by May, Linnea
It is the first time in weeks that I hear his voice. He sounds relieved and excited with an unmistakable sound of hope in his voice.
It melts my heart.
“Cedric,” I whisper.
“Renee,” he repeats. “It is so good to hear your voice! You have no idea…”
I think I do have an idea. Until just now, I hadn’t realized how much I missed hearing his voice.
Despite all my efforts to rebuild my safety walls and to go back to my old self, I have missed him terribly.
“So?” he asks. “What do you think?”
I hesitate for a moment as I try to find the right words.
But I am not a writer, and I have never been particularly eloquent.
“I liked it,” I say and clear my throat. “I have to admit, you’re not that bad of a writer, Mr. Crow.”
He lets out a hearty laugh that accommodates a lot more than pure amusement at my ridiculous understatement.
“Oh god, Renee,” he exclaims. “I need to see you. Can we talk about the rest in person? I have to go out of town insanely early tomorrow morning. But are you free this Saturday?”
I smile. “Yes, I am.”
“To talk!” I add. “Just to talk.”
I don’t want him to think that all is said and done. That we are right back to that beautiful place we were before I found his notes.
“Yes, of course,” he says. “I’ll have Craig pick you up at seven and-”
“And bring me to your place,” I interrupt. “I know the drill.”
“No,” he says. “We will be going out on Saturday. I want to treat you to the kind of dinner you deserve, especially when we have such important things to discuss.”
“Oh,” I make.
He wants to see me in public?
“Are you sure?” I reconfirm.
“Yes, I am,” he says. “It’s a nice place. I am sure you will like it.”
“What’s the dress code?”
I am not sure why I am asking this at first, but it strikes me that I have never had to worry about the adequacy of my getup when I met him before, because we always stayed inside. Of course, I have tried to doll myself up for him, and my wardrobe has improved drastically because he kept buying me nicer things, especially dresses that he thought would look good on me. But often enough, I had just worn budget clothing off the rack that I liked on myself but that would definitely stand out in a public five-class environment.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
And that’s that.
Okay, if he doesn’t worry, I will try to be the same.
But of course, that doesn’t work. By the time Saturday finally comes around, I spend most of the day in front of my full body mirror and rummaging through my entire wardrobe. Most of it is useless to begin with, but I do not lose hope of finding something suitable in the far back that I might have forgotten about.
I haven’t worn a single item of clothing he gave to me during the past few weeks, and I only have about half of it in my own closet, because I often changed clothes in his place when I stayed for an entire weekend. The choices are limited, and for some reason, none of them seems to fit today.
I eventually opt for a dark and subtle evening dress that ends shortly above my knees. It has always been one of my favorites and appears to be the most suitable for tonight, considering that we are going to have dinner at a fancy restaurant.
At least, that is what I assume the plan to be for tonight.
Craig rings at my door at seven sharp.
“Just a minute!” I yell through the intercom.
Usually, Craig would just reply with a simple “Yes” and wait for me downstairs, but tonight he asks to come up.
“Sorry?” I clarify.
“Miss, if I could please come up,” he says again. “I am to give you something before we leave.”
I am a little confused at this but let him come upstairs nonetheless. I just hope he doesn’t want to come in, though. My place is a mess.
“Good evening,” he says when I open the door for him, holding up a large garment bag.
“Good… evening,” I utter, looking back and forth between him and the bag.
“Mr. Crow asked me to give this to you,” he says. “You are to wear this tonight. If it pleases you.”
“Oh,” I make as I receive the garment. “Um, thank you, Craig. It’ll just be a moment.”
I wonder if it would be rude to make him wait outside or if I should ask him inside. Luckily, Craig relieves me of that decision by taking a step back and letting me know that he will be waiting downstairs at the car for me.
“Thank you,” I repeat.
He just nods quietly and disappears. I would love to know what goes on inside his head. Craig is the epitome of a discreet character, but he has to be thinking something about the things his boss tells him to do.
I wonder how much he is aware of Cedric’s sexual preferences and the details of his dating life. And how many dresses he has delivered to other women before…
I thrust the thoughts aside and turn my attention to the dress that Craig brought me.
I carefully free it from the garment bag and hold it up in front of my eyes. My eyes widen, and my jaw drops as I assess the exquisite material. The fabric has a velvet texture in a dark, night blue color. It has a deep scoop back and appears to be a snug fit.
I quickly get out of the outfit I had chosen for tonight and put the dress on. It fits almost perfectly. The tight fit is a little loose in some areas, and I curse myself for abusing my already slim frame so much that I lost even more of what little curves I had to begin with.
However, the dress is stunningly beautiful and by far the most sublime piece of clothing he ever bought for me. It ends just above my knees and features a scoop neckline that exposes my unobtrusive cleavage in a flattering way, but it also leaves me a little naked.
A problem that Cedric has anticipated. I notice a little jewelry box that is attached to the garment bag, and when I open it, I find a silver necklace with a little pendant and matching earrings inside.
The pendant is a little lock. I smile as I turn it in front of my eyes and notice that there is something engraved at the backside of it. The letter R.
I don’t want to make Craig wait for too long and hurry to put on the jewelry and slip into my shoes. They were only part of my getup that I didn’t have to worry about because I have a pair of rather low heels that go perfectly with just about any dress.
I touch the little pendant at my neck as I step outside, shyly lowering my head as Craig opens the car door for me.
He smiles at me. I think this must be the very first time I have ever seen him smile like that.
“Where are we going?” I ask from the backseat after he has started the car.
“You will like it, Miss,” he assures.
“Yeah, Cedric has told me that much…,” I murmur.
“Miss, if I may be so open,” Craig adds. “You look exceptionally good tonight.”
I chuckle. He has never paid me a compliment before, either. Craig must be having a good day.
“Thanks, Craig,” I say. “I’d really prefer it if you would call me Renee, though.”
I see him grinning through the rear mirror. “As you wish, Renee.”
The drive is not very long, shorter than the distance to Cedric’s apartment. To my surprise, we stop in an inconspicuous side street, and I step out into the darkness, almost scared of what I might have to expect.
“I am sorry,” Craig whispers, becoming aware of my discomfort. “Please, follow me.”
“Where are we?” I ask while I hurry behind him, wrapping my arms around myself as if I was freezing. “What is this?”
“I’m sorry,” Craig repeats. “Please.”
He heads towards a door at a brick building and quickly unlocks it with a key he produces from his pants’ pocket.
We enter the building through a brightly lit and narrow hallway. Craig is walking fa
ster than usual, obviously in a hurry to get me out of this unwelcoming environment. I am not complaining.
After passing through a few more tunnel-like hallways, we finally reach an elevator and quickly get inside. It takes us upstairs and when the door opens, we are welcomed by bright shining lights, white sparkling marble - and Cedric.
He stands in front of the elevator with his hands behind his back, a smile on his handsome face. Dressed in yet another dark suit and a silver tie that matches my jewelry, with his hair combed and gelled to the side he looks unusually dapper, even for himself.
When I step out of the elevator, he opens his arms and approaches me, welcoming me by softly touching my shoulders and leaning forward for a kiss. A gentle peck on my lips.
“You look wonderful,” he whispers. “I am so glad you are here.”
I reciprocate his smile. “You are looking especially dapper tonight, too. What’s the occasion?”
He winks at me and looks over my shoulder to Craig, who has left the elevator behind me.
“Thank you,” he says in his direction. “I think I can take it from here.”
Craig lets out a little chuckle - another thing I have never seen him do - and excuses himself.
Cedric and I are left by ourselves, standing in a well-lit hallway with marble floors and staring at each other like two love drunk and shy teenagers.
Well, me at least. Cedric is back to displaying his usual compelling demeanor.
“You look hungry,” he assesses.
“I am,” I reply and pointedly look around. “I thought we would be meeting at a restaurant.”
“We are,” he says. “Come.”
“Why all the secrecy?” I ask as he leads me down the hallway. “Are you afraid that someone could see us together?”
“No,” he says. “Maybe you are the one tonight who is not supposed to be seeing things ahead of time, young lady.”
I am tickled but roll my eyes at him, which, luckily, goes unnoticed.
We walk through a broad door and end up in a hall like room that indeed appears to be a restaurant. The classy interior is held in dark red colors with golden accents, but overall very reserved in its lavish extravagance. There are a number of round tables spread across the room with candles and flower bouquets as their centerpiece and people sitting around them. At the far end of the room, I spot a little stage area with a microphone, but it is not lit at the moment and does not seem to be used tonight.
The restaurant is well-attended by fancy looking guests of all ages. But despite the number of people who are present, the noise level is rather low.
I have a feeling that this has to do with our appearance. As Cedric leads me through the room, I cannot help but notice heads and eyes following me, despite their efforts of being discreet.
I cannot shake the feeling that this is not an ordinary restaurant visit.
“Do you know these people?” I whisper as we keep walking.
“No,” he says without looking at me.
He leads me to a secluded table for two at the other end of the room, away from the crowded center, much to my relief. The table is placed next to a panoramic window that allows for a nice view across the city.
Being the perfect gentleman, he offers me one of the seats by pulling the chair away from the table. I sit down first and cast him a sheepish grin as he walks around the table to sit down across from me.
As soon as we are seated, a waiter appears seemingly out of nowhere and fills our glasses with champagne. We clink glasses and sip on the costly drink.
“So, you liked it?” Cedric asks, leaning forward on his elbows.
“I did,” I confirm. “It is a well-written story, and I am sure it will sell well.”
“A very businesswise assessment. Very Renee-like,” he replies. “Do you want me to change anything? Is there anything you do not feel comfortable with?”
“No,” I reply honestly. “I have to admit that you handled your muse’s influence very discreetly.”
“You speak about her as if she was a third person,” he points out. “It’s you. You were my muse.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“But that doesn’t mean that the character in the book is you,” he explains. “Or that I was or am planning to exploit you. I cannot help to drink from you as a source of inspiration, but I really hope never to make you feel this way again.”
I cast him a sad smile.
“I was going to tell you everything,” he adds. “I was going to show you the notes. And the book. I always wanted you to be the first to read it since I have met you.”
“Why didn’t you let me know earlier?” I ask. “You said you trusted me.”
“I did, and I do,” he says. “But if you were a writer you would understand that giving away your work is hard to begin with. It is close to impossible when it is not finished. I wasn’t ready. The story wasn’t ready.”
I nod. “I understand.”
“I want things to work out between us,” Cedric continues. “I hate that I made you feel unloved and betrayed. You have to believe me when I say that I never used or manipulated you. And I certainly never planned to drop you. Quite the opposite.”
He reaches forward with one hand and beckons me to take it. I place mine on his, and he starts stroking the back of my hand while he continues to speak. “I really want to do this right this time.”
I am so deeply touched by his words and his honesty that I am fighting tears. Again.
“God, you’re good,” I whisper as a single tear of sentiment rolls down my cheek.
He smirks and reaches up, softly wiping the tear away with the tip of his index finger.
“You are more than good,” he whispers. “You are perfect.”
I smile sheepishly and shake my head.
“However, I have to confess something,” he says. “I lied to you again. Just a little white lie, really.”
“Mhm?” I make, narrowing my eyes as I look at him.
“I do know these people,” he continues, casting a quick glance towards the busy room. “This is a fundraiser event of my publisher for one of the foundations that I have established.”
I furl my eyebrows.
“Don’t worry,” he adds. “We - and especially you - will be left alone. I have asked for some privacy, but I am to give a little speech in a few minutes. About the foundation, but also about my upcoming book, the one that you pretty much hold the rights to-”
“Please, don’t phrase it like that,” I interrupt.
He shakes his head. “I won’t. But that is how I see it.”
He leans forward and subtly gestures towards the stage area.
“When I go up there,” he whispers. “I would like for you to come with me.”
I gasp with horror.
“Uh, Cedric, no! I can’t give a speech in front of-”
“No, no,” he interrupts with a calm voice. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Just stand next to me, I will hold your hand and introduce you as who you are. The woman at my side. The woman I love.”
“Cedric,” I breathe.
I look at him, unsure what else to say. His eyes fixate mine with certainty and longing. How could I ever say no to this man?
The thought of walking up into the public light with him is scary. Deliciously scary.
My heart is racing, jumping up and down in my chest like a hyperactive child, overrun with emotions. A feeling that only he can provoke within me.
Nothing will ever be normal with this man. Nothing will ever be tame and boring. Being with him is like a ride on a rollercoaster. An emotional state like the wild sea. Something I never knew before I met him. The good and the bad.
I am willing to take both.
His smile brightens when I nod without saying a word.
A few moments later, we both rise from our seats, reach for each other’s hand and face the center of attention.
Together.
The End
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“Happy anniversary, my pet,” he whispered as our kiss ended, holding my chin up with two of his fingers, so I was looking at him. His dark eyes were as unreadable as ever, shielded with mystery. Yet, I had already uncovered a range of hidden parts of him - and I knew he would let me in more and more with time.
I smiled. “Happy anniversary, master.”
“Are you happy to see me?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I knew he would check. I knew he would check if I had obeyed his wish. And he did. His hands wandered along my back, then moved to the front, gently kneading my breasts through the fabric of my dress.
“Good girl,” he whispered, giving me a little peck on the forehead.
Then, one of his hands moved along, wandering down my belly, cleverly reaching underneath my light dress. His fingertips skimmed my inner thighs as he slowly moved upwards. I moaned when he reached my center, caressing my wet clit with two of his fingers. Even after all that had happened between us, I was still amazed at how wet just being around him made me.
“You’re such a good slut for me,” he breathed. “Such a perfect girl.”
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College dropout and free spirited Nicky has a strong opinion in regard to mainstream yuppies and their boring lifestyle. When she first meets handsome Evan Beckhart at an underground dance club where he is clearly out of place, she fends off his advances with a sassy attitude.
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