The Power of Tess

by Angelina J. Windsor

  He stares at me. I’m uneasy under the glare, but I’m not backing down.

  “Okay, but we’re having this out when you get back home.” He abruptly departs and I head for the bedroom, wondering just where my home really is. I crawl under the comforter and fall fast asleep.

  I awake a few hours later with a clearer head. No more drinking for me, I vow as I take a fast shower and quickly dress in clean jeans and a tee. It’s almost like being reborn, I feel so much better. I make my hair presentable and apply a little makeup. No sense letting everyone see I was out and going crazy the night before. Lesson learned.

  I hop into the leased car and head for my condo.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It’s quiet in the parking garage as I drive in. I look for Jonathon’s Porsche, but he’s not home yet. Good, time to get a few things done before we have the conversation. I let myself into my apartment and stand stark still as the landscape registers: a profusion of flowers seems to reside on every flat surface in the condo. Beautiful crystal vases of white roses. The fragrance is lovely. Not heavy and suffocating like in the conservatory yesterday, but quite pleasant. It had to be Jonathon. I search around the vases for a note and end up finding it on the dining room table. I hastily tear it open and read: My apologies for today. J.

  I smile. I knew he cared. Well, it was a fine pickle, as my Gran would say. I still need the money and I’m already in the soup up to my eyeballs.

  I make some tea and notice that the cleaning lady has done all the chores I would normally do. I don’t know what to think of that, I’m so used to doing for myself. But I guess I could grow to enjoy the extra leisure time. I change clothes then take a few minutes to check social updates online. With most of the students off for the summer it takes work to stay in touch with classmates, but I don’t mind. Kind of makes me feel good to be part of the community, even if in reality I’m more on the fringe.

  A knock on my door makes me jump up. Jonathon.

  And this time it is him, looking oh-so-handsome through the peephole. I’m glad I took the time to put on a pretty dress. I open the door with a wide smile of greeting.

  “Tess, you look beautiful,” he says and my heart gladdens.

  “Thanks, you’re looking mighty fine yourself. And thanks for all the beautiful flowers. They smell heavenly,” I can’t avoid adding as we’ve had so much fun with my first name.

  I get a quick chuckle for my trouble.

  “I thought I might take you out to dinner. And I want to say I’m sorry about what I said about your grandmother.” His tone is sincere and I accept his apology in the spirit it is given.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. But I thought it was against policy for us to date?”

  “Let’s just call it a business dinner. Remember, I need to fill you in on that list of things about what a man likes. Saves me typing it up.” He’s back to being the fun-loving man I enjoy so much.

  “Okay, you’re on. Am I dressed right?” He’s wearing Armani very well.

  “You look beautiful just as you are. But if you want to change, I was thinking that little red number we picked out would look very nice on you. We’re going to Mélisse. It has fine French cuisine I think you may enjoy.”

  “Then I’m changing. Wait here.” I race back to my bedroom and begin hastily pushing aside the dresses in my closet looking for that stunner of a dress. I locate it and need to change my bra type as the dress is lower in the back. I rummage through a dresser drawer to find the proper red bra and decide to put on the matching panties. I throw my current underwear in the laundry basket and turn to fetch my fresh pair when I catch sight of myself in the full length mirror. Whoa. No hair on my pussy really brings attention to it. I look so exposed. I blush all over again at the memory. I take a deep breath and finish dressing. I’m not certain what I will do for the auction. Should I stay like this or let the hair grow back? I’ll ask Jonathon. He’s supposed to advise me. I smile smugly at the idea, feeling a whole lot of glee. This could be a fun night indeed. Jonathon has no idea what he’s in for.

  “All ready,” I announce as I enter the living room.

  He turns from looking at the LA skyline and gives a low whistle of admiration.

  “Perfect, Tess.”

  “Thanks.” I smile shyly, enjoying the look in his eyes. This is beginning like a real date. Now, if I can just forget all my troubles. Of course, thinking that just brings them back to mind. Being human is complicated.

  Picking up my purse, I turn to Jonathon who holds the door for me and I move forward into an evening of delicious promise. I just hope it doesn’t involve a crazy gunman or a perv or a sister.

  Jonathon seats me first at the restaurant and then goes round and sits down across from me. I love his gentlemanly ways and envy the effortless way he seems to fit in so well in every situation. And don’t bother mentioning the family escort business—it’s temporary, okay.

  He’s looking particularly handsome tonight with his hair smoothly brushed back and his tanned skin glowing with good health. His presence makes the area between my thighs feel more sensitive than ever. I would love to rub myself there, preferably with him watching for real this time. And then applying that talented tongue again. Moisture collects in my panties.

  “A penny for your thoughts, beautiful.”

  I try not to blush, which is a hopeless attempt, grateful for the dim lighting. “Looks like I’m in for a real education tonight.”

  “I hope you brought a notepad or have a spectacular memory.”

  “Both.”

  “Good. I like a woman who’s prepared. Shall we order?”

  The waiter is all smooth talk and ballet-like motions as he waits on us.

  I can’t help smiling as the waiter walks away.

  “What, beautiful?” Jonathon returns the smile with grace.

  “This is nice—us being here—having dinner together. It all feels so perfect. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for putting up with me.”

  His words surprise and delight.

  “Now that’s the easy part.” I flirtingly sweep my long eyelashes at him and take a drink of water. Easy. Jumping his bones in the restaurant might be considered bad manners.

  The food arrives and my mouth waters as I take the first forkful of tantalizing beef tenderloin. I love a good steak and that’s what I order when I’m in a fancy restaurant. French food be darned. Jonathon tastes his salmon, a waste in my opinion, but probably a healthier choice.

  We eat and drink in companionable silence. It’s a wonderful interlude. A pianist harmonizes with a guitar player near us and the tinkling of fine crystal and china murmurs around us. The restaurant is about half full and allows us some privacy.

  I set my fork down as I finish my meal and lean back in my comfy chair.

  “That was just wonderful.”

  “Well, now the fun begins.” He gives a mischievous grin and my heart rate picks up a beat.

  I dutifully open up my purse and pull out a small pad of paper. It’s a backup system I picked up for running from class to class at school.

  I write the title down at the top of the page and read it aloud, “List of things a man likes in bed. Does that cover it, Jonathon?”

  “Yes,” he acts very serious but I wonder how long he will be able to keep a straight face.

  “Number one,” he continues, “let the man take the lead.”

  I write and softly repeat his words for emphasis, thoroughly enjoying the exchange.

  “Number two: Allow him full access of your body. Remember, he’s in charge because he’s paying for it.”

  I overheat thinking about Jonathon doing anything he likes to me and my not being able to stop him. What would he want to do with me if he had full access? I can’t imagine saying no to him and the idea is disconcerting and oh-so-hot.

  “Number three: be prepared to accept him into any part of your body he wishes to invade.”

  Yikes. That sounds downright dangerous.
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  “Any part?” I ask for clarification.

  “Any part.” He’s eyes darken with the telling and I sense something incredibly hot lurking behind that handsome façade. Hotter than the nine circles of Dante’s Inferno.

  “Define ‘any part’,” I demand, wanting—no, needing to know exactly what he’s talking about.

  He lowers his voice so only I can hear him. “If he wants you to suck his cock, if he wants to fuck you in the pussy or ass, or between your luscious breasts, that’s all normal. And yes, a vibrator might be included, and most likely explicit dirty talk.”

  I stop breathing as his words sink in. It’s too graphic, and yet, so-o sexy coming smoothly out of his beautiful mouth. “As a virgin I’m supposed to allow all that?” Is he pushing me this hard to change my mind about auctioning my virginity?

  “We can define what your limits are, but if you want a lot of money this is what it will take, depending of course, on the wishes of the client. You will know what they are upfront, but sometimes there can be surprises. Like your activities with your regular client.”

  That scares me. I swallow hard.

  “Is there anything else?” I haven’t written down the last one, I’m just too stunned by the idea.

  “Number four: He might want to tie you up or give you a spanking. Nothing too hard of course. Bruising’s not allowed.”

  I swallow hard again and pretend to write it down, but I’m doodling circles now, trying to get my head around it all.

  “How many hours will I be with this client?”

  “I will assume at least twenty-four hours. You are asking for a lot of money and he’s going to want to get his full money’s worth.”

  “I would imagine.” I comment and ask, “Are there any other rules?”

  “Just advice. You should appear confident. Men love confidence in a woman. A woman who is comfortable in her own body. You’re lucky, Tess. You’ve got it all. A beautiful face, gorgeous body, and a keen intelligence about you that is very, very attractive.”

  Now, this I like. Keep the compliments coming. It gives me the audacity to ask, “What about the waxing? Should I continue it?”

  “Do you like being waxed?” he asks softly with what I’m pretty certain is passion flaring in the depths of his intense eyes.

  “I’m not certain. It makes me feel rather exposed.”

  “And you are uncomfortable being exposed?”

  “Well, not if it was the right time with the right man. I think I’d be just fine.”

  “Then perhaps keep it up. A smooth mons can be quite a turn on for a lot of men, though I did like the fiery nature of your bush.”

  I blush from head to toe. Am I cut out for this bantering? I kind of think so since so far I’m feeling like a cat with cream, no pun intended. But what if it were a stranger that I had to deal with, an up-close Mr. X? I use the new name I have for the perv I see so regularly. That would be a whole new ballgame and one I don’t wish to think about.

  We order dessert and it’s to die for, sinfully luscious chocolate silk pie with strawberries and whipped cream, a great combination.

  Satiated with food, we leave the restaurant and Jonathon drives us home. My body is humming with excess energy and I’m feeling like I really want something to happen. I’m waiting for something to happen. Moreover, I need something to happen. And maybe, just maybe, I’m confident enough to go get it.

  Riding up in the elevator we are alone. My palms are damp and I swallow to ease the dryness in my mouth.

  “Want to have a nightcap, Jonathon? I want to thank you for a wonderful dinner and I believe there’s time for another practice session.”

  He nods silently. His gaze is dark and lustful and it ratchets up my anticipation.

  Entering my condo, I throw my purse on the hall table and inquire, “What would you like to drink?” I smile suggestively and wait patiently for his answer, hand on hip.

  “Brandy neat, please.”

  I have a fully stocked liquor cabinet thanks to Jonathon’s generosity and it’s full of his favorites.

  I pour us both a few ounces in wide-bottomed crystal glass, hand one to him, and join him on the sofa. So much for my vow of not drinking again. Okay, I’ll just drink responsibly. I slip off my shoes and tuck my feet up under me and sip at the fine brandy. Setting it down on the end table, I turn to Jonathon, now sitting enticingly close and open my mouth to comment when he swoops down and captures my lips with his own.

  His lips are warm and insistent and I feel myself soften with the sensation of falling into him. His tongue invades my mouth. A few minutes later we come up for air and my heart is pounding madly with excitement. A low hiss of pleasure escapes my lips. There’s a deep urge in me for something to happen now. If only he knew what I was thinking he might move a little quicker. But he can’t, I remind myself, trembling with frustration and feeling so hindered by circumstance I’m about fit to be tied.

  He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, leans his forehead against mine, and the words that come out of his mouth next sound like he’s been reading my mind. “We met under such unusual circumstances, Tess.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Play the hand that’s been dealt, most likely,” he says moving his body back to upright, an arm draped on my shoulder while he sips his brandy. I snuggle in closer.

  “Are you a believer in fate?”

  “Somewhat. Though I think our actions play into it. And the circumstances we are born into and that occur around us during our lifetimes.”

  He’s very reflective tonight and I want to know more so I quietly ask, “Where does that leave us?”

  “Good question. Where do you want it to leave us?”

  “I don’t know. But I know that I want you. It’s just the price is high because I need the cash for my grandmother.”

  “What if I could take that out of the equation? If money were no object, would you come to me willingly?”

  “I’m not a charity case!” My ire rises. No matter what, I don’t accept money I haven’t earned, regardless of how loathsome, or in Jonathon’s case, wonderful the work.

  “No one said you are. But if we could find you the money another way, would you go for it?”

  And then his damn phone rings.

  “I’m sorry. I have to take it. It could be something about the baby. Katherine’s been feeling off all day.” He looks so endearing, obviously trying hard not to be annoyed at the interruption. He picks up his cell phone and answers it.

  “Don’t worry, Katherine. I’ll be right there.”

  He hangs up and stands up, making me shiver with the loss of warmth.

  “She’s at the hospital and they’re about to do an emergency caesarean.”

  “Would you like me to come?”

  “Would you?” He gives me a quick look.

  “Yes, of course.”

  I grab my purse and a sweater and we hurry to leave the condo. My heart is still racing from the interrupted conversation, let alone the news that Katherine and her baby are in trouble.

  Fifty minutes later we arrive at LA General and park in the visitors’ parking lot. We rush to admitting to find out where Katherine is.

  The nurse is all efficiency as she directs us to a private visitors’ room in the obstetrics ward. She advises us to wait there for the doctor as Katherine is already in surgery. It’s a blow to Jonathon who had hoped to see his sister before her operation.

  “How long does a caesarean section normally take?” he asks the nurse, not budging from his spot at the desk.

  “Hard to say. It varies a bit, but I should think less than an hour, most likely. The baby is born very quickly, usually in under five minutes. You will know something soon. She was scheduled for about ten minutes ago according to the last entry on her chart,” the nurse says as she checks her computer screen.

  “Thank you.”

  I follow Jonathon to the visitors’ room and we sit down on chairs th
at are at least comfortable. The room also houses a TV with the volume turned low and a vending machine for hot drinks.

  “Would you like anything, Tess?”

  I shake my head no. I’ve not spent much time in hospitals, thank goodness, but I know that’s about to change with my Gran’s illness. I’m certain I’ll learn more than I want to know.

  “Sorry things got interrupted tonight,” he says, his eyes serious.

  “We can pick it up another time,” I suggest. I want to know what he was going to say, maybe as badly as he wants to say it. How else could I make that damn money and get my man? That’s precisely what I want to know, but it’s not the time or place for it.

  Katherine’s receptionist bursts in through the door, the one I met when I was signing the contract with Rosemère Agency.

  “Amanda, how good of you to come. Katherine’s still in surgery. We should be hearing something soon. Won’t you join us? Would you like anything?” Jonathon asks, looking as tight as a coiled spring.

  Why is she here?

  “Katherine asked me to bring her some things. She was caught by surprise with everything happening so quickly.” She hands Jonathon a black bag. Right, she’s Katherine’s personal assistant. Amanda looks as put together as the first time we met with her dark hair shining and expertly cut in those flattering face framing layers. She has on an impeccable emerald-green suede suit that truly does her magnificent body justice. I feel dowdy in comparison. She gives me a quick greeting which I readily return, but I can read that she’s none-too-happy with my presence. Tough. I’m here, lady, deal with it. If she only knew what we’ve been up to of late it just might make her head spin like in an exorcism movie. Her next words could be metaphorical green vomit.

  “I see you aren’t a nature blonde.” She nods at my newly fixed hair. “I only notice because I know that’s what the agency prefers. They get the most attention and hence the most money.”

  Me-ow.

  “Tess does not work for Rosemère Agency anymore,” Jonathon’s face is closed as he speaks.

  I don’t work there anymore? What the heck? I struggle to keep my game face on. He’d better have a good backup plan waiting in the wings.