His for the Week

by Gaines, Alice

  In the end, he had to stop before he disgraced himself completely. He somehow found the strength to grasp her arms again and ease her away from him. He had to work to catch his breath, and her breasts moved with her inhalations. Both of them reacting as though someone had sucked the air out of the hallway.

  “Well,” she said after a few seconds, her voice breathy. “I think we’ll work well together.”

  “I’d say so.”

  She glanced around. “I think I left my purse and laptop in the restroom.”

  Easy to understand. This whole situation had him pretty confused, too. “Better get them.”

  While she was gone, he rested his fists against the wall to get his bearings. If the woman could get him this aroused with a kiss, what would sex with her be like?

  She reappeared with her huge purse slung over her shoulder. She held out a business card to him. “Here’s my contact information.”

  “I need to give you mine.” He fumbled in his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out his own card. “You have a pen?”

  She probably had everything in that purse. She handed him a ballpoint, and he wrote his cell number on the card. No point giving her his old office phone. She wouldn’t find him there.

  He gave both the card and the pen to her. “When does this assignment start?”

  “Next Monday. Eros’ Retreat. I’ll meet you in the lobby at noon.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She smiled. “See you.”

  She walked away, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hips swinging again. She didn’t even stop at her table to pretend she cared about her coffee. She’d accomplished what she’d come for, apparently. And he’d accomplished…what?

  He’d wanted to get to know the quiet woman. Instead, he had a hook-up date with Désirée Knight, creator of steamy columns and a woman who could turn a kiss into an erotic exercise in its own right. So erotic, in fact, that he’d have to go sit in a bathroom stall until his erection shrank enough for him to appear in public.

  …

  Nothing or no one could save Rae if Carla couldn’t. The woman was not only Rae’s best friend and confidante, but she did hair and makeup for all the local television personalities and knew fashion inside and out. Carla had created the public persona for Désirée Knight—the armor that allowed Rae to play the part of the uninhibited sexual creature who lived out the fantasy of her columns. The creature she’d have to be for her week at Eros’ Retreat.

  So now Rae found herself in a private room of Carla’s studio. Carla had glammed her up before, but only for publicity photos and short public appearances. Compared to this mission, those had been a walk in the park. This time, Rae would have to stay glammed for several days and pull off being someone she most decidedly was not.

  “All right, we have the hair,” Carla declared as she turned Rae’s chair around and handed her a mirror.

  Rae checked out the front and back of her new coiffure, and it was pretty damned impressive. Carla had dyed it to a warm brown with reddish highlights and given her a bunch of various products to use on it. And she’d cut and arranged it to curl around Rae’s face and over her shoulders.

  “Awesome job,” Rae said.

  Carla rolled up the cord of a curling wand and stuffed it into a bag with all the other things. “A few minutes with this every morning, and you’re good to go.”

  So much to remember. She’d have to remain “on” for the entire time she was with Nate. He’d agreed to a week of sex with the woman who wrote the columns, not the person who stared at him every weekday morning but didn’t have the courage to approach him. No guy who looked like him would have any interest in that woman. No. She’d have to sneak into the bathroom every day before Nate woke up so she could turn Rae into Désirée and then maintain her persona until after he fell asleep at night. The alternative was to chance him rejecting her, and she couldn’t take that risk.

  “Now, makeup,” Carla said. “I’ll send this all along with you, too.”

  The butterflies that had taken up residence in Rae’s stomach started flapping their wings again. This whole thing was ridiculous. She was going to spend the week having sex with a stranger? And for the entire time, she’d have to remain in character and in costume. She caught Carla’s hand as she reached toward Rae’s face with a makeup brush. “I can’t do it.”

  “Of course you can, girl. You just need a little confidence.”

  “If I had that, I’d have a man for real, and I wouldn’t be stuck pretending to be someone I’m not.”

  Carla put her hands on her hips. “Is your name Désirée Knight or isn’t it?”

  “By a total accident of birth,” Rae said. “I’m not the person who writes those columns.”

  “They type themselves I suppose?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Carla bent to put her face near Rae’s. “Girl, this is your opportunity to fly. Don’t throw it away.”

  “I’m afraid of flying.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Carla turned the chair around so Rae could see herself in the big salon mirror. “Look at this beautiful woman. What man in the world wouldn’t want her?”

  Carla did have a point. With her hair curling around her face instead of tied up in a scrunchy, Rae did appear a lot more glamorous. Even under the worst conditions, she wasn’t bad looking. With Carla’s help, she could be downright pretty. But the problem was all of this was fake.

  “Are you going to let your boss down?” Carla asked.

  “I don’t want to.” This article was the opportunity of a lifetime. She couldn’t bail now. There was too much at stake.

  “And how about yourself? This article is your big chance. You have to take it.”

  Damn it all, Carla was right. Rae hadn’t majored in journalism so she could write about orgasms, as delightful as they were. She’d jumped on the job at Urban Life because of the magazine’s reputation for excellence. But she’d hoped to move up, and now she had an opportunity. Still, how could she pretend to be someone she wasn’t for seven whole days?

  “Think of what this involves.” This time, Rae spun the chair so she could look Carla in the face. “I have to play a part for an entire week.”

  “It’s not a part. It’s who you are. If only you’d let yourself see that,” Carla said. “C’mon, girl. You can do this. You know you can.”

  Rae had no choice, in any case. She’d accepted the assignment from the magazine. She’d already invited Nate, and he’d agreed. She just had to muster the courage, and she never backed down from a challenge. “You’re right. I want this article. I’ve worked for it. I deserve it.”

  “And the sex.” Carla lifted her hand for a high-five. “Is this the man of your dreams, or isn’t he?”

  Rae slapped her palm against Carla’s. “He is.”

  “There you go.” Carla turned Rae back to face the big mirror. “Look at you. You’re pretty and smart. You have a great sense of humor and a fabulous job. Once he’s had you, he’ll want to keep you.”

  “No way. Not happening. No serious relationships for me.”

  “Why?”

  There were probably four or five answers to that question. First off, she’d never been any good with men. Second, the few semisuccesses she’d had had ended abruptly and badly. Most importantly, she’d observed her mother’s history with men and would rather die alone than have to survive anything like that. Sex was fine, but nothing that could put her at risk of injury or worse, and frankly any relationship could do that. Unfortunately, fun in bed eventually evolved into something more, and danger followed. If only what she wrote in her columns could come true. Single and Sexy. Fun for fun’s sake with no attachments or complications.

  Maybe she could have that for a week at Eros’ Retreat.

  “Girl, you can do this.” Carla squeezed her upper arm in encouragement.

  “I know I can.” Or Désirée could. They were the same person, after all. Sort of. As long as she rema
ined Désirée, she could have the time of her life. Then she’d have the memories to fuel columns for months, if not years.

  “Good,” Carla said. “Now makeup. Then clothes.”

  Chapter Two

  Nate sat cooling his heels in the marble and brass lobby of Eros’ Retreat. The mahogany paneling and bay windows spoke of the building’s history as a mansion from an earlier age, and a fountain in the corner—also marble—added a touch of serenity. He glanced at his watch again. Désirée wasn’t all that late, so he’d wait before he tried calling or texting her. The efficient man behind the desk had found the reservation, so she hadn’t cancelled or made the whole thing up. Still, the thought niggled that the shy version of Désirée might have chickened out at the last minute.

  A tall woman in a business suit approached him, her heels clacking against the floor as she did. He immediately rose.

  “Hi, I’m Millicent Nelson.” She offered her hand for a firm shake.

  “Nate Winslow,” he answered.

  “Your room will be ready shortly, but I want to give you and Ms. Knight a tour of the facility,” she said. “And lay out some very firm rules.”

  Rules in a place where you could have anything you wanted? About privacy, no doubt.

  “Is Ms. Knight arriving soon?” Ms. Nelson asked.

  “Any minute, I hope.”

  Ms. Nelson simply smiled at him pleasantly. Though attractive, her appearance did nothing to suggest she worked at a sex resort. Her makeup was subtle, and she’d drawn her hair back to a bun at the nape of her neck. She appeared as if she could easily disapprove of something. Being made to wait for a guest, perhaps?

  The front door opened, and Désirée breezed in, pushing a huge suitcase alongside. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic, don’t you know?”

  A bellman took Désirée’s bag.

  “There are two more in the car, I’m afraid,” Désirée said.

  “Give George your keys, and he’ll get all your luggage and Mr. Winslow’s to your room,” Ms. Nelson said.

  Désirée did as instructed and then joined him and Ms. Nelson. If Désirée had been made up before, she was now in full costume. Her hair had new red highlights, and her lips were painted crimson. Her dress clung to every curve, and she wore stiletto heels so high that they put Ms. Nelson’s to shame.

  “There you are, Nate.” She kissed his cheek and then wiped the outline of her lips off with her fingers.

  “Good, then,” Ms. Nelson said. “Shall we begin our tour?”

  “Oh, let’s.” Désirée wrapped her arm around his as Ms. Nelson led them down a hallway past the hotel gift shop and restaurant.

  “Horace Wilcox had the house built in 1895, but the estate was also a working farm,” Ms. Nelson said. “Much of the land has been sold off, but we retain generous grounds for gardens, pool, guest cottages, and a running track.”

  All fascinating, but not nearly as interesting as the woman who’d snuggled her body up against his for the tour. She’d worn makeup before, but not like this, and her clothing had taken a turn toward extremely suggestive. The Désirée who’d invited him here resembled the shy woman he’d wanted to get to know, but this version of Désirée didn’t fit with anything he’d known about her before. Lovely but fake. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or her.

  At the rear of the building, they passed the fitness center, which had been added on to the main house, and then they stepped outside onto a tiled terrace. Ms. Nelson stopped and turned to point upward to the second floor. “The guest rooms in the old building have been restored to their Victorian splendor, but the new wings have more modern decor.”

  “I’m sure it’s all quite lovely,” Désirée gushed.

  “And all our rooms are soundproofed.”

  “Convenient,” Nate said. Désirée gave him the side-eye but didn’t say anything.

  “Perhaps I should review our rules and the agreement your magazine signed,” Ms. Nelson said. “We observe the strictest privacy here. All guests surrender their cell phones so there’s no video recording or photography. I’ll take yours now.”

  Ms. Nelson held out her hand. Nate pulled his phone from his jacket pocket while Désirée fished in her purse for hers. When Ms. Nelson had them she managed something of a smile.

  “Thank you,” she said. “There’s a landline in your room if you need to call anyone.”

  “I believe you agreed to some shots of the facilities,” Désirée said.

  “With very strict guidelines. The grounds and the buildings only. No photographs of any people other than yourselves. That applies to staff as well as guests.”

  “Of course.”

  “Anything you want to reveal about any of our guests—whether they can be identified or not—will have to be done with their consent…in writing.”

  “I’ve read the agreement,” Désirée said. “We’ll cooperate, won’t we, Nate?”

  “Sure thing.” At the moment, Ms. Nelson resembled a drill sergeant more than a host at a resort. But heck, he had no desire to encroach on anyone’s privacy. On the other hand, he didn’t have any particular agreement with Désirée or the magazine. He was about to become a principal actor in her article. In his rush to enjoy her body—over and over—he hadn’t really considered the implications of that.

  “I don’t mean to be unpleasant,” Ms. Nelson said. “But our guests require the freedom to explore their sexuality without fear of embarrassment or worse.”

  “Completely understood,” Désirée said.

  “Good.” Ms. Nelson gestured toward a gravel path, and he and Désirée followed. “The rose garden, the serenity glade. The pool.”

  All very nice. The pool, especially. Not quite Olympic size, but big enough to get some good exercise swimming laps.

  “Guidelines for nudity and sexual activity in public areas are outlined in the book you’ll find in your room,” Ms. Nelson said. “We enforce these rules very strictly.”

  “Don’t want somebody getting it on in the restaurant while I’m eating my eggs Benedict,” he said.

  Ms. Nelson’s smile was pained. “Exactly.”

  Désirée dug her elbow into his ribs. “Never mind my friend’s sense of humor.”

  “Finally, the Barn.” Ms. Nelson led them to a huge red building. Except for the skylight on top, it appeared to be a barn about the same age as the house.

  “No pictures either inside or outside of the Barn,” she explained. “And no reference to it in your article.”

  “But it must be very important,” Désirée said. “I can’t do Eros’ Retreat justice without mentioning it.”

  “You can simply refer to it as a special place.”

  “I can do that, I guess.”

  “Can we visit it?” Nate asked. “And maybe use it?”

  “Of course. You are guests, but you’ll have to follow the rules.”

  “As laid out in the book in our room,” Désirée recited. She shared an amused look with him, and he felt like he was seeing the woman from the coffee shop for the first time that day.

  “Exactly. Now let me show you where you’ll be staying.” Ms. Nelson walked up the path, but Nate hung behind to stare at the Barn for a bit. No noises came out of it. Nor smoke signals nor anything else. Even his imagination couldn’t come up with ideas for what went on in there.

  “Are you coming?” Désirée called from where she and Ms. Nelson stood partway up the path toward the main building.

  Not yet, but with any luck, he would be soon.

  …

  Rae discovered the magazine had gone all out booking their room. It was spacious and in the new wing of the resort. Perfectly huge, it had its own deck, complete with hot tub. She checked everything out—from the bathroom with its startling white tile, brass fixtures, and fluffy towels, to the closet, to the bed. And the mirror on the ceiling over the bed and on the wall across from the bed. Precisely placed for interesting views during lovemaking.

  Yes, she checked everything out beca
use that way she didn’t have to face Nate, who stood only a few feet away.

  Nate. Her Hook-Up Man. He was going to provide inspiration for her article and, no doubt, many columns to come. She wouldn’t have to rely on fantasy any longer. Only two problems…

  One. What if he didn’t measure up? He seemed like a nice enough guy, and those usually made the effort to learn how to please a woman. With his looks, he probably had a lot of experience in the bedroom. And if his cock wasn’t particularly large…well, didn’t she always write that a lover’s equipment didn’t matter so much as what he did with it? Besides, if he was less than perfect, she could gloss over any flaws in her future columns.

  Problem two was a lot more serious. Namely, she was going to have to make herself vulnerable. You couldn’t exactly fuck without breaking down boundaries in a major way. She’d keep her makeup, but everything else would get exposed.

  She’d have to make sure her heart stayed protected. This was temporary and casual. No relationships.

  She could do this. She had to. She wanted to.

  He watched the wheels turning in her head but said nothing. His easy smile told her he suffered no qualms whatsoever about coming to a love nest with a woman he didn’t know. If only she had as much confidence as he did.

  “So,” she held her arms out to her sides. “Here we are.”

  “We are, indeed.”

  He still didn’t say or do anything to make the moment less awkward, so she’d have to get over herself and get to the point. “You need to understand one thing. Although we’re here as a couple, my column is Single and Sexy. Emphasis on single.”

  “I have no problem with that. I’m definitely not in the market for a relationship.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “Since you read my column, you know I often refer to my bed partners as Hook-Up Man. I may have to call you that while we’re here. Is that okay?”

  He appeared to mull it over for a minute. “I do get to have a name, right?”

  “Whatever you want. We can use Nate or something else.”