Release (Iris Series)

by Lynn, Rebecca

  He released his grip on her hair and massaged her scalp. “I love your hair down. It gives me something to hold onto,” he whispered.

  Then he stepped back, and looked at her scandalously clad body with a lecherous smile, reached into his pants pocket, and took out her panties. He buried his nose into them.

  I’ll show myself out.” He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  She gasped. This man was like nothing she had ever experienced. She was already addicted.

  He released her nipple, and whispered, “Delicious,” then tweaked her nose, and turned around and let himself out the door.

  Then he said through the door, “Lock up.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, she awoke feeling completely rested, and she knew who she had to thank for it. If she was going to get even more from him tonight, she knew his words would prove true. She would be a rejuvenated woman ready to take on the week.

  She took a moment to languish in bed, and happily recalled the moments from the night before. She felt punchy, and excited at this new...relationship? She wasn’t sure what she would call it, but whatever it was, she was thrilled she was in the middle of it.

  She hugged herself as she thought of Jeremy. There was no doubt he did it for her. He was gorgeous, beyond sexy. He just oozed sensuality, and whenever he was within the same vicinity as her, she could actually feel the energy shift in the room. The air crackled.

  But that wasn’t all that made her giddy, although that would’ve been enough. He just made her feel...cherished, wanted, desired, passionate. He made her want things she hadn’t had in so long. She knew she needed to be wise, and guard her heart, but she still allowed herself to bask in the glow of this new and exciting experience...remembering his attention, his touch.

  And God, the way he talked to her, the words he used. She had never had a man speak so explicitly to her about how he felt, and what he wanted to do to her. It was so...hot.

  She smiled, hugged herself one last time, then jumped out of bed and went for her morning run.

  …

  It was approaching 7:30am, and Ryann had finally finished packing her overnight bag. She needed to leave in the next couple of minutes to make sure she got to the Institute by eight, so she did one last check to make sure she had everything she needed.

  Thankfully, she wouldn’t be getting her hands dirty at the Institute today, and would only have a day of orientation making her familiar with the building, the schedule and the faculty.

  She had decided on wearing one of her favorite dresses, mainly because she could dress it up or keep it casual, a raspberry colored cotton and sleeveless dress, that had some lycra in it, causing the fabric to hug her curves. The top half was a wrap design with a deep V neck. She coupled the dress with a multicolored scarf, flat stylish sandals, and put her hair up in a stylish, but messy topknot.

  For her evening with Jeremy, she planned on changing out of her flats for a pair of strappy gold hued high heeled sandals, and a long gold necklace. She was bringing one of her funky wraps in case it got chilly, and would wear her hair down, since she now knew how much Jeremy liked it that way.

  But she was most excited about what was under the dress.

  Black lace bra, and matching thong. Because her wax appointment was scheduled that day at noon, she wanted to pick out some lingerie that would accentuate all of her primping and preening. The thong had a see through patch of black mesh right over where her newly waxed skin would be, and she knew he’d be able to see all of her before he even took off her panties. With only a hint of lace covering her, the mystery would still be there. And she knew she had one mission that evening.

  She wanted to make him lose control.

  She smiled, grabbed her bag, and was out the door.

  …..

  The Manhattan Institute for Art and Design was located on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. When Ryann arrived, she took a moment to appreciate the Greek Revival architecture, and the Brownstone facade. Its history only added to its appeal, and boasted double columns flanking the elaborate entrance of this 1850’s four story building.

  The Institute’s style was in keeping with other well-known buildings in the neighborhood, and at times, people confused it with the famous art school, Cooper Union. Similar to Cooper Union, the Institute was founded so that most students who studied there were accepted on a scholarship basis, and not required to pay tuition. This was one of the things Ryann loved most about its philosophy. Although she had already known this about the Institute when she had applied, it was only through her recent searches done on line where she discovered this was in keeping with the first Jeremy Quinn’s vision, and when the family set up the JQ Foundation, the McCallister family didn’t deter from this mission.

  After admiring the building, Ryann reported to the main administrative office to sign some papers, and was waiting to meet her mentor, Paul Schneider. She continued filling out paperwork until she heard someone enter the main office door, and looked up.

  She immediately smiled. This, she presumed, was Paul Schneider. In his mid-fifties, he had a little ‘absent minded professor’ look about him, mixed together with an artist’s flare. He was dressed in jeans and leather slip on shoes, with a light-weight mesh looking sweater on over a t-shirt. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, an open friendly smile, and a flamboyant way...and she knew she was going to get along with him famously.

  He walked over and introduced himself, putting out his hand. “You must be Ryann,” he said with a huge smile. “Great to meet ya. How’s your mornin’ been goin’?” he asked with a thick New York accent.

  She shook his hand and returned the smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Schneider. So far -”

  He put up his hand and interrupted. “Oh, wait a minute, honey. We’re gonna to have to put a stop to that kind of formality right at the start! Call me Paul, please. I can’t bare to be called ‘Mr.’...it makes me feel ancient.”

  She giggled, and backtracked. “Paul, it is then. And so far, things have been great. I’m just finishing up some paperwork, then I’m all yours.”

  He clapped his hands, “Wonderful. Once you’re done, we’ll take a tour of the building.”

  “Great! I’m almost done, just one more paper to go,” and with that she signed the last paper, and bounded up for a tour of her new workplace.

  Paul took her hand, and led her through the main lobby just inside the entrance. It was enormous, with a white marble floor, and gorgeous turn of the century chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the massive area.

  He released her hand, and spun as if a curator in a museum, and began his spiel.

  “The lobby actually doubles as a space for showings when we have them, along with the adjoining parlor back there. That’s where that door leads,” he said pointing to the back of the lobby. There were huge ornate wooden double doors, reaching from floor to ceiling. When opened, she imagined, it would make the lobby look even more enormous, and perfect as a makeshift art gallery.

  “There’s a kitchen attached to the back of the parlor for caterers to use, and also a space where we as a staff can have luncheons, although each floor has its own kitchenette. We’re actually going to be having our first art showing of the academic year next Friday, so you’ll see the place in its full regalia,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “It’s quite a splendid thing seein’ this place all dolled up, let me tell ya. One of the art dealers who we work with, his name’s Armand DiCarlo, is representing a private collector who’ll be loaning us one of Mackenzie Renault’s pieces.”

  The French artist, Mackenzie Renault, was made famous at the beginning of the 20th century, a full decade after he had passed away. His medium was oil, and was abstract in style. He was often known for having very moody paintings, that many interpreted as darkly erotic.

  “We have a huge fundraiser gala at the beginning of every summer for the Institute, and all the proceeds go toward t
he scholarship fund. So this gala will be the main money maker for this year, even though we also have student showings throughout the year, as well. In fact, at the gala, the sculpting students will be auctioning off some of their pieces in Quinn Hall after the showing of the painting.”

  He continued talking as he led her to the other double doors off to the left of the lobby. “Armand will be here today and tomorrow, getting to know the space and planning, so I’m sure you’ll see him around. And, my, is he a dish.” Paul wiggled his eyebrows and bit his finger while making a ‘mmm’ sound, “but I would watch myself around him, dear. He definitely likes the ladies.”

  Ryann giggled, and said, “Thanks for the warning.”

  When they arrived to the double doors, Paul opened them and allowed her to walk in to take a look. The placard on the wall next to the doors said Quinn Hall. It seemed Jeremy was everywhere, and in a strange way, it was very comforting.

  The hall had auditorium seating, and could probably fit 300 people.

  “This is where we have lectures, various presentations, and where the auction will be,” then he directed her back out, and said, “and then right here at the front of the lobby there are some restrooms. You’ve already seen the security desk, and the Admin offices off to the right of the lobby and behind those is the boardroom where the trustees have their meetings.”

  She assumed that was where Jeremy’s meeting would be later that afternoon. The thought made her stomach flutter.

  Paul’s attention was drawn to behind her shoulder, and he whispered, “Hold onto your seat, honey. The ride’s about to get bumpy.”

  Ryann turned around and saw a woman approaching them. She had a look about her that immediately put Ryann’s back up. Tall, willowy, probably late 20s, early 30s. She had jet black hair, cut in a chic bob, the front a little longer than the back, piercing blue eyes, and very sharp features. She was definitely beautiful, but it was a cold beauty. She looked...bitter.

  “Well, is this your new little protege, Paul?” The woman looked her over with a smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “How’s it goin’, MG?”

  She looked away from Ryann, and glared at him. “Fuck you, Paul.”

  He tsked, “Now, MG, you know Pete’s enough man for me. I couldn’t possibly take on another one.”

  She continued to glare at him. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you Paul. Always mentoring the newbies, trying to turn them against those of us who can’t stand you.”

  He looked up as if in thought, then looked back at her. “Nope. Just you.” Then he smiled. “Did you need something, or did you just come over to wish us a good morning?”

  During the entire exchange, Ryann’s eyebrows had shot up into her hairline. She had dealt with bitchy girls for years in the classroom, and it appeared ‘MG’ was just one who had grown up.

  “What’s your name?” she asked Ryann, without a smile to be seen anywhere.

  “Ryann Thornton.” She put out her hand. This woman might be a bitch, but Riley Fiona Campbell Russo had taught her to be a lady, no matter what.

  The woman looked at her hand, then shook it briefly. Her hand was silky soft, and she barely squeezed back.

  “Jennifer Edwards.”

  Ryann nodded. She wasn’t about to say it was nice to meet her. Because it wasn’t.

  “Well,” she said with an overly sweet smile, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Then she turned to Paul. “And you’ve heard the news?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me. You love being in the know too much to keep your mouth shut,” he said dryly.

  “Jeremy McCallister is the new VC on the Board of the Trustees.” She turned to Ryann, with a gloating tone. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the McCallisters. Founders of the Institute and the JQ Foundation. Jeremy’s mother is Tabitha Lowe. They’re old family friends of mine,” she said with a smug smile.

  Well, that was an interesting nugget of information, Ryann thought.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing him. It’s been too long,” she purred. “I’ll be seeing him later, I’m sure, since he’ll be here for the trustee meeting.”

  “I’m sure you can’t wait,” Paul said. “Well, MG, we’ve got places to go and people to see, and that doesn’t include you, so if you’ll excuse us...”

  “Gladly,” she said sarcastically, gave him one last look, and walked away.

  Ryann’s mind was spinning. How well did she know Jeremy? It was obvious that there was an interest there, on her part at least, but there was a desperation attached to it. She mentally shook herself. She would ask him later, and she began to steel herself for the potential of all of them running into each other at the same time.

  “I would love to hear your analysis,” Paul said with a smile.

  “Umm. She was interesting.”

  Paul let out a huge belly laugh. “That she is. You’ve heard of Stephan Chadwick Edwards? The sculptor?” Ryann nodded. “That,” he said with a dramatic pause, “is his daughter. We all thought that the only reason she was hired as an instructor in the first place was because of who her father was. But as much as I hate to admit it, she’s excellent at her job. She’d be great if she didn’t have to open her mouth,” he smirked. “She’s a whiz with the sculpting students due to her father’s tutelage, but she’s the ultimate bitch. Don’t believe a word from her mouth without first asking what her motivation is. Most of the time, it’s to prove to her father that she’s important.”

  Ayanna popped into her head. But at least she wasn’t like that woman.

  Ryann thought for a moment, and asked, “MG?”

  Paul chuckled. “You worked with teenagers. Give it a sec...it’ll come to you.”

  Having taught many of them, the light bulb finally went off. “Mean Girl?”

  Paul smiled and winked. “You’re going to fit in just fine here, Ryann.”

  …..

  A few hours later, Ryann was taking the cab ride back to the Institute from her wax appointment during her lunch hour. She sat there in the back of the taxi, smelling sweet, and feeling smooth and silky, thinking of her evening with Jeremy. The thought aroused her, and she squirmed in her seat. She couldn’t wait.

  It hit her at that moment, that she hadn’t filled in Ayanna on what her plans were for the evening. She grabbed her phone and texted her.

  RT: Hey. Just got waxed. :)

  While she waited for Ayanna’s response, Ryann began thinking about all of the information she had gathered in the last few hours. Paul had gone over some of her responsibilities, and they talked about the students who would be coming in the next day. Then there was the unforgettable introduction of MG, Ryann thought with an eyeroll. But the coolest thing out of everything that she had learned, she thought, was what Paul had done in his previous life before working at the Institute. He had been a hypnotherapist!

  AS: Nice! Slick, smooth, and ready to go!

  She smiled and responded, imagining Ayanna screaming on the other end after she would read it.

  RT: Tonight’s the night, btw.

  She watched her phone to see how long it would take her to respond. Pause. Ping! Ryann chuckled. About 25 seconds.

  AS: WTF! ahhh!

  Ryann felt the giddiness of the moment spill over her. She hugged herself, and responded.

  RT: Can’t talk now, just getting back to work. Will call tmrw. Going out to dinner aft work, then back to his place....for the night. :)

  Ryann watched outside the window, as the cab pulled up to the Institute. She paid the driver, and got out, running up the steps so she wasn’t late.

  As she was entering the lobby, she noticed a tall dark haired man in a suit walking away from Jennifer, who turned and saw Ryann. She clenched her jaw, and walked over to intercept her.

  Here we go, Ryann thought, as she slowed, and said, “I’m sorry, Jennifer. I have a meeting with Paul that I’m on my way to, so I can’t talk.” She could hear her phone pinging a couple of
times in her purse. Yan was apparently responding with a long text.

  Jennifer put her hand out to stop her. With her arms crossed over her chest, she tilted her head to examine her. “You really need to make sure you make it back from your lunch hour on time, Ryann.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I really need to go.” Ryann started to walk away.

  “Teaching little teeny boppers is a little different than instructing artists practicing to be professionals in their field,” she said condescendingly.

  Ryann stopped and turned back to her. “Not necessarily. It’s the same skill set, whether you’re instructing teenagers in how to understand Shakespeare, or commenting on an artist’s technique.”

  MG walked forward. “I disagree. Don’t be disappointed if you discover this isn’t the job for you. It can be very demanding, and you may find it to be too difficult,” she said, patronizing her. MG smirked, then began to walk away.

  Ryann rolled her eyes, and left with the parting shot. “It was great to talk to you, Jennifer.”

  Jennifer turned and glared at her, and Ryann smiled one of her best smiles and walked away.

  She made her way to Paul’s second floor office, and saw him there finishing up a phone call. He waved her in. “Okay, baby. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll pick up some Chinese on the way home, ok? Alright...bye, baby...love you too.” He hung up, and turned to Ryann. “How was your lunch?”

  “Great...thanks,” she smiled.

  “Good. Ok,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s take a look at these rosters, and talk about what tomorrow will look like.”

  The two hours passed quickly, and it was fast approaching three o’clock. The faculty had their final meeting of the day down in Quinn Hall, and it was supposed to be over by four. She hadn’t had a chance in those two hours to even check her texts, so she decided to at that moment while Paul was using the restroom.

  She had two. One from Ayanna, and one from....Jeremy. She smiled while the butterflies took flight once more.