Two to Tango (Erotic Romance)

by Strong, Mimi

  After the waiter left, I hissed, “So bossy.”

  His hazel eyes mesmerized me, seeming to shift between amber brown and green in the bright light of the sunny room. “More like impatient. You wanted lunch, so let’s have lunch.”

  “Another problem solved by you. I bet you’re indispensable around here.”

  He held me in his gaze, sending a serious sex vibe straight into my body, across the floral-scented air between us. “I can be indispensable anywhere.”

  My neck burned with the sensation of being watched. I turned around to catch two women with ice-blond hair staring at our table. They looked like mother and daughter, their ages falling on either side of Charlie’s. They both smiled and waved at him once they’d caught his eye, ignoring me.

  I turned back to face him. “You know those women?”

  “Of course I know them. They’re members here.”

  “But do you know them?”

  “I hadn’t figured you for the jealous type. I like to see you squirm, though. Your blue eyes just got brighter, and you’re looking at me now like maybe you’re not so hungry for lunch after all. You’re thinking about how much better it would be to sit there knowing your teeth marks were still red on my shoulder. That you’d marked me as your own.”

  “You think you know me? You think you know women?”

  “I’ve seen things.”

  The waiter brought our mimosas—sparkling wine mixed with orange juice—and placed them in front of us. He looked to Charlie for approval, who dismissed him with a subtle nod.

  “You might know the women around here, but you don’t know me,” I said. “I’m not hungry for power, not looking to make partner at a law firm, and not looking to get a ring from someone who did. If I won the lottery, I’d give all that money away before it poisoned me and took my soul.”

  He sipped his mimosa, a troubled expression on his face.

  I dug my fingernails into my palms. Fuck. I’d gone and revealed my ugliness to him already. In showing him a glimpse of my pain, instead of helping us bond, I’d made myself look like a psycho.

  “You’re afraid of rich people,” he said.

  “Not afraid. I just don’t like them.”

  “Then why are you here at The Cedars? It’s like being afraid of snakes and going for lunch at a reptile farm.”

  “I suppose I was drawn here. Like that thing Freud talked about. The death wish we all have.” I looked down at the drink in my hand. I was so nervous, so on edge, I couldn’t even taste the orange juice.

  “Slow down or you’ll get the hiccups again,” he said, his voice still gentle, despite my having been revealed as a psycho chick.

  “Your boss is very good at manipulating people,” I said. “I came here to get some information, and talk to him about doing some good in the community, and he completely changed the topic. He’s very good at that.”

  “Is that the extent of your business with my boss?”

  “Let’s not talk about my stupidity, or his arrogance. Let’s not ruin a beautiful day.”

  I took another sip of the drink, slowly, so I wouldn’t get the hiccups. What had happened during my brief meeting with Mr. Ward terrified me. We’d been in his office, alone, and I’d immediately confessed to him that I wasn’t there about getting a membership.

  I told him all about the dance program, and the good community work done by the center.

  Then he told me I had an incredible body.

  My mouth had gone dry with nervousness when he looked at me that way.

  I kept talking, babbling away about my ideas for keeping all the low-income girls involved in dance programs. Perhaps The Cedars could sponsor some of our programs, even if all they did was cover the cost of some costumes, or travel expenses to bigger competitions.

  Mr. Ward then suggested we get a drink sometime, to talk about my ideas. He said he loved my ideas.

  I got quiet.

  He said he’d seen me at the Open House, and been disappointed when I’d disappeared. He said that he and I could probably come up with some wonderful ideas together.

  And then Charlie had busted in the door of the office.

  I felt… weird.

  I’ve been to shows with hypnotists.

  We have a guy who comes twice a year and performs at the community center. It’s a clean show, for all ages. He makes people quack like chickens and other crazy things, but he doesn’t make them grope each other, like some hypnotists.

  I went up on the stage once as a volunteer. I can’t say for sure if I was truly under the hypnotic spell, or just following along to be a good sport. I don’t mind playing the clown, or looking ridiculous for entertainment, as long as the laughs don’t come from me falling during a dance or splitting my tights.

  Being in that office with Mr. Ward had felt just like being on stage with the hypnotist. I was conscious, but I wasn’t in control. I’d agreed to meet him for a drink. I hated him for his arrogance, but I wasn’t sure it was strong enough to keep me from saying no to him.

  And then the spell had broken.

  Why had he asked me to spend the afternoon with Charlie? What game was he playing? And why was I still there? What the hell kind of game was I playing?

  Every time I tried to solve a problem, I just created a new one.

  I needed help with the rent so I could stay in my apartment, and now I had a sulking roommate, driving me out. I was like the lady who swallowed the spider to catch the fly.

  Our food arrived, and I began eating.

  Charlie said, “Tell me that isn’t the best sandwich you’ve ever had.”

  “I can’t lie.”

  “Stick with me. I know what’s good for you.”

  “I should put you in charge of my life. You’d probably be better at it than me.”

  He started to laugh, his eyes crinkling up at the edges.

  The crushing weight of my worries and fear of changes began to lift. Why couldn’t more days be like this? I enjoyed having lunch in the sunshine, with a cute guy.

  We made some casual conversation about favorite foods.

  As we were finishing, Charlie said, “You’re not the only person who hates rich people, you know. Plenty of people hate the rich.”

  “My father was rich.”

  He blinked at me, his hazel eyes drawing a confession. “Wouldn’t that make you Daddy’s little rich girl? Or did he lose the fortune?”

  “He died.”

  Charlie looked at me sideways. “And?”

  “And his real family took away everything from me and my mother. She was his mistress. He promised he’d take care of her, while he was alive and even after he was gone. She believed him.”

  “You were illegitimate.”

  “The word you’re looking for is bastard.” I took a sip of water to clear the bitter taste in my mouth. “That’s how my half-sisters referred to me.”

  “I don’t understand. You didn’t get your fair share of the inheritance?”

  I laughed—not a happy laugh. “We got nothing. We were thrown out of the townhouse, and we lost everything. My mother called it a fresh start. I called it total bullshit.”

  “Didn’t you get a lawyer? That doesn’t sound right.”

  “It’s all in the past. I was just a little girl, and all I knew was that these other girls, these grown women who looked like me, called me a bastard.” I took a deep breath. It felt good to let out all the awfulness I felt inside, though no amount of letting it out ever made what remained feel smaller. That’s pain for you.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I looked up, surprised to see caring in Charlie’s eyes.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I don’t need your apology, or your pity, or anything. My mother and I got by on our own, and I’m grateful for the life lesson. You can only trust people who are the same as you.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have told you. Now I’m the crazy girl who hat
es rich people.”

  “You’re the beautiful girl with the long legs.”

  He gave me another intense look, making me wiggle on my chair, uncrossing my legs.

  “I told you my sad story, now it’s time for yours.”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Don’t hold back. What happened to you? You’re a smart guy. Why are you fixing irrigation pipes and cleaning swimming pools?”

  “Do you look down on a guy who does those things?”

  “Of course not. I like a guy who’s good with his hands.”

  “You have no idea how good I am with my hands.”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?”

  His eyes shifted down, and I followed his gaze, down the front of my blouse. I reached up and twirled my index finger around each of the pearl buttons. “You’re thinking about the buttons on my blouse falling to the ground like hailstones, when you use those gorgeous hands of yours to rip my blouse off.”

  “Speaking of hailstones, it’s supposed to rain today,” he said.

  “April showers bring May flowers.”

  “What are your favorite flowers? I’ll bring you some if you let me take you out on a date.”

  I was about to answer, when we were interrupted by the younger blonde we’d seen earlier coming up to our table.

  “Charlie, who’s this?” she asked.

  “Erin, this is Skye. Skye, Erin.”

  “Whatever.” She kept glaring at him, not even turning to look at me. “I thought you had rules. I thought you weren’t supposed to date members.”

  “Erin, I’m not.” He held his hands up. “This is my friend. She’s not a member here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Erin flipped her ice-blond hair over her shoulder and gave me a brief, scathing look. “Lucky you. I guess that’ll make it easier for you to avoid her after you pump her and dump her.”

  Charlie stood, his nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “Erin. That’s enough. If you have a problem with me, we can discuss it. In private.”

  “She looks cheap,” Erin said to him, practically snarling. “You can dress her up, but I know cheap when I see it. I bet she sucks your cock like a ten-dollar whore.”

  He stared down at her, not even blinking. “Even a ten-dollar whore has more self-respect than you. Move on, Erin. What happened with us was a mistake.”

  She slapped him. “I loved you.”

  He held his hand to his cheek, stunned. “Holy fuck, Erin. Are you off your meds?”

  She hauled off to slap him again, but he easily caught her wrist in his hand.

  “Back off,” he said. “Back off or I’ll have your membership revoked.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  She shook her hand out of his grasp, then ran out, disappearing as rapidly as she’d appeared.

  Charlie took his seat across from me and picked up the small menu that had been placed on the table after our lunch plates were cleared.

  “Do you have room for dessert?” he asked.

  I picked up the menu and pretended to read it, though the words were blurry. My eyes couldn’t even focus. My pulse was racing, and emotions and images swirled through my head.

  “That’s all you have to say?” I asked. “Dessert? No explanation about that girl?”

  He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You’re a smart girl, Skye. You were the one who said women must throw themselves at me. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by telling you I’m without sin.” He glanced down at the menu in his hand. “Mmm. Speaking of sin. Mud pie. I haven’t had mud pie in ages.”

  “Are there rules about you not dating club members?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times have you broken the rules?”

  “I have my own rules, and those are more important. There is something I haven’t told you, but I haven’t lied to you, and I don’t plan to.”

  “What haven’t you told me?”

  He batted his eyelashes, a smile quirking on his lips. “A thousand things, starting with your eyes. They make me think of the winter sky, and snow falling. Your turn. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I can’t tell what color your eyes are. I’m calling them hazel, in my mind, but the truth is I never believed that was a color before now. I thought it was just people with brown eyes, trying to act like they’re more special than they are.”

  “I’m really happy you didn’t get up and leave in disgust after that ugliness with Erin. I’m sure that was her intent.”

  “It turns me on that you broke her heart.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, whispering, “Pardon me? You’re turned on?”

  I nodded, a tightness in my throat… paired with a tightening of muscles and flesh between my legs.

  Leaning in, I whispered, “That rich little brat thinks she’s so special, but she’s not. You had enough of her after how long? Never mind, don’t say. I bet she sucked you off while you were texting on your phone, because she’s so boring. And you couldn’t wait to get away from her, couldn’t wait to tell her there were rules, and you two couldn’t be together, except for the occasional blowjob. Am I right?”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  The glass sunroom wasn’t sunny anymore. Clouds rolled in.

  “I don’t want dessert, Charlie. I don’t want mud pie.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to get you alone, unzip your jeans, and suck your cock like a ten-dollar whore.”

  “Wow.” He reached for a glass of water and took a sip. “I should have Erin come over and yell at me in front of you more often.”

  The room darkened even more. It was a completely glass room, basically the same as sitting outside. More dark clouds moved in, obscuring the sun. A thunderstorm was on the way.

  We both looked up just as lightning flashed.

  “Storm,” he said. “So much for golf. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “No. Enjoy my company today, because you won’t see me again after this.”

  “Why not? Don’t you like this? Me and you?”

  “You already know too much about me. I don’t tell people about where I came from. I started over in this city, with a clean slate, and that’s how I live.”

  He nodded slowly. “You take care of yourself. You don’t want pity.”

  “Back home, I’m the illegitimate daughter of a whore.” I glared at him, daring him to look away from my ugliness. “My mother was a prostitute. How do you like that? Am I still beautiful to you now?”

  He took a moment to digest the idea of my mother being a prostitute. It was something I never told people, because if I did, they’d assume it was something in the past. Something that used to happen. Even Gloria didn’t know, and she was my closest friend in the world.

  “You like me,” he said.

  “You’re hot, and I want to fuck you, but that’s it. Don’t get any ideas about me, because you don’t know me, and you never will.”

  He pushed his chair back and stood. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and hauled me up. Instead of leaving through the restaurant, he opened a glass door in the atrium and pulled me across the lawn, between beds of flowers.

  Lightning struck again, and thunder rumbled through the valley.

  “I should go home,” I said, pulling at his hand and looking around, trying to determine where the parking lot was.

  Gripping my hand tightly, he led me through an opening in a hedge, down an incline, and then through a gate. We were at the edge of the golf course.

  Rain began to splatter down, cool drops on my forearms, the tops of my cheeks, and along a straight line on my scalp, where I parted my hair.

  Charlie grabbed my hips and pushed my back against the wall of the fence we’d just come through. Over his shoulder, I could see a golf cart in the distance, driving away. The golfers were abandoning the course, driven away by the rain.<
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  He kissed me, his lips wet from the rain, and then wet from mine.

  “I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you.”

  I looked up into his eyes. “I don’t need you.”

  He reached down and pulled my skirt up to my waist, then slid his hand down into my panties, hooking his fingers around me.

  “You need me,” he said. “You just don’t know how much.”

  I groaned and closed my eyes as he stroked me with his fingers, rubbing back and forth in my hot crease.

  The rain began to come down harder, soaking my shirt and his.

  I tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up so I could rub my hands over his back, his skin radiating heat and turning the raindrops warm.

  Charlie pushed two fingers inside and gently fucked me with them. I gasped against his lips, sucking in his breath as he exhaled. He stroked in and out as the world stood still in the rain.

  “Say you need me,” he growled.

  “Shut up and fuck me already.”

  “Not until you beg.”

  He gave me one more kiss on the mouth, his tongue driving hard against mine, then pulled away and sank to his knees before me.

  He pulled down my panties, his fingernails scraping deliberately and slowly down my thighs. He lifted one of my feet, clad in a lace-up boot, and then the other, removing my panties entirely and tucking them in a back pocket.

  “Those legs,” he said.

  “If you like my legs so much, why are you staring at my pussy?”

  “Because I can’t eat your legs.”

  With that, he dove mouth first between my legs. My head snapped back so quickly, it banged the fence and made me see stars.

  His hands swept up and down my legs, cupping my buttocks, then squeezing them before sliding back down again. At the same time, he threaded the tip of his tongue between my lower lips, over the same terrain his fingers had blazed a moment earlier, but with a maddening lightness.

  He asked a question, his mouth on my pussy and his words buzzing me and losing themselves.

  “What?” I asked, realizing as I heard my voice that I was panting, my breathing out of my control.

  He repeated the question. “Do you need me?”

  I turned my face up, the cool rain pelting my closed eyelids. I wasn’t cold. In fact, I was so hot, I imagined steam rising off my face.