by Emma Rose
“Is there a problem with the cure?” Anytime Tyler wanted to speak to Andrew Sovich, there was a feeling of impending doom in the air. The cure was still waiting for the governmental go-ahead to continue testing which had all of Dyes, particularly Tyler, on edge.
“No, not at all.” Tyler replied with a devious smile. “Andrew comes with a lot of Russian connections, some more valuable than others. I just want to speak to one. By the way, pick out a pretty dress and get ready for a good time. We’re going to a wine opening.”
“Um, Tyler? Is that the one Eddie invited you to? Because I don’t think it’s such a great idea to…” Cami began, wondering how she was going to get out of going this time.
“Of course, it’s a great idea. I have a new bottle of Chateau Rothschild I’d love to see go to a good home and who better to deliver it with than the woman of my dreams? Don’t forget to call Dr. S. I really need to speak to him quickly.”
Cami nodded, putting on the best fake smile she could manage. She knew exactly what Maralee would say when she heard Cami was going to the opening after all, “Face it, Cam. You can’t fight fate.”
A week passed so quickly Cami could have sworn there was a big cosmic clock somewhere and that hand that winds it had gone into overdrive. She looked in the mirror at the black dress she’d managed to shoe-horn herself into for the night. Loose, short skirt, but tight around the hips, accentuating her frame and giving an encouraging wink to anyone who may be standing behind her. Coupled with some four inch heels and a new black purse, the dress gave her the allure of a movie star, and the aura of a panther.
If someone asked who she was dressing for, Cami couldn’t have given them a straight answer. She wanted it to be for Tyler. He had been pre-occupied with Dr. Sovich and mysteriously absent much of the past week, but continued to be an affirming, happy presence in her love life. She also hoped Eddie saw her in the naughty wrapper to remind him of everything he could have had, but lost in his power play over the cure. Eddie was the old, however, and Tyler was the new. She decided to use a softer shade of lipstick and wear a wrap around her shoulders to accommodate her lover instead of trying to enamor her past seducer.
Tyler arrived in a sports car without a driver and surprised Cami by asking her if she’d like to drive them up the mountain to the lakeside bar as he didn’t know the area very well. She loved the idea of seeing Eddie’s face when she pulled up behind the wheel of Tyler’s SLR McLaren, but she knew they would more likely see Eddie’s laughing grin when the tow truck pulled the McLaren out of a ditch because she didn’t know how to drive it. With regret, she declined.
The air was crisp but comfortable as the crowd milled around the terrace sipping wine and listening to the jazz combo Steve brought in for the night. Maralee was the first to greet them, wearing a shimmering blue gown that made her seem both imperial and ethereal. She bubbled about the décor and amazing selection of wines brought by people to enter into the contest.
“Where’s our bottle?” Cami asked Tyler as he was handing his keys to the valet.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I’d never let you down,” Tyler replied as he reached behind his seat and pulled out an old locked and cushioned case.
“Is that a trumpet?” Eddie’s voice rang out across the din, slicing the night and Cami’s heart in two. “Look, Harold, Ty the Guy is going to play in the band tonight. How lucky we are!”
Harold stepped out from behind Eddie, horrified, but not surprised by his rude behavior. Harold reached out to Tyler with a gentlemanly handshake which the Arlington native returned in kind.
“Mr. Bach, I’m so grateful you could come. It’s wonderful to see you again too, Miss Hill. I was so very excited when Miss Snow told us you’d be here.” Harold guided Tyler to meet Steve and deliver the wine to the expert’s table. Maralee pulled Cami over to the side, advising her that Eddie had been most interested in her arrival and Tyler’s wine.
“I don’t know how the super-rich fight, but odds are this wine contest is about far more than the smoothest grape juice in town. It’s about you.”
“I’ve made a decision. It’s Tyler. Eddie’s got something I can’t explain, but for once in my life I need to do the smart thing, not the heart thing.”
“Be careful, Cam,” the priestess warned as they looked from the terrace at the nearly full moon. “The gods don’t like it when you think you can outsmart them.”
“Then the gods should bring Eddie another woman, because this one is taken,” she retorted. Cami noticed a red curtain and rope over a door to the side of the balcony. “What’s that about?”
“Apparently, there’s a bar under the bar,” Maralee said. “Everyone I’ve talked to at Lightfeathers seems to know about it, but no one wants to say for sure. All I know is rumor has it Mr. Dunning’s investment secured this place for some time to come.”
Someone began ringing a spoon against a wine glass and all turned to look at the table in the center where Steve, resplendent in his tuxedo accented by his short, cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes, was prepared to make an announcement. Harold stood beside him, brown hair with a touch of gray combed dangerously close to being a comb-over, in a dinner jacket and tie staring at the floor.
“What an odd couple,” Cami mused to Maralee. “It’s like Bruce Wayne dating Alfred.”
“They’ve been together a very long time,” Maralee answered. “Some people just fit, even when no one else seems to think so.”
Cami wasn’t sure if Maralee was referring to her and Tyler or her and Eddie. She just nodded and commented on the way the light shining down on Steve made him appear endowed with supernatural power. She knew Maralee would at least approve of that. Steve made some opening remarks and thank you’s—singling out Eddie for his generous investment and friendship, then turned to the matter at hand.
“I have one more announcement and we will commence with the grand event—the rare wine competition. As you know, all bottles entered in the competition will be displayed here at The Wine Loft for one month as part of our opening showcase. In return for your gracious allowance, the winner will get to name a signature drink for The Wine Loft’s menu.”
“If I won, I would name it Dance of Diana,” Maralee mused as Tyler and Cami looked on. Tyler was pretty sure his entry would at least beat her Alchemist’s Punch, but he enjoyed the child-like air Maralee brought to the moment.
“It was my goal to bring a venue to Grafton for people who want to experience a fine wine and exceptional ambiance, but I also know there is another overlooked element in many towns. People who enjoy a more, um…shall we say…exotic experience also need somewhere to…um…” Steve laughed as he realized he’d never had to introduce a fetish dungeon to the society page before. “Well, quite simply—sometimes you just need somewhere to hang your whip.”
One of the bartenders pulled a cord and the curtain fell from across the door. The sign and item above the staircase made Steve’s halting revelation perfectly clear: The Spreader Bar. A few chuckled warmly and everyone gave a polite golf-clap for the effort as Steve informed them it was not yet ready to open, but he was sure both The Wine Loft and The Spreader Bar would fill two sides of the same coin nicely.
“A fetish club under a wine loft,” Tyler mumbled disapprovingly. “If anything says Eddie Dunning, this does.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Cami whispered. Maralee watched as the best dressed citizens of Grafton, the same people she entertained naked in her garden in the light of the full moon, smiled and nodded to one another.
“That place is going to make a fortune!” she said, distracting Tyler from Cami’s curious statement.
Steve started the contest, introducing a wine expert from DC who had examined each bottle, and pointing to the long table of options, each with a cloth over the entry until the big reveal. Maralee’s entry was one of the first to be shown and the wine expert talked about the exciting developments being made in homemade wines and beverages. Other bottles, remarkable for
the vintage, bottle, or chain of ownership (one reportedly owned by Johnny Depp) all were revealed, leaving two bottles left under cover. One was the wine Tyler had delivered in the locked case, and the other was Eddie’s mystery entrant.
“The last two wines are both exquisite and we are really quite lucky to be in their presence,” the wine expert continued. Eddie beamed and tapped his fingers against the table. He thought the expert calling Tyler’s Rothschild exquisite was a bit of a stretch, but he understood the need to be gracious to the outsider, particularly when he’s about to be shown up in front of everyone who matters.
“Good luck,” Tyler said and kissed Cami, drawing Eddie’s attention off himself for a moment.
“It is with great pleasure I reveal the runner up—although experts disagree on whether or not it really belonged to Thomas Jefferson, all agree it is an extraordinary collector’s item. A bottle of 1784 Chateau d’Yquem, entered by Mr. Edward Dunning.”
While everyone clapped and drew closer to see one of the oldest wines from America’s past, Tyler wrapped his arms around Cami and squeezed her tightly.
“We won! We won!” Tyler kissed her again. Cami opened her eyes during the kiss to see Eddie’s clear anger and disappointment glowering through his fake smile.
“And now, the winner of this contest and a bottle of wine I will brag about having the good fortune to see with my own eyes, the oldest known bottle of Sherry from Russia, personally owned by Tsar Nicholas II himself, a 1775 Massandra Sherry, brought to us by Mr. Tyler Bach.”
There was a communal gasp as the expert removed the cloth which had been placed over a water bottle as a decoy, and set the case Tyler walked in with on the table. Silence turned to applause and delight as people drew close to see this rare sight. Steve was watching the crowd erupt while the expert went on and on about the red hue of the sherry, but there was only one thing colored red that Harold was concerned about—Eddie Dunning’s face.
“How did you? I thought…weren’t you bringing something else?” Cami, like Harold, was more concerned about Eddie’s loss than excited by Tyler’s win.
“I let everyone believe I was bringing the ’45 Rothschild since I recently acquired it. But, Andrew Sovich has more connections in Russia than drug formulas, and he helped me get ahold of something much more fun.” Tyler bubbled like a teenager who just beat the football quarterback out of a date to the prom.
“Mr. Bach,” Steve called over the crowd. “It is your right to name a drink on our menu. What say you, sir?”
“I would like to name your wonderful cabernet spritzer the Camellia after my bright and bubbly date for the evening.”
Cami blushed and stared at the floor as another round of applause filled the room. Tyler was whisked away by the wine expert and Maralee found a gentleman interested in purchasing a bottle of her punch which left Cami momentarily alone. A meaty hand brushed her upper arm and she turned to see Eddie beside her, a glass of straight, strong bourbon in his hand.
“I would have named something after you too,” he said. He ran his finger down her side, the heat of his hand searing his presence through the silk of her dress. Her body grew wet at his touch. “But I’d pick their Goldschlager cinnamon fireball to put your name on. You’re definitely better when you’re hot and spicy.”
“I’m sorry that…” Cami began, but Eddie turned away.
“It’s all part of the game, Camellia. Let Ty have his moment. Someday, I will have you.”
She watched as he made his way through the crowd and went through the Spreader Bar door to whatever was downstairs. Harold moved gently beside her and asked if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” Cami said, looking at the door that had been left open just a crack. “But I’m not sure about him.”
“Me either,” Harold confessed. He looked around to make sure Maralee was well cared for and decided to check up on his boss. “I’ll see to him.”
Cami waited, watching the rich mill around chatting with one another. This really wasn’t her world, but it was Tyler’s and she better get used to it. She wondered if his wife liked this kind of thing. Maybe these staid events were exactly what drove her into arms of an artist on DuPont Circle.
When she had enough of polite nods and boorish conversation, she told Tyler she needed some fresh air and a moment to breathe. He went back to his discussion with another couple telling her to find him if she decided she wanted to leave.
Against her better judgment, she opened the crack to the Spreader Bar door, and slipped inside. A small light on the bar was on and a door off the main floor was open, the light from the office casting its glow across the half-finished leather bar. Cami crept down the stairs as silently as her heels would allow and made her way to the door, stopping outside to listen.
“Steve had no choice, Eddie.” Harold said. “What was he going to do? Everyone who is anyone in Grafton is out there.”
“Well, Sir Silver Spoon isn’t from Grafton, is he?” Eddie pouted.
“No, but Dyes Industries is one of the major employers in this town. He has three chemical plants in lower Grafton; do you really think people don’t care if he’s happy?”
“He didn’t win because of his menial labor force, Harold. He won because he had the better wine. What I want to know is why he didn’t bring the Rothschild like we all thought and how the hell he got his hands on a bottle of wine as old as God!”
“I don’t know,” Harold surrendered, realizing no answer was going to soothe his angry boss. “His people spent a lot of time in Russia courting Dr. Sovich, maybe one of them met a dealer.”
“No,” Eddie smacked his hand on the table. “It was that son of a bitch Sovich himself. Get him on the phone in the morning and tell him to come to my house. We need to have a little talk about where his loyalties lie.”
Harold turned to leave causing Cami to lose her balance on her heels and instinctively place her hand on the table near her to keep from falling. The sound echoed through the empty bar. Harold looked back at Eddie who was pulling a folder out of his briefcase.
“Tell Camellia to come in, Harold. She’s listening at the door.” Eddie slid his chair back and stood up. “Oh, and close the upper door all the way when you exit. I have the mouse I set out to trap.”
Harold passed Cami wordlessly, nodding and hopping she knew it meant he wouldn’t tell anyone where she was. She got it. She looked around the dark, empty, dungeon bar.
This is the underworld, and we are all part of it, she thought as she walked into the small office occupied by the Spreader Bar’s chief investor.
“I knew you were there before the noise,” Eddie lied. “I can feel when you are near. You’re in my heart.”
“I just came down to check on you,” she said earnestly. “I know you’re pissed off.”
“Over Lord Fancypants and his Tsarist wine? Never. Even the best chess players lose a game now and then, so see how the opponent chooses to win. His game is mine now.”
“So you say,” Cami turned to leave.
“You can’t go. You don’t have permission.” Eddie countered, standing as if he were going to block the door. But it was an unnecessary gesture. She turned and came back to him, the fire in her eyes betraying the longing between her legs.
“Do I require your permission?” she asked, the edge in her voice enrapturing Eddie.
“Of course not. You don’t need my permission,” he said, moving toward her, his mouth watering. “You need to resist it.”
“What does that mean?” she asked in false protest, knowing exactly what the large man was saying and that it was true. He challenged her in ways no one ever had.
“It means you come to me in an empty bar with your tight dress and fuck me heels and expect me to be a gentleman because your dinner napkin is upstairs collecting praise for his wealth? Forget it!”
Eddie lunged toward her, but he didn’t need to move far because she was already leaning in, already wanting him. Kissing her deeply, he felt the
front of her dress, squeezing her breast through the silk fabric, and then dipping his hand under the seam to find her nipple and pinch it.
“Oh,” Cami moaned, that sweet, beautiful pain piercing her. How she had missed it! She reached for his pants, undoing his belt and folding them open, her hand groping for his cock as he walked her backward against the wall.
Eddie pressed his hips against her, reached down, and slapped her mound several times before pulling her panties to the side and inserting his finger as far as it would go, finding her wet and open as he knew he would.
“You need me,” he said, pushing his finger in and out of her, watching her body move on him, her hips begging him for more. She kissed him again deeply, her mouth searching his as her leg wrapped around him, trying to pull him closer.
“I want you,” she corrected, still thinking she had the upper hand. He aligned his cock to the opening in her body and pushed roughly into her, the standing angle making for a jolting entry into her wet channel.
“Then have me,” he growled, holding her back against the wall and bracing his foot against a turned over stool for leverage. He pushed deeper inside her, withdrew almost all the way and pushed again, his thrusts long and punishing. He did this several more times, never picking up enough speed for her to predict his push, watching her move and sway and pummel herself upon his hard cock seeking quick relief. Finally he plunged into her with a steady motion, pushing her against the wall as she wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life, the feeling of his forceful pounding opening her and filling her. The fast pace, the pent up desire, and the fact her boyfriend was upstairs all led them both to a fast climax. Eddie grunted as he came deep inside her and she grasped him even tighter, her mouth dropping open in a silent, convulsive orgasm.
Clinging to him for a minute she felt her deep breathing pushing everything out of her—all the doubts, all the worries—she was just empty. Eddie was the first to pull away he walked over and grabbed a bar towel, wiping himself and tossing one to her to do the same. She lowered her dress and walked awkwardly toward the darkened bar to make her way upstairs, hoping the dizziness would ease by the time Tyler saw her.