That was the second time he’d used the word “pure,” and it renewed the blush in her cheeks just as it had before. He was right. The sum total of the time they’d spent together equaled less than a whole day. They hadn’t known each other long enough. But the rejection still stung. She was tired of the “not knowing” and imagining what it must be like to be made love to. It was now just an inconvenient hurdle in her life, and she had lost time to make up for.
Seth tilted her chin up and placed a damnably chaste kiss on her lips and said, “Baby steps.”
She wanted to kick herself for offering so soon. She’d likely scared him off from wanting to get closer to her.
Screw baby steps. I’d like to get laid, thank you very much!
Seth let loose a faint, amused chuckle. “You’re killing me with your little lip pooching out like that. The last thing I want is to disappoint you but I…I know what I’m talking about. I want you to be able to smile at the memory of your first time and have no regrets.” He hugged her, and she noticed the large, hard ridge at his groin and felt a mixture of guilt and disappointment. The twinkle returned to his eyes as he gazed into hers. “I’m leaving before I do something I’ll regret. I’ll give you a call. Right now I need a cold shower.”
He kissed her forehead, and she found that although she was disappointed, her respect for him had only grown. She tried to make heads or tails of her jumbled emotions as she walked him to the door. She never would’ve guessed that she’d meet a guy unwilling to be coerced into sex. For a moment, it’d seemed as though he was reliving some old memory. Maybe he’d had a virgin before and hadn’t enjoyed it. Hell, if first-time sex was that bad, maybe she should just get it over with. The notion was worth considering but didn’t give her much comfort as the sound of his motorcycle faded in the distance and she turned out the lights.
* * * *
His fingers clasped with Tamar’s, Seth reluctantly followed their host down the dim, narrow corridor, echoes of whispering voices and moans bouncing off the walls. The narrow passage originally might’ve been used by servants or reserved for secret access to private rooms in the stately manor house. The corridor now served another purpose entirely. They passed small groups gazing into two-way mirrors at intervals until they were drawn to a halt behind their host, a little rat of a man whom Seth had taken a dislike to the moment Tamar had introduced them earlier that evening. A heavy beat throbbed through the walls as Tamar leaned close, the flesh of her arm cool against his, and whispered, “Henri has arranged something special for us to watch.”
Henri’s smile made Seth shudder as the little man tugged on a rope, drawing the drape that covered the mirror. “This is what I was telling you about, my dear Tamar. For a small investment, you could become very rich in a short time. This scene is a secret video shoot. I have clients willing to pay top dollar the world over.”
Seth knew nothing about this man’s clientele but guessed a lot when he viewed the occupants of the room. Three men, fitted with leather masks to disguise their faces. They were all completely nude and ready for action by the looks of their genitals. A door in the room opened and another nude, masked man walked in leading a blindfolded, naked young woman. Judging by her gait and the way she giggled, she was either high or drunk, or both. The man leading her directed her onto the bed, and his words were audible over a speaker mounted by the mirror. Seth wanted to walk away but found he was frozen in place, standing next to Tamar.
Unwilling to see what happened next, Seth squeezed Tamar’s hand to get her attention. She ignored him as she watched the men stroking their cocks.
He leaned toward her to whisper, “What is this? I thought you wanted to attend a party.”
Tamar smirked and laid a kiss on his cheek. Her brown eyes were lit with dark lust as she murmured, “We are, Seth. Don’t be a rube. Enjoy the show.”
According to rumor, the parties that occurred at this manor house, located on a country estate outside Paris, were legendary. Seth wondered if Henri made his money with blackmail or with the sale of pornographic material. Either way, this wasn’t Seth’s area of interest or the reason he’d come to Europe. He’d gone out with Tamar tonight to make her happy which seemed more often to be at odds with what made him happy.
She’d become bored with shopping and hadn’t practiced her craft at all in months. He’d realized that becoming a tattoo artist, no matter that she was talented, was one more way Tamar rebelled against her wealthy parents, whom he’d never met. He’d faced the truth that he was there mainly to keep her company at these events, many of which ended with her passing out drunk and spending the next day recovering from a hangover. Seth had already considered the possibility of returning home to the States, with or without her. He wondered what his parents would think of all this.
Tamar sipped her vodka tonic and smirked again as she gazed through the mirror and whispered a question to Henri. Her ultra low-cut white couture dress hung from her painfully thin frame, a stark contrast to the dark tattoos that sleeved both arms, her shoulders, back, and her rib cage. She’d always tended toward thinness, but her lifestyle the last twelve months had caused her to drop even more weight. Designers cooed over her frame, but he’d begun to worry. Ingratiatingly, Henri whispered a reply.
Seth didn’t listen to the conversation emitting from the speakers because it was obvious that the “actor” was simply directing the young woman through loose dialogue for the sake of the camera, flirting with her, and talking dirty in French as he tied her wrists and ankles to the big bed which was fitted for that purpose. Once she was restrained, he played with her, arousing her as she writhed. The other men in the room were motionless, and the young woman obviously couldn’t hear them over the music pumping into the room. The men looked as though they were waiting for their cue.
The lead man finally untied the blindfold, which covered most of the woman’s face. She blinked her eyes blearily, and then her attention was drawn to the interior of the room and finally the three men who stood waiting. She was definitely inebriated, but it didn’t dull the shock on her face when she finally clued in to the fact they were all naked and ready for a gang bang.
Henri clapped his hands lightly and chuckled, obviously pleased. “That look, that expression, that is what makes these sell so well, the sheer authenticity of her reactions and the experience. My clients will pay top dollar for this.”
Seth had no doubt that the young woman hadn’t agreed to this “experience” beforehand. Tamar was riveted as the girl’s chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, the fear growing in her eyes. “What will happen to her?”
Henri shrugged and made a faint moue with his pudgy lips. “She will be paid well, and pfft,” he said, with a dismissive brushing gesture of his hands.
Seth knew he had to do something. He struggled to lift his foot from the floor, to turn, to help that girl and then walk away from this horrible place. He felt anchored in concrete, unable to move. Why had he come? Tamar glanced at Seth, but any real emotion she felt was hidden beneath her cynical façade as she sipped her drink. Her hands didn’t even shake. Seth wanted to be sick. He broke out in a cold sweat, chills racing over his body.
“No!” Seth bolted upright in his bed, disgust stirring the nausea in his gut. He caught his breath as the quiet of his own dark bedroom settled around him. He wasn’t in Paris. He was in Divine. Time and distance did a lot to ease the anxiety he felt every time he had that damned dream, but neither could do a thing for the guilt he still felt.
He’d tried to stop that scene from happening but he’d been bodily ejected from the hallway and the manor house altogether. Because of the pounding music, nobody in any of the rooms would’ve heard his protests. As far as he knew, the scene and the video shoot had gone forward exactly as Henri had planned. Seth had no idea what had become of the girl.
He gritted his teeth at the recollection of the men standing in the corner waiting their turn—and the shock on the girl’s face when she’d real
ized why they were there.
He’d had that same dream several times since leaving Europe, but this time it had ended before the horrible reality set in. He shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees, taking deep breaths.
Jayne had questioned why the loss of her virginity was such a big deal to him. This dream reinforced his decision. That girl in Paris had probably not been a virgin. Otherwise she never would’ve been in a place like that, allowing that man to tie her up as a prelude to sex. But she now had a memory she could never erase. He couldn’t fix that but he could keep himself from creating bad memories for Jayne.
She might write erotic stories for a hobby, so it could be argued that she wasn’t innocent. The way she’d blushed when he’d shown her the rose tattoo drawings told him that she was. He remembered that her first tattoo session was the following afternoon and an odd mix of anticipation and dread filled his gut.
I had to go and draw a design that would require her to be practically nude on the table for each session, didn’t I?
He’d worried that he’d hurt her feelings the night before, when he’d declined her request. As he’d given her all the reasons why he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her what she asked for, his inner caveman had been in an uproar, shouting reasons why he could give her what she wanted.
It would be impossible to just walk away from her after making love to her, and she’d given no indicator she wanted more. He was single, and in his prime, and normally he would’ve given the offer more thought. But there was something about Jayne, with her innocent, yet seductive, ways that spoke of permanence and commitment that she hadn’t also asked for. But his body craved her and the following afternoon was going to test his willpower.
His good intentions were going to be strained to their limits but he wasn’t going to be the one to shortchange her dream. She’d come that far and she deserved it.
Chapter Three
What in the fuck have I gotten myself into?
That thought echoed in Seth’s brain over and over again as he waited for Jayne to arrive. She’d called a few minutes before and told him she was on her way to Divine Ink from the library.
To make sure she understood the commitment she was making, he planned to draw the basic design on with a hypoallergenic marker first. If she still liked it, then he’d begin tattooing her. She didn’t seem the flaky type, but in his years as a tattoo artist, he’d seen people back out at the first twinge of pain, or have “buyer’s remorse” after the process was started.
He was willing to admit that her happiness with this tattoo meant more to him than any of the others he’d ever done. He didn’t doubt his skills. He just wanted her to be pleased with it long-term and to have a positive experience to remember in the years to come.
The bell jingled, and Jayne walked in the front door and smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty rosy color, and she seemed in good spirits.
“Before we get started, Seth, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot last night. It was the adrenaline, and the heightened emotions of the moment. I got carried away and put the cart before the horse. Could we pretend yesterday didn’t happen at all?” Her unusual blue-green eyes shone with hope, and he couldn’t help but smile.
She went right to him when he opened his arms and hugged him back. “If it makes you feel better, I will. But I enjoyed that story you were writing.”
“It’s still embarrassing to know you’ve gotten a look inside my head like that.”
Seth chuckled as he directed her around the counter and behind the partitioning wall, to the back of the studio where his more private workspace was set up. “I thought it was good and I think a lot people might agree.”
She snorted in disbelief. “What would you like me to do?”
Make an offer I can’t refuse.
Biting his tongue on what he really wanted to say, he showed her where to stow her clothing and her purse. “I’m going to sketch the basic design on you with a marker so you can see the placement and we can make changes to your liking. Are you ticklish?”
“Not really.” She gulped as she held the top button of her blouse between her fingertips. “Is this where it gets weird or uncomfortable, because of what happened last night?”
Seth gently grasped her hand. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Jayne. It’s not weird for me. I want you to be able to relax because this will take several sessions. Once we’re sure you like the placement of the design, I’ll drape the parts I’m not working on. You can leave your panties on, but for now I’ll need everything else off.”
Her voice had a slight shake to it when she responded and undid the buttons on her blouse. He turned to his portable work table and opened the sketchbook to the page with her original drawing on it. It was unbelievably hard not to turn back around and watch her strip. This was a fantasy coming to life for him, being able to put that design on her beautiful skin.
While she undressed, he organized his supplies. He could hear her clothing rustling around, and the anticipation to see her built inside him. His cock tingled as he imagined her taking each garment off, revealing more and more of her gorgeous flesh and her lush figure. He enjoyed looking at a beautiful naked woman as much as the next man, but this particular woman really made him love his career choice.
“I’m ready, Seth.” He could hear the trace of self-consciousness in her muted voice.
He turned to her and couldn’t help it when he paused and just…stared at her. From head to toe, she was curvy perfection. She perched nervously on the paper-lined padded table, clad in nothing but a black lace G-string. She noted his gaze and hooked the thin waistband with her thumb. “I was trying to make it easier for you.”
His cock hardened so fast it drew her eyes, and she blushed profusely. He groaned and chuckled as he carefully took a seat on his rolling stool. “I’m sorry. That’s completely unprofessional of me, Jayne, but you’re gorgeous.”
She smiled at him, and her eyes twinkled. She was adorable as she sat there with her ankles crossed and her little pedicured toes hooked together. Her reddish-brown hair curled around her shoulders and framed her pink-tipped breasts, and her hands were braced on the table beside her sweetly rounded thighs. Her knees were pressed together, and he could see her pulse pounding rapidly at the base of her throat.
Best to get started. Otherwise there’s going to be touching and kissing and she might get what she asked for after all.
Being fairly certain that she would accept his attention willingly made him even harder.
She bit her lip as he reached out and gathered her hair so it all flowed down her back, not hiding an inch of her lovely, bountiful breasts. Her nipples hardened to pebbled points that his mouth watered to taste. This close, her unique scent was intoxicating.
Remembering the marker in his hands, he said, “Hold your arms out at your sides for me.”
She was slightly elevated on the table so that her breasts were at his eye level. A slight gasp escaped her as he drew the curving outline of the first rose. He rolled close enough that her calf was trapped between his thighs as he sketched the vine on her rib cage beside her right breast. In the quiet of the studio, she exhaled slowly, and he could see her studying his face in his peripheral vision. He glanced up at her and smiled. Her tremulous, reciprocating smile lit a fire inside him as he turned his attention once more to his work. She couldn’t see what he was doing without twisting around, so she watched him instead. The knuckles of his right hand brushed against the silky outer curve of her breast as he sketched. Once he was tattooing her, he’d have gloves on, and he was sure he’d miss the feel of her smooth skin. Her soft, rapid respirations signaled her continued nervousness and he knew what she needed.
He grinned and held the marker up to her. “Hold this, please. I know what I forgot.”
She took the marker from him. “What?”
“I think this might help you relax.” He turned on the sound system on the work counter, placed three CDs in the
changer, and placed the remote in her hand. “You can skip to the next song anytime you want.”
The low strains of Apocalyptica’s “Cohkka” began, and he went back to work. As Jayne listened to the first minute or two, an unknowingly seductive smile crossed her face, and he had to take a deep breath. This song made him think of her every time he listened to it.
“I love cello. This is different. Sexy. It would probably be good writing music, too.”
Seth nodded as he continued drawing and tried to ignore his aching cock. The blend of classical cello with modern rhythms and hard rock arrangements picked up its pace, and he paced his sketching along with it. He was pleased that she liked his choice. That meant something to him.
“Lean back on your hands just a bit,” he murmured as he started the section of the design that extended in a diagonal formation from her upper right rib cage downward and across to her left hip. He brushed his thumb over a patch of skin that was a darker shade than the rest, near her belly button. There were also three small scars. As he continued drawing, doing his best to encompass each mark within an area that would be tattooed, he asked, “Would you tell me about dealing with your illness?”
Seth wanted to know everything about her and she might find it a welcome distraction. Talking about it while he worked on covering those areas might help her to have a little more closure as well. He knew that from past experience with other cancer patients.
“Well…I’d graduated from Sam Houston State University, in Huntsville, and was working as an assistant librarian on campus, when I first had symptoms. At a routine checkup I mentioned them and my physician got suspicious.”
Heather Rainier Page 4
