The Seamstress (An Erotic Love Story)

by Vanessa Lovecraft

  “Bullman’s. It’s a nice brick-oven pizza place about ten minutes from here. I made reservations in advance, does that work for you?”

  She nodded her head. Alicia appreciated a man who was in charge. “You’re on it tonight. That’s perfect.” She rose to her tippy-toes, and planted a quick kiss on his subtle scruff. What am I doing, what am I doing? Her internal monologue screamed at her as though she had just committed a felony, but Andre accepted her advance without a problem.

  “Mm? Alright, shall we?” He said with a cheeky grin.

  The front door opened. He led her to his car, in which he opened yet another door for her. She slid into the comfortable, diamond-stitched leather, and he closed the door after her. Immediately, she whipped out her phone to identify the kind of car she had found herself in. The steering wheel bore an insignia which was reminiscent of a trident. It’s all she had to work with. “Trident car logo,” she typed quickly, and upon pressing the search key, the screen filled with results for Maserati. “Yup,” She whispered, while Andre stood outside briefly to adjust his newly repaired jacket. “I’m in a damn Maserati.”

  As he stepped inside the car, those notes of ginger caught her nose once again. His scent was so magnetic, she had to refrain from pulling herself into his chest. The engine roared to life, drowning out her other senses for a minute, and she reflexively commented, “I’ve never been in one before. Really nice. I love the soft feel of the leather.”

  “Thanks. Sometimes I wish I’d gone with something that isn’t so flashy.”

  “Hm, why do you say that?” Alicia questioned.

  “It’s more than just the car. My lifestyle in general—often times it attracts the wrong kinds of people.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “You aren’t like that though.”

  Alicia straightened up, and looked deeply into his pearlescent eyes. “I’m not? I mean, I’m not, but how can you be so sure? You barely know me.”

  “Something about you, Alicia. I really don’t know; you just seem to radiate humility.” A gentle smile appeared on his face before he placed the car in reverse.

  “That’s…that’s probably nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Thank you, really.”

  A layer of anxiety peeled off of her. After listening to Andre’s words, it was as though the gates to his heart were thrown wide open. Now that she knew he didn’t suffer from uptight rich-guy syndrome, he felt easier to talk to. Made her feel like she’d risen to his level.

  As they continued conversing on the way to Bullman’s, they started resonating with each other on a genuine level. Andre was humble; probably even more so than Alicia, but he was still so definite. The way he drove his car. Precise. Focused. It seemed to translate into every single thing he did, and he did it with such little effort.

  Every single thing? Alicia wondered. She’d toned down on the straight forward seduction, but she still could not ignore how horny she was. Andre, too. His body language suggested that there was more going on underneath the surface. “He wants you, Alicia. The way he constantly licks his lips—he wishes he were between your thighs an hour ago. The way he fixes his pants—he’s hiding his bulge, or maybe he’s trying to divert your attention down there. Hard to tell!” My god, what silly thoughts, but she couldn’t help overthink every suggestive move he made. At the red light before 3rd Street, she caught him casually staring at her cleavage from her peripheral vision. She counted the seconds. One, two, three…

  “Green.”

  Andre’s head turned away quickly as he nervously cleared his throat. “My bad, thanks.”

  A suggestive silence filled the air for a couple minutes before Alicia broke it with a trail of uncertain words. “You know, we don’t have to…”

  “What, dinner?”

  “Ah, no. Never mind.” She said, followed with a breathy laugh.

  We don’t have to play games, Andre. That’s what she wanted to say. I know what you want. It wasn’t the right time for that, though. She wanted the evening to build naturally, until he couldn’t resist her anymore.

  A muffled buzz vibrated her purse. She took out her phone to find a text from her roommate.

  Anna – How’s it going with Mr. Perfect? Broke your heart yet?

  Anna – Joking, joking. Really, how are you though?

  Alicia – I’m in a Maserati. He wears Prada. Caught him staring once or twice.

  Anna – Well isn’t he a catch?

  Alicia – He’s a good guy. I think I have a chance with him.

  Anna – Well, good luck. I’ll be here if you need anything.

  Alicia – Thanks Anna. BTW, would you mind if he stayed with us tonight?

  Anna – For real? What, he can’t afford a damn hotel?

  Anna – Whatever, if it comes to that point, I don’t care.

  Alicia – Thanks.

  Anna – I’m up at 5 tomorrow, though. Keep it quiet if you get frisky.

  If. It was not a question of if. It was a matter of when and how. Alicia’s mind filled with the possibilities as her imagination soared to the clouds. It danced with lustful ideas, which translated immediately to her physical body. Hard nipples. That feeling. Feeling as though she needed something inside of her. The butterflies in her stomach tickled her with anticipation. She was brought back down to reality when Andre swung his Maserati into a parking spot, and threw it into park.

  “Looks like we’re a bit earlier than I thought we’d be. I made a reservation for 6:45.”

  “Doesn’t look too busy though; I bet they’ll have a table for us.”

  He told her to wait. Opened the door for her as though he was her personal chauffeur. It was the first time in years that she felt so special. So wanted.

  “Thank you, Andre.” She said, as she slid elegantly from the smooth leather interior, and onto her black, suede flats. Carefully. Don’t want them to get scuffed. As Alicia stood up, Andre could not help but compliment her attire once more. It was like a reflex he could not control, but still, it felt so natural coming from his lips. “Everything—your hair, your shoes. You’re quite the spectacle tonight.” To any passer-by, the comment may have felt cheesy and uninspired, but to Alicia, it was nothing short of perfection.

  He took control as soon as they stepped inside of Bullman’s.

  “Just the two of us tonight. Reservations under the last name Duval.”

  Wait. That name. Andre Duval. She’d heard it before, but she could not recall where. All she could remember was that the connotations were important. He was a very important man, if it was truly the same Andre Duval she was trying to remember. It was definitely something about business, though. Something she had read years ago. Duval. Who are you? She thought, as she stared voraciously at his hard body.

  Alicia watched as every woman in the restaurant stared down Andre as they walked by. Even the waitresses could not help but stop what they were doing momentarily to admire the art. It made her feel like royalty. Untouchable. She returned their envious glances with a soft smile, as if to say, “Yeah, he’s mine.” It was such an otherworldly experience. She thought for a moment that they were going to be met with the flashing lights of paparazzi. He’s attractive, not famous, you dolt, she thought. And quite frankly, she was glad this was not the case. Alicia appreciated a quiet life with minimal interruptions. Rich, attractive, and humble—the perfect trifecta of qualities. Save the fame for someone else.

  As soon as they sat down, he ordered a relatively inexpensive red-blend. “I noticed you have Massicanti on the shelf. I think I’ll start with a glass.”

  “I’ll do the same.” Alicia said. As the waitress left to get their drinks, she excused herself from the table. “I’ll be right back, just need to use the restroom.” She walked nonchalantly to the back, until she was out of sight. Then, she rushed. The stall door closed and locked behind her. She sat herself down on the edge of the toilet, and whipped out her phone.

  A-N-D-R-E-D-U-V-A-L, she typed quickly into the sea
rch bar. Nothing relative. She followed with the word B-U-S-I-N-E-S-S, and clicked the very first result which looked promising. Immediately, she began to read the article, which prominently displayed a photogenic picture of her date at the top:

  Princeton graduate, and millionaire mogul, Andre Duval, is making waves in the fashion industry. No, he did not graduate with a degree in clothing design; however, after achieving his masters in finance and investing, he took interest in collaborating with up-and-coming, brick and mortar stores from around his area. Currently, he has helped three individual brands achieve international status—one of which has become a sizeable force in the realm of online retail. Duval has shared that his net worth is rapidly approaching the eight figure mark, but has assured us that a large portion of his earnings are being donated to charities which pertain to education.

  “The money has come as a surprise,” he told one interviewer, “but I’d much rather see it going toward something worthwhile. I live comfortably enough.”

  Duval has also stated that he one day wishes to create a brand of his own, but is waiting until he finds the proper business partners. “It’s hard to find people who share the same mindset and ideologies as mine. Unfortunately, the consensus is usually that the money should come first, then the quality. I want to strive for the opposite.”

  Alicia stopped; the phone fell from her hand, and onto her lap. She’d read the same article three years ago in a free-trial magazine called Elements. It wasn’t even hers—it had been shipped to the wrong address, but she decided to skim through it anyway. Andre’s picture wasn’t paired with the article in the magazine, but…

  “What are the fucking odds?” She whispered under her breath. The excitement boiled inside of her so intensely that she felt as though she was going to cry. It was like the entire week had been planned carefully by the Fates themselves. Both of their destinies were converging to a single point, and now that they were both there, in the same restaurant, drinking the same kind of wine, heaven had arrived on Earth. She had to let him know. She had to tell him everything—the magazine, her plans for T&C, her infatuation? Maybe she would save that for later.

  When she sat down, it was as though she was meeting Andre for the first time in her life. “This…this is going to sound so very strange, Andre, but I know you.”

  His eyes widened a bit at the unexpectedness of her comment. “I—are you sure? I don’t recall meeting you before this.”

  “Sorry, I’ve read about you before. Three years ago I received this design magazine in the mail, and one of the articles was discussing your influence in the fashion industry. I remembered it when you said your last name was Duval. How crazy is that? To me, at least.”

  “Ok, I guess you caught me.”

  “What do you mean?” Alicia asked with nervous undertones.

  “T&C became a prospect of mine when I was conducting some research. Have you seen the reviews of your business online, Alicia? Everyone who gets work done through raves about your quality.”

  She was thrown back into her chair upon hearing this. “Wait, so you came to my town just to…”

  “Just to talk to you, yes. But I didn’t realize you would be you. I wanted to get to know you better before jumping straight into the boring monotony of business discussion. Like I said before, you’re just different, Alicia. I feel like my priorities changed the day I met you.”

  “Wait, but the jacket. Did you deface your Prada jacket intentionally, just so you would have a reason to meet me?”

  Andre blushed slightly, “I…I may have.”

  Alicia burst out in a fit of laughter. “I’ll never understand the logic of men.” She told him playfully.

  “Neither will I, Alicia. Neither will I.”

  5

  They spent the rest of the evening lost in each other. Intermittently, between the sips of wine and flirtatious comments, Alicia would explain to Andre what her plans were for Thimble & Cloth. He was fascinated by her devotion to her business—her livelihood.

  “So, what exactly is it about T&C that made you come all the way over here?” She asked.

  “Textile repair is a dying field, and I felt that there was an opportunity to bring it back to life. But now you’re talking about starting your own clothing line? I had dreams of doing that years ago, but it never came to fruition.”

  “Because you couldn’t find the right people.” Alicia responded. “I remember you saying that in the article I read.”

  “Exactly. But now that I’m talking with someone who is on the same page as me—someone talented, nonetheless—I want to give it a shot again. What do you think?” He witnessed her eyes light up, but stopped her short before she could say anything. “Wait, hold that thought. I want you to give it some time before giving me an answer, is that fair? Think it through a bit.”

  Alicia nodded with a bright smile on her pretty face. “Not a problem.”

  After finishing their wine, Andre requested the bill. He tipped the waitress with a crisp fifty, which he slid delicately into the pocket of the check holder. He pulled out Alicia’s chair for her, and on the way out, she couldn’t help but notice the wandering eyes following them for a second time. He opened the heavy door of his Maserati for her, but before she entered, her soft lips met his for a brief moment.

  “I had a good time. Thanks.” She said with a warm, breathy voice. Good was an understatement, though. The evening had been absolute perfection. As he started the engine, she recalled that single, unchecked point on the business card she’s found in the pocket of his coat. Book a room at…“So, where are you staying while you’re here?”

  “Oh, it’s been a nightmare. It seems like every hotel in the area is booked. I’m staying with a colleague of mine, but since he has a family of his own, I feel like I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

  “Stay at my place tonight.” She said as she laid her hand on top of his. She noticed his hard bulge flex from underneath his pants when she touched him.

  “Are you sure? Your roommate won’t mind?”

  “She’s fine, don’t worry about her. Probably asleep already, anyway.”

  “If you insist, then. That would be great” Andre’s face became warm as they pulled out of Bullman’s. He seemed to be driving faster that he had been on the way over, as if to insinuate he has somewhere to be. Somewhere to be, Alicia thought. She knew exactly what was on his mind.

  “Stop sign.” She noted when she realized he wasn’t slowing down. He barely stopped, almost blowing through it altogether. “In a hurry, Andre?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” His foot slammed on the pedal again, and before she knew it, they arrived at her duplex. Andre popped the trunk, and grabbed his Louis Vuitton travel bags from the back.

  “Need help?” She asked. His strong forearms suggested that he didn’t.

  “I think I’ve got it, thanks.”

  She led him to the front door, and quietly unlocked it. “Sorry, we have to keep it down to some degree.” Andre nodded; Alicia made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “If you need anything, let me know.” Anything. Anything. She thought, hoping to God that he would grab her ass from behind. Anything. As she reached for the upper cabinet, she found a sloppily written note on the counter.

  Alicia,

  Decided to stay at Rachel’s place tonight. Good luck with Mr. Perfect.

  -Anna

  Her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she finished reading it. They were alone. Together. Just the two of them. No boundaries. No interruptions.

  “What’s that?” Andre questioned.

  “Oh, turns out my roommate is staying elsewhere for the night.” She could barely keep her composure as her heart melted into a puddle of disbelief. So perfect. Everything.

  “So, we can be loud, then?” Andre quipped, as he walked over to her. One hand came around her waist. The other found its place on her lower back.

  “I guess so.” She whispered into his ear. Her words wer
e sweeter than honey.

  They shared an intense stare, which immediately turned to locked lips. Soft. Seductive. Andre’s tongue played gently with hers as his hands groped every square inch of her back, working their way lower after every passing second. Alicia’s hands wrapped around his neck as he propped her up onto the counter.

  “What do you want to do to me, Andre?” He found himself at a loss of words. He could only respond with sharp breaths, as though he had just ran a half marathon.

  He moved his hands to her thighs as his lips traveled to her neck. Then chest. He spread her apart, and glided his fingertips up her legs until he reached his prize. With slow, deliberate movements, he massaged her pussy through her black, lace panties.

  “It’s so hot.” Is all he could say as sex flooded his mind. He slipped one finger inside of her, then another, as their lips remained stuck in a lustful seal. She knew immediately that he had experience when it came to pleasing a woman. Every movement he made was entirely for her favor, not his. Rhythmically, he moved his entire hand up and down, with his palm placed against her clit. Alicia’s moans couldn’t escape from her mouth, since it was so preoccupied with Andre’s tongue. As their lips unlocked, she could not control her words. “Right there. Yes, ah, keep going.” She’d never been so vocal before. Then again, she’d never wanted a man so badly to have his way with her.

  Andre’s fingers were saturated when he took them out. “Alicia, you’re so wet.” She put a finger over his lips as she reached for his belt. She knelt down, undid it hastily, and pulled down his boxers with his pants, revealing his rock-solid dick, which laid perfectly between two muscular thighs. Biggest I’ve ever seen, she thought, as both of her hands wrapped around it. Andre flexed as Alicia’s thumb rubbed his frenulum. She looked up at him—his expression told her that he could cum anytime she wanted him to.