by Lee Alan
Three seconds before she tries to back out, Julia thought.
One…
Two…
“Julia, I feel sick. Maybe I should call to arrange another day?”
“Nice try, Little Bird. Up you get,” she replied. “You’re gonna have a wonderful night. Now, stop being a big pussy.”
Anna let out an exaggerated sigh. “But what if it goes wrong, or if he’s not interested in me?”
“Anna, he’s a man. If he’s not gay, trust me: he’ll be interested.” She’d already given the same reply on three occasions that afternoon.
The typing and clicking on the PC stopped, and Anna turned to face the inevitable. Her blue eyes were large and worried. “Let’s do it,” she said, with a broad grin replacing the look of concern.
The next two hours passed quickly amidst panicky wardrobe changes and intense discussion about her new hairstyle. They both had to admit, however, that the result of the frantic makeover session was a triumph. Anna stood radiant in a bateau neck, sheer, beaded, black evening gown complimented by a matching diamond necklace and earring set borrowed for the occasion. Delicate makeup accentuated the feminine curves of her face.
“Perfect. You show him, girl!” Julia declared with only ten minutes to go. The responding twinkle in Anna’s eye sealed the verdict.
Eight PM arrived, and a long, black limo pulled up outside.
“It’s a limo!” Julia said, pulling aside the net curtains to get a better look. She turned and flung her arms around Anna before uttering the age old Price family advice when either of them went with a new date.
“Be good, but, if you can’t be good…”
“Be careful.” The youngest finished the sentence, making them both giggle.
“Good luck, sweetheart,” Julia added after the light–hearted moment passed.
“Thanks, Big Bird.” Anna kissed her sister and stepped out the front door.
Julia watched from the window as a suited driver emerged and opened the car door for Anna. As he did so, she also caught a glimpse of the congressman.
Wow. Anna’s right: he is gorgeous, she thought. A vague note of caution followed the observation: over confidence often came with good–looking individuals. “Especially men,” she murmured.
***
“Hey, you. I’m so glad you called me,” Jim Peterson said as the driver opened the limo door. “You look amazing, by the way.”
Anna smiled, marvelling at the whole situation. He looked just as attractive as she recalled from their brief introduction. This time, he was wearing a slim–fitting, dark blue dinner suit. Two manicured hands clasped a bunch of sweet–smelling roses, and his intense, grey eyes scanned her dress in a way she found exciting.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” she replied, accepting the flowers.
“Not as stunning as you, though.”
“Oh, this old thing,” Anna said jokingly,” I just threw it on.”
They both laughed while she revelled in the deep, warm tone of his chuckle. The driver helped her into the back on the passenger’s side. Anna recognized him as the same large guard who’d accompanied Jim to the law office.
The interior of the vehicle dazzled in a combination of polished, black leather and gleaming chrome. In the center was a small bar stocked with various drinks presented in sparkling, crystal decanters of various sizes. Interior LEDs bounced subdued lighting off the smooth surfaces surrounding them to create an atmosphere of relaxed indulgence. Anna noticed their complete privacy had been assured by a shaded screen between them and the driver. She found herself loving the extravagance, having only ever seen the like in movies.
“So this is where my tax dollars go,” she mused, partly in an attempt to break the ice, but also to hide her overwhelmed senses.
Jim laughed again, his tone the same rich coffee. “It’s rented,” he replied in mock protest. “No taxes, scouts honor.” He chuckled, accompanying the assurance with a quick salute.
“It’s great,” Anna added, eager to show that her last comment had been made in jest. “So, Congressman Peterson, where are you taking me?”
“How’s the Pink Coconut sound?” He ventured.
She’d heard of the place: a trendy new upmarket bar in Phoenix.
“Sounds good to me,” she replied, trying to sound casual despite her excitement at the suggestion.
The following drive passed in a pleasant blend of light conversation and several chilled glasses of Chateau Laville. Although the journey wasn’t a long one, she’d still had time to learn that Jim was relatively new in Congress, having previously worked as a geologist.
“You like rocks?” She’d asked somewhat naively.
He gave another warm smile. “Well, I’ve come across rocks with more personality than some of my congressional colleagues, if that answers your question,” he jibed. “Actually, I had the responsibility of finding new mineral deposits for a major oil company.”
The more he explained, she realized how modestly he painted his achievements. According to the online search she’d done on Julia’s PC, he’d become a rising star within the Republican Party and associated with many major governmental industrial contracts. Most impressive of all, he chaired the influential Energy and Commerce Committee.
He also mentioned being too busy to consider another relationship since divorcing his wife years ago. Although the statement made her doubt his intentions, she guessed he wouldn’t be here, if he wasn’t reconsidering a single life.
When Jim asked about her, Anna tried to be as honest as possible and explained that she’d moved to Phoenix for a fresh start after a difficult split. With a guilty feeling, she realized no mention had been made of how recent the break was, or how traumatic the circumstances. Thankfully, Jim didn’t press further.
***
Anna held onto her handsome escort’s muscled arm with nervous anticipation as they strolled toward the electric lights and buzzing atmosphere of the venue.
On the twentieth century art deco facade of the club, blinked a giant, fluorescent coconut, which shone neon pink against the azure Arizona skyline. Beneath the flashy entrance, a long queue, monitored by a team of uniformed door staff had developed. Despite the security, Jim ignored the line and led them to a discreet side doorway, marked VIP.
“Congressman Peterson, it’s a pleasure to see you.” A large African–American bouncer greeted him.
“Evening, Tylor,” Jim replied. “My usual spot please.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you,” the doorman replied before speaking discreetly into a small microphone attached to his tux. Shortly after, he raised the rope and ushered them through.
They sauntered into an area denoted by a red carpet, which ran down the length of the darkly–decorated passageway. The adjoining walls were painted a smoky black and dotted with silver sequins. After emerging from the hall, they came to a spacious bar shaped like a silver palm tree, behind which an attractive young woman in a gown offered them drinks. Anna opted for a rum and Coke on the rocks, while her date requested a gin and tonic. Looking around, she noted that they appeared to have exclusive access to the swanky spot.
I could get used to this treatment, Anna thought, and took a healthy swig of rum. The fiery liquid sent a warm sensation running down her throat.
Shortly after taking their beverages, another smartly–dressed member of the Pink Coconut team appeared and led them up a marble effect staircase. This culminated onto the upper story of the venue, which had been decorated in the style of an old–fashioned theater hall. Unlike the ground level, the VIP section was arranged into a series of balcony booths.
The view from their personal terrace was impressive: it must have been at least twenty feet above the dance floor, and Anna could see dozens of elegant tables below, each with a pure white tablecloth and a pink coconut motif. Numerous couples streamed across the highly–polished wooden flooring before sett
ling. Silver cutlery gleamed and twinkled across the cavernous room in a dazzling display.
The main stage was the centerpiece of the club. It had been framed in shining blue cloth with the name of the main act emblazoned across the top of the set: The Luke Marvin Jazz Orchestra. She counted at least thirty musicians bustling and fussing around an array of instruments. The occasional sound of tuning drifted up and mixed with the hubbub to create a heady atmosphere, thick with expectation.
If the floor of the club appeared opulent, the upper floor balconies looked downright luxurious. Each booth had an individual table with a pure white cloth sporting a gold leaf version of the logo, in the same manner as the VIP area. Not only this, but each booth also had its own team to cater to the desires of their clients.
“Would sir and madam enjoy a glass of champagne while they make their selection?” The usher asked, after seating them and presenting a leather–bound menu.
“Oh, no, thank you. I have a drink, already,” she replied, still on her first rum.
“Sure, why not?” Jim consented and downed the gin and tonic in one go.
Anna felt a little intimidated by the confusing array of listed delicacies, many of which were written in French. She did, however, find a few familiar descriptions.
“Would madam care to order?”
“Could I have the scallops to start with, and then the beef Wellington, please?” She replied, trying not to show her ignorance about the other dishes on offer.
“Excellent choice,” the waiter remarked. “And sir?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Very good,” the waiter said, before leaving them to soak up the atmosphere.
As soon as he’d left, Jim leaned toward her. “I can’t read French,” he whispered.
“Me neither,” she confessed with a smile.
“Thank heavens for beef Wellington, or we’d be outed by the food police,” he said, conveying an infectious grin.
“I hope you like jazz,’ he added after a moment of silence, “Because, if you don’t, I fear you’re in for a long night.”
“I’ve never really listened to jazz,” she replied honestly.
“Oh,” he pondered. “Well, who knows—you might like it.”
“We shall see,” she agreed, feeling a little giddy.
Another dazzling smile greeted the reply. “How’s the new job going?” He asked, changing the subject.
“Let’s just say Mr. Moyer is a bit eccentric,” she answered cautiously. The mere mention of her hopeless employer prompted another long gulp from the crystal glass. The alcohol added to the growing glow in her belly.
“Doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he agreed. “Between us, I think the guy’s losing it. That worries me.”
“I noticed you didn’t seem very impressed when you visited. Are you his client, Jim?”
“No, thank God. But he does represent an organization I care about: people with important work—well, important to the state of Arizona,” he continued. “In all honesty, Anna, he could ruin their chances because of the state he’s in.” Jim took a sip of the gin, which had been quietly placed in front of him a moment before, and then crunched ice between his teeth, while shaking his head.
“Can’t you just warn them, the clients?” she asked.
“I wish it was that simple,” he replied with a shrug. “People think politicians spend all day meeting in smoke–filled rooms, doing dodgy deals. The truth is that we have to be extra careful not to. If I’m seen interfering…” he left it hanging.
“Deep doo doo,” she finished. He raised his glass in agreement. “So, that’s why you went to speak to Bill Moyer the other day?”
“Exactly. I thought maybe I could talk some sense into him.”
“He didn’t listen, I take it?” Anna was already sure what the answer would be. Unsurprisingly, Jim shook his head in reply.
She’d only been working with Bill Moyer for a week, but she could already tell that the man seemed close to his breaking point. He rarely saw clients, and the paper work continued to pile up on his desk. Of course, she’d done her best to keep the office running, but he’d spent most of the time either getting high in his room, or sleeping off the effects. In fact, she had become so concerned that she’d tried to contact the other lawyer in the firm: the mysterious Mr. Howard. Unfortunately, this avenue was cut off when she’d learned that the senior partner had died over a year ago.
That left conveying her concerns to Blanche. Predictably, the rude woman had reacted with a vindictive lecture and even said the enquiry was “unworthy of a loyal employee.” Clearly, her dislike for Anna left the woman blind to any other consideration, even if it was in her own best interests.
“I worry that he’s totally off the rails,” Jim continued. “I just wish there was a way of finding out if he’s doing a half–competent job for them.”
This prompted an idea to form in Anna’s mind. But, before she could share it, their sizzling starter arrived, accompanied by a booming voice rising from the direction of the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Luke Marvin and his jazz orchestra!” A grossly overweight guy in a white tuxedo announced.
A huge round of applause went up from the audience, in which Anna joined. The group of musicians on the stage bowed in unison, led by an elderly–looking man in a purple, velvet suit dotted with flashing sequins.
At first, she found it difficult to concentrate on the performance, distracted by the mouth–watering smell of the scallops. The orchestra, however, soon dropped into a mellow rhythm, complementing the meal. In fact, the food tasted so good that she had to stop from exclaiming out loud when tasting the delicate flavors of the shellfish, which were mixed with a refreshing mint and pea puree.
Anna lost track of time amidst a swirl of sound, taste, liquor, and flirtatious banter from the bewitching congressman. As she relaxed, he proved to be the perfect gentleman, always asking about her enjoyment of some aspect of the food or music. Most gratifying of all, he seemed more interested in her, rather than talking only about himself. It was a courtesy that she found attractive.
***
After the last note of the orchestra played, Jim escorted her to the waiting limo. Neither of them were too steady on their feet, and Anna felt a euphoric sense of glee. As they made their way back down the marble staircase, she reveled in a wonderful night. They both giggled and staggered out into the sultry, open air to find Dirk waiting outside the main entrance. He invited them into the shining limo and the interior appeared even more indulgent than she recalled. Everything became a delightful mix of colors and sensory pleasures. She relaxed, settling into the luxurious leather, and her mind drifted pleasantly.
“Another drink?” Jim asked, raising a decanter.
“Oh, no, thanks. This girl is all rummed out.” She flapped her arm theatrically.
The limo glided into the late night traffic, and, once again, they found themselves alone, separated from the driver by the darkened visor.
She suddenly recalled their earlier conversation about Bill Moyer. “You remember how we talked about the fat cowboy?” She asked, placing her head on his shoulder.
He laughed, “You mean Bill Moyer?”
“I was thinking, maybe I could find out what’s happening with this client you talked about,” she offered.
His hand touched her gently under her chin, and she found her face being turned toward his. “No, that’s not fair. You could risk your job. I wouldn’t stand for it.” While his gaze held hers, she could feel her pulse quicken.
“I can get another job, and the ignorant prick can go ride a donkey,” she slurred, her heart thumping.
“A donkey?” He smiled, his mouth glistening with moisture that she had a naughty urge to lick.
Jim leaned down and their lips met. The sensation tingled, giving her a shivering urge to open her mouth wider, which she did. The taste of lemon an
d alcohol greeted her as his tongue entered. The feeling was welcome and tantalizing. A manicured hand followed, running fingers down the length of her neck. His fingertips moved lightly and with care, until they rested just above her left breast. She moaned, wanting the action to continue to her swollen nipple. The wait was short–lived and they shared more urgent kissing.
His hand continued its sensual journey of exploration and rubbed against her aroused breast. It felt delightful, and she craved more—a lot more. Anna willed the wayward fingers to do just that. Not needing further encouragement, they moved southward, over her stomach, and then lingered. They stroked, as if building the courage to go on. Their mouths pressed hard, his lips sucking hers.
I want him, Anna thought wildly.
Her legs parted, until one corner of her black dress slipped over her right knee. Jim’s hand followed, and his light fingertips flickered against the flesh of her inner thigh. She found it hard not to make any sound, so great was the urge building between them. His hand continued upward, until the tip of one of his fingers brushed the underside of her panties. She gasped, becoming aware of a pulsing that longed for fulfilment. His finger brushed her again, this time with greater force, and she felt herself starting to give in to the insistent call. A thin layer of lace was the only thing between them. The desire to let go of her remaining inhibitions was almost irresistible.
It’s too soon, her inner voice said firmly. You might regret it.
Hardly believing her own action, Anna closed her legs, making Jim’s arm retreat. At the same time, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him tenderly. Even as their lips separated with one last flurry, she longed for him.
“It’s too soon,” she said, still panting. Jim resisted for a moment, his face full of lust, but her arm remained firm. “Not yet, Jim.”
The same dark shadow she’d seen at the law firm passed over his features: a black, brooding anger. But it left as quickly as it appeared.
“I understand,” he said, as he threw himself back onto his side of the limo, his face still flushed from their close encounter.
“Sorry, Jim. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”
