Pleasure Seekers

by Rochelle Alers

  He went pliant in her embrace. “He works out of my West Coast office.”

  Shifting until she and Bart were facing each other, she gave him a reproachful look. “What you did wasn’t very nice.”

  “Did it work, darling?”

  “It worked, but it was underhanded.”

  A slight frown appeared between his eyes. “If you plan to go into business for yourself, then you’re going to have to stop thinking like an innocent schoolgirl. You’ve got to step on someone every once in a while to get where you want to go. What John Reynolds did to you was inexcusable and unconscionable. Believe me when I say that the son of a bitch is a lucky man.”

  Faye’s face clouded with uneasiness, becoming more uncomfortable with the man with whom she’d fallen in love. Gone was the easygoing man and in his place was one she didn’t recognize. Which one, she wondered, was the real Bartholomew Houghton? The open, relaxed man who managed to put everyone in his presence at ease? The man who’d so charmed her parents they’d invited him back to their home for a Labor Day gathering? The man who made love to her in ways that made her crave him in and out of bed?

  “What would you have done?” she asked in a trembling voice.

  “Please don’t ask me, Faye.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t concern you.”

  “We’re talking about my boss, and you tell me that it doesn’t concern me?”

  Bart felt like shaking Faye until she was too breathless to speak. And he knew he had to give her a plausible answer or she would shut him out. The one time they’d disagreed on something she’d stopped talking to him, and no amount of coaxing would get her to respond. They’d gone to bed, their backs to each other, and it wasn’t until the next morning that she climbed atop him, asking him to make love to her.

  “Okay. All I’m going to say is that Mrs. John Reynolds wouldn’t be too pleased if she saw photographs of her husband and his niece in a rather compromising position.”

  “Oh, shit!” Faye said before covering her mouth with her hand. Her hand came down. “Don’t tell me you were going to blackmail John.”

  “I was hoping I’d never be faced with that decision. But there is an alternative.”

  “What?”

  “I can buy BP&O and you can run it.”

  Faye shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want a large company.”

  Cradling her face between his hands, Bart smiled at her. “Do you want your own company?”

  She returned his smile. “You know I do.”

  “Do you want it now?”

  “What are you talking about?

  “After we come back from Europe I’ll have someone check out available office space in midtown. Then—”

  Faye placed her fingers over his mouth, stopping his words. “We’ll talk about this when we get back.” She’d promised to give him the summer, while Bart was talking about her future plans, plans that did not include him.

  Grasping her wrist and pulling her hand down, Bart lowered his head, brushing a light kiss over her mouth. “We’re invited to a fund-raiser tomorrow night. Can you get off work early, because the cocktail hour begins at six?”

  “Yes.” She rested her head on his chest, counting off the strong, steady beats of his heart as she kneaded the muscles in his back. “I forgot to thank you for the flowers and the Stembridge account.”

  “You just did.”

  “How?”

  “Being here with me is thanks enough.”

  “But you’re paying me to be with you.”

  Bart wanted to ask Faye if that was the reason she’d come to him, the reason she’d opened her legs to him, because he’d paid her. He’d found himself praying that it wasn’t the money but something deeper, something more intangible.

  He wanted her to love him, and it didn’t have to be an all-encompassing love. Just enough to make her want to stay and perhaps consider sharing her life with him.

  The summer season would end officially after the Labor Day holiday weekend, and he had less than four weeks to convince Faye Ogden that what they had was no longer a business arrangement; it’d stopped being business the first time she slept under his roof in Southampton.

  CHAPTER 83

  Faye walked into the Striver’s Row town house on Bart’s arm, resplendent in a coffee-brown Calvin Klein organza slip dress lined in bronze silk. Gold leather Bruno Frisoni heels, a matching Bottega Veneta lizard Ravenna clutch and gold studs in her pierced lobes pulled together her simple, elegant look.

  She smiled at Bart when he rested a hand at the small of her back. Instead of a tux, Bart had chosen to wear a dark blue suit, white shirt with French cuffs and a pearl-gray silk tie.

  Unlike the Scarsdale fund-raiser, she recognized the faces of local, state and a few Washington politicians who’d come out to lend their support for the reelection of Assemblyman Glenwood Collins.

  Bart caught the assemblyman’s eye and nodded. Glen wove his way through the crowd that had spilled out into the spacious backyard.

  His eyes dancing with excitement, he offered Bart his hand. “Welcome, Bartholomew. Thank you for coming out.”

  Bart shook the proffered hand. “I’m glad I could make it.” He turned to Faye. “Faye, this is Assemblyman Glenwood Collins. Glen, Faye Ogden.”

  With wide eyes, Glen’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his throat until he found his voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Faye. I hope Bartholomew won’t take offense if I tell you that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

  Bart’s arm went around Faye’s waist. “No offense taken. In fact, I tell her that every night.” His declaration, notwithstanding, he had announced to the world their social relationship: they were a couple.

  Faye forced a plastic smile. “Thank you, Assemblyman Collins.”

  Glen waved a hand. “Please, no titles tonight.” He returned his attention to Bart. “Have you met our new governor?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had the honor.”

  “Come and I’ll make the introductions.”

  Faye lost count of the number of times she was photographed on the arm of Bart, exchanging pleasantries with the governor, the mayor and several U.S. representatives. It appeared as if everyone wanted to know something about the woman who’d come to Harlem with the enigmatic real estate mogul who was rumored to control more land in America than Donald Trump. There was even talk that his holdings equaled Xu Rongmao, chairman of China’s Shimao Group.

  Bartenders continued to pour and mix drinks as the invited guests settled down to hear their elected officials extol the credentials and dedication of Glenwood Collins to those who’d chosen him to represent them. The governor and mayor filed out with their state and local police bodyguards as a sitdown dinner was being served.

  Faye drank one martini that was so potent she found herself leaning against Bart for support. It was even stronger than the one she’d been served the night she met him. She ate, hoping to counter the effects of the alcohol, and when Bart asked if she was ready to leave she practically genuflected.

  Faye lay with her head in Bart’s lap as Giuseppe maneuvered away from the curb. “How many drinks did you have?” he asked. His voice seemed to come from a long way off.

  “One,” she replied.

  Bart placed a hand over her forehead. “You can’t be drunk on one drink.”

  She sighed but didn’t open her eyes. “This is the first time. It could be because I’m taking the Pill.”

  Bart stared at Faye as if he’d never seen her before. “You’re on the Pill?”

  “I started taking it Monday.”

  “Does it usually make you sick?”

  “No. I really can’t say that about this one because I’ve never taken it before.”

  His fingers toyed with her curly hair. “I told you before that I’d protect you.”

  “I know you did.”

  “So, why are you on the Pill?”

  Her eyes opened, and
she stared up at him in the light coming from the high-intensity lamp along the rear windshield. “Just once I’d like to make love with you without a barrier of latex between us. I want to feel you—all of you, Bart.” Faye closed her eyes, shutting out his intense stare, unaware how much her erotic confession had shocked him.

  Bart eased Faye’s head off his lap before she could feel his growing erection. He wanted and needed her so much that he feared he’d take her in the back seat of the car. Cradling her to his side, he counted off the blocks until his driver parked in the underground garage.

  “I can walk by myself,” Faye said in protest as Bart carried her out of the elevator and in the direction of his bedroom.

  “It’s okay, baby. You’re not heavy.” He placed her on the bed, his body following hers down.

  Bart took his time undressing Faye; it’d become a ritualistic dance as he kissed every inch of flesh he bared. Once she was completely naked he undressed, then joined her on the bed. He stopped himself as he opened the drawer in the nightstand for a condom.

  Faye had taken the first step in cementing their relationship when she’d decided to assume responsibility for contraception. Other than Deidre, he’d never slept with a woman without using a condom, and that had only occurred once she’d become his wife. And he’d slept with Felicia once more since the time he saw Faye at the Waldorf-Astoria because he wanted Faye Ogden to be the last woman in his life.

  Faye felt the warmth and press of Bart’s body as he moved over her, her legs opening to permit him access to her femininity. She gasped when his hardness filled her, shuddering and moaning when he established a rhythm that made her grip the sheets, her passion rising and spiraling out of the control.

  Bart’s tongue traced the soft fullness of Faye’s soft lips; his mouth moved lower to the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. She was on fire! He was on fire! Anchoring his hands under her hips, he pulled her up to meet his heavy thrusts. Then, without warning, the dam broke as he spilled his seed into her quivering body. He never knew when he collapsed heavily onto her, or when she clung to him shivering and moaning from ecstasy neither had ever known.

  They’d fallen asleep, their bodies joined as they became one with the other.

  CHAPTER 84

  Reaching for the pitcher on the top shelf in the refrigerator, Ilene made her way to the dining area and filled three goblets with fresh-squeezed lemonade.

  “I hate that artificial mess in a can,” she said sitting down at the table. “Real lemonade is made from lemons not some powdered crap.”

  “I hear you,” Faye intoned.

  Alana waved her hand like she was testifying in church, unable to speak because her mouth was filled with a fluffy biscuit. “If you keep eatin’ those biscuits like water you’re going to be so swole up that you’re going to be on bedrest before you’re six months along,” Ilene warned.

  Alana rolled her eyes at Ilene and took another bite. “At least I have someplace for my fat to go. What’s going to happen when your skinny ass gets pregnant? You’ll end up looking like moon over sticks.”

  Faye almost choked on a forkful of potato salad. Reaching for her glass of lemonade, she took a deep swallow. “Y’all are going to have to stop with the snaps until I finish eating.”

  “Easy there, star,” Alana drawled, pointing at the plate in front of Faye. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to eat all that?”

  Faye gestured with her fork. “Watch me.”

  The three women had prepared a small feast of fried chicken, biscuits, dirty rice, collard greens, and Alana had baked a sweet-potato pie for dessert.

  Ilene picked up a forkful of dirty rice. “Are you sure you don’t have a little rye bread in the oven?”

  Alana sputtered, bits of biscuit coming from her mouth. “Sorry about that,” she said, apologizing.

  “Hell, no,” Faye mumbled.

  “Are you sure, Faye?” Alana asked.

  “Of course I’m sure. I’m on the Pill.” She stared at her friends when their jaws went slack. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Alana murmured.

  “Not a thing,” Ilene said, lifting her shoulders in a perfect Gallic shrug.

  Faye put down her fork. “I know you’re both dying to ask me about Bart, so ask away.” Ilene glanced down at her plate, but Alana gave her a direct stare.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  Faye blinked once. “Yes.”

  “Is he in love with you?” Ilene asked.

  “I think so.”

  “You think so,” Alana repeated. “Is he or isn’t he?”

  “He hasn’t come out and said it, but there was one time he said that I was his love.”

  Ilene rolled her head on her neck. “Hel-lo, Faye. Translation. The man said that he loved you.”

  Picking up her fork, Faye pushed the greens away from her potato salad. “Bartholomew Houghton isn’t shy about anything. And if he did love me, then he’d just come out and say it.”

  Alana shook her head. “Maybe he’s not saying anything because he’s afraid you’ll reject him.”

  Faye stared at her. “Reject him? I’m living with the man.”

  “Because he’s paying you, Faye,” Alana argued. “Would you live with him if he stopping paying Enid for you?”

  “I’m going to stop after we come back from Europe.”

  “Stop living with him or stop accepting his money?” Ilene asked.

  Faye looked at Ilene, then Alana. It was a question she’d asked herself over and over. “I’m going to continue to see Bart, but I plan to leave P.S., Inc.”

  “Good for you,” Alana said, smiling.

  Ilene raised her goblet in a toast. “Enid is going to have a shit hemorrhage when she loses another one of her so-called exotic jewels.”

  Faye touched her glass to Ilene’s then Alana’s. “Enid is a survivor.”

  Ilene’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “You’ve got that right. She’s like the cockroach, who scientists predict will be around after a nuclear bomb wipes out mankind.”

  “Don’t be so hard on her, Ilene,” Faye said with a smile. “After all, you never would’ve become part owner of an island if you hadn’t met her.”

  “Word,” Alana drawled.

  “I guess I am too hard on her,” Ilene admitted. “I know I never would’ve met Amelia if Enid hadn’t sent me to Pine Cay.”

  Faye and Alana listened as Ilene told them she was subletting her co-op, and that she and her lover had decided Ilene would be artificially inseminated after they celebrated their first anniversary together. She planned to have the procedure in the States; two weeks before her due date she would leave Pine Cay for Puerto Rico because she wanted her child born on American soil.

  Alana shocked Faye when she revealed that Derrick Warren had asked to be her baby’s godfather, and she was quick to reassure them that Derrick wasn’t the father. She kept her promise not to tell them about his sexual predilection.

  “I almost felt obligated because he paid me my asking price for this apartment, and he also gave me these.” She pushed her hair behind her ears to reveal the diamond studs.

  “Dam-m-n-n,” Ilene and Faye chorused.

  “Those bad boys can choke a horse,” Ilene teased.

  “I had them appraised because I wanted to add them to my insurance policy and they’re worth a small fortune. They appraise for enough to pay full tuition at a small private college.”

  “I ain’t mad at you, girl,” Faye said in encouragement.

  “That’s why…” Her words trailed off when the telephone rang. “Excuse me. I’m expecting a call from my brother about my mother.”

  Pushing back her chair, Alana walked down the three steps that led to the living room. She picked up the phone from the coffee table. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Lanie.”

  She froze. The voice coming through the earpiece was the last one she’d expected to hear. “Calvin?” Alana saw two pairs of eyes staring at her.


  “How many other Calvins do you know? I know you ain’t messin’ around on me.”

  A sardonic smile twisted Alana’s mouth as she sank onto the leather sofa. “Whatever do you mean, Calvin? Are you asking if I’ve been fucking another man?”

  “Whoa, Lanie. What’s up with you?”

  “What’s up, Calvin McNair, is that either you had amnesia or you were too busy to call home. Even E.T. tried to phone home. Now listen up good so I don’t have to repeat myself. Don’t bother to call me again, because this number will be disconnected at the end of the month. And you’re going to have to find a new place to park your dusty ass because effective September first a new owner will occupy the premises. And by the way, I’m pregnant. And we both know it’s not yours. Bye-bye.”

  Faye and Ilene laughed so hard that they found it difficult to breathe. Ilene fell off her chair and rolled on the floor while Faye blotted the tears rolling down her cheeks. Alana lay across the sofa, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her own laughter. She’d waited more than two months to kick Calvin to the curb, and never had she experienced the inexplicable joy that she felt when she told him that she was having a baby.

  Calvin was her past, a past filled with pain, disappointment and broken promises. She had a new life growing inside her that needed the love and protection only a mother could give. Although her baby hadn’t been conceived in love, that hadn’t stopped her from loving her son or daughter, and she couldn’t wait to see it for the first time.

  Faye sobered enough to sing the Frankie J hit “Don’t Wanna Try.” Ilene joined in, then Alana, the three voices blending like those in black church choirs in a Sunday-morning worship service. Their singing gave way to weeping when they realized it would be the last time all three exotic jewels would be together. Ilene had scheduled to fly to Pine Cay Friday morning.

  They talked and cried about the men they’d loved and lost as they cleaned up the kitchen. Over dessert, they exchanged addresses and telephone numbers. Faye and Alana made Ilene swear an oath that she would contact them when she came to the States for her in vitro procedure.