Night of the Senses

by Victoria Blisse

  Her figure could stand that and since she wasn’t enamoured of the greasy things anyway, she gave a careless, carefree shrug. “Um. You taste so good who cares about French fries? All I crave is you…and Chris.”

  He swatted her bottom and when she yelped from the pain, he looked chastised. “Forgive me. I forgot. I’ll make it up to you later with a deep body massage.”

  She couldn’t wait and almost turned back, climbed into bed and begged for it now. “Maybe I should escort you to your room. You look so fetching in that get up all the men will try to steal you from us.”

  “You mean all the non-existent men I couldn’t find before?”

  Evan tweaked her chin and opened the door. “They were there, but luckily you only had eyes for me so you couldn’t see them.”

  “I love you.” She gasped at her forthrightness and held her breath, hoping his response wouldn’t be to laugh in her face or slam the door on her.

  “I love you, too. I mean I’m in love with you. I never thought I’d say that to another woman as long as I lived. But you’re special.” Evan pulled her back into his arms and swayed with her.

  When she heard footsteps, she realised he was still naked and it was broad daylight. He might not care, but she cared for him. She glanced at her watch and was shocked to see it was almost eleven. “You need to shower and get dressed, too. Ta ta.”

  After she hurried to her room, she showered and dressed so that she just made it to the café by noon where she wasn’t surprised to see her dad. He was always punctual.

  When he stood and hugged her, she let out a relieved sigh she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. After she pulled away, she signed and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

  Her father returned her words but his slight smile was grudging. “Where are your friends?” he asked.

  Evan showed up just as his hands stopped moving. To her delight, Evan signed back the appropriate reply and also echoed the words in speech, “I’m right here. I’m sorry I’m late. Chris will be here momentarily. He got held up in the kitchen.”

  Her dad cracked a genuine smile and signed back without adding speech this time. She knew it was a test, and she hoped Evan passed. That would be one less burden if her dad liked him.

  Evan watched him carefully then signed back a slow and careful but appropriate response, making her clap inwardly.

  “You have a wonderful daughter,” he added as he moved his chair closer to her and slid his arm around her waist.

  “I think so. If only she’d go to church and keep her vows. Frankly, I’m worried about your souls,” Dean signed, again without speaking aloud.

  She frowned. This was so unlike her dad. He only signed without adding the spoken language when he wanted to keep his conversation private. She wasn’t thrilled that he was preaching again. “Let’s not talk religion, okay? It’s not a good topic.”

  Her father’s expression darkened, and his hands began to fly with flourishes indicating he was getting worked up. “But I’m worried about you. About all of you. Heavenly Father won’t condone such a relationship. You’re living in sin. Without marriage and in gay relationships.”

  Afraid Evan would be insulted, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He seemed cool and was even grinning. “Maybe your God believes that but mine doesn’t,” he signed. “No insult intended, Sir”

  She cringed knowing her dad wouldn’t let that go without a fight even though she believed like Evan. Her God was a forgiving, gentle, loving god. But her father believed in the fire and brimstone version. Before the carnage began, she jumped in and signed, “You know how your religion condones polygamy? How you still believe it’s okay to be sealed to more than one woman and that you’ll have multiple wives in the Celestial Kingdom?”

  Storm clouds thundered in her father’s eyes, but he nodded and didn’t launch into attack.

  She continued, “I’m sure many of those men took more than one wife to their bed at the same time. I know a lot of them had more than just two wives. I know that a lot of them still practise polygamy…”

  Her father’s face grew dark and dangerous, and he jumped out of his seat and started furiously signing, “The church no longer condones polygamy. It hasn’t in more than a hundred years. That’s an outlawed sect that gives us a bad name.”

  “But you think it’s okay to be sealed to more than one wife, to have more than one in the future.” He didn’t have room to preach to her about the sins of having more than one partner. What was the difference now or in the future? It was okay to be polygamous in heaven but not on earth? And only men could benefit in bed?

  Her father stilled and finally sank into his chair as if defeated. After several long moments, he said, “I don’t know how to explain it to you. Let’s agree to talk about this later and just enjoy our time together.”

  Joy jumped in her heart. She couldn’t believe that she’d won this round. At least, he wasn’t pushing it as usual.

  But her pleasure was short lived when she realised Chris hadn’t joined them. Feeling as if something or someone bored a hole into her back, she looked around to see if he was coming and saw him standing a couple tables behind them. To her consternation, he watched unblinkingly with a grim line to his lips and with his arms tightly folded over his chest. She wondered how long he’d been standing there reticent and also why he seemed to be upset.

  The heat of Chris’s stare became suffocating and made the already sweltering day hotter, the muggy air more difficult to drag into her lungs. It was with great difficulty that she kept a hitch out of her voice as she turned and whispered to Evan, “Did you know Chris was over there? Do you know for how long?”

  Evan turned around and swore under his breath. “Let me talk to him. I’ll try to find out.”

  She’d thought Evan would bring Chris immediately back to the table but she was disappointed when they moved further away and become engrossed in deep conversation. She kept catching herself before she chewed her lip, stopping her nervous habit as she watched and waited for them to come back. She wondered what Chris was upset about? Did he not want to share Evan with her? Did he not feel anything special for her? Was he jealous or feeling left out? She longed to know and finally excused herself from her dad and went in search of them.

  Rochelle pointed to the storeroom behind the kitchen. “They’re in the back if you’re looking for Evan and Chris.” Her eyes roved over Jordin’s dad. “Whose that handsome older man? The debonair one you’re with? Is he single?”

  Jordin glanced over her shoulder and cracked a grin. “That’s my father and he’s very much married. Sorry.”

  Rochelle snapped her fingers and pursed her lips. “Always my luck. Maybe I’ll just mosey on over there and make sure he’s taken care of while you’re gone.”

  Jordin nodded, but then said, “He can’t hear so make sure you face him so he can read your lips.”

  Surprise flashed across the other waitress’ eyes for a moment then she nodded. “Will do, sugar.”

  When her friend picked up the coffee pot and started to traipse over to Dean’s table, Jordin stopped her. “Make that water. He doesn’t drink coffee.” She wasn’t in the mood to hear another lecture on the evils of coffee and didn’t feel that poor Rochelle deserved it either.

  She turned her thoughts and energy to her lovers and finally found them in the very back having a heated discussion. Not sure what to think, she hid behind a tall stack of boxes and eavesdropped, all the while hoping she wasn’t the bone of contention.

  “How can I talk with the three of you if I don’t know sign language? Hell, you never told me you knew it. What else are you keeping from me?” Chris said.

  “I took sign language in high school, and Jordin’s dad is deaf and more comfortable signing so I’m signing with him. Do I get defensive when you have conversations in Spanish with our guests? No, because it’s not a big deal. Get over it and join us.”

  “I don’t know… I’m a little uncomfortable.”

/>   Jordin didn’t like the sound of that, but she continued to listen and hope for the best.

  “Why? Because he’s different? We’re different, too. Again, get over it. We’ll teach you how to sign. It’ll be fun. You can be the first Dom to sign to his slaves.”

  “No. At least, that’s not the main thing. I can’t talk to my own father and now I won’t be able to talk to Jordin’s father, either. But both of you can.”

  Jordin couldn’t let this continue. She cleared her throat and circumspectly coughed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I came to find you and make sure everything’s okay. I heard what you said.”

  In unison, the men turned and stared at her.

  She tried not to fidget and kept her smile friendly even though her heart was ricocheting in her chest. She reminded herself that the worst was past, at least for now. “Daddy signs, yes, but he also reads lips. He speaks very well, too, probably because he wasn’t always completely deaf. It’s just that sometimes he’s more comfortable signing, and he was pleased to find Evan could. That’s all. You’ll be able to converse, no problem.”

  “We’ll teach you,” Evan hurriedly added. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Not as much fun as last night,” she couldn’t help saying.

  “And not as much fun as the rest of our lives together,” Evan said, putting his arm around her and Chris both.

  “As soon as lunch with your father is over, my slaves, we are going straight back to bed,” Chris said.

  Her brows pinched together, and she was tempted to quit. It wasn’t like she needed the cash, but she’d made a commitment. “But I have to go to work.”

  “He has an in with the boss,” Evan said in a Soto Voce.

  Chris laid a hand on her shoulder and gazed deeply into her eyes. “You dare defy your Master, slave? What is your response supposed to be when I give you a command?”

  “Yes, Master.” She savoured the words.

  “You’re not going to work today,” Chris said.

  “But who will help Rochelle with the dinner shift?” she asked, glancing towards the front of the restaurant.

  Chris turned her to face him and left his hands on her shoulders. “What is your only permitted response?”

  “Yes, Master.” The words rolled off her lips with ease, and his hands felt so good on her, she almost moaned. Of course, they’d feel even better elsewhere on her body. She was no longer hungry for lunch but for other, much better things.

  “Move in with us and share our bed nightly,” Chris commanded.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Chris opened his arms to her and when she walked into them, he tucked her against his heart. When he opened his other arm, Evan joined them.

  Her heart swelled, and she felt like she’d finally come home. “This really is Paradise,” she murmured.

  “Welcome to Paradise,” Evan said and signed it. “Pay attention,” he said to Chris. “This is your first lesson.”

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” Chris admitted ruefully. “Show me again.”

  Both Evan and Jordin signed the words in unison. “Yes, Master,” they said in chorus then laughed together.

  Chris tried to emulate their motions but ended up signing ‘penis’ instead of ‘paradise’. When they doubled over in laughter, he scrunched his nose and asked, “What’d I say?”

  Jordin exchanged amused glances with Evan. “Should we tell him? Really?”

  Chris roared, “Tell me! What’d I say?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, trying to keep a straight face and losing. “You signed the first two words right. You said, ‘Welcome to penis’.”

  An incredulous look flickered in Chris’s eyes then a seductive grin curved his sexy lips. “Let’s get this meeting over then you’ll be welcome to my penis…again.”

  “You’re so bad,” she said, clasping each man’s hand and dragging them after her.

  “No,” Chris said. “I’m so good.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Remind me not to sign around your father until I’m a pro.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said still giggling, looking forward to her life with her two gorgeous lovers.

  About the Author

  When Ashley Ladd was 16, she made a wish to live in the paradise known as South Florida. She got her wish and for the past twenty years has lived her dream with fun in the sun.

  She’s held many jobs besides romance diva, including accountant, customer service manager, and waitress, but the most notable is her stint in the US Air Force. Thus, this story, like several of her others, features sexy military heroes and heroines, living the adventure she knows and loves. Her only regret is that she can’t meet the real life Captain Kirk and travel through space with him, thus she has created her own sexy space captain with whom to romp and love through the universe.

  Email: Chinara@aol.com

  Ashley loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Ashley Ladd

  Last Man on Earth

  Christmas Spirits: Christmas Miracles

  Naughty Boys

  Heart & Soul

  Submissive Dreams

  Heatwave: Liquid Heat

  Brit Party: Best Mates

  Wild Fantasies

  Confessions of a Nympho

  The Perfect Gift

  Halloween Heart-throbs: Wishcraft

  Shipwrecked

  My Secret Valentine: Secret Admirer

  SPICED VANILLA

  Victoria Blisse

  Dedication

  Thank you God for my skill, thank you my dear husband for encouraging it

  and thank you all who inspire me to write.

  Chapter One

  It had become a habit—a pleasant one, maybe the only one in my whole day. Around about two o’clock I would walk down the main street, past the supermarket, the café, the appliance shop and the carpet store, and I’d turn up a plain side street with no remarkable features. It was a short way up that street to the place I loved. Jacques.

  Around six months ago, I had walked past that street and caught a delicious scent on the air. It combined almonds, vanilla, chocolate and a hint of spicy cinnamon, and as my stomach rumbled, I had to check it out. It seemed so comforting, that smell, it reminded me of happy times in the kitchen with my Mother as a child. Jacques was new then. It had opening offer posters in the window. The smell of new paint was an astringent undercurrent as I drew closer to the shiny black exterior of the shop.

  At first, I thought Jacques was a cake shop, but it only took a moment looking at the artistic, architectural cakes to make me realise it was something much more. I remembered the word from my French GCSE lessons. Jacques was a Patisserie. Even back then, with the opening offers, I could not afford to try a cake. I wanted to. There were several that caught my attention.

  There was a tart made with fanned-out layers of apple, a cheese cake so deep yellow it made my mouth water and a square chocolate cake with icing and the most delicate stars and sparkles decorating it. It wasn’t just that they looked good either. They smelled divine, too. With every opening and closing of the door, I’d get a waft of sweet, warm bakery and confection, and I would close my eyes and imagine the tastes. Custard, cream, chocolate, fluffy sponge and crunchy meringue. It quickly became my favourite place.

  I wished I could go in and buy something, but the price tags were just too high for me. I could barely afford a cheap cake let alone an artistic, expensive one. But every day, I would treat myself to their visual beauty combined with their heavenly scent.

  It was a late summer day with just the hint of the approaching autumn chill in the air when I made my usual trip down to Jacques. I set off from my home at two, and I was at the window of the patisserie by two-fifteen. It was a Friday, and I could see his stock was well-depleted. All the large cakes had been sold bar a carrot cake and a sponge, and many of the shelves in the window and by the cou
nter were nearly empty.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled as the door opened and the bell jangled. The subtle scents of light summer filled me—lemon and orange, the citrus tang mellowed with vanilla and strawberries, milky cream and the gentlest caress of chocolate and warm alcohol.

  The screeching of brakes pulled me viciously from my summer daydream and transported me into my nightmare. It had happened in winter almost a year ago, and it haunted my every sleeping moment and often crept into the daydreams, too.

  I had been disgustingly happy. I was a lecturer in the local college, and I enjoyed my job immensely. I was engaged to John, a fellow lecturer and one of the cleverest people I knew. Not only was he clever, he was kind, generous, witty and handsome. We lived in each other’s pockets. I spent the majority of my life at his house although I continued to pay the rent on the little flat which housed all my personal belongings and me on the occasional evening when our timetables didn’t converge.

  We’d been out for a curry with a bunch of other teachers around the festive period. It had been a great evening, and we’d all drunk a little too much. John wanted us to get a taxi, but I’d wanted to walk. I don’t know why I’d insisted. It was windy and bitterly cold, but as always, John had acquiesced to make me happy.

  We were laughing and joking, teasing each other like a pair of teenage kids. We kissed, and embraced. He told me he loved me, and I replied with a giggle and another kiss. I got silly when I drank wine, and I was still teasing him as we stood at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the green man.

  I don’t remember much after the beeping started and the green man appeared. We’d walked out into the road hand in hand, and I’d heard a car engine and a screeching of brakes.