by Shayne Ford
“Hey, Danielle. Do you have the information?” I ask as I move away from the mirror.
“It was initially booked as a one-way trip.”
“Okay. Then book a flight for tomorrow evening.”
“Well...”
“I’m listening.”
“Apparently, you’re flying back on the company’s plane,” she says
I freeze.
By that, she means his plane.
A few moments of silence pass by before she clears her throat.
“Is there anything else you need me to do?” she asks.
“No, no... That’s fine. I’ll see you next week. Have a wonderful weekend,” I say, my voice a bit shaky.
I don’t have much time to mull over this bit of information before I walk out of my room.
A couple of hours later, I find myself mingling with an ocean of people in a large event room, my eyes darting to the entrance more often than they should.
He’s late.
Tense, I shift my focus back to the place.
The party takes place in the opulent ballroom of a century-old hotel.
The place features high ceilings, crown moldings, and sleek columns. The arched windows, the carved staircases and the impressive entrance showcasing the timeless elegance of the past.
I cut my way through a group of colleagues, heading to the bar.
Francois, a dark-haired man, half French, and half Swiss, a sales manager I met in the training class, slips into a chair next to me.
“How do you like Lausanne?” he asks, smiling.
I flick my eyes to him.
“It’s beautiful,” I say politely.
“Do you want another drink?” he asks, his English carrying a slight accent.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
He orders one for himself.
Somewhere in his late thirties, he fashions a conservative suit, a silk tie, and expensive cufflinks.
There’s no wedding band on his finger, and overall, he sends me mixed vibes.
Despite acting friendly toward me, I caught him staring at me a couple of time, something dark lurking in his eyes.
He openly examines me as he sips his drink, and I start to fidget, suddenly uncomfortable.
“How long have you been with this company, Tara?” he asks, a bit too condescending for my taste.
He shifts his position and looks down at me.
“Six months,” I answer, not a trace of a smile in my voice, no longer trying to hide my discomfort.
“Hmm...”
He flashes an insinuating grin.
“Are you that good?” he asks, the innuendo hitting me like a ton of bricks.
I slide my drink to the side.
“What do you mean?” I ask dryly.
“I mean, you’ve made quite a headway for someone so young, new with the company and, um… should I say beautiful?”
My pulse speeds up as my lips begin to quiver.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He slips his hand on my bare shoulder, making my skin crawl.
“I mean... Who are you fucking, Tara?” he says leaning toward me as if he shares a good joke with me.
My eyes flip wide open.
I push his hand to the side and shift in my seat when a male voice thunders behind me.
“That would be me.”
SHADE
The man’s eyes pop wide open.
His head jerks in my direction, his curls rearranging themselves over his eyes, his smile vanishing, swiftly wiped off.
He bolts out of his barstool, almost falling over, his fingers nervously tugging at the hemline of his jacket.
“Shade Hennessy. I apologize, um... I didn’t see you coming, Sir.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Um... I’m Francois Bircher. Sales Manager... Again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to––”
“Apologize to Ms. Hart, you fucking idiot.”
He turns to Tara who looks smaller, cowered in her seat. Her eyes shift away from him. She can’t even look him in the eyes.
He mumbles his apology as if his mouth is filled with chewing gum.
She nods a couple of times, still not looking at him. I close the space between him and me, my fingers clutching his lapel, purposely crumpling the fabric.
“Listen... Francois, I truly hope your sales skills are better than your manners, otherwise... I would spruce up my resume if I were you. Am I clear?”
He nods.
“Good. Now, get the hell out of my face.”
He spins away, quickly getting swallowed by the crowd. I step closer to Tara and rest my hand on her back. She doesn’t move. I lean close to her and murmur in her ear.
“You okay, baby?”
She nods, softly. My hand goes under her hair as I cuff the back of her neck. She turns her face to me, her beautiful eyes swimming in tears.
“You come with me, now. Okay?” I say, muttering against her lips.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I hand her a napkin and wait for her to dry off her tears before I thread my fingers through hers, and help her slide off the stool.
She straightens, my gaze running down on her swiftly.
Perched on her heels, her long hair draped over her back, she looks like a dream.
The black gown sets off her small waist, and toned arms. I drink in the outline of her breasts filling the top of her dress.
Slowly, I raise my eyes and meet hers. They’re soft, still sparkling with tears. Without a care for the people in the room, I lean to her and kiss her lips.
“You’re going to be okay, baby,” I say, and she grips my arm in warning.
She looks at me, and then glances around, panic streaming in her eyes, and I know what crosses her mind.
“Sometimes you just have to try it and see if it works...” I say, and her eyes brighten with a beautiful smile.
Smoothly, I take her hand and lead her down the stairs. We cut our way through the crowd, and as we reach the first floor, someone calls my name.
Without stopping, we walk through the main door.
She looks at me, smitten, and a good feeling washes over me. Maybe there is a way out of the maze.
TARA
“Is this the place?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Lake Geneva stretches in front of us, dark and mysterious, sparkling faintly like a giant eye. Lights flicker slightly on the shore across from us.
Not far from where we stopped, lampposts spill a pale glow over the empty alleys, black benches sitting, mournful, on the side.
He kills the engine and turns off the headlights before silence surrounds us like a velvet curtain.
Light descending from the moon paints a path of silver across the water.
We walk out of the car.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
He takes his jacket off anyway and drapes it over my shoulders.
Propped against the hood of the car, he pulls me into his arms, my back against his chest, his arms curled around my body.
Resting my head against his shoulder, I gaze up at the starry sky.
A soft wind blows in my hair.
“Do you feel better?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, the memory of the incident tinging my voice with a hint of sadness.
He spins me around to face him and looks at me intently. The moonlight beams over his eyes as I bring my fingers to his face and brush his lips.
“I missed you, Shade...” I say.
He stares at me for a moment, his fingers sweeping strands of hair away from my face.
“I missed you too,” he says, giving me a soft smile.
His gaze drops to my lips.
Slowly, he peels his jacket off my shoulders and sets it on the side.
His hands go to the back of my neck and easily unclasp my dress. The top falls and crumples at my waist, revealing my bare breasts.
Threading his fingers through
my hair, he drapes it over my shoulders. Tenderly, he touches my mounds, his warm hands sliding smoothly on my skin as he takes me in.
He runs his fingers down my neck and traces my collarbones, his gaze following the motion.
We connect eyes briefly before he pulls me into him, and our lips connect in an intimate reacquaintance, smooth and tender as if time and space have never kept us apart.
My fingers slide through his hair and then drift down his neck, sneaking inside his collar.
His skin burns beneath my fingers as I go down.
I pop his buttons open and peel his shirt off his shoulders as well before I slide it to the side.
He tilts his head and captures a nipple in his mouth, his hands kneading my breasts unhurriedly as his tongue circles the sensitive bud. The puckered flesh rolls between his teeth, craving his touch. He bites it and sucks it hard before he shifts his focus to the other one.
Smoothly, he reaches behind my back and pulls my zipper down.
The gown falls to my feet.
“Shade?”
“Yes?” he mutters, his lips hot against my swollen breasts, his hand nudging my thighs open.
He sneaks his fingers inside my panties before he tugs them down.
“Yes?” he murmurs again, his hands cuffing the back of my thighs. “Come to me,” he says as he props his back against the slanted hood of his car.
I straddle his chest while he pulls my sex straight to his mouth. He crashes his lips and tongue on me, making a shudder ram through me and a moan fall from my lips.
My hands slide on the car, on either side of his head as he licks my sensitive flesh.
Oh, my... Mmm…
With one flick of the tongue, he nudges my smooth folds open and kisses my soft, swollen flesh. Pulsing electricity flows through me as he presses his mouth on my clit and tongue kisses it, making me gasp with pleasure.
Moaning, I grind my hips against his lips as he groans between my thighs, a wave of pleasure rising.
His mouth trails to my entrance before he starts fucking me with his tongue.
I scale up fast, my hips shaking as he keeps doing it.
His hands latch on my butt, holding me tight against his face as my body breaks into a million blissful pieces.
I’m still clenching, when he lifts me up and pulls me down his throbbing cock. More pleasure courses through my body as I ride him hard, wet and hot between my legs. His shoulders push back, his hips tilting up as the orgasm sweeps through both of us.
Panting, I crash on him, his arms draping around me.
11
TARA
“You like this car model...” I say.
He stretches a secret smile, his eyes rooted to the road.
“Yeah, I do... It’s my favorite.”
I spend a few moments studying his profile before I tear my eyes away.
Carefully, I lift the bottom of my gown with one hand and stretch my legs.
We’ve been driving for more than an hour–– I muse, as I shift my eyes to the scenery outside.
“Perfect for, um... You know...” I mutter, bringing my eyes back to him, my lips pursing into a little smile.
He shoots me a side glance, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
“Eating pussy?” he says, cocking an eyebrow and tossing me a grin that makes me clench my thighs.
I breathe out a chuckle before I drag my gaze away from him, my face warmed up with a blush.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he says, amused, as he steers the car onto a secondary road.
We slow down at the same time.
Swaying my head from side to side, I smile.
“You’re such a spoiled brat,” I say, laughing softly.
“That, I am not.”
He looks at me with laughing eyes, gesturing with his hand, his cigarette tucked between his fingers.
My gaze lingers on his hand.
I’ve seen male hands. Hands that always seem to tell a story. The chunky hands, the too thin hands, and the sickly hands, the hairy hands, and the sweaty hands. The untrustworthy hands. And then, the strong and tender hands.
His hands.
“Have you tried many models?” I ask.
“Women? Cars? Women and cars?”
He holds his palm up in the air and looks at me, smirking.
I stay silent.
“Yeah... I’ve tried...” he admits softly. “But, I usually stick with what I like,” he says.
“You mean cars.”
He chuckles.
“I mean everything.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah... I’m loyal like you, Tara,” he says and then looks out the window as he veers the car to the left.
I wait for him to bring his eyes to me.
He finally looks at me.
“But unlike you, I’m not loyal to something out of obligation. Especially when it’s not good for me.”
“What do you mean?”
A soft glow glides over this face as we zoom past the ghostly streetlights lining the road.
His eyes sparkle mysteriously as I take in his profile–– his straight nose, his kissable lips, and his well-defined jawline.
His shirt is open at the neckline, revealing his sexy neck.
For a moment, I’m tempted to slide my hand beneath the fabric and stroke his bare chest.
He shoots another glance at me as if he knows exactly what I have in mind and smiles.
“What I mean is... You’ve been loyal to the wrong people and things. Sadly, most people are. If they weren’t, the world would be a better place.”
“What are those things?”
He flicks the cigarette out.
“You’ve been loyal to a job you didn’t like.”
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve seen you.”
“Am I not good at work?” I ask jokingly to hide my concern.
“Yes, you are. Because it’s in your nature to work hard and do things right. But your heart is not there. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re probably not, but most people don’t like their jobs.”
“And you don’t think that’s a problem?”
“I don’t think they really have a choice.”
I flip my free palm up as I gesture at him.
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“I think you do,” he says, smiling. “Anyone who’s as good as you at a job can do great things on their own as well.”
“I guess... “ I say my voice trailing off as I ponder over his words. “What else have I been loyal to?”
“Your man,” he tosses at me, gauging my reaction.
My eyebrows pinch into a frown.
“He was not my man,” I say, anger streaming through my voice.
His eyes go back to the road.
“How long have you been with him?” he asks seriously.
I swallow hard, grappling with a wave of sadness.
Suddenly cold, I wrap his jacket around my shoulders and look out the window again.
“Three years,” I murmur.
“Was it good?”
I remain silent.
“In the beginning, at least?” he adds.
“No... not really.”
“Was he faithful?”
“Probably not. At least, not in the end.”
“Did you love him?”
“I don’t think so,” I say as I fight my tears back. “I guess I relished the idea of being in love.”
I swivel my head back to him.
“How did you know all these things about me the night we met for the first time…?”
He gives me a side glance before he brings his fingers to my cheek.
I take it gently in my hand and press my lips on his palm, our eyes locking for a moment.
Melancholy seeps into his gaze, chasing away his smile.
“It’s not that hard. We’re not much different,” he says with a soft quiet voice
. “I’ve been trapped in a life that I didn’t want, so I know how it feels. It was a different situation for me, but the end result was the same.”
He brings my hand to his lips this time and places a soft kiss on the back of my knuckles.
“All I’m saying is... Don’t get caught in something that you don’y like. It’s a terrible way of living. You have to fight. That’s all there is to it.”
I stare at him, lost for words.
He lights up another cigarette before he focuses entirely on the road.
An hour or so later, the car slows down even more as we begin to follow a slightly slanted road that takes all the way to the impressive entrance of a historic hotel.
The tall building is surrounded by a mesmerizing view, hundreds of lights illuminating the fabric of night.
He turns the engine off as I soak in the glass doors guarding the entrance.
“Where are we?”
“The Dolder Grand Hotel.”
“That’s...?”
“Zurich,” he says, smiling.
“Zurich? My hotel room is in Lausanne. How do I get back?”
“You don’t. Your stuff is...” he pauses and checks the time, “Most likely here.”
“Where is here?”
“In my suite.”
Without another word, he collects his jacket and climbs out of the car.
Holding my hand, he helps me out of his ride before he hands the keys to the valet parking attendant.
Fingers laced together, we saunter inside.
It’s two o’clock in the morning when we take the first steps in the lobby. The place is quiet, no other guests in sight. The front desk clerk greets us with a nod and a friendly smile before Shade gestures to him discreetly, and he retreats to the concierge corner.
Silently, we cruise along a corridor strewn with museum quality artwork and then we ride the elevator up where we enter a sumptuous suite.
Floor-to-ceiling windows outline the space. The furniture has a modern flair, the wooden floors gracing the rooms with a warm, organic feel, enhanced by the light beaming from the fireplaces. One of the spacious bathrooms comes with a sauna too. I can’t wait to spend some time in there tomorrow morning.
I get ready for bed before him and tuck myself into bed.
Minutes later, he slides under the covers as well, the bare skin of his chest and arms and shoulders cold from the shower. He wears a pair of low riding, lounge pants and nothing else.
