by B. J. McCall
Moaning, Kela dug her nails into his hard muscles. When had Roland become such a hard body? The question slid away in the heat of her climax.
“I’ve missed that.”
Roland released her nipple and pressed his forehead against her breast. “Your heart’s pounding so fast.”
“You excite me.” Kela put her arms around him, burying his face between her breasts. His skin was cool against her warm flesh. All was not lost. Once Roland had his show they’d get back on track. “I want our life back.”
Roland raised his head. “Move to the city.”
“This place is too small.”
“You’d have to get your own place, but we’d get to fuck every night.”
Her emotions were jumbled. They’d often made love with the smell of paint permeating their nostrils, but Roland was thinking only of his needs. He didn’t want her with him. He wanted convenient sex.
What was happening? The gentle, loving artist she’d fallen in love with was morphing into a self-centered asshole.
“I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about us. Time alone, to talk and just be together. We used to take walks and hang out at the beach. We had breakfast at dawn so you’d catch the morning light.”
“I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed. My art has changed.”
“Changed? How?” She glanced at the covered canvas. “I want to see.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I love your work.”
“It’s not finished, but you can look.”
Kela climbed off his lap and pulled down her skirt, then carefully lifted the cloth cover off the canvas. Her breath caught.
“I think it’s my best work. Andre loves it.”
At Karr’s request, Roland had switched from seascapes to nudes. He painted beautiful human forms. His recent works included embracing couples and clasped hands, emotional images of love and affection that touched the heart. This painting shocked her to the core.
The image of three naked entwined bodies, two male and one female, was blatantly sexual, lacking joy and warmth. One man, his erection visible, was poised to penetrate the center male figure. The man in the center was taking a woman from behind. Her face was contorted with pain instead of pleasure.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t get who I am.”
“This isn’t you. There’s no passion here.”
“I didn’t think you’d like it.”
“This is what has kept us apart? This is what Andre wants you to paint?”
“It’s my art.”
She studied the faces. “The figure in the middle, is that Andre?”
“It is, and the female is Jenna.”
Kela saw the resemblance. “Jenna posed for this?”
“Andre was posing and she insisted. They’re a couple, of sorts.”
Her friend had never been into older men or shown an attraction for guys like Karr. Jenna loved country music and handsome cowboys. Young cowboys. “Jenna and Andre? I don’t believe you.”
“Let’s go upstairs to the party and you can see for yourself.”
Like Roland, Jenna had ceased to be part of Kela’s daily life. Recently, her friend had been too busy to get together for lunch or catch a movie. Their relationship had dwindled to text messages filled with excuses. Kela stopped texting and hadn’t heard from Jenna in close to two weeks.
“She’s here?”
“Every night.”
Kela stared at the painting, wishing she could see it in normal lighting. The pain on Jenna’s face tore at Kela’s heart. It looked so real and Karr appeared downright evil. Nothing made sense. Not the painting or Roland’s new look. “I want to see Jenna.”
“Let’s go upstairs. Andre will be upset if he finds out you were here and didn’t stop in to say hello.”
Kela didn’t care if she upset Karr. She wanted to speak with Jenna. She plucked her bikini underwear off the carpet. They were ripped beyond repair.
Roland snatched them out of her hand and tossed them aside. “Knowing you’re naked beneath that short skirt turns me on.” He reached out and flicked her nipple with a nail. “Make me happy. Forget the bra and the top.”
“Think again.”
“Andre shows off your painting at every party. I want everyone to see the real thing. Living art.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t joke about art.”
“I’m not going to walk half naked into a room full of strangers.”
“They’re not strangers. They’re clients and friends.”
Kela scooped up her top and slipped it over her head, then adjusted the cross to lie between her breasts. “Your friends will just have to use their imagination.”
He opened the door. “You’re so old school.”
Just a few months ago, Roland had been old school. Kela understood Roland’s desire for success, but he’d let himself become too influenced by Karr.
His hand at the small of her back, Roland escorted her down the hallway to the elevator. They stepped into the car. The ride was brief.
“Don’t act shocked,” Roland said.
“Why should I be shocked?”
Her question was answered the moment the elevator doors opened. Heavy-metal music blasted and naked people filled the penthouse. Bathed in red light, Karr’s guests were having sex in every way, shape and form with multiple partners.
She froze in her tracks. “This isn’t a party.” She raised her voice to be heard over the music. “This is an orgy.”
Roland leaned down and put his face close to hers. “Come on, Kela. Keep your cool. Everyone is having fun.”
Kela believed consenting adults were free to engage in their preferred tastes, but this wasn’t her scene and Roland knew it. Angry, she looked at Roland. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
“It’s sex. No big deal.”
It was a big deal. Roland hadn’t considered her feelings. “It’s not them. It’s you.”
“Please don’t make a scene. Stay. Have one drink. You want to see Jenna, don’t you?”
“I can’t believe Jenna is here.”
“See for yourself.”
Kela nodded. She clung to Roland’s arm as they entered the living room. Everywhere she looked she saw naked people, fondling, kissing, sucking and fucking. On one sofa, a woman with long hair was going down on a guy who was having oral sex with another guy. On the floor nearby a middle-aged man was having anal sex with a young man wearing makeup and dangling earrings. Another woman was hanging onto a tasseled rope mounted to the ceiling. Her legs were draped over the shoulders of a kneeling man while another man, hips grinding, stood behind her.
“Ohmigod.”
Roland laughed. “You’ve seen people fucking before.”
“In movies.”
“Watching people fuck is a turn-on. Real is better.”
Roland had mentioned Karr’s penthouse parties during their too-brief conversations. Was this how he was spending his evenings? Was he participating?
“We should join the fun.”
Kela glanced around, her senses assaulted by the smell of smoke from burning incense, the throbbing beat of the music and the writhing bodies, glowing red from the lighting. Everywhere she looked were entwining legs, moving arms, bobbing heads, humping butts, jiggling breasts and jutting penises. Every guy in the room had a hard-on.
She swallowed. “You can’t be serious?”
“I’m not asking you to fuck anyone else, just me.”
Kela enjoyed the thrill of sex in public places. She and Roland had made love at the beach and in the woods, but they hadn’t been exhibitionists. “Make love in front of all these people? That’s what you want?”
“Fucking is fun.”
“This isn’t for me and I can’t believe it’s for you. A few months ago you were jealous if a guy checked out my breasts.”
“It’s different here. People aren’t so
repressed.”
“I’m not repressed and fucking multiple partners doesn’t make you enlightened.”
Roland sighed and guided her to a beautiful glass bar at the far end of the huge living room. The music wasn’t as loud at the bar, making the moans, grunts, squeals, grunts and sucking sounds impossible to ignore.
“How about a drink? Maybe a few shots of tequila will loosen you up.”
Tequila shots had resulted in sex at the beach. “White wine.”
Wanting to avoid looking at the intimate scenes all around her, Kela kept her gaze on Roland. He slipped behind the bar and poured her a glass, his actions demonstrating how at home he was in Karr’s penthouse. Wine in hand, he rejoined her.
“Enjoy,” he said, handing her the glass. “Andre serves the good stuff.”
“Thanks.” How many times had she and Roland spent an evening drinking cheap wine and making love? Expensive liquor didn’t make life better. She glanced around the room. If this was urban chic, Kela wanted no part of it.
She sipped the wine. “You’re not drinking?”
He shook his head. “After everyone passes out, I paint. I’d like to paint you again. Will you pose for me?”
Kela kept her back to the living room. Thankfully, there wasn’t a mirror behind the bar. “Of course.”
“Can you come back tomorrow night and sit for me?”
“Since when do you paint at night?”
“I paint when it suits me.”
“Chabeau!”
Recognizing the voice, Kela stiffened. The last thing she wanted to see was a naked Andre Karr. She forced a smile and swiveled around on the stool to face the gallery owner. Karr was dressed in a tuxedo, and like Roland his nails were pointed and painted. The small tuff of dark hair on the point of his chin reminded Kela of a billy goat. His long bleached-blond hair was swept back from his face and looked pink beneath the red lights.
Karr stared at her chest.
She set her wine on the bar and slid off the stool. “Andre.”
His gaze met hers. “Kela, darling. Did Chabeau ask you about the portrait?”
“She’s agreed to pose,” Roland said.
“I’m so pleased. We’ll look stunning together.”
Kela glanced at Roland. “Together?”
Roland leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I’ll explain later.”
“I hope you’re planning on attending my birthday party,” Karr said. “Chabeau did pass along my personal invitation?”
“She’s coming,” Roland said.
“Is it a dress affair?” Kela asked, pleased she’d managed to keep a straight face.
“Definitely. Clothing is required until midnight. After that, I’d prefer to see you wearing nothing more than that magnificent cross.”
Kela had no intention of posing for a portrait with Karr or attending his party. She wanted to get away from Karr and his guests as quickly as possible, but she had to see Jenna, and Roland had some explaining to do.
“Is Jenna here? I’d love to say hello.”
“She’s in the dom chamber. Perhaps Roland could fetch her.”
The pointed look that Karr gave Roland seemed more like an order than a request.
“I’ll be right back,” Roland said.
He rushed off to do Karr’s biding, making Kela wonder how much control Karr wielded over Roland. And what had Karr meant by dom chamber? Jenna wasn’t into the domination and submission scene.
Karr edged closer. “You haven’t joined the party?”
Maybe Roland liked kissing Karr’s ass, but Kela wasn’t going to do it. “I’m not into group sex.”
“What a pity. A body as beautiful as yours should be shared,” Karr said, his hand hovering close to her breasts. He didn’t touch her, but having his hand so near reminded Kela of a cobra ready to strike.
“Roland and I are engaged. That may not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.”
“Chabeau loves you. You should remain faithful if that’s what he desires.”
Spotting Jenna walking toward her, Kela gasped. Unbelievable.
Her friend was wearing a revealing outfit of alternating leather bands and chains that left her breasts and her pussy exposed. Not only exposed but shaved and pierced. Jenna who hated needles had rings in her nose and nipples and studs in her eyebrows, ears and lips. She’d cut her long hair and sported an explosion of spikes. In one gloved hand, she held a riding crop.
“What the hell?”
“Hey, Kela.”
“What’s with the chains, the piercings and your hair? Have you gone mad?”
“Andre likes my hair,” Jenna said, walking away from Kela to stand beside Karr. “And what Andre likes I like.”
Kela watched in disbelief as Karr twisted one of the metal rings piercing Jenna’s nipple. Jenna moaned and smiled at Kela.
“My show is about to start, you want to watch?”
Kela had no idea what Jenna was talking about, but having seen enough she shook her head.
Jenna hooked her gloved hand around Karr’s arm and with her ass exposed, the two strolled away from the bar.
Kela turned to Roland. “Is she on drugs?”
“She’s high on Andre.”
“What is it with you and Jenna? It’s as though the two of you have joined a cult and can’t think for yourselves.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” Eager to get out of the penthouse, Kela headed straight for the elevator.
Roland grasped her by the waist, forcing her to walk when she wanted to run. As she and Roland stepped into the car, Kela heard an odd scream. “What was that?”
A sly grin curved his lips. “Jenna likes the crop.”
“She hits people?”
“Get a clue, Kela. She’s Andre’s submissive. It’s what gets her off.”
The elevator doors closed and Kela grabbed Roland’s arm. “She’s our friend. You can’t let Andre hurt her.”
“She’s happy, Kela.”
“Happy?” Kela shook her head. “That’s not Jenna.”
Roland slid his arm around Kela’s waist and held her close to his side as they walked to his apartment. Once inside, he drew her down on the sofa next to him.
“Seeing Jenna, the party, all of it was a shock,” Roland said. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”
“You like living here? Going to parties like that?”
“It’s fun. You’ve got to be less inhibited. I really need you to attend Andre’s birthday party.”
“No way. I’m not attending his orgy.”
“It’s not an orgy. We’re having cake and champagne. Everyone is bringing gifts. It’s important to me.”
“He told me that clothing was required until midnight and after that he wanted to see me in my cross. He expects me to get naked for him.”
“He wants you to be his living art for the event. It’s quite an honor.”
Kela shuddered. “Believe me, Roland. It’s not an honor.”
“He likes you and he admires your cross. If you don’t want to come and help me out you could give him the cross as a present, from the two of us.”
Kela clutched the cross. “You know what it means to me. I can’t give away my father’s cross.”
“Andre’s friends are rich and can afford lavish gifts. I appreciate this apartment, but I feel like a pauper. After my show, I’ll have lots of money, but right now I really need your help.”
“You know the cross is all I have left.” A fire had destroyed her childhood home. She’d lost her father, the photos of her mother, everything except the clothes on her back and the cross.
Roland jumped up from the sofa. His shoulders hunched, he faced the unfinished canvas. “Please, Kela. I’m begging. It’s shameful.”
Anger flared. Roland was willing to do anything to impress Karr. “I’m not giving Andre my cross.”
Roland clenched his hands. “This is my career, our futu
re.”
“This isn’t the way I envisioned our future. This place, what’s happening upstairs, it feels wrong.” Fear lacing up her spine, Kela stood. “It’s evil.”
Roland turned to face her. “When did you become so judgmental?”
A sense of urgency flooded her brain. Run. Run. Kela grabbed her jacket and purse. “Karr’s lifestyle isn’t for me. You have to make a choice.”
“Between you and Andre?”
“Look at yourself. Wearing the clothes he likes, the cologne he likes and painting him having sex.” Kela hurried to the door. “You’re not in love with me. You’re obsessed with him.”
His pale hand extended, Roland stepped toward her.
She didn’t want him to touch her. The thought of his cold fingers filled her with dread. “I’ve got to go.”
Kela yanked open the door and ran for the stairs.
Behind her, Roland called out. “Kela, come back. Stay the night.”
She rushed down the stairs and into the street. She had to get away. Even the winged gargoyles on the corners of the building gave her the creeps.
Fear guiding her steps, she ran to her SUV and fired the engine. She needed to go home, to safety.
Chapter Two
The special ring tone of her cell phone announced Roland’s call. He’d called every evening at bedtime for three days, but she hadn’t been ready to talk until now. Kela had spent the day at the beach thinking and by sunset she’d made her decision. She answered. “Hi.”
“Kela, I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“We need to talk.”
Kela looked at the engagement ring on her left hand. “Yeah, we do.”
“Come into the city. We’ll go dancing. There’s a hot club called the Devil’s Warehouse. You can meet me there. Don’t bother with the line at the front. Just go to the back door and tell the bouncer you’re a friend of Andre’s.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
Roland sighed. “Don’t be such a drag. We’ll have fun.”
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do. Let’s meet here tomorrow night, then we’ll talk.”
“What’s wrong with tonight?” she asked. “You can go clubbing another time.”
“Andre’s already at the club, waiting for me.”
