by Mann, Marni
The one piece I’d really troubled over, the one I’d spent hours analyzing and perfecting, was The City…a canvas I’d made for Dallas. It was different from anything else I’d ever painted. I’d used true blue with just a dab of white to lighten and created a face that was mostly hidden behind a set of hands. The fingers started at the chin and spread toward the forehead, revealing only a thin nose and a pair of berry-red lips. The skyline of Boston was painted on the fingers.
I was very proud of this one.
Finding the inspiration to create for him was easy; he was my best friend and I truly understood him. And even more, I knew he truly understood me, too. What Dallas had showed me during our time together was that I couldn’t hide from who I really was, and that I was deserving of what I wanted. No matter what I tried to mask, I still had a presence underneath that was all me. I needed to allow that image to breathe, to exist in the world without hiding behind anything. The painting was my thank you for all he’d done—not just for me and Cameron, but for Lilly, too.
He wasn’t home when I went to deliver the piece to him. Something told me he was with the girl he had been spending time with lately. He hadn’t mentioned her by name yet; he’d said only that their relationship was very new and he wasn’t sure yet if it felt right. But I knew it did. I could hear it in his voice when we spoke on the phone, and in the way he’d toasted love on the night he fixed things between Cameron and me. I let myself in with the key I hadn’t yet returned, and I hung the canvas on the bare wall above his couch. I left him a note on his kitchen counter, telling him to call me when he got home.
I chose to walk when I left his place instead of taking the train. Cameron wouldn’t be home; he had a meeting. There was no rush for me to get back. I wanted the city air to fill me, the haziness of the afternoon sun to cast over my skin.
I wanted to reveal my presence.
The feeling that had entered my body when Cameron told me he loved me hadn’t waned at all. It had strengthened instead. Something inside of me had changed because of it. For months I had feared that I would meet one of those masked strangers on the street, their features too fresh for me to ignore. I no longer had that concern. It wasn’t because I felt as if I were invincible; I knew anything could happen to me, at any time. Evil and corruption thrived in these streets, not just in a secret mansion where everyone within wore masks. I still knew all of this; I just didn’t let it consume me anymore. The initial shock was over, and the worst of all possible connections had already been made. And Cameron and I had come out of it intact.
It was liberating to let the worry fall away, to leave it in a place where I would never pick it up again. I knew Cameron would be able to feel the change as soon as he touched me. I felt like others were noticing it, too: the men waiting in line with me at the coffee shop, the woman who took my order. The way their eyes roamed my face, my body, their expression when I spoke; I wasn’t being treated as though I were in a shadow. I was being noticed and admired…and after having my picture appear in the paper at Jameson’s opening, I was possibly being recognized.
But this kind of recognition I was okay with.
My confidence was quiet. My sensuality was on standby for whenever I needed to tap into it. But the anxiety and fear were completely gone. And in their place was a smile—an honest, genuine grin that flickered in my eyes and carried into my entire being.
Once the coffee was handed to me, I tossed the receipt into my purse and I moved back outside. My phone rang immediately. Cameron’s name appeared on the screen.
“I thought you were in a meeting,” I said.
“And I thought you were going to be with Dallas this afternoon… but it sounds like you’re outside somewhere instead.”
“I am.” I stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to turn. “He wasn’t home, so I hung the painting and grabbed a coffee. I’m walking home now.”
“You’re walking?”
I laughed, remembering that I had said the same thing to him in the early hours of the morning when he had carried me out of Dallas’s apartment. “I need the air.”
“I’m surprised you’re not too sore to walk. I haven’t been…easy on you.”
It was a warm afternoon, but that wasn’t the reason my skin suddenly flushed. I was still so insatiable when it came to him, regardless of how much time he’d spent inside me.
“I am sore,” I confirmed. “But you make me want to hurt even more.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
I gave him the crossroads.
“Look behind you,” he said. “Do you see the nail salon?”
I turned around, looking for the shop he mentioned. It was no more than a block away. “Yes.”
“Do you see the black limo that’s right in front of it, stuck in the line of traffic, waiting for the light to turn green?”
It was hard to miss. I didn’t pay attention to limos anymore, but they still stood out to me.
“I see it.”
“Walk to it, baby.”
I retraced the steps I had taken just moments before, crossing the side street and stopping in front of the limo. Before I could wonder what he’d come up with this time, he opened the door from the inside.
“Get in,” he said, smiling as he straightened his back in the seat. “I’ve missed you.”
I climbed in next to him, pressing my lips against his before closing the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I have something planned for us tonight. I thought I’d pick you up at Dallas’s. We don’t have much time before it starts and you need to get ready.”
My eyebrow arched. “And what are we getting ready for?”
His teeth bit down into his lip the same way mine did when I was waiting for one of his answers. I had a feeling it meant that he didn’t intend on giving me one. “We’re going home first. Your evening will start from there.”
This was the second time Cameron had planned an evening for us. I remembered how much I had enjoyed the first one. We certainly weren’t a dinner and movies type of couple; there was always a bit of mystery to his plans, a touch of intrigue. I loved that about us.
The partition between the back and front seat was closed. I knew from experience that the driver couldn’t hear anything we were doing unless the glass was rolled down. So I pulled my legs up onto the seat, rose to my knees and I stuck my ass in the air while I began to kiss his neck.
“You’re making it impossible for me to wait,” he said, his hands reaching into my hair and tugging on my strands.
“Then don’t.” I moved to his throat, my hands to his thighs, inching their way closer to the bulge that was growing for me…and quickly.
“Nothing is going inside of you until later,” he groaned
“Mmm,” I moaned. “Are you sure about that?”
My mouth clamped shut as his hands gripped my ass, lifting me and swinging my legs so my whole body was flat on the seat. “However…that doesn’t mean I can’t lick you.” He unclasped the hook at the top of my shorts and pulled them off. I was now wearing just a thin pair of lace panties, my tank top and high wedges. His face dove between my legs, shifting the fabric to the side. “I could live here, and smell nothing but your sweetness for the rest of my life.” His nose had pressed into my folds, but his tongue had swiftly replaced it, feverishly lapping my sensitivity.
I spread my thighs even wider as the intensity of his movements began to build. It mixed with the titillating vibration of the limo, along with the thrill of every pedestrian who walked by the window, threatening to witness my pleasure through the tinted glass. In response, the surge almost came to a swell. I reached for the top of his head, but he stopped me. He shackled my hands with his own and held them down on the leather. He gripped with such force. It only added to the exhilaration that was spreading throughout me.
He kept his promise and didn’t allow anything to enter me. But I didn’t need the penetration to have an orgasm. Cameron’s tongue was more tha
n enough. It flicked in vertical lines…and then he pulled me into his mouth and sucked. He alternated between the two. My hips moved to the steady rhythm; my toes pushed against the door and my hands drove into the seat until his lapping sent my whole body into spasms.
“I love watching you come,” he said as I began to relax, his lips hovering just a few inches above me. I could feel his breath as he spoke. My wetness shone all over his mouth and his chin. He licked it off.
I leaned into his lap and reached for the buckle on his pants. He had released my hands, but he moved right back to them.
“We’re almost home,” he said.
“Can you be quick?”
“No, baby…I’ll have exactly what I want later.” He wiped his mouth. “This ride was all for you.”
***
When we arrived at our apartment, Cameron sent me to our bedroom and told me to dress in what was waiting for me on the bed. Once again, I was met with a set of boxes, though tonight’s ensemble didn’t include a mask. The heels were four-inch spikes this time, and the outfit came in two pieces. The top was layered, a light pink satin came first and then a black sheer piece rested over it. They merged to form a corset with a sweetheart neckline. It tied up the back. The cut and tightness pushed my breasts up until they spilled out of the top. The material barely covered my nipples. The matching skirt was made of the same material, fitted and just as snug. I wore my hair up so it wouldn’t detract from what I was displaying, and kept my makeup focused on my eyes.
As we stepped out of the limo, Cameron held my hand, leading me through the back entrance of an unfamiliar building. He wouldn’t tell me why we were here or what this place was, but it didn’t take long before it was revealed through subtle hints all along the way. We moved down the hallway that was bathed in a deep, reddening glow that floated to the ceiling. It illuminated the black that floated above us and threw a ruddy cast over the dark hardwood floor. The music was slow and sensual, like burlesque with a modernized beat. We didn’t walk alone; a man in a black vest and top hat escorted us.
When we reached the mouth of the entryway, my suspicions were proven correct. Gels in red, orange and fuchsia filled the spacious room, pouring luxuriant light over the extravagant tapestries hanging from the ceiling. The fabric created privacy dividers and adorned the walls in such a way that they appeared as frames for faux windows. Wax dripped from candelabra; large ornate mirrors were hung throughout—some on the ceilings, others above the long poles that reached from the ceiling to the floor. Despite the room’s grandeur, there was a feeling of intimacy, a closeness that the swaths of fabric only added to. Women worked the floor, gathering on various stages in the main room and clinging to the poles. All were outfitted in a similar style to mine, wearing tight corsets and tiny shorts, fishnet stockings and high heels, wrapping and swinging their lean frames around the golden metal. There were some who had already stripped from the waist down; those who were topless made sure their nipples remained erect, their backs were arched so their breasts were on full and prominent display.
We were taken to a private booth in the corner. The soft velvet of the seat hugged my back as I slid in. Cameron’s hands closed around me almost as tightly as my dress. Before I had a chance to even cross my legs, we were greeted by a waitress who placed two glasses of wine on the table—both red, and both from a bottle that I had no doubt Cameron had requested especially for us.
I brought the glass up to my lips. “Are you going to tell me now why you’ve brought us here?”
He didn’t lift his glass off the table; he didn’t even touch it. Instead, his hands moved to my arms as he grazed my skin with just the tips of his fingers. The tickling made my shoulders shimmy and my back straighten, but there was little room to move. His body was pressed against me; his lips brushed my ear. “One of my clients opened this club recently. I thought you might enjoy it.”
He knew me well…which meant he knew I had an appetite for women. They weren’t something that I constantly craved. I hadn’t been with one since the Recruiter at the mansion; in fact, none of my clients had been female. But I enjoyed the way they touched my body, the way their faint curves dipped, the taste of their skin. And here, in this carnival of flesh, I appreciated the way they contorted their lithe, taut muscles around the pole, the erotic aroma and carnal tease that came from their twisting and turning.
“Was I right?” he asked.
My mouth didn’t give him an answer; my ass did instead as it pushed against his lap, slowly grinding until I felt his response. I didn’t know how long my body gyrated over him. The songs had no break; they all blended together into one endless soundtrack of our lust. My movements stopped only when I noticed the woman working her way to our table. Her strut started from the other side of the room and accentuated the mounds of her hips, her toned legs, the bounce of her breasts. The sexiness of her lips, the fierce stare from her eyes, her astonishing beauty were all causing the tingle between my legs to build. I knew Cameron could feel it, too. His hands reached under the table and began to stroke me through my skirt. When she reached us, she extended her hand out to me. Before I took it, I turned to face Cameron. His head tipped, and we both exited the side of the booth.
We followed where she led, her fingers still clasped between mine. We passed through a side door, a short hallway and into a private room that was decorated in the same colors, the same aura as the room we had come from. There were several mirrors in the narrow space, a pole and an oversized velvet chair with a high back. She sat Cameron first, waiting until he was comfortable in the seat before guiding me onto his lap.
In this light, I was able to really take in what stood before me: her chin-length black hair, the round pop of her dark eyes, the candy red painted over her lips. Her skin was fair, creamy, and it practically gleamed against the blood-red corset that she wore, and the black tutu that jutted out from her hips. Her hands moved to the top of the chair as she straddled our legs, never touching them directly, but grinding above them. The tops of her breasts rose just above my face.
Her dancing wasn’t an improvised striptease; it was fully choreographed. Her shoulders shook; her back arched. Her arms released the chair and moved through the air while her head swung from side to side. The swishing sent me her essence: an amber-based perfume, matching lotion, a mint in her mouth. During her tease, Cameron’s hands roamed my body. His lips pressed into my neck as his tongue traveled between my chest and ear. While enjoying his torment and her show, I picked up the rotation that I had been giving him before, my ass meeting the front of his pants, pressing and circling into him.
I knew he wasn’t going to let me come in this chairwe had an audience. I also knew he wasn’t going to let her touch me; that was for a time before I was with him, and him alone. And I honestly didn’t want either to happen. I only wanted us to be able to admire the body that bowed in front of us, the hips that tantalized our eyes, the flesh that performed for our pleasure. And we did. In my ear, he whispered what he wanted to do to me, in words that left none of his desire to question. It was an intense form of foreplay, without any parts of my body actually being penetrated or pulled or licked. I didn’t know how long I could let it continue without tearing off his clothesand mine.
I didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later, the dancer produced an envelope. She never slowed her motion or interrupted her flow. She just suddenly had a slice of folded white paper shining between her teeth.
Once again, she neared our chair and dipped her head, bending her face close to mine. She didn’t want me to use my hands to take it from her…so I didn’t. I reached forward, removing the envelope with my own mouth. Once I had it, she disappeared.
We were finally alone in that amazing, sensual room. We would be able to release the aching throb that was spreading through my body so painfully. But I knew Cameron wasn’t going to let me come that easily—not for this round…and especially not with an envelope between my lips.
“Open it,” he
said, my body still pressing against his.
I stood in front of him and slid my finger under the paper flap, removing the folded sheets that were inside. The first one showed an airline confirmation, two first class tickets to Florence, Italy. The date was a month away.
There was a fluttering in my chest that was almost as strong as the one between my thighs.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Open the second sheet,” he said.
I did as I was told. The paper showed a picture of a villa, with a patio that overlooked the ocean. Beneath the image was a description of the house, the amenities it included and the attractions nearby. My eyes struggled in the dim light, but I managed to read every word. Then I slowly dropped the papers to my side and looked at him. “We’re going…there?”
He nodded. “Yes, baby; I’m taking you to Italy. I know you’ve always wanted to visit, and I know you’ve never been able to. There’s no question that you can afford to do it for yourself now. But I want to be the one to take you.”
I didn’t need to be spoiled with presents and dates and the constant pressure of looking perfect. I’d had that when I was inside the mansion and it wasn’t who I was. I knew this wasn’t about that. During the long talks we’d had while I’d been hiding out at my father’s apartment, he had listened to me discuss my desires of traveling one day and how Italy was the very first place I wanted to go. He’d actually paid attention to what I wanted. And more than that, he’d tried to make a dream of mine come true.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
