She pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. Better yet, he’ll surprise me and show up with divorce papers in hand.
She’d been trying to get in touch with him since she’d gotten back with no luck. It would have been easier for him to get in touch with her. However, he’d been ominously silent. The only thing she knew about him was his name—no address and no telephone number. She had attempted to locate him through the white pages and even Googled him, but without knowing more about him, it was almost impossible. Attempting to use the process of elimination, Maryland and Virginia were out of the question. Both states were too large. Las Vegas would have been a nightmare. Besides, she had paid extra for Elite Entertainment to fly one of their dancers out. So she narrowed her search to the D.C area. Amazingly, there were forty-seven listings for Trevor or T. Wayne. Deciding to call each one of them was also out of the question.
She was determined to stay on the opposite side of neurotic.
She had considered calling Elite Entertainment when she first got back to try to get a message to him, but she could never come up with a reason for wanting to talk to him—with the exception of telling Leslie Janis that she was his wife.
She began to drift off to sleep. With her defenses relaxed, vivid dreams of her and Trevor invaded her mind. Every night since Las Vegas, she was haunted by similar images. She had begun to question whether they reflected what had truly happened in his hotel room that night, or if she was having erotic fantasies.
After tossing and turning, she rolled down the covers on her bed, telling herself it was the humidity, not the thoughts of Trevor causing her increase in temperature.
I have to remember to turn the air conditioner up higher tomorrow, she decided, unwilling to believe anything otherwise.
~ML~
“Wayne here,” Trevor said absently after he tapped the speakerphone button. He was currently involved in a computer project and, as usual, had become completely consumed. Ten virus-infected computers from the local library had kept Trevor buried in his lab all day. As he cleaned and repaired one bug after another, he wondered if the company who installed the PCs had ever heard of Norton or McAfee. Six unit hard drives could be repaired fully, the other four he would have to replace.
Trevor could just imagine how many home and office systems had downloaded information from the library’s stations and been infected.
“Hello, Trev.” A sultry female voice came through the line, interrupting his concentration. “How’s my favorite nephew?”
“I’m your only nephew, Leslie.” In jest, his aunt always told him she was too young to be someone’s aunt.
But he knew it was really because most of their family didn’t approve of Leslie’s business, Elite Entertainment, even though it was very up scale. EE specialized in escorts, singing telegrams and dancers, cultural and erotic, for hire. The business catered to the upper echelon of society, mainly the tri-state area around D.C. It was based out of Maryland, close enough for easy access and far enough away for discretion.
She laughed. “You’d still be my favorite.”
“How are you?” he asked as he stepped away from the terminal he had been working on and rubbed his tried eyes.
“I’m doing fine, sweetie. I hope you haven’t been holed up in your lab all day,” she said knowingly.
“No comment,” Trevor said, humor evident in his voice. Leslie was always after him about wasting precious time, working too much. “How’s EE?”
“Business is booming. As a matter fact, that’s why I called.” A hint of hesitation. “I have another favor.”
Trevor knew that sound. It had been the same tone she had used when she’d called last month wanting him to do a show. He shook his head automatically, even though she couldn’t see him. “The answer is no.”
“Now, how are you going to turn down your dear old aunt before she even makes her request known?” Leslie said, syrupy sweet.
“Because I know what you’re going to ask me, and it’s still no,” Trevor said with a firm tone, which never seemed to work on his aunt.
“Trevor, this will be the last time, Scout’s promise.”
“You were never a Girl Scout.” Trevor laughed.
“I was a Brownie for a month; that’s close enough.”
“Not in this case.”
“What if I sign a contract that says I’ll never ask you again?”
“Not good enough.”
“Trev, you know I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it were really important.”
Unmoved, he said, “You’ll have to get one of your other guys to do it, or hire more staff. Or tell the customer that its peak season and you don’t have any available men.”
“Having a man available is not the problem. I’ve hired six new guys over the last two weeks to make good on my promise I made to you last month.”
“What’s the problem then? Send one of them.” Trevor went into the storage room to collect the parts he would need to replace one of the hard drives for the library’s computers.
“Trev, this is a very important client.”
He could tell by his aunt’s insistent tone she wouldn’t relent.
“Aren’t they all?”
She didn’t answer the question; instead she said, “There’s one big problem with sending one of the other guys.”
“Let me guess, they want Black and all you have is White and Hispanic left. No, I got it; they want bare chest, and all you have is hairy.” Trevor didn’t try to hide the sarcastic tone. He knew his aunt was aware of his thoughts toward her clients. He considered most of them to be extremely fastidious.
“No.” She waited a moment. “They specifically asked for you.”
Trevor paused. “They requested me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why someone else can’t do it. They don’t even know who I am.”
“They may not know your face, but they’ll know if I send another. Remember, all Black men don’t look alike—especially naked.”
“Well, if the person only heard about my performance, then you could get away with it.
Regardless of the situation, I’m not doing it.” He hated to turn down his aunt because he knew she would do anything for him. Numerous times in college when he had gotten in a jam and couldn’t ask his parents for help, his aunt was there and never judged him. Not to mention, her business was also responsible for paying a chunk of his college tuition.
But he just didn’t have the time for it. The last show had put his career and life in a precarious situation. He didn’t need another one.
“Tiffany Selina didn’t hear about you from a friend, she hosted the party you did for me over a month ago,” she said resolutely.
The vision of a conservative woman moaning in a kitchen did what nothing else his aunt said had done—piqued his interest.
“What type of party is it?”
“It’s another bachelorette party, this time held at the Selina family home. So you wouldn’t even have to travel out of state.”
Trevor tried to sound nonchalant. “So is it finally her wedding this time?”
He didn’t know what Tiffany and Manning were up to, but maybe this was her way of trying to get in touch with him about the divorce.
He wouldn’t fall for that trap. He wouldn’t settle until Manning came to him personally, man to man. His old college bud, looking him in the eye, knowing that he’d finally one-upped him. Five years and now he held something precious of Manning’s. And he was in control this time.
“Governor Selina’s daughter? Not a chance. Hosting is her claim to fame. If she were to get married, it would be all over the society pages. Manning would definitely be using that as another angle for a seat in Congress,” Leslie said. “The party is for Charmagne Spelling. You know, the daughter of the president of Hudson Morris University in Alexandria.”
Trevor had never met the president of HMU. However, if he wasn’t mistaken, Charmagne was the young lady at the last par
ty who had fainted. He remembered the woman seated next to her, Sonya, calling her name as she fanned her awake.
“Because she did the last party and she knows basically what you look like, it’s the only reason I’m asking you.” His aunt paused again. “Will you please do this for me, for the last time?
I know your business is on the rise, and I would never do anything to jeopardize your success.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t for more reasons than I care to explain right now. But I’ll call Miss Selina and explain that to her myself if you would like?”
His aunt sighed in resignation. “No, that’s okay. I’ll call. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
“Whoever you pick, tell them they can have the persona, I’m hanging up my mask, fire hose and cape. Also a bit of advice for whomever you pick. Tell him they’re a wild bunch, so be careful.”
“I will. You were always my most popular dancer.”
Trevor laughed. “The answer is still no.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She chuckled. “Are we still on for dinner Sunday night?”
“Haven’t missed one yet.”
“Well, my love…I’ll see you soon.” His aunt blew a kiss into the phone.
“Same here.”
They ended the phone call.
His chair squeaked as he leaned back in it. Another idea began to form in his head. He figured it was time he paid his dearly beloved wife a visit.
He beamed with satisfaction of the possibilities of their next meeting. The memories of their Las Vegas encounter flooded back into his mind.
Tiffany had abandoned everything else around her but him. He had become the center of her world. Living for the pleasure that he was giving her.
He looked down at his hands; he could still feel the warmth of her skin. His ears still rang with the sweet sound of her voice in the throes of passion.
Trevor was the first to admit he had not been starved of intimate female companionship during college and a few years after. But even with his vast experience, he had never known a woman to lose herself so completely.
Truth of the matter was, he wanted to bring her to that point again while they were both sober and could enjoy it to the fullest.
He knew he was making things hard for himself—literally. He squirmed, trying to get more comfortable, letting out a soft curse for Miss Selina’s continued effect on his body.
He told himself he was only going to see her to keep his plan in action. He was out for revenge—nothing more. And helping Tiffany in her quest not to marry Christopher was just a bonus.
Four
The imitation Fireman started his second set. Tiffany was thankful that her friends took the news so well that the real Fireman wasn’t going to be able to make it. Disappointed murmurs had gone around the restaurant table when they had gotten together last weekend, but other than that, they took it in stride.
She kept telling herself it didn’t bother her that Trevor wasn’t there. That she was happy she wouldn’t have to be bothered by him. That she had no reason to expect anything different from him since he hadn’t called her.
The voice in her head kept saying…liar.
Quickly, she blew it off by telling herself she only wanted to see him to get the divorce taken care of and that it had nothing to do with what had happened in the kitchen of the town house—let alone what may or may not have happened at the hotel.
She was glad she had asked Josephine to handle everything this dancer needed. She wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
As the music’s seductive beat began an enticing tempo, the dancer entered the room through the sliding door of the family room. He came in slow and sexy, making every move count. Tiffany watched as the dancer’s keen eyes focused on Charmagne sitting in the honored chair in the middle of the room holding a bowl of ice. She had done surprisingly well.
Tiffany had to admit to herself, she was fascinated to see what he would do with the ice.
This was a requested performance by her friends who had seen Trevor perform this act during his last set at the other party. They may have taken the news calmly that Trevor wasn’t going to perform, but they’d made sure Tiffany requested this routine.
Tiffany had missed that set in Las Vegas while she had been in her room changing her underwear and composing herself. By the time she returned downstairs, he had finished. When she questioned her friends, asking them what was so special about the ice, she remembered Lydia saying, “Girl, you just had to see it for yourself. No words can explain.”
This stripper, who was now dressed like Batman, finally arrived at the designated place in front of Charmagne. For a few moments, he danced around her, grinding his hips in a suggestive way to the notes of the song. At one point, he’d turned his back fully to her, stood within inches of her face and jiggled his buttocks, similar to the way Trevor had done when Charmagne had fainted before.
Remarkably, Charmagne didn’t pass out this time and boldly placed her hands on his shivering muscles.
“You don’t have a shy bone left in your body now, do you Charmagne?” Sonya called out from where she sat perched on the edge of the couch.
Karen followed up with, “Who could be shy? A body like that could make a nun want to reach out and touch.” She made a grabbing motion with her hand in the air toward the dancer.
With his back to them, Tiffany couldn’t tell how he was feeling about all of the catcalls coming his way. When he turned around there was a serious, determined expression on his face, as if he were going to perform a science experiment.
He removed the bowl from Charmagne’s lap and placed it on the floor beside her chair.
Squatting on his hunches in front of her, he placed one hand on each of her ankles. Slowly, he moved his hand up the back of her calves until he reached her knee. At a leisurely pace he parted her khaki covered legs widely.
Grabbing Charmagne by the waist, he forcefully slid her to him. He wrapped her legs around his waist. Before rising, he leaned over and picked up a piece of crescent-shaped ice out of the bowl.
Tiffany was drawn into the scene and couldn’t look away. Her curiosity was piqued.
What had Trevor done that had been so captivating to my friends?
As he stood up fully and his muscular thigh muscles flexed to support the additional weight in his arms, the dancer commanded, “Open your mouth.”
Being caught up in the show, Tiffany felt her own lips part slightly.
Batman held her friend firmly in place with one hand on her hip and placed the ice partially in Charmagne’s mouth. “Now close your lips around it,” he said.
When Charmagne’s lips enclosed one end of the cube, the man closed his mouth around the other end. He turned himself and his weight to the side, so all of the ladies in the room could see clearly what he was doing and imagine it was being done to them.
Gradually, he began to suck on the ice while pulling it in his mouth slightly and pushing it back into Charmagne’s, until she finally understood and picked up the rhythm with him. In and out the ice cube went. Slowly at first, until they almost ended in a tug of war with the cube.
Charmagne’s eyes closed and a moan echoed throughout the room. Tiffany wasn’t sure if the noise came from Batman’s pleasured captive or the spectators.
The one thing she realized was, in Las Vegas, this scene was meant for her…even if she hadn’t witnessed it.
As she watched the slick frozen water enter and leave the recess of the other woman’s mouth, she knew what Trevor would have been implying.
Tiffany’s thigh muscles tightened with euphoric recall. Her whole body began to quiver as she remembered the hot scene they’d shared in the kitchen. If she‘d seen the actual live performance a month ago, she would have known Trevor was reliving it too.
“Hmm, not bad…not bad at all,” Diane groaned.
Josephine leaned toward her and whispered, “This guy does do it well. I’m definitely hot, b
ut the last time, I actually thought I would wet my pants on the spot just imagining what that man could do to me with an ice cube.”
Tiffany couldn’t respond. All of the air in her lungs became trapped. Her throat squeezed.
In her mind, she saw herself and Trevor re-enacting the part. It had become so vivid and real—her panties were beyond wet. She didn’t have to fantasize what Trevor could do; she knew the skills he possessed with crystallized water.
Mercifully, the music finally ended, and Tiffany knew escape was in sight.
The dancer placed the charmed Charmagne back in her seat and exited the room, leaving enraptured women in his wake.
“Wow,” Josephine sighed. Josephine’s articulation ability seemed to leave her, like the rest of the women in the room, who remained quiet and still.
Tiffany watched as Josephine left the room fanning herself. When she returned with the bowl of fruit for the next act, Tiffany had finally regained a minuscule amount of composure.
She knew the same could not be said about her senses.
“I’m not feeling very well. My head is starting to throb. I think I’m going to take something for it and sit the last show out.” For effect, Tiffany pressed her fingers against her temple and rubbed in a circular motion.
As she prepared to leave the room, relief settled over her. If Josephine thought it peculiar how she was acting, her friend kept her opinion to herself.
“I understand. You didn’t eat much today. Why don’t you take some of this fruit with you, so you won’t take that medicine on an empty stomach? I’ll come and get you when the
show is over.” Josephine gave her a small smile.
Tiffany used the excuse of grabbing a banana and an apple from the bowl as a reason not to meet her friend’s eyes. “Thanks, Jo, I’m probably going to just take a Tylenol and look over the plans for next week’s fundraiser.”
“No problem.”
“Tiff,” Josephine called.
Tiffany turned and looked at her friend.
“You don’t have to cover with me. I know this is not your thing. Las Vegas…” her words drifted for a moment. “I think it was too much for you.” Josephine’s eyes, clear and piercing, held awareness in them.
Fire & Desire (Hero Series) Page 4
