I remembered the steamy moments in the slow elevator. The kisses alone left me weak. The thoughts of him made me wet and ready for him. My heart raced as the elevator slowed to a stop on his floor. Second thoughts invaded my mind. I wanted to press my voluptuous body against his hard body. At the thought of him, electricity traveled through my spine, prompting me to move toward his door.
I pressed the doorbell, hearing it chime softly. With no answer, I followed the bell with several hard knocks. I bit my lip hard, waiting for him to open the door. After the fourth time, I gave up hope. All sorts of notions reeled through my mind. The most prominent thought of him with another woman caused me return to the elevator. The tears shed on their own, sliding in rivulets down my cheek.
‘I’m such a fool.’ I thought.
I reasoned he may have driven to the mansion to spend time with his parents. I hoped he’d taken the lengthy trip. When I arrived at the foyer, I walked slowly, unlike the horrible day when I sprinted out of the building.
“Ms. Mercurio?” I turned toward the sound of my maiden name. I pursed my lips, preferring to be called Mrs. Keene.
“Yes.” I wiped a tear.
“May I help you, Madame?” Raul the concierge asked. I hadn’t noticed him when I entered the building because my sex drive and hormones were on a mission.
“No. Dr. Keene doesn’t seem to be in, so I’ll be going back to my place,” I said. I noticed his brow furrow and a look of confusion formed.
“Didn’t you know?” He asked. It was my turn to look confused.
“Know what?”
“Dr. Keene sold his apartment. He moved out a couple of days ago. The apartment is virtually empty until the new owner takes possession next week,” he informed gently. I was relieved, but feared what it all meant. I knew I forced the abrupt sale of his apartment.
“Do you know where he’s moved to?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s left a forwarding address.”
“Do you mind giving me his address?”
“I’m not supposed to Ma’am. It’s supposed to be for packages and mail, which haven’t been correctly routed,” he stated gently. I smiled softly and nodded, turning to walk away.
“But . . . if you promise not to tell him where you got this address, I will tell you,” he offered.
I countered with a bright smile and an excited nod. Raul looked at his computer screen, typing and clicking until he retrieved the information he needed. I was hoping the only address left was the mansion.
Raul slipped me a piece of paper. I read the address and shook my head in surprise. “Is this the only forwarding address?” I asked.
“Yes. It is.”
“Thank you so much, Raul. I promise with all my heart, I’ll never tell a soul.” I placed the paper on the desk. I extended my hand, giving him a squeeze of appreciation.
In quiet contemplation, I rode back to my place. I didn’t have the same nerve and determination as when I left to go to Matt’s apartment. I passed security, heading toward the elevators. Once inside, I started at the numbers panel and debated which number to press. Curiosity to confirm if Matt did move to my building racked through my brain. Instead of pressing my floor, I pressed for the eighth floor, and made my way to Faith’s former apartment.
I knocked on the door, waiting for a response. It was almost two in the morning, an insane hour to call on a person. However, it wasn’t a business call. I wanted him. I desperately needed to feel him on me, doing whatever he desired.
The shuffle of feet stopped at the front door. I knocked lightly once more. When I believed he peered through the security hole of the door, I cast my eyes down nervously. A lengthy pause before I heard the first lock turn then the second and I watched the knob turn. When the door opened, I lost my breath. Matt stood on the other side; tall and bare chested with his tousled, long hair.
“What are you doing here?” He asked. The darkened living room brightened with the moving lights from the television. I saw his furnishings. It was odd to see his belongings in the small space. Matt’s apartment seemed too big for just one person. For his personality and lifestyle, he moved into a significantly smaller apartment. After I entered, I put my purse down on the table near the door. When I visited Faith’s apartment, I came to vent to her about Matt after we had furious sex. The thought made my lower body vibrate. I kicked off my shoes toward the table. He watched me, locking the door. I pulled up the fabric of my dress and pulled it over my head, letting it fall to my feet.
He stood still, watching. I felt vulnerable and insecure; not the woman who seduced him in the beginning. I’d hoped he’d take over the seduction, but I knew he wanted me to give up control. He seemed to think of what to do next. Even in the dim light, I could see his chest inhaling broadly and his Adam’s apple swallowing.
When my thumbs hooked on the edge of my panties, he walked toward me, taking me into his arms and picking me up. His kiss was just the thing I needed to feel full again, patching up each crevice in my heart. I felt the doubt drain away. I couldn’t get enough of his warm, strong body. He pulled me toward the bedroom. For a split second, I feared he’d fuck me against the wall and ask me to leave as part of my continued punishment. I couldn’t bear it, if he had.
I moaned and whimpered at each movement and kiss; completely entranced by the moment. My being vocal encouraged his affections, even though I sensed a trace of hesitation and distance in his passion. He stopped walking with me in his arms and I feared the worst.
I cried out, “Please,” to reassure him we should make love without it being a punishment or demand of control. I wanted to go back to the time when I remained oblivious to his motives and we indulged in our desires. I knew we could have it again.
“What do you want?” He asked.
I hesitated because all the answers were trapped at the tip of my tongue.
“Punish me!” I whimpered, looking down in deference to his power over me. I gripped him tighter. He won. I let him win regardless of the work ahead of me. He assailed me with kisses, leaving me breathless and mute.
Matt carried me to his king sized bed. I missed the feel of this bed; the ornate design of the headboard, which I used to tie him once. In this bed, I slept profoundly even with minimal sleep because of our love making. Regardless of its immense size, we slept in the middle with our bodies locked together as one. I could no longer deny I missed him intensely, and there would be no way I could live without him any longer than necessary. I needed some more time to ensure our plans were being implemented. The impending deadline of my filing the license loomed. If I didn’t manage the task, we were fated to be over. He was a man of his word, and I wouldn’t want him to stay out of obligation to our baby.
I eagerly climbed onto the bed. I waited for him to join me, but he left the room. When he returned he climbed in and lay beside me. I felt jitters like the first time, but I wouldn’t commandeer the moment. Instead of a kiss or fondling, he turned my body, pressing his front to my back. Surprised, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Go to sleep, Perla,” he ordered. My brow furrowed and my breathing accelerated with frustration.
“Why don’t you punish me?” I asked, knowing I sounded petulant, grinding my bottom against him.
“I am,” he said cavalierly, pressing his hand on my hips to stop me.
I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips, cursing his name in my head. He was right. The deprivation of his body, when all I wanted was his physical connection, would be the worst punishment at this moment. It didn’t help that I felt his erection on my tailbone.
With time, his breath evened out, and I started counting his exhalations to calm my frayed urges. When his breathe evened out, I knew he fell asleep. To soothe myself, I lightly stroked his hand. I thought ahead to the future, when my expanded belly and a moving baby would be underneath his hand. Another tear escaped, which I didn’t think was possible after all I’d shed. With time I felt drowsy, falling asleep in his warm embrace.
/> *****
I woke up late in the morning. Matt wasn’t in bed. I searched around the apartment, and found a note on the counter, stating he was running errands before tonight’s performance. I dressed and returned to my apartment, thinking over the last week. All those times when he’d leave in the middle of the night, he was going downstairs. I was needlessly concerned about him hitting the road to his bachelor pad or the Northern house. A dose of fury coursed through me as I prepped in my apartment to leave for the performance. At the appointed hour, Josh texted me he was on his way to escort me to the Conservatory.
When I entered the Conservatory’s large foyer, I saw a bustle of workers assembling the room for the reception and dinner. The stage, audio and visual equipment, and disc jockey stations were completed. The tables were being assembled in strategic spots. I looked for Carson, but I only saw Gill directing people. Things were strained between us since my return. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I believed he was feeding information to Matt. It could have been Caroline, but a signal just went off whenever I saw Gill.
“Hi,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Hi,” he returned timidly.
“Everything looks amazing. You have a gift,” I said in earnest, and Gill smiled.
“Well, there is still a lot to do.”
“Have you seen Carson?”
“The kids have arrived and are being taken to the dorms for their overnight stay. They’ll all be back in an hour,”
“Perla,” I heard my name called out and I turned to see Magnus.
“Magnus, what are you doing here?”
“I’m doing the decoration and place settings. Gill and Carson talked me into donating my time and resources. We received everything gratis from the vendors I use. I’m here to oversee things. My brother Kit Phlaim from Stock Well restaurant is catering the reception,” he said, looking in Gill’s direction.
I turned to Gill, who looked away. I didn’t want to speculate what was going on. I preferred to believe Gill was only interested in the donated design and nothing more.
“Thank you for your contribution, Magnus,” I managed. “I’ll leave you both,” I said.
I went off stage where we would prepare for show time. The memories of my time as a performer flooded back. While there were aspects I missed, I was content with my life choices. I warmed up and ran through my solo. I heard a clap behind me when I finished. Carson beamed at me.
“Hi,” I said. He always put me at ease.
“You looked great,” he smiled, and I curtsied. Behind him, the kids poured with boisterous chatter. The student teachers entered after them. “Did you bring your fans?”
“I did. How you convinced me to use them is beyond me?” I winked.
“You look great dancing with those feathers.”
“When I did that routine for you years ago, I wasn’t near naked and you’re not a heterosexual guy.”
“I told you, there are degrees of attraction. While you don’t do it for me, I can’t help but appreciate how beautiful you look, most especially when you dance,” he complimented. “I’ve had so much fun dancing with you during this session, and I hope we don’t stop,” he continued.
I absorbed his sweet words. His compliments always made me feel special. I wanted so badly to tell him I expected to take a break from dancing when my center of gravity expands.
*****
My performance was short-lived. I stood on the stage en pointe with my feathered fans in hand, watching the audience give me a standing ovation. It was a surreal experience. One I never experienced when I was often performing with the Conservatory. When I tried to leave stage left, a couple of the boys brought me a bouquet of white roses. I was flabbergasted. It was an unexpected treat to have the white roses match my long white dress, white pointe shoes, and white fans. I collected them in my free arm, cradling the delicate blooms like a baby. I bowed and slowly turned, walking off stage with elongated strides. I spent some time collecting my breath and emotions. Everyone came up to me, complimenting my performance.
The ensemble readied to perform the last set. Reception in the grand foyer would follow. The ensemble would clean up and prepare for dinner during the cocktail hour. The students were allowed to eat with the donors, so the donors would get an opportunity to understand what sponsorship meant for their artistic future.
I felt hot and tired from the performance. I grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the refreshment table and stood in a corner to get some air and cool down until it passed. After some time of feeling ill, I decided to go home. I scanned the backstage to alert Carson.
Matt’s voice startled me. “You were phenomenal,” he said. I turned to look at him, and his facial expression changed. He pounced on me, touching my head and feeling my neck again. He looked into my eyes, pulling down my lower lids.
“Matt, I’m fine. I just got a bit overheated and overwhelmed,” I assured. He held my skull. I pulled away to get more water.
“Did you eat today?”
“Yes. I told you I’m fine.”
Carson came up to us, “Matt, how are you? Didn’t our girl do wonderfully?” Matt ignored. “What’s wrong?” Carson asked when he assessed the non-verbal behaviors.
“I was just telling Matt I’m just a bit overwhelmed by everything. You know, my stage fright gets the best of me,” I added.
“Of course, stage fright. I remember you were always nervous before a performance.” Carson cut his eyes into me, wondering why he was lying for me.
“I’ll be fine.” I smiled. Soon, I gagged. Matt handed me a handkerchief. I took it, spitting into the soft cloth. The sensation passed. I took a smaller sip of water, clutching the fabric in my palms. “I feel better.”
“Perla, we have to get back on stage for the big finish. Are you able to do it?” Carson asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. Matt took the saliva laden silk handkerchief from me and cupped it in his hand. “I’m sorry I ruined your handkerchief,” I smiled. “I’ve got to get back to the students,” I finished.
Matt’s eyes scanned over my face, trying to diagnose something more than the jitters I claimed to have. I gave him a clipped smile and grabbed Carson’s hand. We walked away together.
“Stage fright? You’ve never had stage fright a day in your life. You love the spot light. What is going on?” I squeezed his hand.
“I’m pregnant.” I stood en pointe and gave him a kiss to soften the blow.
“What?”
“Please don’t make a scene, sweetie. He may still be looking at us,” I ordered. “You wanted the honest-Perla to start sharing before she gets in too deep. Well here she is. He doesn’t know. Other than Esmeralda, you’re the first to know. Now what the fuck do I do?” I scanned the room to find the students gathered by the exit doors.
“Calm down. We’re all here for you. But you need to tell him.”
“I need to resolve this triangle because it’s hurting all of us,” I whispered. Carson squeezed my hand. Our cue was given, and we all walked on stage for our final bows and introductions. For this one night, me and Carson fulfilled our dream of having our dance program. We held hands as we took our ovations with the other dance instructors and our future artists.
*****
While I prepared to sneak out of the Conservatory, Gill asked, “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I said quickly.
“Why?” He asked.
“I’m not up to partying.”
“Perla, people want to talk to you. You should hear the buzz. They’re already at the reception, talking about your solo. There are a lot of donors out there willing to write out big checks tonight, and if you’re not there to talk to them and answer their questions, we will lose money for the program.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
“Come as you are.”
“What?”
“You look flawless from head to toe. Just touch up your makeup, and come outside.”
“I’ve
sweated all over this dress, Gill.”
“Go out there for now. Mingle at the reception. I will go to your place and find something for you to wear. Once I’m back you can change and enjoy the rest of the evening. We have a program during dinner, which you can’t miss,” I thought long and hard. Not wanting to disappoint Carson, I agreed. I gave him my key, and did as he suggested.
The walk to the reception area felt like I was walking to my death, but I felt at ease as soon as I saw the beautifully lit room, décor, and the people milling about the reception. Carson was right. I don’t particularly have a problem with being on stage or with large crowds of people. I’m a natural born performer, and I immediately put my face on. I saw the students congregating and I joined them, challenging them to go talk to the patrons about the program and what their hopes and goals are for the future.
Many people approached me and chatted about ballet, my experience with fan dancing, and how I decided to combine them. I was too shy to explain my history. Several men approached me as well, asking questions and slyly checking out my figure. I kindly excused myself when it was becoming glaringly obvious they only cared about one thing, and ballet wasn’t it.
A tap on the shoulder, alerted me to Brady’s presence, interrupting my discussion with a group of elderly women who gushed over the entire performance. Brady leaned in to hug me, and I felt trapped. I was hoping to avoid him all night.
“You were spectacular tonight. You haven’t missed a beat in all these years, Perla. Mom is here somewhere. She can’t wait to see you,” he reported.
I excused myself, reminding the ladies that the program looked forward to their financial contribution. They smiled with agreement. I returned to Brady who pulled me toward Maggie.
“You’re a natural at business, and you’re even better with charitable work. You’re absolutely perfect,” he complimented. The gleam in his eyes showed brighter than ever, and I felt gutted. It was time to be more forthright.
Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 Page 28
