by Liv Morris
“To get you to shut the hell up, I’ll tell you what will be going on. But I need to give my doorman permission to let my client come up here first. You will behave.”
I sigh and know that I’ll comply with what she wants. “I’ll behave.” I cross my heart with my right hand, and like a child cross my left hand’s fingers behind by back.
“All right, Carl. Give me five minutes before you let Mr. James come up the elevator.” Kathryn turns her shoulder away from me and speaks low into the phone. “No, everything’s all right.”
I have no idea what her doorman asked of her, but I bet it has to do with the conversation he overheard while she was speaking with me.
After she places the phone’s receiver back in its holder, she spins around to face me. And boy, oh boy, she’s as pissed as hell.
Chapter 10
Kathryn moves closer to me and I want to cower from her approach. Her eyes reflect an angry fervor, and I’m wondering if this will be her worst berating of me yet.
She’s steaming mad with eyes trained on me. The passion she’s showing makes her sexy as hell. I can’t look away from her beautiful face as she stands in front of me. What a sight to behold. All fire and no ice.
“For starters. I am a certified Tantra instructor. Secondly, no one takes their clothes off when I’m teaching. It’s a lesson, not the actual act. My hope is they will learn from me and then try it out on their partner when they’re home.” She points a finger in a scolding manner as she gives me the details of her Tantra instruction.
“My client tonight is a young man around your age. He’s been with his girlfriend for about two years, and there are certain issues between them. That’s where I’m needed, and that’s all the information I’m sharing. I’ve likely said too much as it is.” She stands before me with her hands on her hips as she concludes her little speech.
Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She told me what I wanted to know. Nobody will be taking their clothes off in her harem tent. I’m not sure exactly what they will be doing, but for my own physical safety, I didn’t push her further.
Kathryn starts straightening the already perfectly placed pillows on the couch. Picking them up to punch and fluff them before replacing them on the couch. She blows a stray hair out of her eyes as she mutters under her breath; I make out a few choice words. Mostly calling me an asshole repeatedly. I back off a little and give her some space.
I wonder where she wants me to be when this man comes up for his sex training. I’d like to be in the room videotaping the session or taking notes, to be honest. However, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.
“Um, where do you want me to hang out while your doing, um, what you do?” I try to ask in a helpful tone. I don’t want to hide away in another part of her apartment; I need to check this guy out.
“Just stay in the living room area, I guess. Use the time to catch up on emails or make calls. I don’t know, but just don’t watch TV. The sound really travels around the apartment, and I can’t have distractions during my sessions.” She picks a couple books up off the side table by the couch and walks over to me. “Here, read these. They will explain a little bit about Tantra. And don’t just look at the pictures. Really read them. Okay?”
“Okay.” A look of satisfaction crosses her face as I willingly take the books from her hand. Truthfully, I’m anxious to learn about Tantra, because I’m at a total loss.
“Would you care for something to drink?” Her question is saccharine sweet. The smile spread across her flawless faces tells me that pleasantries are back, and I’m relieved.
“Yes, please. A glass of water would be great.” My throat’s parched. It’s probably all the sexual frustration I’ve been experiencing with her and the tension surrounding Simon. My body feels like it’s run a marathon tonight. Kathryn leaves the room and goes down the hallway toward the kitchen.
I nervously pace her living room with her books in my hands. Waiting for her trainee to show up at the door is complete torture. I want to grab hold of her newly straightened pillows on the couch and start punching them, too. A raging bout would be the only thing to relieve the anxiety I feel for this man intruding on our time together.
But I have to be honest with myself; I have no claims on her. We’ve held hands. I kissed her, twice. And unbelievably, she’s graciously letting me stay as her guest knowing a gun-welding maniac is after me.
I have no right to demand this man stays away. But one thing’s for sure. He better be ugly as sin with horrible body odor and nose hair, or I’m going to go nuts at the thought of her behind closed doors with him.
Kathryn returns from the kitchen with a tall glass of ice water for me. I take it from her hands with a grateful smile.
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. Her doorbell chimes the second after I speak. We stand still and look at each other, our eyes silently saying, “This is it.”
Her “appointment” has arrived. My stomach feels tight and cramped, even my palms are starting to sweat. Such a rare thing, but I don’t like the thought of meeting this guy at all.
“Excuse me, Kingsley. My client is here.” I swear there is a touch of nervousness in her voice. “Please make yourself at home.”
Kathryn stands at the door for a second or two before opening it. Almost like she’s bracing herself. I find this behavior very interesting and it helps confirm I’m not the only one feeling uncomfortable with this situation. She turns the knob and I prepare for the man of the hour, or the next forty-five minutes, to enter.
When this man, Eric, steps over her threshold, well, I don’t like what I see one fucking bit. The guy is a tall, athletically built young man, maybe around twenty-four. His hair is a sun-bleached blond, and I bet it’s as fake as a porn star’s boobs.
He looks as if he drove in straight from the Hamptons in his shiny BMW convertible. Preppy, reeking of old money, and model-handsome if I had to describe him.
Fuckity fuck. I don’t like this guy one damn bit.
After he’s inside the foyer, he greets Kathryn with a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. It’s not one of those feigned New York City embraces. It’s a real one, and the fact she responds in kind to him makes me dislike him even more.
“Kathryn, you look lovely as always.” He’s pulled back from her but still holds onto her arms, assessing and giving her a way-too-long once-over. I swear he’s definitely checking her out. I’m sure he finds her as perfect as I do. Fucking blonde beach boy asshole.
“Thanks, Eric. You’re too sweet.” Sweet? No, Kathryn, he’s here to be taught about sex from you. He’s likely one horny fuck. God knows I am.
I step into the open, drawing attention to myself. He moves forward a bit to match my movements. At least he’s dropped his fucking hands off her. I glance over to Kathryn; she’s biting her lip, likely nervous I’m going to misbehave I bet. Well, I can do charming, too. Watch this, Eric.
“Good evening.” I extend my hand to a surprised-looking Eric, recognition apparent in his eyes. Everyone in Manhattan knows Adam Kingsley, this asshole isn’t an exception. It’s time to show this punk my take-no-prisoners nature.
“Adam Kingsley.” My voice is commanding and my handshake firm, perhaps bordering on a bit painful.
“Wow, the Adam Kingsley. He really does exist.” He shakes my hand more avidly. Blondie is impressed, a look of almost adoration showing in his eyes. For once I’m not disgusted with someone fawning over me. I might even be enjoying it.
“In the flesh,” I respond matter-of-factly.
“I’m Eric James. Wow, it’s incredible meeting you. You’re kind of a hero to us young guys.” Eric shakes his head, correcting himself. “Sorry, let me back up. I work at Goldman’s in the distressed assets department. To be honest with you, you’re more of a legend. I can’t believe I’m meeting you.”
I shift my gaze to see Kathryn, who’s shaking her head while she laughs at our exchange. There’s no way to impress this woman, it seems to me.<
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Humbly, I put my hand over my heart. “Hero, legend . . . that is a big stretch, but thanks.”
Blondie looks at the books in my left hand and glances back up at me. “Are you here for a Tantra lesson, too?” Kathryn clears her throat after Blondie asks the question, likely wanting to change the subject.
“Now that you two have met,” she acts quickly by patting her patient’s back, “we better get started, Eric.”
Kathryn is all professional. It’s time for her and this guy to get down to business. I’d be lying if I said I was okay with it. I’m as jealous as hell that this blonde kid from Goldman’s getting to spend time with her alone.
“Sure thing, Kathryn. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kingsley,” Eric says turning back to me once again. The admiration in his eyes is still there, and I wonder if he can see the jealousy in mine.
“Same to you.” My response more terse then I would’ve liked. Kathryn’s look of disapproval plows right into me. Surely I should’ve learned by now to rein myself in with her.
“Have a nice…” Shit I’m stumped. Trying to remedy my smart mouth, and now I’m stuck. What do I call their time together? A Romp? Pillow time? Finally landing on my feet, I say, “Um, session.” I don’t even want to look at Kathryn, but my eyes find her anyway. She’s sporting a knowing smirk; a damn sexy one, in fact.
“Eric, why don’t you head into my office and change? I’ll do the same and join you in a couple of minutes.” Kathryn instructs him with a wave of her hand toward her office, or harem tent.
Change into what? I want to ask but hold my tongue. I have never watched my words so much in my life. But I will learn to control my mouth around her, even if it kills me.
Eric heads back toward the harem tent, but Kathryn doesn’t follow. Instead, she turns my direction.
“Try to be good while I’m busy. Forty-five minutes isn’t too much to ask, right?” I don’t think she believes I can sit here and not cause trouble. Smart woman.
“Yes, yes. I’ve already promised, remember? Besides, I have some reading to do.” I hold up and shake the Tantra books in my hands and take a seat in her oversized armchair. “Not to mention countless emails that likely need my attention. I’ll keep myself entertained.”
“I’m holding you to that promise.” She ends with a wink at me, and that delicious smile that makes me want to get up from the chair and kiss her breathless. I grip the armrest to keep me planted in place.
God, how the fuck am I going to survive this, but I return her smile and give a quick salute with my hand. Then she is gone. Vanishing down the hall. Off to Tantra.
I hear doors opening and closing in the distance. Then there’s nothing coming from the hallway leading down to her office. Just silence. My mind keeps traveling back to the room, the pillows, and what they might be doing in there.
To get my mind off these rather tormenting thoughts, I decide to open the Tantra books on my lap. What the hell? If I can’t be in there to join them, I’ll just have to settle for second best: educating myself on the subject.
I’m an intelligent man; this shouldn’t be too hard. I also know my way around a woman’s body, so who knows, maybe I can show her a thing or two. But that’s getting a little ahead of myself. We haven’t gone beyond a kiss.
All the emails requiring attention can wait a few minutes. I can’t concentrate on work right now, anyway. Not knowing what Kathryn’s up to, what she’s teaching him, is very disconcerting. I pick up one of the Tantra books and thumb through the pages. A thought crosses my mind: Hopefully, Kathryn might teach me Tantra at some point. Getting lost thinking about anything involving Kathryn is easy, but I can’t forget more pressing matters, either.
All this Simon business can go to hell, too. There’s not a thing I can do right now to make it right or better. Just wait for his next move, or until authorities catch up to him. I’m resolved to focus on the things at hand where I might have a little more control or payback for my efforts.
The first book’s title is simple enough, Tantra Sex: The Loving Touch. I can handle this if it’s just about touching. Been there, done that for the last eighteen years. I was fourteen when I felt my first nipple. I came in my pants after about five minutes of kissing the girl while groping her breast. But damn, no man can forget his first boob, first pussy, and especially his first fuck.
I remember the coy way, as a teenager, I had to fool around with her in hopes of touching her tit. Lightly rubbing her back. Letting my hands wander closer to the sides of her breast with each pass I made.
In some ways, this adolescent scenario reflects my evening with Kathryn. God knows she pulled away from me in Maurice’s office as my hands grazed the side of her breasts.
Thank fuck I didn’t try to go further. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind, though.
Back to the book, I find the table of contents. I’m shocked at the odd titles of the chapters. One section pops out at me above the others; “The Power of Touch” on page twenty-eight. Seems like the best place to start, so I locate the page and begin.
As I read the start to this chapter, the words seem to hit me. “Touch, the most powerful force in our world”. That statement has me scoffing at such a bold claim. Seriously, the most powerful? But I continue reading, trying to hold off my judgments.
The author explains the essentials of touch. How every human being needs it to survive. A basic need no different than food, water, and shelter. Infants who are withheld from human touch develop a condition known as “failure to thrive.” The lack of being, held, cuddled, and the denial of human social contact contributes to this possibly deadly condition.
A charity event I attended for orphans talked about this very thing a few months ago. They gathered armies of volunteers in their African community to come and hold the babies, speak to them, and caress their faces. Giving the infants a mother’s touch.
The impact of their speech at the event hit me hard. I thought of my own late mother, Flora. She was always there for me. Never a morning went by when she didn’t give me a hug and a kiss goodbye before I ran through our patchy yard to catch the school bus.
When I returned home at the end of the day, she was always waiting for me with open arms. Not a second of my life passed by where I didn’t feel cherished. Her loving touch was her gift to me. The gentle way she pushed my unruly hair out of my eyes, and holding and comforting me when I hurt myself falling off my bicycle or attempted some crazy skateboard maneuver.
It’s dangerous to let my mind reminisce about my mother like I’m doing now. The memories are way too painful and raw, but for once I don’t stop the thoughts as I sit here in Kathryn’s overstuffed chair. Instead I choose to get lost in them. Maybe it’s the threat from Simon that makes me give into the feelings, but I do miss my mother and would give every last cent I’ve earned to have her back on earth with me.
Her gentleness. Her unconditional love. Long-buried feelings begin to bubble up inside of me. The ones I’ve carefully suppressed since I walked away from her graveside when I was twenty-two. I should stop the dangerous path I’m heading down, but my eyes automatically close and I drift away when I see my mother in my mind’s eye. Her loving smile with eyes full of acceptance and kindness.
An odd feeling in my throat starts to well up. There’s a tightening in my gut when I picture my mother alive and well. The deep sadness hits me out of nowhere. I am having troubling swallowing and my eyes are becoming damp with tears I haven’t shed in ten years. I quickly open my eyes and jump to my feet while rubbing my hands across my face, hoping it helps me snap out of wherever my mind just took me. This shit needs to get shut down immediately.
Holy fuck, what is a matter with me tonight? I never drop my guard and let those memories invade during waking hours. Being tormented with them at night is hard enough, but never during the day. Fucking Tantra and its touch bullshit.
On shaky legs, I walk to the large glass window where I once again discover the vast darkness of Central Park. Fee
ling feverish, I lean my forehead against the cool glass, not caring if I smudge Kathryn’s window.
I think I’ve had enough Tantra reading for tonight, so I grab my phone out of my discarded suit coat lying over the arm of the couch. As I expected, there are calls, emails, and missed texts. But before it gets too late, there is a very important call I need to make.
I find the number for my housekeeper, Rosa. She never watches television, so she’s likely not heard about the incident with Simon at the library gala tonight. If she comes to work for me at the regularly scheduled time tomorrow morning, I’m concerned she’ll be in harm’s way.
“Hello,” she answers.
“Good evening, Rosa. It’s Adam. My apologies for calling so late, but I wanted to let you know that you can have the day off tomorrow. As a matter of fact, take the entire weekend off. With pay, of course.”
“I don’t understand, Mr. Kingsley. Is there something I’ve done? Am I being fired?” Rosa speaks fast and in a near panic.
“Oh, good God. No, no. You’re not being fired. An issue has come up for me personally and things need to get sorted out. Hopefully everything will back to normal by Monday. I should know more this weekend.” Hopefully my words are enough to convince Rosa that all is well.
“You had me worried, Mr. Kingsley. This is unlike you. I hope everything is okay.” Her concern isn’t hard to mistake. She’s always been motherly to me.
“Everything will be fine. Unless you hear from me, plan on returning to the penthouse Monday morning at six a.m.”
Somehow I’m sure she’ll find out about Simon nearly shooting Tom. It’s likely her older son will tell her. But right now, I’m too drained to go into the explanation and then address her concerns and questions.
“Good evening, Rosa.”
“Night, Mr. Kingsley. And I hope everything is okay.”
“Thanks, Rosa. I’m sure it will be.”
Turning my attention back to my emails, I open one marked “urgent” from Patrick. As I expected, he’s already handling the situation for me and Kings.
