by Unknown
I squeezed his cock, and pulled it fast and hard, haphazardly jerking his dick with my hand. There was no rhythm to it, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. His cock pulsed violently in my fingers, and the flood gates opened as his release shot through him and all over his tight abdomen. “That’s it criminal. Come for me. Shoot that hot fucking come all over me,” I groaned into his ear as I continued stroking him, egging him on for more.
His body finally spent, went limp under me. I pushed the sleeping mask up to his forehead to make sure he was okay. His hot lips captured mine with a firm but gentle suction as his tied hands reached for my hair. Already I could feel a tingle between my legs as his kiss lit another fire within me. I pushed back against him and giggled, “Not bad! We just have to wait to get home to try out some of those toys in your closet.”
He sat up, relieving himself of the poorly tied sash around his wrist. “My closet?” he asked.
“Don’t plead innocence now, criminal! You know what I’m talking about.
His eyes measured mine for a minute then he stood, and walked over to his bed. He turned a key on the side of the headboard and the wall opened up revealing a secret room. “Why wait?”
The knock on the door barely registered with me as I padded barefoot, in my birthday suit, into the closet. For a closet, it was huge. It had, of course, suits, pants, and shirts hung neatly on one side, and custom built mahogany drawers on the other. Beneath the drawers was a shelf filled with at least fifteen pairs of shoes; all looked brand new. I was pretty sure he had never even tried on most of the items in here. I pulled open a wide, thin drawer in the center of the built in. Wow, I thought as I ran my fingers over at least fifty brand new ties of ever color and pattern, all neatly folded with presentation that mimicked H. Hertzfeld’s haberdashery in New York. I could seriously get into picking out his clothes each day. Of course, stripping him would be even more fun!
I grabbed a maroon and mustard striped tie that reminded me of the ones the young students at College of Charleston wore, and proceeded across the closet and thumbed through the shirts, all neatly pressed with the absolute perfect amount of starch. Each and every one embroidered with his initials. I slipped the tie around my neck and pulled the ends between my bare breasts and stared at my reflection in the full length mirror. Damn, even I liked the sight of that. But it was the long black leather Valstar overcoat hanging on the end of the rack that caught my eye. I pulled it from the hangar and slipped it around my bare shoulders, feeling the almost human quality of the glove leather as it seemed to stroke my bare skin like the fingertips of my incredible lover in the next room. Hey, where is he?
I padded back to the open door and leaned against the jamb, trying to give my best impression of a wanton slut wrapped in her man’s clothes. I put one foot in front of the other, lifting my leg just enough to allow the big toe of my right foot to be all that was touching the beautiful hardwood floor beneath me. I fluffed my hair, pulling it forward over my eyes and grabbed the collar of the coat and held it slightly open. I waited for his discovery.
After a moment, I realized that he had completely forgotten about me. He sat on the end of the bed, in only a towel, holding a legal sized manila file folder. The facial contortions he displayed as he read the file indicated something most unpleasant.
Amazing how the emotions of someone close to you affect you. Even if you don’t understand or know what it’s about, just the mere thought of their unhappiness strikes you, deep and hard, right through the heart.
“Carlton?”
“Not now, Liz,” he said plainly. He was already in ‘Killer Carlton’ mode.
“What is it?” I asked as I approached the bed.
“Kinsley,” he said. “Seems she’s had her counselor prepare some sort of injunction. Fucking bitch,” he mumbled, still not noticing me at all.
“Can I help?” I asked, trying to shake his concentration from the file.
He stood, lifting the page inside the folder as he walked across the room. I removed his coat and tie and returned it to the closet before slipping into bed. I watched him carefully in silence as he read the entire brief, twice. When he sat in the wingback chair next to the window to read it for a third time, I drifted off to sleep.
*-*-*-*-*
I awoke the next morning to the most God awful cramps. The pain alone was incredible, but waking up alone in bed was even worse. I grabbed my bag and headed into the bathroom to shower and get cleaned up. Jeez, I thought, almost 7:00 a.m. Just barely enough time to get ready.
I was met at the foot of the grand staircase by my favorite person: Chayton. “Good morning, Miss Martin. The others are waiting in the dining room.”
Others, I thought, following Chayton down the long hallway. The immediate hush that fell upon the room as I entered made me think they were talking about me. Missy’s big eyes widened as Carlton stood, holding out my chair. The somber mood felt heavy and I took my seat. He was dressed in a plain black suit with matching tie, and my simple black skirt matched him perfectly. I acknowledged Patricia’s presence, and Missy squeezed her hand on the table in open view. If Chayton wasn’t fond of my being there, I’m sure he disapproved of Patricia. Somehow I felt a kindred spirit with her as Chayton placed my napkin in my lap.
“I didn’t mean to dampen the conversation,” I said.
Carlton placed his hand on mine and gave me that familiar firm grip. That act alone was usually comforting, but I sensed it was much more distant and formal at this point. “We will depart at 12:30 for the service,” he said.
The service was scheduled for 1:00 p.m., and from what I gathered it would be a simple affair at graveside; the public and paparazzi would be held at a distance. I was convinced at that point the entire ordeal was taking its toll on Carlton, although he didn’t really show it. Missy’s personality made it difficult to discern exactly how she felt, but people mourn in such varied ways. I held my thoughts at bay rather than cast judgment on her. Chayton, on the other hand, was as emotionless as ever as he stood quietly in the corner while the other servants placed our breakfast on the table.
Uncomfortable silence ensued. No one spoke; everyone ate very slowly in an effort to make as little noise as possible. After finishing his plate, Carlton stood and announced, “I’ll be leaving for London at three.” Looking directly at Missy he continued, “I expect you’ll look after Liz for a few days while I handle the probate.”
What? Am I being discarded here? “Wait! I’m not going with you?”
“No need, Liz. Just going to gather a few of Father’s things and get organized.” He turned to the rest of the table, ignoring the pout now plastered on my face. “You all shall expect to see Ms. Reynolds at the service. Funny how he insisted on leaving her last name off. I trust you’ll maintain your civilities while in public.” His look now fell upon Missy, but I got the distinct feeling that the statement’s intent was much broader. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ll be in the office. Chayton, come with me please?” he said, taking the manilla folder and newspaper from his hands as he left.
A huge weight was lifted off everyone’s shoulder as he and Chayton left. Missy dropped her persona and sank into a more comfortable position as she leaned into Patricia. She stared across the table at me with a devilish smile as her eyes lit up. “Well Liz, what can we do to make you more comfortable?”
*-*-*-*-*
The service was indeed simple, and was also accompanied by the current widow: Mrs. Kinsley Reynolds Michaud. Although dressed in black, her demeanor lacked what I deemed to be necessary compassion. In fact, she didn’t look like she was going to waste any time grieving. Standing next to her was an older woman, of slender build and graying hair. My assumption was that it was her mother, but of that I could not be sure. Once or twice during the service I noticed her lean in and whisper something in Kinsley’s ear.
After the service, Patricia and I were ushered back to the car where we spied through tinted windows a conversation held by Missy, Carlton and Kins
ley. It seemed to be genuine, but I doubted seriously that Kinsley had a genuine bone in her body. The elderly lady stood mere footsteps behind the group, obviously listening keenly to the conversation. At one point, Missy burst into tears as Carlton wrapped his strong arms around her, supporting her while they finished their exchange. I’d have given my left arm to know exactly what was being said.
I turned to look at Patricia, who was staring intensely out the window at Missy. I noticed her hands clenching in her lap as I imagined she felt the same possessive feeling I felt watching them all standing there. I know opening a can of good ole fashioned South Carolina whoop ass is what I felt like doing, but I wondered passively if the same concept was running through her mind. “I’m sure it’s going to be alright,” I said to her.
Patricia continued to stare out the window at them. “Yes, Miss Martin.”
Really? Miss Martin? I reached across the seat and placed my palm on her hands. “I think it’s time you just call me Liz, don’t you?”
Patricia gazed turned in my direction as I squeezed her hands. “I don’t belong here, Miss Martin. I think we know where my place is.”
I squeezed her hand even harder and leaned over towards her. “You most certainly do belong here. If anyone’s out of place, it’s me. Besides,” I said, leaning a even closer to her, “Who would Chayton bitch about if we weren’t here?”
She placed her hand on top of mine, allowing her perfectly manicured nails to gently scrape my skin and said, “Thank you, Liz. Thank you.”
Tiny electric bolts seemed to flow out of her fingertips as I stared down at her hands now, sending excitement racing through my veins. I was never in my life so happy to be on my period; it would keep me from doing something illicit. She grabbed my wrist with the same firm grip she grabbed my ankle with on the plane and looked into my eyes. Several moments of deep desire flashed through my head as I stared back. It seemed as if she was going to say something profound and enlightening but suddenly lost her words. Finally she let go as I shuttered with the thought of her on the plane, and I sat up and withdrew my hands as I tried to shake the desire from my body.
*-*-*-*-*
I pouted as I kicked my shoes off onto the floor. Carlton was in a different world as he sat in the wingback chair in front of his window, ignoring my pleas to take me with him. “I think I should go, Carlton. Are you listening to me?”
He finally dropped the file folder in his lap with exasperation. “I said no, Liz. Besides, you need a few days off. Just let me get this done and we can get back to New York. I’m sure you can find something to do for a couple of days.” He stood and walked past me, completely in his ‘Killer Carlton’ mindset. He didn’t even notice me pulling my stockings off and wriggling out of my skirt. Damn the cramps were flaring now, and I could feel my patience wearing thin.
I scrambled to my bag and pulled out my favorite sweat pants and a cotton t-shirt. I continued to plead with him as I dressed, and while I thought I was making cogent arguments for taking me along, Carlton just couldn’t hear me. Clearly he was hiding me away here in his castle, Rapunzel style. Either that or he wanted to keep me from knowing exactly what was going on. I felt distant from him already, even though he was still in the room with me. I was now visibly angry, and trying to get the slightest bit of his attention when a knock at the door interrupted the beginnings of my tirade. Carlton, in almost a trance like state opened the door without giving a thought to my present state of dress.
And who was there? Chayton. “The driver is at your disposal, sir. He’s out front when you are ready.”
“Thank you, Chayton,” Carlton said. He turned and walked over to me, ignoring the fact that I stood there bare chested, my t-shirt hanging from my clenched fist as it rode high upon my hip. Any other man in the world would not have missed my clear dissatisfaction. But I assumed Carlton was way too far down his road of depression and heavy in thought as he approached me, lifted my chin and kissed me deep on the lips. Completely oblivious to my state of mind he said, “See you in a couple of days, Liz. I love you.”
Dinner alone in Carlton’s room was just as depressing as it sounds. I expected he’d call me, but that hope was quickly fading as I flipped through the late night television shows. It’s not quite the same over here as in the states, but Channel 4 had several extremely funny shows on it.
I phoned Palmer in New York, and even the conversation with him was somewhat disappointing. He obviously had other things on his mind. Most likely Dicksucker.
It wasn’t until I was almost asleep when a soft knock on the door caught my attention.
“Come in,” I said, pulling the covers almost all the way up to my chin.
“Hi,” Missy said. “Just wanted to check on you,” she said as she moved quickly to the side of the bed. Pulling her long white nightgown up a bit she sat on the end of the bed. “Missed you at dinner. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, Missy. Just worried about Carlton. Have you heard from him?”
“No, but that’s not unusual. He rarely phones me.”
“What is he doing in London?”
“I don’t know for sure,” she said, looking away from me. “I know that Kinsley pushed for and got an injunction, and my guess is that she’s been cleaning out Dad’s office. Probably gathering secrets to use for her next bout of blackmail, poor suckers.”
I could tell there was way more going on than she let on, but I could not quite put my finger on it.
“I just wish he’d let me do something,” I said, looking at my fingers as I traced the outline of the monogram on his sheets. I could tell she wasn’t going to come forth with any real information, so I pressed her via a different route. “What’s the real deal with Kinsley?”
Wow! Straight to the heart of it, and that arrow stung as Missy looked visibly uncomfortable. Her speech was for the first time not flawless; in fact it was a cross between slurred and stuttered as she spoke. “There’s really nothing to tell… now.”
“Now?” I blurted. My patience with Missy was beginning to wear thin, and her unwillingness to say anything positive or negative about Kinsley was speaking volumes. Oh, there was much, much more to this than she was letting on.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, abruptly standing up. “See you in the morning.”
She left so quickly it was almost like some kind of cartoon; I expected to see dust and hear a swoosh. The detective in me couldn’t help but notice the not so subtle shifts in body language and speech, and I reached over for my notebook and scribbled this encounter down for future reference.
Yes, something was afoot; I just haven’t gotten to the right person yet. Perhaps Patricia Williams could shed a little light on this. My mind wandered back to the exotic beauty, thinking about her escapades on the airplane, and the unusual attraction I held for her. I wondered where she was sleeping at that moment.
Finally my cell phone began to go off: A message from Carlton.
11:12 p.m. – Killer Carlton: Are you awake?
I feverishly texted him back.
11:12 p.m. – Me: Yes. Call me!
11:13 p.m. – Killer Carlton: Give me five minutes.
This was one of those ‘watched pot never boils’ moments, and each second seemed to pass slower than the last. By the time four and a half minutes passed I was completely awake, and every nerve in my body was poised to attack. I was not a happy camper, and although I understood how tough losing a parent was, I was sure going to let him know how I feel about being neglected like this.
“Good evening, Liz,” he said.
As soon as I heard his velvety smooth voice my face flushed. Damn, how does he do that? “Good evening, Carlton. How are you?” I had gone over scenario after scenario of how I was going to respond to him, and each rendition was meaner and nastier than the one before. However, as soon as I heard his voice, every ounce of anger dissipated instantly.
“Tired. It’s been a long day, and I feel horrible for just up and leaving yo
u, but…”
I couldn’t help it, my anger dissipated at the sound of exhaustion in his voice, “Don’t, Carlton. Don’t worry about me. Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
He laughed. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a knee slapping affair, but a small chuckle nonetheless. It’s actually the first time all day he’d shared any kind of emotion with me. “You already have, my dear.”
“When are you coming home?”
“It’s going to be a couple of days. I got an emergency hearing, but it’s on Thursday.”
“That’s three days, Carlton. Are you sure I can’t do anything?”
“Not about this,” he said. “But there are a couple of things I need you to do.”
“Anything, Carlton. You know that.”
“Tomorrow morning I need you to go to my dad’s office and get a couple of things for me, and please call Daniel Webster and get him off my back. I can’t deal with him right now.”
“Consider it done, sir.” I threw it in there to test him. He failed. The remark passed right over his head, clearly indicating his desire to stay in ‘Killer Carlton’ mode. “Are you getting ready for bed, Carlton?”
“I’ve got a few more things to do, and then I’m turning in. I’m in the Apsley suite at the Lanesborough on Hyde Park if you need me.”
Putting my detective hat back on, I wrote all the information down so I could look it up. Hmmpf… Sherlock Holmes has nothing on me. “Got it. Get some sleep, Carlton. I love you.”
“I love you too, Liz. Talk to you in the morning.”
I finally felt a little peace, but promptly pulled up all the information about his hotel room on my laptop.
*-*-*-*-*
I was a little more prepared for breakfast this morning, and hoped to possibly get a little more information out of Missy. After Chayton sat me at the dining table I waited impatiently for the others to arrive. Chayton stood behind me, watching me silently. I could almost feel his oppressive glare burning a hole in the back of my head. I wondered, if for only a moment, that I might have misjudged him. But as my breakfast arrived I sat frustrated; I was all alone.
