by Betty Paper
The telegram wasn’t signed. I didn’t dare call Aaron or Jack to ask them what I was in for. They’d been more than generous to me.
Aaron wasn’t a rich man, I knew, but he lavished me the best he could. Jack talked me into adding an extra day to his schedule, which I agreed to with the caveat that as soon as the tax bill was paid, we’d go back to our normal routine. Of the two of them, Jack was the most attached and I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he’d already been.
I pulled up to an imposing office building on Wilshire Boulevard. It reminded me of the building my father owned and ran his empire out of. I didn’t know what kind of business was done in this building, but it must have been very good. An immaculately dressed valet came around my car and opened my door. I was used to being treated this way, from my upbringing, but it had been a long while. I’d forgotten how convenient it could be.
I thanked the valet and headed into the building. A doorman held the door open and wished me a good day. I paused at the reception desk and gave the well-dressed woman behind it the code word I was given in the telegram—tangerine. She made a call and then told me to wait, that someone would come down to get me.
I took a seat in a plush chair and surveyed my surroundings. The outside of the building was a pale imitation of opulence compared to the inside. No expense had been spared. Daddy’s building came close to the splendor, but this building outshone it by miles.
After a few moments, a man appeared in front of me. I’d been so busy looking at everything that I hadn’t seen him until he spoke and drew my attention.
“Miss Ruby?”
“Yes.”
“This way please.”
I was led through a hidden side door and down a long hall to an elevator. Compared to the lobby, the hallway was utilitarian and basic to the point of being institutional. Was I being led through the back way?
The elevator was plain too. The man pressed a button for the top floor and we rode up in silence. A thousand questions danced on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back. I got one word of warning from Jack when he told me about the telegram I was to receive—do not ask questions. I knew neither he nor Aaron would lead me anywhere that was unsafe so I was content to follow the man down another hall and through a door marked with an H.
An office. But not just any office. If I thought the reception area was magnificent, this room was a palace. Two of the walls were nearly all glass, giving a splendid view of downtown Los Angeles. Chrome and glass furniture gleamed, but didn’t feel cold. Our footsteps were hushed by the plush carpeting that felt as if I were walking on one big pillow.
On the periphery and yet at the center of it all, a smartly dressed man in a suit exquisitely cut to fit his frame stood gazing at the view below, his back to us. Not for the first time since I’d arrived did I wonder why a man who could afford all of this would want or need services from someone like me.
“Sir,” my companion said. “Miss Ruby.” With that pronouncement, he left through another door that must have led to other offices.
“Have a seat, Miss Ruby,” the gentleman at the window said, his voice low yet unusually soft for a man.
I did as I was told, perching at the edge of a chair across the wide expanse of his desk with my hands clasped demurely in my lap.
“You’re the piano teacher?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m told you handle special cases.” He gave the word special extra emphasis.
“I consider everyone to be special in his or her own way.”
“Do you?” He turned then and I couldn’t hide my reaction to him.
Pale blond hair framed a face that looked as though it had been fashioned by Gods on a particularly cheerful day in heaven. The pale blue of his eyes matched the sun-bleached sky behind him. He was tall and lean and even standing still he appeared graceful in an effortless way.
It took me a moment to find my voice. “Yes.”
“You find me attractive?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm, most people do. Of course, I find that my money improves my looks greatly.”
“You’re handsome regardless of your finances.”
“And you’re wondering why I would seek out your services.”
“Well…yes. I suppose I am.”
“I have very—shall we say—unusual needs that are rarely met.” He drew a case from his inside jacket pocket, selected a cigarette, and lit it. His face, with its beautifully sculpted features, became wreathed in smoke. “I understand you can satisfy them.”
“Perhaps if I knew a little bit about what your needs are, I could better answer.”
“Take off your dress.”
“Excuse me?”
“This won’t work if you can’t take direction. I’m paying handsomely for your time today, Miss Ruby. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No.” I stood. “Can I at least know your name?”
“Henry.”
Lifting my chin in a small act of defiance, I unbuttoned my dress. It was the same one that I’d worn that first time with Jack, with the buttons all the way down the front. As I’d been instructed to wear nothing underneath there was no way to hide my nudity.
Henry did nothing as a revealed myself to him. He stood still, watching and puffing on his cigarette as though he was bored. The full walls of windows bathed me in unforgiving sunlight. If this was the audition, I wasn’t likely to get the part. I didn’t have perfect skin or the perfect shape. My breasts, while pert, were small compared to my hips and thighs. I looked nothing like the starlets on the movie screens.
I’d never felt more inadequate.
My dress pooled at my feet, leaving me bare as the day I was born. It took everything in me not to fidget under his stare, which roamed my body as though he owned it. And for this half hour, he did. That’s what I’d agreed to.
He made a circling motion with his hand. “Turn.”
I did as I was told, spinning slowly so that he could see me from all sides.
He pointed behind me. “Lie down on the chaise.”
I reclined on the lavish velvet and attempted to look seductive in my pose.
He stubbed out his cigarette and came around the desk. “Spread your legs. I want to see what I’m getting.”
I didn’t care for his words or his tone, but I opened my legs anyway, keeping my gaze steady and unaffected on his. One hundred dollars was a chant in my head. I needed the money. Desperately.
“Wider,” he demanded.
I complied, resting my arms across the back of the chaise, opening myself to him as much as possible. Spread eagle and nude, I waited for what he’d do next.
He knelt next to me and leaned forward. Inhaling deeply, he sniffed me from my mouth and neck to my toes, taking longer in some places than others. My sex was of particular interest to him. He spent several minutes smelling me there. He paused to visually examine my folds, then he resumed his scenting of me, finally moving on after several minutes.
When he finished, he sat back on his heels and met my gaze. “You have excellent hygiene.”
“Thank you?”
“Have you even been with a woman? Sexually.”
“No.”
“Would it repulse you?”
“I don’t know.” I’d heard of men’s proclivities for watching women have sexual relations. Is that what he wanted of me? Did he want to participate or just observe? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Not repulsed as he’d suggested, but not particularly interested either. Curious. I supposed that was the best way to describe my feeling about the suggestion. “I am rather curious though. The mechanics in particular perplex me.”
He gave me a smile, the first one I’d gotten from him. “You’re honest. I appreciate that. We’ll get along well as long as you’re honest with me at all times.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t.
He gestured with an elegant hand toward my sex. “May I?”
I nodded,
unsure of just what I was agreeing to. He’d been controlled if aloof with me, so I had a difficult time sorting him out.
He bent his head and put his hot mouth on me. I jolted at the contact, but he held me in place with his large hands on my thighs.
My Johnny had been forward with me like this. I’d grown to love having his mouth and his tongue bringing me to climax. Closing my eyes, I relaxed under Henry and let me legs fall farther apart. If I’d thought my Johnny had been clever about it, Henry was aces. I moaned and writhed on the chaise as he used his lips, tongue, and fingers on me. In short order I was crying out with a hand on his head, holding him down, crudely grinding his mouth against me like a wanton.
I was so caught up in my pleasure that it must’ve taken him several tries to rouse me because he finally had to grip my wrist and pull my hand away. Stands of his hair were trapped between my fingers and I flushed hot from head to toe.
“I like the way you respond. I think we’ll get along very well, Miss Ruby.” He smiled, his face shiny from my juices. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, shook it out, and wiped his face then his fingers. Eyes closed, he sniffed it, then shoved it back into his pocket.
He rose, smoothed his hair down, adjusted his jacket, and walked to his desk. “You may go now.” He lit another cigarette. “There’s an envelope on the table near the door you came through with money and further instructions. I trust you to be discrete.”
I nodded.
“We have a deal then?”
“Yes.” My voice came out wispy, with a lost sound to it that perfectly fit my reaction to this whole interaction.
“Excellent.” With that, he turned and resumed his post at the window, ignoring me.
It took me a few moments to get my wobbly legs under me. I messed up the buttons on my dress, making it take twice as long as usual to do them up. By the time I grabbed my pocketbook and headed for the door, I was a little steadier. On the table by the door was an envelope just as he’d said, with a red rose lying on top. I scooped them both up and departed, leaving Henry behind bathed in rings of smoke. In the elevator, I collapsed against the wall and opened the envelope. Inside were the promised hundred dollars and a note. I tucked the envelope into my pocketbook.
A strange liaison, to be sure. The whole business was odd. Yet as I brought the flower to my nose to smell, I had the strangest feeling that Henry, this very, very peculiar man with his beautiful features and artful mouth, would alter my life in much the same way as my Johnny had.
Lesson Five
The instructions on the note in the envelope Henry had given me indicated that I should show up exactly one week after our first meeting to the address listed at nine o’clock PM sharp. I was to be freshly bathed, not have had any relations that day, and to wear nothing under my clothes, the same as I had when I’d first met him.
I’d had to rearrange my days with Jack to accommodate Henry, as I was to have seen him that day. The note was very clear about that being against the rules. Jack was a bit put out, as it meant that I would see him one less day this week, but he managed to be stoic about it.
To soothe him, I promised to try a technique with him that I’d read about in a book that was rather blue. I’d gotten the book at a used bookstore. It was very enlightening on the subject of relations and quite direct, in that it was the first time I’d ever seen photographs of couples engaging in sexual acts. It shocked and titillated me in its suggestion that both women and men could benefit from the insertion of fingers or a phallus in the anus. I’d heard of such acts of course, but had never practiced them.
Jack was most enthusiastic to try. When I’d hung up the telephone after our call, I realized his excitement might stem from a misunderstanding. He may or may not have been operating under the impression that I would allow him to put his member in my anus. I’d stood with my hand still on the telephone, contemplating that thought for several minutes. In the end, I’d discovered that I wasn’t against the notion, and turned to the book for guidance on how Jack and I might best go about the process the next time we met.
As directed, I took a taxi to the address Henry had given me, to a private home high in the Hollywood Hills. The fare was quite exorbitant from Long Beach to Hollywood and I nearly fainted at the price the cabbie quoted me.
When I arrived at the house, a man in a uniform came out to greet me and paid the cab fare in cash, adding in a handsome tip. The taxi drove away and I was left alone with the uniformed man. A shiver swept through me, partly from the cool night air blowing up my skirt, chilling my naked extremities, and partly from the eerie sense of the unknown.
Again I reminded myself that Henry had not behaved badly toward me. Quite the opposite. I pressed my thighs together in remembrance of how quickly and thoroughly he’d brought me to pleasure. Additionally, Jack would not recommend me to someone who would do me harm. This I was sure of, as he was intensely devoted to me and at the very least he’d want me to survive in order for us to try anal sex the next time he came to me.
Henry’s uniformed man led me up the steps of the house, which was sprawling in size and grandiose in appearance. Again I wondered why a man like Henry, with such a vast fortune, would want to hire someone like me to have relations with. Surely women were falling all over him.
Remembering his comment about his specific needs, I couldn’t help but wonder how base and unusual those needs could be that he couldn’t find women to satisfy them. Not even women he paid. Jack had told me precious little about Henry, other than they’d met through his father’s business and had become friendly enough to discuss me and my special relationship with Jack. Although how the subject came up, I’ll probably never know. Men, despite my varied experiences, were a mystery to me.
I followed Henry’s man through a magnificent foyer, up a grand staircase, down a wide hall past what felt like dozens of doors to a set of double doors at the end of the hall.
The man stopped and gestured for me to let myself in. “Mr. Henry will be with you shortly.” He bowed briefly, then walked back the way we’d come, leaving me alone.
“Into the Land of Oz,” I whispered to myself and opened the door.
The room was completely white. Everywhere. It was like walking into a snowdrift. I was temporarily struck dumb by the starkness. Yet it wasn’t cold. On the contrary, it held a warmth that drew me in.
Turning a circle, I tried to take in as much of the room as I could before Henry arrived and caught me gawking. Two fireplaces warmed the soft space that felt like a down comforter, wrapped around me. A large bed held prominence in the room, piled high with snowy pillows and draped in gauzy fabric. Lounge chairs and chaises filled the remainder of the space except for one corner, where a blindingly white grand piano stood.
I was drawn to it as if I was made of metal and it was a magnet. I’d never seen a piano so exquisitely detailed and shiny. It spoke to me, to my soul, where my music lived. I’d managed to plunk along nicely on the old upright that had been my Johnny’s mother’s since marrying him and leaving home. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed having access to an instrument such as this to play.
I sat down hesitantly at its keys. Feeling a bit like a child who could be caught at any moment, I placed my fingers on the keys and closed my eyes. The first chords of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” floated into the air. I hadn’t meant to play, only to touch the beautiful instrument, but it was as though my fingers had thoughts of their own and before I knew it, my whole being was in the piece.
I leaned into the notes, swaying as though buffeted by strong winds. The music carried me to other lands, through other times. I became other people doing other things. I was outside the room, outside my body. The notes flowed through me, weaving in and out. I could smell them and taste them and feel them in every cell of my body. I was the music and yet not. It existed without me, using me. I was merely it’s pawn, and the music my master.
As the last notes slowly faded, I became aware that I wasn’t alone.
Opening my eyes, I started at the sight of Henry leaning against the piano. He was bare-chested, wearing only loose pajama pants the same white as the rest of the room. He was marvelously made, his muscles sculpted and toned. Twin scars that ran horizontally on either side of his torso across his rib cage were the only imperfections, which for me was no imperfection whatsoever.
My heart tripped a fluttery beat in my chest at the look in his eyes.
“You play beautifully,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “Take off your dress and play something else for me.”
My faced flushed hot. For some reason his directness brought out the shy schoolgirl in me. He made me feel wanton and terribly, terribly naughty. I was no virgin yet everything felt new with him.
I slid out from behind the piano and undid my dress, letting it pool to the floor at my feet. His gaze scorched me head to toe. I forced myself to resist the urge to cover myself under his stare. It was that moving and provocative. My breasts grew heavy and tight. A thin trickle of wetness dampened the curls between my legs. His look was a touch, stroking me and making me want to both shield myself from his attention and display myself for his approval. Never had I felt such contradictory emotions at one time.
“When we’re together, you are to never be dressed,” he demanded. “Understood?”
I inclined my head.
“Sit.” He gestured toward the piano.
The bench was cool beneath my bare bottom, a stark contrast between the heat flowing through me and the warmth of the room. He came up behind me and straddled me, pulling me up so that I rested partially on the bench and partially between his thighs. His skin was hot against mine. He cupped my breasts in his large hands. More heat infused my already overwhelmed senses.
“Play,” he commanded.
“W-what should I play?”
“Anything you like.” One of his hands drifted lower, sliding between my parted legs.
I stumbled through the notes of Tchaikovsky’s “Piano Concerto No. 1” as though I was only learning it and hadn’t played it a thousand times before. He kept me on the edge with his hands on my body and his mouth on my neck. Every time I’d lose my place or try to stop playing, he’d tweak my nipple and tell me to finish it or he wouldn’t let me finish. It was a torturous mission. He didn’t play fair.