It’s a privilege and a thrill to watch you blossom.
I wonder what he’ll make of my next adventure - you see, afterwards, I’d told Helena about my blog. I thought she’d get a kick out of being put online and I was right. And further more, she’d told me if I really was interested in exploring more, she had a little proposition for me.
She knew this couple, a bit older than me - they were very stylish and rich. Both art dealers. They were always on the lookout for new people to ‘play’ with and she thought I’d be perfect for them — that all three of us would get a kick out of it. She hinted that she’d had fun with them in the past, too … And I’d agreed to let her put them in touch with me. In fact, after such a fun evening, I’d jumped at the chance of another adventure.
I feel like I’m finally hitting my stride. I’m starting to love my new life here, and I’m open to all possibilities. And that might even mean that, sometime in the future, Carson will appear back in my life. It just feels like destiny. I will see him again, and when I do? I’ll have a few new tricks up my sleeve.
Before I know it, it’s time to Skype with Katy again.
After we last spoke, I felt so guilty about hiding things from her that I sent her the longest email. I attached about a thousand pictures of my new tattoo, too, and although I didn’t give her any specifics, I just told her that I was ‘playing the field’ and ‘having some fun’.
I also told her just how much I missed her, how much I appreciated everything she’s done for me, and how I was never going to lose her as a friend.
She sent a huge email back — I felt so relieved. And the best thing was that we agreed on a regular weekly Skype date: Wednesday nights at eleven pm (my time).
As the familiar dial tone sounds, and then her image flashes up on my laptop screen — back with my best friend, a cup of English tea steaming on the little bedside table next to me — I actually kind of feel at home.
We launch into conversation, and I’m having a great time as she catches me up with all the gossip back in London.
“Hey listen,” she says, “I know you said you never wanted to hear his name ever again, but I need to tell you this. Guess what happened to Will?”
I feel a weird little flutter when she says his name, I can’t help it, but it passes so quickly that I realise it was just the past and nothing to do with my future.
“Sure,” I say. “Go on …”
“Okay,” she continues. “Well, he dropped out of uni! Six years of studying to be a doctor down the drain. He’s taken up with this real skank, too, and it turns out she’s bad news. He’s just working full time in a bar now, and from what I hear, he’s got into cocaine. You had a real lucky escape there.”
I remain silent for a moment.
I’ve had so many fantasies of bad things happening to Will — things I thought he deserved — but now I realise I don’t want any of that after all.
“You okay?” Katy asks, softly.
“Yeah,” I reply. “It might sound stupid, but I just wish there was some way I could help him, despite everything. But I know I can’t …”
“You’re too nice,” Katy laughs.
And even after we’ve ended the call, I still find myself feeling so sorry for Will. When we first met, being a doctor was a dream for him, it was all he talked about. But if I think about it, yeah, he was starting to get flaky, he was losing interest, his grades were going down. It’s sad to think that he’s let go of something he was so passionate about. And for what?
It’s crazy just how fast people can change sometimes, I think, my mind turning from Will back to myself again.
And as I stand up and take a good long look at myself — my dark hair, my new clothes, my tattoo peeking out from beneath the hem of my t-shirt — I wonder if Will would even recognise me now. Who I’ve become …
Only a few short months ago, I couldn’t imagine kissing anyone but Will. And that was all I wanted. And now? I can’t believe that I would live my life so limited. The last time Will and I were in bed together, he told me I was too much — too intense. Well, if that was intense, what the hell was my experience in the hotel room with Carson? Or even in the changing room of that store, fully clothed and in broad daylight.
I remember with relish the way he looked at me, teased me, touched me, brought me to the very edge of desire, his hands on my ass, his tongue in my mouth, both of us working each other up like crazy ...
Intense?
I think I’m only just beginning to learn what that word even means.
He doesn’t know it yet, but today is ‘Operation Dad’ — the sequel.
Now that he’s finally got some halfway decent clothes to wear, he’s actually looking pretty good.
I even ordered him — all the way from Bond Street, London — a proper gentlemen’s shaving set, too. I told him it was a present: to say thank you for letting me move in, rent free, at such short notice. And it was, kind of. But mostly, he just needed a proper shave.
So today we’re going to hang out; spend some real quality Father-Daughter time together, but little does he know that I’ve got another agenda, too …
“Ready, Daddy?” I call, as I grab my bag and head into the kitchen.
“For you, Honey? I’m always ready,” he smiles back.
He’s wearing one of his brand new suits — a casual blue linen number, with a slightly rumpled white shirt. I make a mental note to do his ironing, but overall, he doesn’t look half bad.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asks. “You’ve been pretty mysterious …”
“No mystery!” I laugh. “I just thought we’d grab some brunch, see the sights, take a walk through Central Park … Just normal, regular father-daughter stuff.”
And this is all true. That is what we’re doing today. But I’ve done my research, and our first stop of the day is Good Enough to Eat: a stylish but cosy brasserie in Manhattan, right near the park.
As we take our table, Dad is immediately engrossed in the menu. I take the opportunity to scan the room. Perfect, I think.
“What are you having, Daddy?” I ask. “The pancakes are supposed to be amazing here.”
“Well, I’ll have pancakes then!” he says happily. “And the biggest cup of coffee they’ll serve me!”
My research wasn’t wrong — the pancakes when they arrive are amazing. And while Dad fills me in on all the latest juicy campus gossip, I notice out of the corner of my eye that a stylish older woman just a little across the room keeps looking our way, and it’s definitely not me whose attention she’s trying to get.
“Don’t look now,” I whisper conspiratorially, leaning in across the table towards him, “but I think that lady, the one on the left with the long blonde hair, is checking you out.”
Dad immediately cranes his head to look, of course. Typical!
“I don’t think so, Honey,” he mutters, shrugging off the suggestion. “I think she’s most likely just trying to catch the attention of the waiter.”
“No, really, Dad,” I insist. “She’s been looking this way ever since we sat down.”
“Well, if you say so,” he says, way less excited by this than I’d hoped, “but to be honest, I can’t remember the last time a woman even looked at me. I mean, I’m not exactly a catch right now, am I?”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “What are you talking about? We’ve taken you shopping, spruced you up … I’d say you were totally a catch.”
“Well, I might look okay from the outside,” he agrees, “but what would I even say to a woman I don’t know? I was with Gretchen for six years. And before that, the only other serious relationship I’ve ever had was with your mother. I’ve never dated. How am I supposed to date?”
“You just need some practice!” I laugh. “Tell you what, why don’t I invite her to join us?”
“Woah, woah, woah,” he says, almost lifting himself out of his seat in panic. “Slow down there! I’m not here to chat to strange women. I’m here to spen
d the day with my daughter, who I haven’t seen nearly enough of in the past few years. Why did you choose this place, anyway? I’m starting to think you had an ulterior motive …”
I try to hide my smile. He’s got me there.
And if he could see my Google search history — best brunch Manhattan divorcee hookup suggestions — then there’d be no denying it.
But of course I’m not going to admit to that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daddy!” I laugh in my most innocent voice. “I just heard they had really good pancakes!”
Girl After Dark: Three’s Company
“More champagne?” asks Kiki.
From the moment she answers the door, I know we’re going to get on. She’s one of the most stylish people I’ve ever met, her apartment is like a work of art, her charcoal grey shift dress is pristine, and she knows exactly who she is. I’m hoping I can learn a thing or two from her this evening.
And of course the apartment looks like a work of art: both her and her husband, Neal, are art dealers.
I nod and she pours me another glance of vintage champagne, the golden bubbling liquid dancing within its elegant flute matching the excitement that’s bubbling up within me as I look around this beautiful room.
The apartment is as carefully curated as any gallery. On the dark red walls hang a selection of modern paintings, and on every available surface stand strange geometric sculptures made of brass, ceramics and wood.
I find it hard to concentrate, my eyes darting around the room, trying to take everything in. This does not escape Kiki’s notice.
She stands — all the better to display her trim figure, and gives me a brief tour of the art works.
“I see you’re admiring our little collection,” she says. “This is our latest discovery, a bold new piece by William Anderson, a recent graduate of Cal-Arts. I snapped this up before anyone else could …”
Next, she points an elegant fingernail at a strange wooden object in the farthest corner of the room.
“And this is by a young sculptor and carpenter working out of Brooklyn … Josh Bailey. I’ve been keeping an eye on his work for a while now and I really think he’s going somewhere. It’s interesting, don’t you think?”
She catches me for a moment with her piercing black eyes and I just nod, unsure quite what to say and not wanting to make myself sound stupid by blurting out any old thing.
I watch, mesmerised, as Kiki continues to show me around the room.
She’s very different from The Lady. Much more traditionally feminine, her figure smaller and slighter. Her glossy black hair’s cut in a long asymmetric bob.
She points at a beautiful, delicate picture of cherry blossom and says, “I like my home to reflect my taste, my personality. My mother is Japanese, and this piece is by a very well respected Japanese artist, Togyu Okumura. His work hardly ever comes on the open market. You wouldn’t believe how much money I’ve been offered to sell this.” She smiles. “But it reminds me of growing up in Tokyo and to me, it’s priceless.”
Yale educated, half-Japanese, half-French, Kiki is by far the most sophisticated woman I’ve ever met. And I’m flattered that she’s taking an interest in me.
She turns to me with the same kind of cool, possessive gaze, looking me up and down as if I’m an artwork too. Her eyes rest on my heels and she nods, approvingly.
“The dazzling blue satin of your heels really brings out your eyes, you know. I like a woman who knows how to dress for her own body.”
I feel myself blush, unused to such scrutiny, and as I look away for a moment I realise with a small shiver that there’s someone else in the doorway to the room, watching me too.
How long has he been here? I wonder.
This must be her husband, Neal. Like Kiki, he’s exquisitely dressed, and strikingly good-looking. His hair is slicked back and his eyes are framed by stylish black glasses. His crisp black shirt is open a couple of buttons, giving me a tantalising flash of his smooth tanned skin beneath. He’s leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, holding a glass of champagne, and I realise that he’s just outright staring at me.
Normally, it would be totally weird for a husband to stare so openly at another woman like this − but then I remind myself why I’m here. Of course he’s staring. They’re both staring at me. Hungrily.
“Glad you could join us, darling,” Kiki says. “Why don’t you come in and meet our guest?”
He moves slowly but surely across the room and takes a seat next to me on the deep grey sofa. Kiki excuses herself from the room for a moment, and her husband begins to talk.
If I’m nervous about being left alone in the room with a strange man, he immediately makes me feel at ease.
Neal tells me more about his work as an art dealer, then begins to explain how he met his wife, and it’s clear that despite whatever ‘arrangement’ they might have here, he’s still very much in love with her.
As he talks, Kiki reenters the room, now dressed in a simple silk kimono. It charges the air with excitement: as if we’re all suddenly thinking about what’s going to happen next. She stands in the corner, appraising a picture on the wall.
“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Neal says to me. “Sometimes, I can’t help but think of her as another piece in my collection.”
At this, Kiki laughs and shakes her head.
“If anything,” she purrs with a wicked smile, “it’s the other way around … But anyway, enough about us. We need to make sure we’re making our guest feel welcome. Do you think she’s feeling welcome so far?”
It’s the strangest feeling.
I can feel the two of them circling me now, talking about me like *I’m* the brand new piece in their collection. And you know what? I’m kind of enjoying it …
“She’s perfect,” Neal says. “We must thank our friend the next time we see her. She’s chosen perfectly for our tastes.”
As their gaze moves over me, I feel myself growing more and more turned on.
Kiki takes my hand, her long cool fingers grasping my own as she leads me through to a beautifully decorated bedroom — all dark wood and clean elegant lines, with a huge bed standing in the centre.
As she pulls me onto the bed with her, I realise that Neal has remained in the doorway, watching the two of us.
“Don’t mind him,” Kiki whispers when she notices where I’m looking. “He likes to watch me play sometimes. Gets him hot. You don’t mind, do you?”
I shake my head, too scared to speak now in case I somehow break the spell. Because things seem to be moving so quickly now and I‘m enjoying myself, my head spinning, my heart pounding, my skin flashing with fire as Kiki begins to undress me, so gently, her fingers tugging at my clothes, eager to have me naked.
It hits me all in a wave how crazy what I’m doing is: after all, here I am, in the bedroom of a couple I’ve known for less than an hour, and the woman is undressing me while the guy is watching on from the doorway.
I can feel myself starting to get second thoughts. Is this too much? Are things moving too quickly?
But when she kisses me, such a powerful yet sensual kiss, it completely knocks me off guard, and I feel myself melting beneath her touch.
As she strips me naked, my skin is tingling with anticipation and I kiss her back hard, as her fingers scoop my breasts free from the cups of my bra, tweaking my nipples, causing me to shiver and moan into her mouth.
Still kissing me, I feel her hands move to my panties, tugging them eagerly down my thighs, too, exposing me.
Again, I marvel at what I’m doing.
After all, so far, I’m the only one naked here: both Kiki and Neal now taking a moment to pause and look at my body.
“You like?” she asks him, again as if I’m an artwork.
He smiles and nods, still leaning in the doorway.
“Then why don’t you come and join us?”
At this he nods, then approaches the bed. It’s clear from the huge bulge
in his pants that he’s just as excited at what’s about to happen as I am.
And from the way Kiki speaks to him, telling him what to do like that, it seems clear that she’s the one in charge in this situation - the one calling the shots.
He’s only just reached the bed before she’s grabbing him and pushing him onto his back onto the sheets between us. She laughs, throwing back her head, clearly enjoying her role as domme.
“Well?” she says to me, nodding down at him. “What are you waiting for?”
I look down at him. He’s lying there on his back, waiting for me to take control.
I gulp.
Can I do this? Is this even me?
With shaky fingers I gingerly begin to tug at his belt.
“Don’t be shy,” she laughs, stroking the hair from my face as I lean down and begin to unbuckle his pants. “Neal likes a girl who can take charge …”
I pull open his pants, then tug down his boxers, his cock springing free, hard and pink and swollen.
“See?” Kiki whispers, her hands moving to my body as she slips behind me on the bed, playing softly with my breasts, fondling my nipples, as I in turn begin to stroke Neal’s cock, feeling him grow even harder in my grip.
I work him with both hands, enjoying hearing him begin to groan, knowing that I’m the one causing his pleasure, knowing that I’m the one in charge.
“Good girl,” Kiki coos as I pick up pace a little, stroking him with one hand while massaging his balls with the other.
“Why don’t you take a seat on his face while you’re doing that? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, would you honey?”
I gulp again, darting a quick glance down at Neal, who’s eyes are closed, lost in his pleasure, then back at Kiki who smiles and nods for me to do just as she suggests.
So I nervously change position, throwing a leg cautiously over Neal’s shoulders then easing myself back towards him.
With a shiver, I feel his hot hands take firm hold of my hips, pulling me eagerly towards him, his tongue lapping at my clit.
Girl After Dark Page 11