was another man in bed with them.
“Justin,” she said as she took his hand just before it reached her center.
She slid away from him a few inches, but he moved back toward her, his hands reaching for her naked hips to bring her back to him.
“Justin,” she repeated, louder this time. “I . . . I’m sorry, but no.”
He looked up at her as if in disbelief, which quickly turned to disappointment. “No?”
She shook her head with an apologetic pout.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning up from her.
“It’s that fucking Maurice Blair.” She sat up against the soft cushioned headboard of the king-sized bed.
“Nice to know you’re thinking of another man while I’m trying to make love to you.” He smiled at her, but as soon as he realized she wasn’t in the mood for jokes, his demeanor changed to serious. “I wish I could do more for you.”
“You’ve done all you could.” She reached out and rubbed his arm appreciatively.
Things were different between Sherise and Justin now. After they’d both had affairs, their marriage was a mess. Then, with a new baby on the way, the sexual harassment claim against Justin—which turned out to be a calculated hoax—threatened to put the final nail in the coffin.
Instead, Sherise and Justin grew closer than ever by working together. Usually, when Sherise had a problem she would go to her sources, her private investigator or other people who could help her do what she needed to do.
She’d keep it from her husband as much as possible. Justin was a stickler for playing by the rules and didn’t approve of her tactics. That changed with the lawsuit. Realizing that he’d been the target of a nasty revenge scheme, threatening to destroy everything he’d worked for, he decided playing by the rules wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.
Now Sherise told him everything and they always worked together. He was the first person she’d called when she left Maurice Blair outside of Northman’s office. As a connected lobbyist, he knew how to find out almost anything on people in the political game. He went straight to work.
“I wish I could find out more,” Justin said. “Everyone knows he’s fallen off his perch of late. He used to be one of the top PR guys in the game. Worked on some of the biggest congressional races, then off to head the Democrat Governors Association.”
“I should talk to people at the DGA,” Sherise said. “What is he up to?”
“Lately, nothing,” Justin disclosed. “He’s dropped off, but I guess he’s still connected if he can get a private meeting with the future president. He’s a slime ball, known sexist pig, and all-around jerk. But you know this business.”
Sherise nodded. “That’s not a detriment in politics. Sometimes, I swear the sexism gets worse.”
Her entire career was filled with battling sexist pigs that claimed to be card-carrying progressives. Politics was a game to win for a lot of PR people, not at all about actual beliefs.
“It’s like he showed up out of the blue,” she said. “I know he’s up to something.”
“I’ll bet money, it’s about jobs.” Justin reached over to the edge of the bed for his T-shirt. “He’s got a lot of Democrats who want to be in the Cabinet of the new administration. They want to call in their favors for supporting Northman and campaigning with him. He’s in charge of . . .”
“But why kick us out?” Sherise asked. “We’re Northman’s top staff. We’re supposed to be making these transition choices. Blair should be coming to us and we take the requests to him. He even kicked LaKeisha out.”
“I know that’s the protocol, but maybe Blair does it differently.”
“It’s not for him to decide how things are done. Northman was elected. We decide how it’s done. I’m telling you, Justin, something is up.”
“Tomorrow night at the party,” Justin said, “you’ll make Northman tell you what’s going on. You know you can get him to do whatever you want.”
He was right. As with most men, Sherise could work Northman to her advantage if she needed to
. He favored her and she knew it. He respected her also, which made her not want to manipulate him, but she would do whatever she had to in order to stay in control of the situation.
“This is the big stage,” Sherise said.
“As big as it gets,” Justin agreed. “And you made it there.”
“So people are going to be gunning for me.”
“What makes you think he has you in his sights?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just got a feeling from the look on his face, he’s going to be a problem for me.”
“Like he wants to get you back for all those times he hit on you and you rejected him?”
Sherise pulled the covers on the bed over her, feeling a sudden chill.
“I’m just one of thousands of women who have done that. He probably doesn’t even remember it. No, I just got that vibe from him. Not the pervert vibe I usually get, but the trouble vibe. He had a look on his face.”
“You keep saying that,” Justin said. “What exactly is this look?”
She turned to him. “A look like he was about to start some shit.”
“So what if he is?” Justin asked. “He’s no match for you. You’ll handle him just fine and he’ll learn the hard way. Don’t fuck with Sherise Robinson.”
She smiled wickedly, loving the way it felt to really be one with her husband.
That chill she just felt thinking about Maurice Blair suddenly vanished and the heat returned. She reached out to Justin, grabbing at the T-shirt that he’d just put back on, and pulled him toward her. He obliged and his mouth met hers without hesitation.
Without a hiccup, they picked up right where they left off. Or so Sherise thought.
Just before she felt herself begin to fall into him and lose any sense of the rest of the world, she heard the sound of cooing. Usually, they remembered to turn off the baby monitor while having sex, but this time they’d forgotten. Hearing your baby coo in the other room was not the greatest aphrodisiac.
Justin sighed, lowering his head. “I’ll get it.”
He kissed her quickly before getting up from the bed. Only before he could get to the monitor on the dresser to turn it off, the cooing turned to crying. He paused and looked back at her, his hand just inches from the button.
Sherise moaned and reached for her nightgown at the edge of the bed.
“It’s just crying,” Justin said. “He’ll be fine.”
“No.” Sherise slowly, reluctantly got up from the bed. “He’s hungry.”
Justin let out a big sigh.
“Hey,” Sherise said. “It’s getting better.”
“True,” he agreed. “He used to cock-block me like it was his job.”
She laughed, walking over to him. She turned off the monitor and kissed Justin on the shoulder. “I won’t be long. Can you keep warm while you wait?”
“I’m always warm for you, baby.”
3
Sitting on the bed dressed in one of Michael’s T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, having just gotten out of the shower, Billie could hear a commotion in the living area of their hotel room even though the door to the bedroom was closed. Room service had arrived and she was starving, but had to deal with work.
“Okay,” Lane Redmond said on the other end of the phone. “I’m in the file.”
“Do you see the folder named Merlot?” she asked.
Lane Redmond was a fellow lawyer at Agencis, the financial services company she worked for. In fact, he was the person who had gotten her the job she had now as associate general counsel. Lane had basically saved her career.
Once an up and coming public defender, Billie saw her dream of spending a lifetime defending the powerless against the powerful come to an end with the financial debt her divorce had left her in. She’d joined the ranks of the highly paid, extremely overworked law firm associates and was doing well.
That was until she’d met Ricky Williams, a handsome, smooth-talking pro bono client who, despite running a home for political asylum seekers, was also running a drug operation in Southeast D.C. Billie would like to say Ricky seduced her, but she wasn’t the victim. She’d been attracted to him from the start and ignored all her professional ethical obligations and started an affair with him.
It didn’t cost her her license to practice law, but it did cost her the respect of her boss and she had to quit the firm. After consulting, she’d come in contact with Lane, whom she’d known since they worked together on the Criminal Law Review at Georgetown Law School. Lane, an associate general counsel at Agencis, had given her two legal consulting projects, which led to an offer to join the company permanently.
“You named the file after a wine?” Redmond asked.
She laughed. “You have your methods, I have mine. Look, don’t judge me. Just tell me if you see it.”
Lane was chuckling as he said, “I’ve found it. That’s it?”
There was a knock on the door and Michael called Billie’s name.
“Just a second,” she yelled.
“Yes,” she answered Lane. “That’s it. Inside, you’ll find the brief draft. You’re looking for point three, reform objections.”
After a few moments, Lane said, “I got it. I’m copying it now. Look, Billie. I’m really sorry about this. I know you’re on vacay, but the client is just freaking out and . . .”
“I get it,” she said calmly, even though it did annoy her. “Unlike my boyfriend, I get that technology means there is no such thing as a work-free vacation. Just try not to do it again.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you next week.”
“Bye, Lane.”
As she hung up, she heard Michael call her name again and hopped up from the sofa.
The second she opened the door to the living area, she looked around. The living area of the luxury suite at the St. Regis was expansive and beautifully decorated in a French style with soft creamy colors and perfect moldings. White and glass French doors led to a large Juliet-style balcony. This was where Michael was standing, waving her over.
Michael had made plans at a fancy restaurant in Buckhead, but Billie begged him to order room service instead. She couldn’t wait to get back from the lunch from hell to show Michael her appreciation for him standing up for her against his mother and sister. After making love all afternoon, she was too exhausted to get prettied up and go out.
“I’m starving,” she said, as she stepped out onto the balcony.
“Steak and lobster with garlic roasted red potatoes and grilled asparagus,” he said. “Just like you wanted.”
He took her by the arm and they walked around the table where the food was covered with sterling dish toppers. Billie stopped at the chair, expecting him to pull it out for her. Instead, he led her to the edge of the balcony overlooking the city.
“We’re not eating yet?” she asked.
“Let’s have a relaxing drink first.” He grabbed the two glasses of champagne he had already poured and offered her one.
“Champagne?” she asked. “We’re celebrating?”
“We’re celebrating our marathon lovemaking session.” He took a sip. “I think that’s the longest we’ve gone straight through.”
She reached out and pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his strong muscles underneath the soft cotton shirt. “If you count this morning, I think we belong in the Guinness Book of World Records.”
He took her by the waist and brought her to him. He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “If we didn’t, we need to find out what the record is and take a shot at it.”
“I’m game if you are,” she offered. “Honestly, Michael, I wanted to apologize for lunch.”
“That was an apology?” he asked. “Damn, I’m gonna have to demand apologies from you more often.”
“No.” She laughed, hitting him playfully on the chest. “That was a thank you. This, here, now is an apology.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he said.
“Bu
t I do,” she corrected. “I should have been more gracious with your mom and sis.”
“You were gracious,” he said. “They were the ones who were out of line, but I think I settled it.”
“But I don’t want that,” Billie insisted. “I don’t want you fighting with your mom over me.”
“We weren’t fighting. Look, baby, I love my mom to death, but she can be trifling at times. She knows it. We’re cool.”
“But I know how this works,” Billie said. “Although it’s deserved, you put her in check, but I’ll get blamed for it. You don’t need to stand up for me. I can . . .”
“I will always stand up for you.” He lifted his hand to her chin and cupped it gently. He tilted her head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “No matter what, no matter who, you’re my woman and I will stand up to anyone for you. I love you, Billie.”
Her heart bloomed and she felt her knees get weak. It wasn’t just his words, but the sound of sincerity in his voice. Hearing him say those three words sounded more beautiful than the greatest symphony.
“My God,” she said, almost breathless. “I love you so much, Michael. I swear I will make it work with your family. I will do anything I have to.”
“That’s good to hear.” He took a couple of steps back from her and reached into his pants pocket. “Especially with the new dynamic.”
“What new dy—”
Billie gasped as Michael slowly lowered to one knee and looked up at her. Life slowed to a crawl as she watched him open the ring box he was holding in his hand and hold it up to her.
At first she was blank, amazed, and shaken to her core at the surprise. But as it really sank in, Billie’s heart was filled with bottomless joy. She felt overwhelmed and breathless.
“Will you marry me, Billie?” he asked with a look of restless eagerness on his face. He was smiling with nervous anticipation.
Breaking from her frozen state, Billie finally screamed and jumped into the air. She’d forgotten she was holding a glass of champagne until that champagne flew out of the glass and all over Michael’s face and shirt.
Power, Seduction & Scandal Page 4
