by Wylie Kinson
Ellis felt gleefully naughty. She let the warm water swirl around her, washing away her anger at Cynthia and her guilt over this shameless encounter.
“To a successful competition.” Ellis held up her glass.
“To fucking in a two-million-dollar show house,” offered Simon to the sound of clinking crystal. He drained his champagne and set the glass on the rim of the tub.
“They were right you know, Goldilocks,” he said, sliding one hand down her shoulder to settle on her breast.
Ellis sank deeper into him, letting him fondle her, adoring the sensation of his large hands and tapered fingers caressing her shoulders, neck and chest. He cupped her breasts from the bottom, squeezing tenderly. He used the pads of his thumbs to circle her areolas, round and round, leisurely in his exploration. He flicked her taut nipples. The surprise movement caused her to shiver against him, making the water undulate around them.
He picked up the dainty curved bar of vanilla-lavender soap and sniffed it. He held it to her nose, sharing the subtle aroma. She nodded against his neck. He slid it over her shoulders, down one arm and up, down the other arm and up. She languidly held her limbs out, watching the soap slide over her skin. Ellis drew a deep breath and sighed. She found this simple act of being washed by a lover so primal, so erotic, so powerfully intimate.
Simon continued, down into the valley between her breasts, working the soap up over one mound, down and over the other. His other hand followed, working the lather over her skin. He used the cambered side to concentrate on her peaked nipples, applying enough pressure to send embers of excitement straight to her loins.
She melted into him as he glided the scented bar down her ribs, across her abdomen, lower and lower, drifting back and forth. Her tummy quivered and she felt her muscles go liquid. She raised her knees, letting her legs fall open. Simon edged closer, finally brushing against her pubis. She pressed her shoulders back, arching with need. He played with her curls, lightly tugging and parting them with his fingers. He used the bar to tickle the top of her slit.
Simon’s movements were tender and fluid, unlike their last frantic encounter. Ever so gently, he moved up her leg, lingering on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She wiggled against him, silently begging him to return to her core, give her the release her body craved. Reading her unspoken request, he let the soap sink to the bottom of the tub as he parted her plump lips and began a languorous exploration.
He nudged her head so he could kiss the side of her neck, that delicate spot right behind the ear, and down her shoulder. How can this hard-as-nails, tough construction he-man be this gentle? His fingertips stimulated her with lazy control while his mouth left butterfly kisses up and down her nape and shoulder. Ellis trembled. She couldn’t contain her mounting arousal. She wanted him, needed to feel him deep inside of her.
The oils in the bath facilitated an effortless maneuver. She rolled over and straddled him, sliding her chest against his, until she could feel the head of his cock against her pussy. She looked him in the eyes and was surprised by what she saw. Instead of half-lidded lust, Simon’s eyes were clear, full of longing, overflowing with tenderness and desire. She pressed her lips against his, letting the passion flow between them. It was slow and dreamy and incredibly satisfying. Her lips still throbbed from their first tryst but it wasn’t pain she felt. She just felt. She felt alive, desired, sexy.
She parted her lips and let her tongue slide forward, tasting him, teasing him. She slid farther down his chest until she felt him inside her. Grabbing the sides of the bath for balance, she sat up as straight as she could, impaled on his lap.
Ellis began to rock, tilting her pelvis back and forth, testing the depth, searching for the perfect pivot point. Using her thighs, she rose until she was halfway up his shaft and sat down again, reveling in the fullness. She repeated it, this time constricting her muscles as she lowered herself, making a tighter glove for Simon.
He moaned and seized her around the hips and when she did it a third time, he thrust up, pushing deeper, harder. Again she raised herself, this time rocking forward as she sat, letting him guide her hips. Together they thrust and counterthrust, their bodies perfectly in synch while water sloshed, spilling unnoticed onto the floor.
He took her hand and pushed it against her pussy, which was barely peeking atop the surface of the water. He guided her fingers into her slit, coaxing her to touch, yearning to see her pleasure herself into orgasm. She stopped bouncing up and down and with a capricious grin, began to perform. Her hips rocked against him, rode him slowly. She tilted her pelvis up to expose more of her pussy and arched back as far as she could without falling backward. With one hand she spread her labia, giving him an unhindered view. She used the fore and middle fingers to play with herself—squeezing, rubbing and pinching her clit.
Simon groaned, his buttocks clenching as he thrust deep into her. He couldn’t believe Ellis was this refreshingly uninhibited, willing to share such an intimate act. He was astonished, grateful even. But mostly he was ablaze with lust. He fought the urge to grab her hips and drive into her, pump her until he came. He was mesmerized by her undulating hips, the friction of her fingers moving on either side of her clit, faster, harder, squeezing the nub between her knuckles. He watched in fascination, holding himself back until she shuddered. Her back arched, breasts heaved and her inner muscles contracted spasmodically.
He couldn’t be a bystander any longer. As soon as her chest stopped heaving, he wrapped his hands around her hips, lifted her up and let her fall back on him, over and over, faster and faster.
Ellis gripped Simon’s shoulders until she felt him spasm beneath her. His final thrust forced her into another racking climax. She tossed her head back, closed her eyes and rode high on the crest of pleasure.
Ellis sat perfectly still, waiting for her muscles to stop convulsing, her heart to stop its erratic pace. She inhaled deeply, the smell of vanilla and lavender wafting up around her carried by the steam from the tub. The water, what was left of it, was cool and oily. She cranked the hot water faucet, a slim brushed-nickel wave, and admired Simon’s peaceful face. His eyes were closed and his head reclined against the side of the tub.
“How did you know?” Ellis asked.
“Know what?” Simon said sleepily.
“How did you know to come back tonight? How did you know about the pink paint?”
“Jeb called me.”
Ellis waited for him to explain. Her leg muscles began to cramp so she dismounted and stretched out beside him, one leg and arm draped casually over him.
“You know that call I got at the party?” Simon asked, stroking her hair.
“Mmmm.”
“It was Jeb calling. He returned to pick up some things from the trailer out back and saw Cynthia leaving with some guy, maybe Thug, and they were carrying empty paint tins. Anyone else may not have noticed or cared but painting is Jeb’s baby, and he couldn’t see a logical reason for her to be coming out of the house, after deadline, with paint cans.”
“Bless his heart,” Ellis said. “He went in to check things out and discovered the mess.”
“Mostly,” Simon said. “Jeb had a little look-see, mostly upstairs in Cynthia’s area, to see if anything had been changed. Nothing had but he saw a light on in your office, so he wandered over and discovered the pink walls. He called me as soon as he got home. He knew you’d been duped, especially after the bloody scene you made about the color.
“So while you all were cocktailing the night away, I slipped out to get more Divine Caravan, dropped it off here, then to the yard to pick up the big fans to help the paint dry faster. Course, I didn’t have your imagination in painting attire, so I went home to get some grubby clothes. Ouch!”
Ellis rewarded him with a playful pinch on his nipple.
“Well, what’s done is done,” she added. “Let’s go put on the second coat.”
“Naked?” he asked with a sly grin.
Chapter Eight
&
nbsp; Ellis got to the unveiling uncharacteristically late. She managed to assemble an outfit and hide the black circles under her eyes with a dab of concealer. Not bad, considering she’d only managed a couple hours of sleep. She and Simon painted and restaged the office until early dawn, pausing only to christen the tiny love seat with another round of steamy sex. They also took a moment to give Cynthia’s bathroom a perfunctory wipe down.
Tired, yes, but she was on top of the world today! Her nerves were steady and, thanks to Simon, at about four a.m. she adopted a new attitude—it’s only a room!
Remi, dramatic and distressed, met her in the driveway.
“You’re ten minutes late, girl! I’ve been calling and calling! Where have you been? Why is your cell off?”
“Everything is fine, Remington. Calm down.”
“Calm down? I’ve had to tour four of the judges so far.”
“I’m sure you did fine. It’s only a room for heaven’s sake.”
“Only a room? Okay. Now you’re scaring me. Who are you and what have you done with Ellis?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ellis just smiled at Remi’s histrionics. He shook his head in puzzlement as they made their way up the front walk.
“Oh shit, slow down Ellis.” He pulled her back just as she was about to step into the foyer. “You’ve got me so flustered I almost forgot—Cynthia has been a raving lunatic since the moment she arrived and your name has come up. Several times. High decibels.”
“What? Why?” Ellis feigned concern.
“Apparently, someone tampered with her bathroom.”
“Oh my,” Ellis smirked as she entered the house. She strolled casually to her creation just in time to introduce herself to two of the judges who wandered in. Turning on the charm, she greeted them warmly and began the tour.
Remi stood back and watched. He had never seen Ellis so calm. She radiated confidence. She was positively shining.
“That girl is finally getting some,” he muttered to no one.
* * * * *
“There she is! There she is! I insist that you disqualify her!” Cynthia bellowed as she entered the office with six of the judges in tow.
“Can I help you, Cynthia?”
“I know what you did, you wacky bitch, and you will be disqualified from this competition!”
“I have no idea to what you’re referring,” Ellis remarked calmly, glad that Remi had taken his place by her side.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Ellis Strathmore. It doesn’t become you. You and that, that…fruitcake assistant sullied my masterpiece!” Cynthia spitted like a feral cat.
“Miss Strathmore,” asked Rebecca Ford, the head judge who looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, “did you or your colleague, um, sully the master bath?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about Mrs. Ford,” Ellis answered earnestly. “Remi? Are you aware of this…sullying?”
“Oh no, ma’am! I am completely ignorant of any sullying that may have occurred.” Remi should have been a drama coach.
“They’re liars!” Cynthia raved. “Ask her where she was last night! I’ll tell you. Her and her cohort snuck back into the house last night, after deadline, and repainted her room. Smell it!” she demanded, poking her nose up and sniffing the air like a dog at a barbeque. “Then she sullied my beautiful creation!”
“I think perhaps you’re overreacting,” interjected the judge. “What possible reason would Miss Strathmore have for—”
“Jealousy! Everyone knows that I fired Ellis for trying to take credit for one of my most famous, award-winning designs. She’s been trying to get back at me ever since!”
It was Ellis’ turn to show her fury. “That’s a bloody lie, Cynthia! I quit Afflairs after you took credit for my green house. You don’t know the first thing about environmentalism—”
“Ladies, please,” the judge pleaded, trying to gain control of the situation.
The judges were obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable with the heated exchange. Rebecca Ford turned to Ellis. “Miss Strathmore, I apologize for this. It’s none of our business, but could you perhaps tell us where you were last night?”
“Hello Goldilocks,” Simon leaned down to graze her cheek and wrap a possessive arm around Ellis’ waist. “What’s going on?”
Remi and Cynthia shared the same shocked expressions.
“They want to know where I was last night. Apparently someone sullied Cynthia’s bathroom.”
“Oh, what a shame,” he said with feigned concern. “Why would anyone want to sully you, Cynthia?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” she replied. “So, Miss Strathmore, you haven’t answered the question. Tell the truth. You came back and you repainted the office!”
“And why would I do that Cynthia? The office is the exact color it should be. The same color I left it yesterday at the noon deadline. Isn’t that right? Remi? Is this the exact wall color that you saw when we left yesterday?” She turned to the other designers who’d been drawn by the commotion.
“Most of you saw the office yesterday at deadline. Did I change a thing? Is it the same color?” There were small gestures of affirmation. No one but Valentina dared speak out against Cynthia, but they were clearly uncomfortable with her accusation.
“Excuse me Rebecca, but I can vouch for Ellis,” Simon said. “She was with me last night.” He turned his glare to Cynthia and added, “All night.”
“They’re lying,” Cynthia hissed, squinting at the lovers.
“Would you like me to call in Jeb to verify the color, Cynthia? He did the job to spec, didn’t he Ellis?”
“Dead on.”
“In fact, Jeb was here last night. Late. I’m sure he could verify that it’s the correct color and tell us if he saw anybody around here with painting equipment,” Simon mocked.
“He could indeed, Simon,” Ellis said, handing him her cell phone.
“Oh never mind!” Cynthia seethed and stalked off. Her entourage, never more than a foot behind, were hesitant, unsure if they should follow.
Simon leaned down and pressed his lip softly onto Ellis’ upturned mouth. She could feel the heat creep up her spine until her head was swirling with a lascivious replay of the night previous. Lost in the depths of their soul-stirring kiss, she barely registered the sound of applause coming from Remi, Valentina and the other designers.
“Excuse me.” Detective Novak was standing in the doorway, holding her badge out for all to see. “I’m looking for Cynthia Travers. Is she here?”
The entire group pointed at the figure retreating up the stairs.
* * * * *
“Are you disappointed?” Simon asked, just loud enough to be heard over the rowdy crowd.
“Hell no!” Ellis clutched the small crystal trophy in her hand. “Second place is nothing to sneeze at, and I’m glad Valentina won. She deserved it.”
“Second place with special mention for innovation,” Simon reminded her, with a touching sense of pride. “But if not for the discretionary points you lost for the confrontation with Cynthia, who knows?”
“Thanks Simon, for your faith in me and for sticking up for me today,” she said, squeezing his fingers across the bar table. “But Val clearly had the better design, even without the antique teddy-bear border.”
“What’s next for you?”
“I’ve got a pocket full of people to call next week,” Ellis beamed, relishing the positive comments she’d received from the judges. “The home office generated a fair bit of interest when the invitees came through after judging. Looks like Remi and I are going to be very busy.”
She knew Simon spoke to the police after they came to question Cynthia but hesitated to press him for details. She should feel some level of satisfaction after seeing the woman who made her life hell being dragged off in a most undignified manner, but somehow she couldn’t muster up the bitterness. “So what’s next
for Cynthia?”
“Detective Novak has plenty of evidence linking Cynthia to Jim. Phone records, eyewitness accounts of them meeting after hours, bank statements. It doesn’t look good for our Ms. Travers. I also mentioned that mirror incident from last year and Novak is going to see if any criminal negligence charges are applicable. Hey, did the judges know about her blown budget?”
“Oh yes! She probably could have gotten away with the spa products but the chandelier was a really cocky move. She recorded the cost at three hundred and had some bogus receipt from a lighting warehouse. Rebecca Ford saw right through it,” Ellis said.
“She made her bed, as they say.”
