The Black Door

by Velvet

  “Well, anytime you want to come back inside The Black Door, let me know. I’m still getting requests for your services. I don’t know what you laid on these women, but whatever it was, they can’t get enough.”

  “I got the magic touch.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “What can I say?”

  “Say you’ll come back as a server.”

  “Man, as much as I love the ladies.” He beamed an ultrabright smile. “They were killing me. I mean, some of those old babes were worse than the younger ones. Man, they could go all night.” He shook his head, thinking about his tryst the other night. “There must be some kind of female Viagra on the market that men don’t know about.”

  “Well, it’s not like you couldn’t deal with the pressure. From what I’ve been told you more than lived up to their fantasies. I know without a doubt that the ladies would be thrilled to have you serve up more of your magic.”

  Mason blushed at the compliment. “Thanks for the offer, but I like being an escort; it’s so much easier. I take them out, listen to their stories, provide a little innocent flirtation, end the night with a sensuous peck on the cheek, and then I’m on my merry way. Besides, being an escort gives me more time to study.”

  “That’s right, it won’t be long until I’m addressing you as Dr. Anthony.”

  “Trust me, it won’t be soon enough. I can’t wait to start making some serious dollars. This tuition is digging deep into my pockets.” He wanted to add, “But I got that covered, because I have a sure thing on the side who’s generous with the paper.” Mason didn’t want to take the chance and piss off his boss, so he kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t like he was stealing from the company, but he knew that Trey wouldn’t like him sexing up a client outside of the club. It really wasn’t Trey’s call, since clients were free to spend time with whomever they pleased.

  “I bet,” Trey said sympathetically. “Well, don’t forget that you get a commission for any of your escorts who join The Black Door, and from the sound of it you could use the extra ends.”

  “Actually, that’s why I dropped by. I had a client the other night who fit The Black Door specs to a tee. She’s professional, sexy as hell, but more important, I sensed that she could use a good fuck. Man, this chick was wound so tight I though she was going to burst a vessel or two. When I got into the car, she had me memorize a phony background for the evening. Of course, I was the perfect gentleman in front of her perfect friends. I could tell that she enjoyed my company, and at the end of the date I gave her a card for The Black Door. And I was wondering if she called.” Though Mason had his side hustle, he still wanted the referral commission. If she joined, he was entitled to his cut.

  “I did have a few calls last night. What’s her name?”

  “Renée Vaughn.”

  Trey thought for a second. “No, I didn’t get a call from her, but don’t worry. If she’s as sexually frustrated as you say, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before she crosses The Black Door’s threshold.”

  6

  RUSHING FROM room to room, Ariel flitted about the apartment on pure adrenaline. She had taken the afternoon off at Preston’s insistence, and was trying frantically to pack for a weekend getaway to Washington. He was picking her up in twenty minutes and she still hadn’t decided what to bring for their two-day tryst. She should have been upset by his last-minute invitation, but she was too excited. Preston called earlier that morning trying to redeem himself after falling asleep on Ariel a few nights ago, saying he wanted to make it up to her with a weekend filled with candlelight dinners and plenty of lovemaking. This would be a chance for them to spend some much-needed quality time together. So Ariel eagerly grabbed his olive branch with both hands, wanting desperately to revive their stalled love life. Preston had an eight o’clock breakfast meeting with Senator Oglesby on Saturday, but the afternoons and nights were all hers. And she planned to make the most of their forty-eight-hour rendezvous, so she decided to pack two of Preston’s favorites, a fuchsia silk teddy with a French cut and matching ostrich feather high-heeled slippers.

  As she continued to pack, a sense of relief washed over her because she hadn’t actually gone through with her call to The Black Door. Once she dialed the number and the phone began to ring, she panicked and quickly hung up before anyone answered. She realized that call was just a knee-jerk reaction to Preston’s lack of attention. Now that she was back on the front page of his agenda, she could toss out the number to the club and dismiss her fleeting fantasy of becoming a member.

  Ariel’s cell phone rang just as she tucked a pair of black stilettos into her overnight bag. “Hey, honey, where are you?” she sang into the receiver after checking the caller ID.

  “Downstairs. Are you ready?” Preston huffed into the phone, as if in a serious rush.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she responded with a smile in her voice, hoping that this time he would catch the double entendre.

  “Well, hurry up,” he said gruffly, her suggestive remark going right over his head. “And don’t bring a trunk full of clothes; we’re only going to be there two days,” he said, knowing that she was prone to overpack.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, and hung up.

  Ariel zipped the oversized Prada duffel, spritzed her neck with ENJOY to arouse Preston’s senses, and headed out the door. Feeling as if helium were flowing through her veins, Ariel floated to the lobby on cloud ninety-nine. She was finally going to have her man all to herself, without any unnecessary distractions, and she was beyond thrilled.

  Preston’s black stretch limo with its tinted windows sat curbside in front of her building. Ariel felt like Cinderella waiting to board her golden carriage. The driver promptly jumped out and greeted her with a smile, took her bag, and opened the back passenger door.

  “Hey, bab—” Ariel’s words caught in her throat at the sight before her. In the backseat with Preston was a young, attractive, unidentified woman, sitting dangerously close to her man

  “There you are. What took you so long?” Preston asked, annoyed and barely looking in her direction.

  Ariel was stunned into silence. She had a million and two questions: Who the hell is this woman? What is she doing here? What about our romantic weekend alone!? But the words just wouldn’t come out; they were caught somewhere between her brain and her larynx. Speechless, Ariel slipped into the backseat opposite them and watched in horror as Preston continued talking as if she weren’t there.

  “The senator wants to get the ball rolling posthaste, so I’ll need you to compile my complete dossier.” He handed the woman a yellow legal pad. “Here are a few of the milestone cases from my years on the bench, and some high-profile cases from my private practice.”

  The mystery woman didn’t answer right away; she just shifted her eyes between Ariel and Preston, as if questioning Ariel’s role.

  Preston looked at her darting eyes and instantly picked up on her hesitance. He spoke up, “Michele, let me introduce Ariel Vaughn, my—”

  Michele interrupted, “Your attorney, of course.” Recognizing Ariel’s name from the Law Review at Columbia, she smiled warmly. “I read about your appointment to partner at Yates Gilcrest; very impressive! Yates is such an old-world firm, I’m surprised that they—”

  “I’m not his attorney,” Ariel blurted out. “I’m Preston’s girlfriend,” she said in no uncertain terms, then glared at Preston for confirmation.

  When Preston saw the vein sprout in the middle of Ariel’s forehead—which only appeared when she was incensed—he knew she was beyond upset, and on the verge of rupturing an artery. He began to backpedal at warp speed, talking a mile a minute to avoid a confrontation. “Ariel, let me introduce Michele Richards, my new PA. She’s a recent graduate of Columbia and I hired her last week to assist me with my impending Supreme Court nomination.”

  Ariel sat with a blank look on her face and didn’t say a word; she just stared at Preston with the vein growing ever more prominent. She couldn’t believe that he
had hired a personal assistant without telling her beforehand. Lately it felt as if Preston was growing distant. Earlier in their relationship he discussed everything with her, from his court cases to his ex-wife; his openness was one of the qualities she loved about him. Ariel was pissed, but she didn’t want to make a federal case out of his blatant omission. So she sat quietly and let her facial expression speak volumes.

  Preston continued. “Ariel, you remember Judge Richards?”

  She smiled slightly in agreement. Ariel had known Michael Richards since her days as a law clerk. She’d followed his career in the law7 journals and admired him immensely.

  “Well, when Mike called and said that his little girl was looking for a job, I thought why not hire Michele as my personal assistant. Since my nomination isn’t official as of yet, I have to keep things under wraps; therefore, I can’t ask my secretary at the office to oversee the tedious details that precede the confirmation process, now can I?” He nodded at Ariel for her to concur, and when she didn’t, he continued. “And Michele fit the bill perfectly.” He grinned.

  Ariel looked at the young woman’s perky nipples peeking from underneath her too-tight sweater and thought, I just bet she does!

  “Ariel knows everything there is to know about me. We have no hidden agendas between us, so please speak candidly,” he instructed his new assistant.

  Michele smiled halfheartedly at Ariel, glanced down at her legal pad, and began speaking as if Ariel were invisible. “After your breakfast meeting with the senator, I’ve scheduled a luncheon at the Ritz-Carlton in Georgetown with a few key members of the Senate Judiciary Committee. They know of your reputation, but haven’t met you personally, and I thought that it would be a good idea to have an unofficial face-to-face before the games begin. It’s crucial for you to befriend them and make a good impression.”

  Lunch meeting? Preston didn’t say anything to me about a lunch meeting, Ariel thought and bit her bottom lip. She wanted Preston all to herself, and started to speak up and protest, but she didn’t want to sound like some love-smitten schoolgirl. Instead, she focused her attention on the moving scenery outside the window in an attempt to block them out until they reached the airport. She assumed that Michele was only going as far as LaGuardia; then the driver would take the overly efficient assistant back to the city. Ariel put her chin in her hand and watched the cars dart back and forth in a futile attempt to jockey for position. This isn’t the way to LaGuardia, she thought, as the driver paid a toll on the upper level of the George Washington Bridge and headed west toward New Jersey. We must be flying out of Newark. As the car drove farther from the city, the scenery changed from tall buildings to gray utility poles and ominous smokestacks. Ariel watched the signs whiz by, until there were only two exits before the airport, where she could escape the rattling of Preston’s eager-beaver assistant. The woman had not stopped running her mouth since they left the city. She was dropping names like pebbles on a sandy beach, obviously trying to impress her new boss. Ariel crossed her legs and swung the top one back and forth in anticipation of reaching the terminal. “Newark International Airport, next exit,” she read. Ariel exhaled a sigh of relief, knowing her salvation was only a few scant miles away. But before she could exhale, the limo swiftly bypassed their exit.

  “Driver . . . Driver . . .” Ariel pecked repeatedly on the glass partition that separated the chauffeur from the passengers to get his attention. “You missed the exit.”

  He rolled down the privacy window. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the driver asked nonchalantly, in a thick southern accent.

  Ariel twisted the upper half of her body toward the driver, and blurted through the partition. “You passed the exit for the airport!”

  Ignoring her urgent tone, he responded, “Excuse me, ma’am, but we’re not going to the airport.”

  “What are you talking about?” She spun around to face Preston. “Aren’t we going to Washington?”

  “Yes. We should be there in about three and a half hours, depending on traffic,” answered the overefficient assistant.

  “Three and a half hours?!” Ariel shrieked.

  “Yes, barring traffic,” Preston repeated calmly.

  “Barring traffic?” Ariel still didn’t get it. “I thought we were flying to D.C.?”

  “We were, but Michele thought we could get more work done in the car.”

  “That’s correct,” Michele chimed in. “By the time we would’ve checked in and gone through security, which is extremely tight going into the nation’s capital, we could’ve fleshed out Preston’s entire agenda for his nomination.”

  Preston? Did she just call him Preston? Ariel was livid, and could feel the vein in the center of her forehead begin to pulsate again. How dare this young know-it-all barge into our weekend, acting like she’s on a first-name basis with my man!

  Ariel knew she had to set Ms. Personal Assistant straight, so there would be no misunderstanding going forward. She looked Michele dead in the eyes without blinking a lash and said in no uncertain terms, “I’m sure you meant to address Preston as Judge Hendricks. After all, he’s going to be a justice. And first names are strictly reserved for close friends and family, of which you are neither.”

  Michele blinked twice, like a wide-eyed doe. “Oh . . . oh,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just that we’ve been on a first-name basis from day one,” she said, trying to explain.

  Ariel flashed Preston a disapproving look, and then continued. “Well, let me clue you in on a well-known fact. Washington is all about protocol, and I suggest you become accustomed to addressing Preston as Judge Hendricks from here on out.”

  Michele didn’t know what to say; she felt like her mother had just given her a tongue lashing, so she just nodded her head in agreement.

  “Lighten up, Ariel. I don’t mind being addressed by my first name,” he said, coming to Michele’s defense.

  “Well, I mind.” Ariel crossed her arms in front of her chest, a clear indication that she wasn’t about to waver from her position.

  “No problem; I totally understand,” Michele cheerfully interrupted, breaking the tension. “Now where were we?” she asked, ready to continue with their strategy session.

  Ariel was so mad that she wanted to stop the car and get out, but that was totally out of the question. Instead, she leaned back into the plush leather seat and closed her eyes in an attempt to block them out. Before long, she had drifted off into a deep sleep.

  Her short dreams were a series of lewd sexcapades. In one dream, she was being serviced by two men, an older gentleman who licked her close to climax with his extremely long tongue, and then his partner, a younger man with a ten-inch dick, penetrated her, riding her like a thoroughbred in the Preakness until she exploded into ecstasy. In the next dream, she and Preston were naked in the back of the limo, and he was fucking her hard from behind, while a topless Michele watched from the sidelines and masturbated, waiting her turn to be fucked by Preston. That dream jolted Ariel awake and her eyes popped wide open.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” Preston smiled. “Are you okay?”

  She looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”

  “You were moaning in your sleep like you were in pain.”

  The thought of her erotic dreams made her blush. “I’m fine, thanks.” Ariel looked out of the window. “Are we almost there?”

  “Yep, we should be pulling up to the Georgetown Hilton shortly,” Michele said.

  Ariel was moist and couldn’t wait to get Preston alone so she could make her dreams a reality. Within fifteen minutes, the car was parking in front of the hotel.

  “Wait here a few minutes while I check you guys in,” Michele announced and bounced out of the car, eager to be of service.

  Finally, she’s making herself useful, Ariel thought and moved next to Preston. “Hey, baby” She kissed him smack on the lips. “I can’t wait to get upstairs.”

  “Me too; I’m exhausted.” He stretched his long
arms and yawned.

  She put her hand between his legs, found his limp manhood, and began a gentle massage. “Not too exhausted, I hope.”

  Preston felt a charge of electricity, but pulled away. “Stop before Michele comes back.”

  Ariel didn’t stop; instead, she increased the pressure until she felt him grow under her touch. She clicked the automatic locks on the car door in the event Michele returned sooner than expected. She then unzipped Preston’s pants, unleashing his erect penis.

  “What are you doing?” Preston asked, trying in vain to protest, even though her touch felt good.

  She didn’t say a word, just leaned over and covered his rod with her mouth. Ariel sucked hard, while teasing the tip of his penis with her tongue.

  Preston gasped, “Oh, yeah, baby.” He quickly gave in to the pleasure and rotated his hips so that she could get his entire dick down her throat.

  Ariel increased the pace until her head was bobbing up and down like a chicken. Just as she was close to bringing Preston to climax, Michele pulled the door handle, trying to get back into the car.

  “Oh shit!” Preston jerked his cock out of Ariel’s mouth. “Stop before she sees us.”

  “She can’t see into the car; the windows are tinted, remember?” Ariel said, reaching for his still erect member. “Let her wait; I’m not finished.”

  Preston moved farther away and quickly tucked his dick back into his pants, straightened his tie, and unlocked the door.

  Michele poked her head into the backseat and looked at them strangely, wondering why they had locked her out. She noticed that Preston looked nervous and Ariel looked frustrated, but didn’t comment on whatever was going on and just said, “You’re all set.” She handed Preston a key card. “You’re in room 25C,” she told them before walking ahead.

  “Thanks, Michele. See you in the morning.” Preston got out of the car and then helped Ariel out.

  Once they were in the room, Preston went directly over to the oak desk, opened his briefcase, and began to take out various papers. “I need to fax this over to the senator’s office so he can preview it before our meeting,” he explained.