Hard Cover

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  "It adds character."

  "These are three-hundred-dollar slacks."

  I dipped my pretzel in the cheese sauce. "You overpaid by two hundred and fifty bucks."

  "I was thinking of going to Fifth Avenue after lunch." He used finger quotes around the word lunch.

  "You can pick where we go to dinner," I said, rolling my eyes. "Why Fifth Avenue?"

  "I figured we could do a little window shopping. Steal some ideas for Tantric Books." He braced himself as if preparing for a fight.

  "Sounds good to me." I cracked open the soda.

  "It does?" Rory stared at me in surprise.

  “Yes, I can occasionally be reasonable.” I stuck out my tongue at him. "And Jeannine convinced me to let you help. I could use some advice."

  Rory looked like he just won the lottery. He rubbed his hands together. "I'm your man."

  If only.

  "I don't want to have to work so hard to make rent." And I really wanted to get into an apartment. Every night I had to sleep on the futon instead of a real bed was being to feel like torture. Luckily, Rory seemed to like having me sleep over. I was hoping to make that a more frequent thing.

  He nodded. "Let me guess: you make the year's rent in June, July, and August. And the rest of the months are profit."

  "I wish. Half of that is profit. The other half goes into stocking my inventory."

  "You need some higher priced items." He raised his face to the sun appreciatively.

  "My customers are on a fixed budget." Rory looked like one of the marble statues we saw inside, only warm and alive. My fingers itched to touch him.

  "Yeah." He leaned in and dabbed my cheek. "Mustard."

  I felt myself blush.

  "But the tourists aren't,” he said. “They're looking to spend their money. They want to buy new and exciting things. You want to have at least one thing priced to pay the rent that month. Ideally, you sell one of those a month and you don't have to worry so much about summer."

  "I have a bookstore. There's nothing that I carry that's three thousand dollars."

  "I can't fucking believe that's all you pay in rent."

  I ignored the stabbing pain in my temple. "It might not seem much to you, but it's a big chunk of change for me." Every time I forgot he was a billionaire and I was homeless, something like this came up. I needed to remember we were worlds apart, no matter how hot the chemistry or how good the sex was.

  "Sorry," he said. "It’s just that the new stores are paying five times that per month."

  "Fifteen grand? Are you out of your mind? No one can make that."

  "Why do you think I have put in stores with higher end merchandise?"

  Shaking my head, I balled up my wrapper and napkins. "The whole dockside will go bankrupt in a year. Larry will be back to offering ten-year leases to get a guaranteed paycheck."

  "You're underestimating the tourists."

  "You're overestimating what they're going to spend. The restaurants and the food places will be all right. They always are. Everyone else?" I tossed my garbage into the trash, but held on to the cola. "They're going under."

  "I don't think so."

  "You mean to tell me that each one of these stores has something with a fifteen-thousand-dollar price tag on it?"

  "No," he admitted. "But the ones that don't, know how to merchandise for multiple sales and return customers. They rely on a product line to get them in the black every month."

  Slurping my soda, I thought about what he was saying. "So what do you think I could carry that would cost three thousand dollars?"

  "Let's take a look." He put his arm around me and we walked back to the limo.

  The driver had the car idling and the cool air-conditioning felt nice. We took off in the direction of Fifth Avenue. I was worried. I was loving the ease and luxury of being with Rory. He could have any woman in the world, but he was mine for the summer. I still didn’t know why he bothered with me. It had to be more than the sex, right?

  “This isn’t some Eliza Doolittle bullshit, is it?”

  “I lost track of the conversation,” he said.

  “My Fair Lady. I’m not some special project of yours, am I?”

  “No, but my job is to fix up your store or replace it with a store that fits the needs of the community. You know all that. I thought we were good. We had an understanding.”

  “Why complicate it with sex?”

  He tilted his head. “Because you make my dick hard and I make your pussy wet.”

  He had a point.

  “Because I like spending time with you and you tolerate my bullshit because it amuses you.”

  I smirked. “You’re all right, I guess.”

  Rory put a hand over his heart. “Your compliments mean the world to me. So what’s this all about?”

  “I’m freaking out,” I admitted. “This isn’t me. Limos, catered breakfasts, sex on yachts. It seems like a fairy tale. And you’re no Prince Charming.”

  “I can be charming.”

  “What I’m saying is it’s easy to slip into hoping for a happily ever after, but that’s not the way life works with two people as different as you and I.”

  “Don’t quit on us before we begin. We can have this discussion in September, if you want. But for right now, I want to be with you. I want to make love with you. I want to laugh and hold you. There’s no one else who has my attention like you do, Dawn. And it’s been that way since we first started emailing each other.”

  “I have trust issues,” I said.

  “No shit.”

  “I’m trying to work through it.”

  He spread his arms. “Come here.”

  Sitting in his lap, I kissed him. Unlike the other times, it was more affection than sexual, and I hadn’t known I craved that as much as the orgasms. That was another thing that scared me. Rory complicated things. This should have been a string of one-night stands instead of lounging in bed on the weekends and making out in limos. How could I keep him from leaving in September when every man in my life had always left or kicked me out?

  I became aware of the limo circling the block and I reluctantly took Rory’s hand off my ass. “I think we’re here.”

  “Let him drive around the block a few more times.” Rory kissed me again, and what can I say, I was weak. I let him.

  After two more passes around the block, Rory reluctantly came up for air. “If I don’t put a stop to this now, we’ll both be naked.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Not yet,” he said, placing me on the seat next to him. “I’ve got plans.”

  I watched him adjust himself. “I could help take the edge off.”

  It was fun to watch him argue with himself. He rapped on the privacy screen. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered as it slid down. “Pull over at the next corner.”

  "Yes, sir." And the window went back up.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Rory said.

  “It better not be an empty storefront. Or I’m going to lock you out of the limo.”

  We got out of the car and strolled up the street, looking in the windows.

  “Getting any ideas?” he asked, holding my hand.

  “These aren’t really my type of stores,” I said. "They’re all high-end clothing and merchandise like the stores you replaced the old ones with. These are generic, albeit gorgeous, clothes and purses and jewelry. But they could be anywhere in any city. You’re missing the point about having a small boutique by the water in Connecticut. That’s what I want to have.”

  “Then why aren’t you selling postcards and T-shirts that say I Love Haven on them?”

  “Because I still want to be relevant after the tourists go home. I want to cater to the locals. My bookshop is a reflection of me as well as the town.”

  “I don’t think Haven is as risqué as your store.”

  “Tell that to Millie.” I squeezed his hand.

  “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “You’re a
lso not taking it into consideration that if I'm selling a piece of merchandise for three thousand, I've bought it for about half that."

  “Do you think they bought that dress for five hundred dollars?” Rory shook his head. “No. If I had to guess, I’d say they spent that for a crate of them from Indonesia.”

  “Yeah, I’m not into the child labor production issues.”

  “But you know what I mean. In your case, mark it up. If you bought it for ten dollars, sell it for three thousand and ten.”

  “This is just a ridiculous conversation. Name me one thing I could sell in my store for three thousand and ten dollars.”

  “An oil painting of the Sound from Destiny Sinclair.”

  I stopped dead on the sidewalk. People shuffled around us, shooting me dirty looks. “I can’t buy a Destiny Sinclair for ten dollars.” She was a fantastic artist who lived on the water in Old Saybrook. I was a huge fan of her work. “Not even if they were watercolors.”

  “Now that Landscapes is dead, people are looking for art. You were the one to tell me to search out the local dealers. Art dealers,” he corrected himself. “I spoke to Destiny and she’s willing to sell you ten small oil paintings for a thousand dollars each. You mark them up however you like.”

  “I thought you were a real estate mogul, not an art dealer.”

  He shrugged. “I have many skills, and even more contacts.”

  Swallowing hard, I had to blink back tears. How the heck could I explain to Rory that tossing around thousand-dollar bills like they were Benjamins wasn’t in my realm of finance? “For original oils, that’s an amazing deal. But I’m not sure I want to put in that investment.” I was sure all right. If I had the ten grand, I’d hop on this like nobody’s business. “Can I start out with one and see how it goes?”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Rory said, and we continued walking.

  If he was right, I could bring in a twenty-thousand profit with those ten paintings. Assuming they would sell at that price. I’d be a fool not to snap up this deal. Except I didn’t have the money or the credit to buy all ten. If I could sell one, I could buy three more and build on the sales that way. Hopefully, Rory could figure something out. If he couldn’t, I’d ask to speak to her myself. I was sure I could convince Destiny to give me a chance.

  "Do you have any other ideas about things I could try?" I liked the idea of carrying the paintings; they would fit in with my store. I could put them between the bookshelves or display them with a book or some art supplies. Tantric Books wasn’t all about sex, and this might be the gateway I needed to bring more people into the store.

  "What's your highest priced item?" he asked.

  "I've got some dragon statues that are around a hundred dollars."

  "You sell any last month?"

  I thought about it. "One, I think."

  "That's the other thing. We need to work on your brand."

  "I'm my brand." I pointed to my chest. “Me. What you see is what you get. Eclectic, proud, feminist, and not afraid of my sexuality.”

  "And I'm a big fan," he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. "But you sell a little bit of everything. The locals think you sell books and tchotchkes. The new stores think you’re a head shop, and the selectmen think you sell sex."

  "They think I'm a hooker?" I rolled my eyes.

  "No, they think you're a smut peddler."

  "I'm a bookstore," I said, exasperated. “I sell books. Specifically those that empower women and promote feminism and equality. Books that should be sold everywhere and should be in libraries, but are not.”

  "You also sell vibrators and rubbers. I saw them under the counter."

  "So what? Barnes and Noble sells toys too. Some months I can afford groceries because of the studded dildos."

  He frowned. “Your budget is that tight?”

  “I’m exaggerating to prove a point,” I lied. “I do very well selling books too. It’s just I like to have impulse buys available to my customers.”

  “A studded dildo is an impulse buy?”

  “Duh,” I said, shaking my head at him.

  "I think you're on to something with the impulse purchases. I’m not saying get rid of the sex toys. I like that you have them discreetly hidden. It’s like a members-only perk. However, I think you should expand into cosmetics and perfumes."

  I crinkled my nose. "They can get makeup from the drugstores or from Avon or Mary Kay."

  "Exactly. That’s why your product will be custom made to your specification. You can do green lipstick or patchouli bath bombs. High-quality, organic ingredients. It'll fit into your New Age, crunchy vibe."

  "What do you mean? I’m not New Age. Although, getting some crystals might be a nice addition to my product line." I craned my neck at a cute leather halter dress. Where the hell would I wear it, though? I caught a glimpse of the price tag. Ouch, that was a lot of zeros.

  "You've got those boobie dolls staring down at me." He cupped his hands by his chest.

  "Fertility goddesses." I walked ahead of him in disgust.

  "Exactly.” Rory hurried to catch up. “You can design your signature scents and sell them exclusively to your fertility goddess clients as well as the tourists who are looking for something to remind them of their vacation."

  "No one is going to pay twenty-five hundred on body lotion," I scoffed.

  "No, but they will pay twenty-five dollars on something that cost you five."

  "I'm listening." This actually sounded like fun. Especially if I could custom design my own scents and colors.

  "I'll do one better and show you." He stopped in front of a trendy looking boutique. In the window were pots filled with creams, and they were arranged on clear Lucite blocks that shimmered in the sunlight. “Welcome to Mirage.”

  "Please don't tell me you own this store."

  "I don't."

  "And you don't want me to relocate here?"

  "Well, you'd be closer to me, and I'm all for that. But there’s a lot more pressure to succeed here and the rent is triple what I'm getting in Haven."

  "Are you shitting me?"

  "I shit you not."

  Rory opened the door for me and I peeked in. Everything was cool, crisp, and immaculate. I was suddenly self-conscious of my clothes.

  "I feel underdressed."

  "Take off your clothes then." He nudged me inside.

  "Very funny." I walked into the shop. It was wide open with a few products on the shelves. My store was very cluttered compared to this one, but it was also homier. The sterile atmosphere made me uncomfortable.

  A handsome man dressed all in black came up to greet us. "Mr. Parker." He actually bowed. "Your room is ready."

  "What's this?" I gave Rory a sideways glance.

  "Couples massage."

  "I thought we were going to look at products." I followed the man in black to the back of the boutique, where there was a suite of private rooms.

  "We're going to experience them. Massage oil, exfoliating cream for our hands and feet, and then body cream."

  "You do this a lot?" I asked.

  "Don't knock it until you tried it."

  I was up for it. The man in black let us into a room. Sure enough, there were two massage tables with thick sheets and blankets.

  Rory handed me a menu. "Pick your aromatherapy and music and then get undressed."

  "I bet you say that to all the girls."

  I watched him strip naked.

  "Don't look at me like that," he said, lying facedown on the table. “Otherwise me being on my stomach is going to get uncomfortable.”

  "How does citrus and sounds of the sea sound?"

  "Like a tongue twister." His voice was muffled by the pillow.

  There was a knock on the door.

  "Another minute please," I called, and quickly shucked my clothes off and dove under the covers.

  A few seconds later there was another soft knock.

  "Come in," Rory called.

  I heard footsteps.
My face was on a padded face cradle and it was strangely comfortable. I wiggled my toes against the softness of the blankets and felt my body slowly unclench.

  "Hello, I'm Mina, and this is Zenny. We'll be your masseuses today. Please let us know if we're going too hard or not hard enough."

  After that it was a haze of relaxation. The sweet smell of lemon, lime, and grapefruit wafted through the room, while the crash of waves had me dozing in and out. Zenny—or was it Mina?—put my hand in Rory's after she covered it in lotion. I tried to tamp down the dirty thoughts about putting that lotion to good use, but it was difficult. When every inch of my body had been rubbed and pampered, they left us alone to collect ourselves.

  "I'm a pile of goo," I said into the pillow.

  "If I had any energy, I'd take advantage of that."

  I laughed. "This has been a wonderful day. Thank you. I needed this."

  “You’re welcome. Anytime. Just ask.” Rory let go of my hand, and I heard him sit up.

  “I suppose we should get dressed,” I said, rolling over.

  “Take your time.” I heard him get dressed. “I’ve got to talk to the owner about his distribution and get some contacts for you. I booked the room for the rest of the afternoon, so take a nap if you want.”

  “Mmm,” I said, my eyes still closed.

  “But first . . .” Rory flipped up my blanket to my waist.

  “What are you doing?”

  He spread my legs and kissed his way up to my thighs.

  “What if someone comes in?”

  “They won’t,” he said. “But I don’t care if they did.”

  I trembled a little at the thought of being caught, spread out like this with Rory’s head between my legs. When he licked me, I sighed in pleasure. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted this until he got into it. Resting my hand on his head, my hips moved up to get more. No one played with my body like Rory. I wanted to drive him as wild as he made me.

  “Fuck me,” I begged.

  He moaned. It was loud in the quiet room. The room was so quiet I could hear my wetness as he lapped all around my clit.

  My breathing was out of control and my body twisted for more of his talented tongue. “Rory,” I whispered. “Fuck me.”

  Groaning into my pussy, he concentrated on my clit while he pushed two fingers inside me. My head ground back into the pillow. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but when he hooked his fingers to hit my G-spot, I had to put the pillow over my head to muffle my screams. My whole body shook, and still he licked me. I shivered and shrieked. Pulling his hair, I rode his face until the tremors subsided and I fell back, limp.