The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel)

by Priscilla West

  Naturally, it’s me who shatters the quiet.

  “What’s going to happen now? With Blake, I mean. Are we really done?”

  “Far from it.” Mark sighs. “Now the real dirty work begins. Word will get around quickly and I’ll be spending long days and nights explaining to investors that Sandstone is still a viable venture firm and it was Blake who ran aground, not the whole ship.”

  “That’s not hard to prove,” I add.

  “Blake will get bond from someone, even if Robert won’t do it. You’ll have to give depositions, make court appearances, and answer a lot of questions before the blessed day they haul him to jail. Financial crimes don’t create high sentences, but he’ll be away long enough for me to push him out of Sandstone for good.”

  “So, it’s really all about you?” I tease.

  “Then there is the question of you.” He smiles, putting his hand on his chin. “I was so proud of you today, Julia. You kept a cool head even in a chaotic situation. You allowed Robert to help you, Val to advise you, Paul to speak for you, and me to defend you. You didn’t have to do everything yourself and you opened up to all of us showing your love and gratitude.”

  “This is a question?” I ask, basking in his praise.

  “Our deal is done. Your month of submission is over. I have no more arrangements to make for you. But, I think there still may be some rough edges that need smoothing. Only now you’ll have to do it simply because you want to, not because you have to.”

  “And if I do?”

  “The world of dominance and submission is deep and wide. There is plenty more to learn, see, and do. I’d say it’s time for you to move to the next level.”

  “I’ve been chastised and punished, taken over a desk, against a wall, and in a pool. I’ve been tied up, bent over, spanked red, and stretched in my most intimate places. Frankly, Mark, I have to say the thought of the ‘next level’ scares the living hell out of me!”

  “So are you ready?” He stands holding his hand out to me. I think for a moment, toss the blanket off and set my wine down. Trembling I reach out and take his hand.

  “Quite.”

  He guides me toward the hall containing the bedrooms and I instinctively turn toward the door of his “playroom”, but his hand pulls me in another direction. We go down the hall to a final room at the end. Opening the door, I see it is his bedroom, the one he sleeps in every night. The one place I’ve been dying to go, but could never manage to get myself into because I had to wait for him to invite me.

  The room is elegant in Mark’s simple, straightforward style. An antique dresser with one of those men’s watch and cuff drawers built into the top lines one wall and the closet’s sliding door takes up most of another, revealing a walk-in roughly the size of my living room. His sheets and window treatments are a beautiful blend of browns, golds, and highlights that make the room seem to pop with possibilities and satisfaction all at the same time.

  “I like your decorator,” I say appreciatively.

  “I like the decoration,” Mark replies, leaning down to kiss me deeply. He opens the robe I borrowed after my shower and lets it drop to the floor. I stand there naked, open, and unguarded as he wraps his arms around me. I let myself go as he lifts me and places me on top of the bed.

  I feel this moment’s peaceful pulse and do nothing but watch as Mark unbuttons his shirt and discards his clothing. This time it’s he who seems in a hurry to get things done. He joins me on the bed and holds me in his strong arms.

  “You’re so beautiful, Julia,” he says again and again, like a mantra. “So beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful.”

  My mouth silences him as I turn over to kiss him. It’s a deep kiss so full of longing and desire it seems our very souls are flowing between our two bodies and I nearly cry when he pulls his mouth away. I’m appeased when it leaves me and makes its way to my breasts which he fondles and nuzzles and licks, his hand finding a path to the wanting slit between my legs.

  Our bodies move together in a supernatural accord. He shifts, I open. He licks and I rise. He lines himself up in the entrance of my core and I am wet, waiting and wanting his shaft to push forward–filling and fulfilling me. Our lovemaking takes on a life of its own with a heartbeat that accelerates as he slides deeper into my body, the folds of my flesh gripping and flittering against him. He moves slowly but intently back and forth creating a beat my body follows willingly and easily.

  I wrap my legs around his, pulling Mark further inside me as my hips surge and follow his thrusts. He continues kissing and whispering to me as I feel his shaft inside me, throbbing and ready to release. But he holds on, waiting until he can see by the look in my eyes and the snap of my hips that I am almost there with him. My hands grip his back and I am lost in the thrusts that rock my body and soul so steadily. I see myself on that cliff again, my arms open and with no fear, no push, no thought at all, I lean into Mark and fly.

  I gasp as the deep tremors shake my whole body. Then the gasp grows deeper and more urgent and I realize it’s his pleasure moan, with mine, making a unified sound that echoes through the golden room. I feel his seed buried deep in my body just as his heart becomes attached to my soul. We cling together riding out the wave of our pleasure until he must withdraw. He kisses and holds me until we both succumb to the power of the moment and the exhaustion of the day.

  We wake up sometime later, too early to be morning but too late to be night. I continue kissing his chest and snuggling against him.

  “You know what I need?” I ask seductively.

  “Hmmm?” he mumbles, clearly still waking.

  “I need some chocolate!” That gets his attention. He sits up directly and reaches for his cell. Within minutes he has a bakery on its way with treats, and he is getting ready to put some strong coffee on.

  “We’re not getting all the way up, are we?” I ask. I was hoping for a nice bedtime snacking session.

  “No time like the present! Things to accomplish in our brave new world,” he says cheerfully.

  “Oh my god,” I murmur. “You’re a morning person.”

  I manage to wake up enough to be good company as we drink our coffee and eat sweets. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I sure know last night will stand in memory as one of the best nights in my life.

  “I don’t want to drag up old crap,” I say tentatively. “But, why do you think Blake started talking about my father yesterday. His death was a blow to me like none other, yet, I can’t imagine your brother knowing or caring about that.”

  “Blake was trying to dredge up your guilt. He knows guilt is one of the most powerful ways to get inside someone. If you can activate the guilt button, people will let you bother, control, or harm them without defense.”

  “But that didn’t work.”

  “No, instead of pushing your guilt button, he just succeeded in pushing my anger button.” Mark laughed.

  “Well, I don’t feel guilty about dad. I miss him every day, but I know he would be really happy with the changes I’ve made in my life and I know his love is always with me.”

  “Good. The less guilt you have in your life, the less people can get you down.”

  I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. He’s right, of course. Guilt will kill a relationship faster than jealousy, apathy, or boredom. I let out a deep sigh that clues Mark in to the fact something big is coming.

  “I do have something I feel guilty about,” I say slowly, playing with my coffee stirrer and refusing to make eye contact. “I lied to you, Valerie, and pretty much everyone but Janice.”

  “About what?” He puts his coffee down and frowns in my direction.

  “There really is a big story at Lynx I’ve been hiding. It’s a make or break story and I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t trust you and I thought you might be working for Blake or to get the story for Valerie. If Lynx folded, I was going to use it to start over.”

  “Well, I knew that bullshit about a ‘source
list’ was a lie, but I couldn’t figure out what you might be hiding and decided to let it go. What’s the scoop?”

  “I hired a college kid who was going to intern at Tilden-Jennings. I figured that firm works with every other firm on Wall Street so I might find a story or two. Bosses tell interns everything in order to impress them, and I hoped I’d get lucky. Well, I hit the jackpot. By then end of her semester, my source was given information about stock colliding, where the firms pretend to be rivals but secretly pick a stock to dump and battle over it. Smaller, less experienced firms see the big ones fighting and snap up the inflated stock—”

  “I know what stock colliding is,” Mark says. “And I know it’s illegal. I also know the kinds of firms that get ripped off are the ones who handle retirement funds and small investors who can’t afford to lose the money.”

  “Anyway, I have names, dates, emails, and proof that Tilden-Jennings and three of the major firms on the street were engaged. They brought down a number of college endowments, pension funds, and new businesses. I’ve got it all. I wrote it at home and kept the payments, source and research out of the office to protect the source. They must have seen some messages from me about the big story but other than that I’ve been super careful.”

  “Holy hell, Julia. You’re going to piss off every power player in New York.”

  “That’s not the point, Mark. The point is I have the story and it is written and ready to run. I’m leading off the next issue of Lynx with it. I’m going to put us back on the map.”

  “You think Blake’s opposition was bad? Julia, even if Valerie had found that story, she wouldn’t run it. It’s a hornet’s nest!”

  “Valerie wouldn’t run it because most of her friends are in it!” I counter, getting a bit angry. I thought he’d take my side but I can see the cutting edge is no place for a well-set businessman who cares more about the bottom line than a teacher in Iowa losing her retirement.

  “Think twice before you do this. Blake was a spark. This is fire.”

  “I told you about it because I felt guilty keeping the secret, not because I wanted your advice,” I snap, getting off the stool and heading to the bathroom where I hung my clothes to dry.

  “I don’t want to fight with you.” I hear his footsteps follow behind me.

  “Then stop talking.”

  I leave without so much as a goodbye kiss. He offers to drive me home but I tell him I’ll hail a cab. I ask him not to reveal the story to anyone and he promises he won’t. As I walk through his door, I hear him say one thing under his breath that chills me to the bone.

  “I can see we still have a lot to learn.”

  Chapter 29

  Blake Stone being trussed up and stuffed in a police car not only did something good for the city, it enlivened my entire soul. I spent the weekend in a whirlwind of energy doing laundry, coming up with layout and story leads, calling employees to tell them they were all rehired, and writing my editorial column for the next issue of Lynx. I even managed to go over to Janice’s for lunch and take a quick trip for some new clothes.

  Blake wasn’t out of his cell in time for dinner, as he predicted, but did manage to get bailed out the next day. I wasn’t too worried about him. On the advice of his new lawyer, he is staying home and laying low until trial. Mark spent his weekend at the office, helping investigators plow through the files and build a strong case. We talked on the phone a few times. I apologized for leaving angry, and he said we both had to do what we thought was right.

  I didn’t need an alarm clock to get me up Monday morning. I arrived at the office about a half-hour earlier than normal to find most of the staff already there. They brought in donuts and juice, and Janice put up a big banner that said, “Welcome back Miss Sharp.” It had been purposely written to say “Welcome back Miss Shark” but there was a strike out through the “k” and a “p” had been put in its place. The staff clapped and cheered as I opened my office door. There is a flower arrangement from Mark on my desk. I stand in the doorway and my smile could have lit a small city at midnight.

  “Miss Shark is indeed gone,” I tell my excited staff. “But, Julia Sharp is here to stay!”

  “Long live Miss Sharp!” someone cheers and another round of clapping ensues.

  “Break up the love-fest,” Janice grouses. “Let’s get back to work. We have a magazine to put out!”

  Everyone scurries to their cubicle or office, leaving the two of us standing together. I give her a quick hug and go to my desk. I place the flowers where I can see them and turn the small card over and over in my hand.

  “Welcome back, Julia. I love you, M.S.” It reads. There’s a part of me that’s a little disappointed because I thought he might attend my reunion with Lynx. I know he’s swamped trying to keep his own company out of the mire right now so it makes sense he couldn’t be here.

  “Miss Sharp.” Justin, the layout manager, comes in and plops down for our usual Monday meeting. “I need to know how you want to pursue the lead. I know a guy who might be able to get a hold of Blake Stone’s booking photo and that would make an awesome cover, or if you wanted something more symbolic, like handcuffs on a dollar sign, I can get the illustrator started on sketches.”

  “What are you talking about Justin?”

  “The Sandstone Ventures story, of course. It’s not every day in New York that a major venture capitalist gets arrested for embezzlement, intimidation, and trying to take over a magazine. If any publication has the inside scoop on this, it’s us. I figured it would be the lead.”

  “We aren’t covering that,” I say quietly. I thought about it, naturally. Images of Blake between the arms of those two cops on the cover of Lynx would give me enough satisfaction to smile for a year. But, while it may sooth the ego it won’t pay the bills. When you pull outside of my reality, it’s little else than another “corruption in the city” gig and it would expose me and Mark to more examination than either of us want right now.

  “You’ve been out a month, our deadline is this week and we’ve got nothing to lead. I can grab Fatima’s story about school vouchers, but I don’t think it’s hot off the press material.”

  “School. That reminds me. Is Andy busy on something big? He’s our best street guy and I have an assignment for him right away. Send him in when you leave.” I wave dismissing him. Then realize that’s a Miss Shark habit, and I don’t want to be her anymore. “Thank you. I’ll get back to you soon. Now, go.”

  “But, I don’t have anything for the cover!” he protests. I can’t keep this a secret forever. I’ve got to trust my own staff.

  “We have something very special making the cover. I have an exposé I’ve been sitting on until the time is right. I’ll get you some copy by the end of the day and you can get working on an image. But, Justin, it’s all confidential, okay?”

  “Of course.” He nods. I watch him walk out and give Andy the “batter up” signal. Andy quickly scrambles into my office.

  “I’m working on an essay about the gentrification of West Central,” he says quickly as if I’m an interrogating officer.

  “Well, stop. I have something better,” I grumble. His eyes glisten and I clearly have his attention.

  “Something juicy?”

  “Down on Lexington and Dale there’s a group, some kind of house that helps hookers. Walton House or something.”

  “Walden House,” he corrects. “They are a charity that tries to help young sex workers make the transition out of the trade before they get sick or killed.”

  “Fine, Walden House.”

  “That’s what they’re called, you know. Sex workers. It’s less demeaning than ‘hookers’ and not as biblically damning as ‘prostitutes.’ All women deserve some dignity, boss. Most of these girls—”

  “Thank you, thank you,” I interrupt his high horse. “I don’t need you to tell me about dignity or these girls. I’ve met them. I know them. What I need you to do is get out there and find out why this charity is so underfunded
it can only take two or three women at a time. This city can do better than that.”

  “You know them?” Andy asks, his face a mixture of awe and confusion. I can tell he’s already sold on the story so I’ll be getting something good out of him. He turns to leave and I realize the interruption is again a habit I’d like to change. It’s becoming clear that the new me is going to have to fight to assert herself over the old habits.

  “Andy,” I call to him as he hits the doorway. “I don’t want an objective piece of journalism. By the time this story is finished, I want Walden House to be so well funded they might need a new building to house all their programs. Got it?”

  “Yes ma’am!” He beams and practically skips to his desk.

  I spend most of the afternoon rewriting the Wall Street piece to give to Justin. I double check my facts and make sure I have some kind of backup for every claim I make. I’m quivering with excitement when Janice knocks on my door.