by Ward, Deena
Elaine pulled me into a corner. “Is it serious between you and Gibson?”
“I don’t know. I think it could be. Maybe.”
She chuckled. “That’s clear as mud.”
“I know. Elaine, you told me once that there are two sides to every story. You were right. About Michael’s story.”
She shrugged. “That’s how it usually goes.”
I said, “I can’t go into details, but pretty much everything Michael told us was untrue. I was completely wrong about Gibson, and Michael. I trusted the wrong person. I shouldn’t have been so gullible.”
“Aw, honey. Don’t blame yourself. I sure as hell am not gullible, and even I didn’t know what to believe.”
“Well, anyway, I don’t want Gibson and Michael to meet here, so I’m just going to get Gibson and leave.”
Elaine glanced around. “Looks like you’re goin’ to have to find him first.”
“Ron dragged him off with some other men.”
Elaine said, “He probably wants to show off his guns. We’ll go find them.”
We only took two steps before the door to the kitchen swung open and a frazzled-looking woman rushed up to Elaine.
She grabbed Elaine’s arm, “That boy you hired dropped all the pâté on the floor. Idiot! We’ve got to come up with something else to serve. You have to show me what you have so I can ...”
Elaine held a finger up in front of the woman’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’ll be there in a minute. You handle it. Look in my cupboards, in the fridge. Think for yourself.”
The woman huffed and stomped back off into the kitchen.
I said, “Go on, Elaine. I can find Gibson on my own. It’ll be fine.”
“Oh, honey, what a mess, huh?”
I shrugged and smiled. “You’re just too popular and likable. You have too many friends.”
She snorted. “You mean Ron has too many friends, or should I say, moocher friends of friends. Anyway, I’m sure Ron’s taken Gibson off to look at his guns. No man enters this house without seeing Ron’s gun collection.”
She pointed to a door and told me to leave that way and gave me directions to Ron’s study. I told her thanks and goodbye, then headed off to find Gibson.
I moved into a hallway that was filled with people. I turned to the right and pushed and shoved until I thought I was approaching the right room. It was slow-going, with so many bodies clustered around.
When a hand closed around my upper arm, I didn’t even look to see who it was. I simply called out, “Sorry!” and kept moving.
The hand didn’t let go. In fact it was pulling me toward the wall. I spun to see who had hold of me.
It was Michael. Hell.
He pressed me up against the wall and smiled down at me. It wasn’t a friendly smile. Instead of being neatly tucked behind his ears, his long hair uncharacteristically hung around his face. His jaw was clenched tight and his brow was knitted.
For a handsome man, he looked distinctly unattractive at the moment.
I hissed, “Let go of my arm.”
He said, “I came tonight because I thought you’d be here. I was so happy when you arrived. Then I saw who you were with.”
“Back off, Michael. Who I’m with is none of your business.”
“You didn’t have to come with him to get my attention, you know.”
“What?”
“Obviously you’re using him to get to me. It’s not necessary. You should know that I still want you.”
I couldn’t believe his gall. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Sure you didn’t. Or maybe you’re using him for revenge ... again.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I yanked on my arm, but he held me firm. I was sick of this new habit he had of thinking it was okay to grab me. “I’m with Gibson because I want to be with him. If I had known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”
He leaned down close to my ear. “I’m tired of these games, Sweet. It’s time to end it.”
“I did end it. When I broke up with you.”
“You don’t really want to be with a cold fish like my cousin.”
“That’s it. I’m done. Let go of me now, or I’ll scream.”
He said, “You won’t scream. If you do, Gibson will hear.”
He was right. I wasn’t going to admit it, though. I said, “Michael, you and I are through. Finished. I like Gibson, and if I want to be with him, or any other man, I will. You and I aren’t together, and won’t be, ever again. I can’t be any clearer about this.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “The man robbed me and my family out of what was rightfully ours. You could have moved on with anyone, but you picked him. My enemy. That speaks volumes to me.”
I said, “It shouldn’t. Anyway, it’s my understanding that you’ve been fully compensated by Gibson, and then some.”
His rough expression flickered for a moment, and his hand briefly loosened its grip on my arm. He said, “So Gibson’s been telling tales. Did you think that maybe I was forced into that compensation, by circumstances?”
“No. I didn’t. And I don’t.”
Michael’s face fell and he suddenly appeared contrite and wounded at the same time. I wasn’t buying either one.
He said, “He’s brainwashed you.”
His hand had loosened more. I twisted and yanked my arm out of his hold. I said, “That’s not true. Get over it.”
He said, “I can’t.”
“If I had come in here with anyone else, you wouldn’t be acting this way. It’s because it’s Gibson.”
“No. Or, yes, some of that’s true. But not completely. I still want you, Sweet.”
“But I don’t want you.”
And I pushed past him and shoved myself back into the flow of the partygoers. He didn’t grab me again, and I didn’t look behind me to see if he was following me. I wanted to find Gibson and get out of there before anything worse happened.
I found the door I thought was the one Elaine described to me, and opened it. I sighed in relief at the sight of Gibson standing with a group of about four men, circled around Ron who was holding up what I would have sworn was a musket.
Gibson met my eyes and he immediately left the group and approached me.
He said softly, “Are you okay? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine. I just don’t like big crowds. I want to leave, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’m not a fan of crowds, either. I’d be happy to go.”
“I already said goodbye to Elaine. I’ll just tell Ron I’m not feeling well.”
We made our farewells to a regretful Ron, who claimed a promise from Gibson that he’d come another day to see his guns. Ron gave me a little pat on my shoulder with his massive hand and awkwardly told me to get well soon. I hugged him, then Gibson and I worked our way through the crowd, toward the front door.
The whole way, I prayed we wouldn’t meet with Michael. And while we waited for the valet to fetch Gibson’s car, I prayed Michael wouldn’t make an appearance outside.
I don’t think I took a deep breath until Gibson and I were settled in the car and pulling out onto the street. No Michael. Happy escape. I leaned back into the soft seat and relaxed.
The last thing I needed tonight had been a chance meeting with Michael. Worse, though, would have been a chance meeting with me, Michael and Gibson. I knew how Gibson felt about Michael, and how Gibson felt about my having been with his cousin. I was certain that if Gibson saw Michael tonight, the evening would have been ruined.
Happy, happy escape.
Gibson pushed a button on the console and told me he had to make a call. He spoke to a man and said, “We’ll be there in twenty. Start the meal once we’re there, please.”
When he ended the call, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“To one of Roundtree’s condos. They’re held ready for guests of the business. I thought you might enjoy the place. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.”
“Good. There’s an excellent restaurant in the building and we should be eating in about an hour.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
I saw a flash of his white teeth in the semi-darkness. He said, “You don’t want to know everything I’ve been thinking.”
I felt a little thrill. I had to touch him. I reached out and ran the back of my hand down his cheek.
Another flash of teeth. He took my hand in his own, gave my fingers a brief kiss, then laid my hand down on the console between us before taking hold of the wheel again.
This time, I was the one to smile. Safety first, he seemed to have told me. It was just like him, I thought. No distractions while driving. And that made me want to kiss him.
We made some small talk during the rest of the drive, but mostly, we rode in comfortable silence. For myself, I was anticipating what might be to come. I assumed he was doing the same.
I wasn’t familiar with the part of the city he drove us to. It appeared to be mostly new developments. Gibson drove into the underground parking structure of a tall building and parked in a reserved space near an elevator.
After he helped me out of the car, he opened the trunk and grabbed up my overnight bag. When I asked where his bag was, he told me he had sent his things over earlier in the day.
He held my hand and led me to the elevator, which we rode up to the top of the forty-plus floor building. The elevator opened onto a hallway decorated in subdued earth tones. The door to Gibson’s condo was at the end of the hall.
When I stepped into the condo, my first impression was of the wall of windows on the far side of the spacious main room. Obviously, Gibson enjoyed panoramic views of the city, and this one was definitely wide angle. The lights of the city seemingly stretched to infinity.
The room was large, and softly lit. Someone had readied the room for us, I noted, flickering candles sprinkled around the place, the scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting in the air.
The colors were all neutrals, and the decor impersonal yet appealing. It was obvious that this was not a home, but a traveler’s domain.
A sunken section of the room contained the seating area of sofas and chairs. A dining room set was arranged at the rear of the room, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. A door opened to the right, which Gibson said led to the kitchen. He ushered me to the left, around a corner, and he showed me around the bedroom and bathroom areas.
The highlight of the quick tour was what lay behind a set of double doors in the bedroom: a room, walled on two sides with glass which overlooked the city, and containing a small lap pool and a large Jacuzzi.
Gibson left my bag in the bedroom then accompanied me back to the living area, where he opened a bottle of champagne that was cooling in a bucket of ice. He poured us both a glass, and we clinked our glasses in a silent toast.
I felt shy of a sudden, and wandered over to the windows to take in the view and calm my nerves. Gibson walked up behind me. I could see his reflection in the glass, his inscrutable visage.
He said, “So will this do?”
I said, “You know it will.”
I took a long drink and the bubbly liquid went down hard. Nerves.
Gibson ran a finger down my bare arm sending shivers through me. “I want this to be good for you, Nonnie.”
I nodded jerkily. “For you, too.”
I watched his reflection, saw him take a drink then lean to the side and put the glass on the nearby table. He laid both hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. He lowered his head down onto mine, smelling my hair.
He said, “You’re so beautiful. You make restraint a greater challenge than usual.”
One of his hands slid down my arm, while his other hand pushed my hair over one shoulder, baring my neck to his warm lips. He kissed me tenderly behind my ear.
His voice was like warm caramel. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
His hands slid over my arms, tickling my flesh. I sighed.
He said, “We’ll put the past behind us. Let’s make this night a new beginning, as if nothing had come between us before.”
My body was thrumming like he had been touching me for hours, not a few moments. One of his hands gently circled my throat, my head fell back against his chest and I sighed.
He whispered in my ear, “A new beginning. Our first time. Tell me what you want.”
I hadn’t known what I wanted, other than to be with him. But hearing him say these things to me, I knew what I wanted now. I would be honest.
His fingers found the zipper on the back of my dress and unzipped it all the way to my waist. He pushed his hands under the garment and shrugged the dress down over my shoulders. I clasped my own hands in front of my chest to keep the dress from dropping all the way to the floor. I turned to face him.
He looked softly at me while he took my champagne glass from me and set it next to his on the table. He touched my bottom lip with his thumb and said, “Tell me.”
I said, “I don’t want to forget everything, or pretend that it never happened. Well, except maybe some of the things I said.”
“You said nothing to blame yourself for.”
“I did. But that doesn’t matter right now. I don’t want to forget any of it. I’m not the same woman I was when we met. I know myself better. And I’ve done a lot of thinking. I realize now what set me against you in the beginning, and it wasn’t what I thought it was.”
Gibson shifted in obvious discomfort. “I would have it different, if I could.”
“I wouldn’t. Because what I was missing that night at the Frederick Hotel wasn’t what I thought.”
I looked into his eyes, tried to channel what I was feeling. “You said that night that you gave me what I needed, but not what I wanted. That’s always stayed with me. You were wrong, Gibson. You didn’t give me what I needed or what I wanted. But you can do both tonight.”
“That’s what I want. Tell me.”
I took a deep breath. I was taking a risk with this, reminding him of what had gone wrong with us, but he had to understand. I had to make him understand.
I said, “You thought that making me come was what I needed, and that you coming was what I wanted. I did want you to come, yes, but that was because it was the only way I knew to prove that you truly desired me. That’s what I actually needed from you -- proof, of your desire.”
Gibson shook his head slowly. “I wanted you. I don’t know how you ...”
“I know that. I know that now. But you were impossible to read, even when you complimented me, you seemed detached. I couldn’t know how sincere you were. And then to fuck me like you did, so hard and fierce and then stop, just like that, without coming ... I couldn’t imagine how that could be possible if you truly desired me as much as I desired you.”
I continued before he had a chance to stop me. “What I know now is that you do desire me. I can’t doubt it. And I understand now how incredibly powerful you are, how amazing your control is. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. I wish I had the kind of strength you have.”
His face seemed made of marble as I complimented him. I wanted to stroke his cheek and tell him it was okay to be praised.
I said, “That’s why I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened between us before. Because I get it now. Or at least, I have a better understanding now.”
I clutched my dress to my chest with one hand and pressed my other hand against his hard chest. “You asked me to tell you what I want tonight.”
His response was husky and deep. “Yes.”
I dropped my dress, letting it fall to the floor around my feet. “Then what I want is for you to accept what I give you, and I’m giving you myself. Everything I have. Take what you want, Gibson. Please yourself. That’s what I need and what I want.”
He breathed in deeply. His gaze traveled down my body, raking past my bra and panties. One of his hands lifted from his side, t
hen dropped again.
His eyes locked onto mine and he said, “You’re certain of this?”
“I am.”
“You don’t know.”
“Then you’ll teach me.”
I breathed.
He breathed.
His face cleared and he said, “I accept your gift.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. “Thank you.”
His gaze bore into mine. “Your safe words are yellow and red. Say yellow if something is too much for you. I might or might not stop what I’m doing, but we’ll have a talk about what is bothering you. Say red if you can’t take another moment of what is happening. If you say red, I’ll stop immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What are your safe words?”
“Yellow and red.”
“Good. Don’t be afraid to use them. Ever.”
“Okay.”
He took a step back from me. His voice was a dead calm that rose goosebumps over my arms. “Remove your bra and panties.”
I think my hands may have shaken a little because I was clumsy with the clasp of the bra. I dropped it on the floor beside me then took off my panties and dropped them on my bra.
My breathing grew ragged and Gibson’s slow perusal of my breasts and bare mound sent a rush of wetness between my legs.
He said, “Take off your shoes.”
I did.
He said, “Now take your things into the bedroom and put them on the dresser, then go stand by the bed and wait for me.”
I bent down and gathered up my clothes and shoes, keeping half on eye on Gibson who was walking away from me, removing his jacket as he went. He laid his jacket over the back of a chair then picked up the receiver of the phone that was on the desk.
As I made my way to the bedroom, I heard him ask, “How long until our meal is ready?”
I heard no more than that. I carefully laid my dress out over the dresser, then made a neat pile of my underclothes, and set my shoes on the floor. I willed myself into a calmer place as I stood by the bed and waited for Gibson.
In a few moments, he entered the room, his stride purposeful and steady as he approached me. He stopped a few feet in front of me.
