by Judith Gould
“I . . . well . . . I thought about you, too.”
He smiled, and she thought it was one of the most wonderful smiles she’d ever seen. She felt her heart begin to race.
Matt put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Please forgive me,” he said softly. He leaned toward her and brushed her cheek with his lips.
Ariadne had never felt so desired as she felt now, and the stirring deep down inside her overcame any hesitation she had. Matt embraced her, expelling a rush of breath that was a mixture of relief and desire. He kissed her lips with a moan and pulled her closer. She put her arms around him and returned his kiss, giving in to her yearning.
“I’ve wanted this so much,” Matt whispered. “I’ve wanted you and missed you so much.” He brushed his lips across her forehead and down her cheeks, then kissed and licked her ears and throat.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said softly. Then she added, “And I forgive you, Matt.”
With a new urgency he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of her sweet mouth, while his hands ran slowly up and down her spine.
She relished his arms about her and his kisses as never before, and the erotic flames of desire that he had stirred to life in the past were rekindled, reawakening the dormant sensuousness in her loins. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want you so much.”
He embraced her, then withdrew slightly and looked into her eyes. “I want you, too. Here and now. I can’t wait.” He took her hand and slid off the fallen tree. Ariadne slipped down and let him guide her into the thick of the woods. He stopped when they reached a small glade where the ground was thick with ferns sprouting from the moss-covered earth. Turning to her, he put his arms around her again and held her close, kissing her tenderly and deeply.
Ariadne sighed with desire, returning his kisses, her arms on his broad shoulders. Matt moaned and pulled her closer. She could feel his urgency pressed hard against her through his khakis, and her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the erotic pleasure their lovemaking had brought her. Gently, Matt drew her down with him until they were both on their knees among the ferns, their lips still joined in a kiss, their arms still about each other. He ran his hands up and down her back, then massaged her rounded buttocks before pressing her firmly against his engorged manhood. Ariadne slid a hand between them and lightly stroked his hardness. Matt moaned again, kissing her more deeply, then licking and kissing her ears and neck, one of his hands exploring her ample breasts through the soft cotton shift she was wearing.
Ariadne swooned with desire as she felt her nipples harden against his touch. Drawing back, she whispered in a breathy voice, “Ooooh, Matt. Please. I want you. I want you . . . now.”
He gently laid her on the ground and lay beside her, gazing into her eyes as he placed a hand between her thighs and began tenderly stroking the mound there. Ariadne reached down and pressed his hardness again. Matt gasped, then slid his hand under her loose shift, inexorably trailing up her thighs to the cleft between them. The thong she wore was damp with her desire for him, and he slipped his hand inside it and began caressing her swollen lips. Ariadne mewled with passion, and her body trembled with excitement.
He kissed her again as he drew her thong down, Ariadne shifting to help him take it off completely. He quickly unzipped his trousers, pulling them down with his briefs at the same time. His manhood sprang free, and Ariadne encircled it with her hand. Matt sucked in his breath, but let her delicately stroke him. “Oh, my God. I can’t wait any longer,” he rasped. Drawing her shift up to expose her golden mound, he gently mounted her, letting Ariadne guide him to her.
As he entered her, she swooned with pleasure and spread her legs wide to receive him. Matt moved slowly at first, savoring the exquisite sensation of his cock inside her, but he couldn’t hold back long. He had ached for this moment, and in his fervent desire for her he began to rapidly move in and out, finally thrusting with all his might.
Ariadne cried out in ecstasy. The joy was almost too much to bear. She felt engulfed by him—physically and emotionally—yet pushed against his mighty groin for more, her own yearning as powerful as his. In only moments she felt the first wave of orgasm overcome her, and she began thrashing beneath him, throwing her head from side to side.
“Matt . . . oh, Matt . . . ,” she cried. Her hands dug into his back as she held him to her as tightly as possible.
Her joy urged him on, and he pumped against her with abandon, unable to control his desire for satisfaction. With a mighty heave, he emitted a gasp and thrust himself inside her as far as possible, his body bucking against hers as he flooded her with his juices. He collapsed atop her, panting as if he were a long-distance runner, but his mouth covered hers, kissing her lustily and deeply.
“Ariadne . . . ,” he rasped. “You’re so . . . wonderful.” He hugged her as if he would never let her go, his powerful chest heaving against hers as he caught his breath.
On the mossy ground they lay together, the dappled light on their spent bodies. When he eased off her at last, he brought her with him, and they lay face-to-face on their sides. He kissed her brow and eyes, her nose and cheeks, her lips and chin, all with the greatest tenderness, as if she were a delicate porcelain doll that might break. He gazed into her dark eyes, a smile on his sensuous lips. “I . . . I’m so . . . so thankful for you,” he whispered. “I’ve missed this—you—so much in the last few days. We’ve been here together but not together.”
She held his gaze. “I’ve missed you, too, Matt.”
He hugged her again. “And I’m so happy that you understand now. That I really do have feelings for you.”
Ariadne nodded but remained silent. She was wary of stating her own powerful feelings for him, even though she believed him and trusted him. Perhaps she was being irrational, she thought, but she was afraid of putting a jinx on what they had together.
Matt brushed her lips with his. “And you’ve really forgiven me?”
She nodded again. “How could I not?”
He kissed her again. “Oh, Ariadne, you are so wonderful,” he said with puppyish exuberance, squeezing her to him.
She smiled. “You are, too, Matt.”
Matt slowly brushed a hand up and down her back and kissed her lips passionately, his tongue delving into her mouth. She ran a hand through his tousled hair, then across his broad, muscular shoulders. His lips moved to her neck, and she threw her head back as his tongue licked her. She could feel him inside her, swelling with hardness again, and she moaned with pleasure as they began making love again. They savored each other slowly, as if in their own world, a place without demands and constraints and time itself.
The man had been watching them ever since they had sat quietly talking on the fallen tree. He had seen them make love the first time, and now he observed them begin coupling yet again. Bloody hell, he thought. She’s a fucking nympho. Who the hell is she? He reluctantly glanced down at his watch. He could hardly wait to call his boss with the news, but he realized that he had to be patient. He didn’t dare make a sound. Not now. The risk of being caught was too great, and at this point that would in all likelihood entail a very messy scene. The guy could be a real bruiser, he thought. Tall and muscular, fit as they come. He didn’t want to tangle with the son of a bitch. He would have to wait until they were finished with the old in-and-out and went back to the house.
Then he would get on his cell phone and call his boss. Have I got news for her, he thought, wondering how she was going to take it. He smiled at the mere idea of reporting this piece of news to her. The nympho on the ground, humping only a few feet away from where he was hidden, looked remarkably like his boss. He didn’t know the significance of this, but he was certain that it meant something. What’s more, he was sure that his boss would think so, too. Hell, he thought, my description of her might provide her identity: the boss might know who the nympho is when she finds out that she looks just like her.
He smiled again. Bet there’
s going to be a bonus in this for me.
A couple of days later, Ariadne asked everyone to gather in the library. It was time to give them her decision. Sugar was startled by the transformation in the young woman’s mien. She was rosy-cheeked, and there was a glow of happiness about her that seemed to come from within.
Ariadne clasped her hands in her lap and quietly said, “I’ve made up my mind.”
Adrian, Yves, Sugar, and Angelo waited silently, knowing better than to push for her answer at this point.
“Everything inside me tells me not to go through with this masquerade. Pulling off an undertaking of such magnitude is surely near impossible. There are too many things that can go wrong.”
She paused and sighed, then continued. “I weighed all the reasons for deciding against it, and compared them with various things Nikoletta has done or is planning to do.” She smiled humorlessly. “Although my father robbed me of my identity, I am, for better or worse, his daughter by blood. And morally, I think that I have no choice but to do what is best for the common good.”
There was an almost palpable feeling of relief in the room, but no one voiced a word of congratulation.
Ariadne raised her chin with dignity and pride. “So. Now that we have that out of the way, when do we begin?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“There is no time like the present,” Adrian replied, smiling with relief, “especially since time is the one luxury we can’t afford. The grand opening of the new PPHL headquarters is in seven and a half weeks.”
Seven and a half weeks? Ariadne thought. That’s how long I have to transform myself into a totally new person.
She suddenly felt queasy.
A flurry of e-mail and cell phone messages from Nikoletta stirred Adrian, Sugar, Yves, and Angelo into action. They had thus far managed to escape Nikoletta’s radar, but now they had to resume their duties at PPHL. They decided to take turns teaching Ariadne how to transform herself into a convincing Nikoletta. Angelo would be her first instructor. Adrian, Yves, and Sugar left with hurried good-byes, leaving Ariadne in Angelo’s firm, capable hands.
“You know that I hold Nikoletta responsible for the death of my daughter,” he told her, “and you are the only person who can make up for it.”
Ariadne immediately felt the weight of an awesome responsibility on her shoulders. “I will do my best to succeed,” she said.
“I know that,” he said gently, “but if our endeavor fails, I hope you won’t feel that it’s your fault. We’re asking an awful lot of you. Now, then, to begin with I’m going to show you video clips of Nikoletta. There’s a mountain of material, so I suggest that you make yourself comfortable before we get started.”
Angelo began feeding the videos into the player. After hours of watching them, broken up by time to eat together and discuss them, Ariadne was dumbfounded. While only a small record of her own life existed, her twin sister seemed to have had almost every hour documented. The sheer number of videos was dizzying.
Ariadne watched endless footage of Nikoletta at parties, fund-raisers, and sporting events. Winter bobsled runs and ski slaloms at fancy resorts, romps on water skis and Jet Skis in warm waters the world over, and horseback rides and sports car rallies—all of the videos reminded Ariadne that she had never participated in any of these activities, much less expertly as Nikoletta did. She watched hordes of friends and acquaintances as they greeted her sister, air-kissing, hugging, shaking hands, often using pet nicknames. Many of them were celebrities, even film stars, whom Angelo needlessly pointed out, giving the faces names. Ariadne had no problem learning who they all were, since she had seen so many of them on TV, in the movies, or in magazines or newspapers. She thought that she had even seen Nikoletta in magazines, but she couldn’t be certain. She’d never gotten the kind of magazines that featured pictures of celebrities, but she had the feeling that Nikoletta was familiar and not just because they were twins.
Oddly, no one had ever pointed out that she looked like Nikoletta, but Ariadne attributed that to several factors. For the first ten years of her life, she had lived in a very remote spot on a Greek island, a part of the island where tourists never ventured and there were no stores that sold magazines or tabloids. There was no village at all where her foster family lived, and even on the rare occasions when they went into the town on Hydra, she was still a child. No one would have thought to compare her to the daughter of very wealthy Greeks who lived primarily in Paris, London, and New York. At that time, Nikoletta, a child also, would seldom have appeared in magazines or newspapers.
When Ariadne was taken to Connecticut, she lived in a tiny hamlet with foster parents who never bought the kind of magazines and newspapers in which Nikoletta would have appeared. Even at boarding school, they were rarely if ever available. Besides, Ariadne reasoned, Nikoletta always wore a lot of makeup, her hair was styled and lightened, and she was never seen in anything but designer clothing, even if a bikini. Ariadne had hardly ever worn any makeup and had never even been in a beauty salon. Her foster mother cut her hair, and it had never been styled. As for clothes, jeans and hand-me-down sweaters and T-shirts and inexpensive sneakers had been her uniform. When she’d entered Williams College, she’d been able to buy some clothes, but they were primarily the gym clothes that nearly everyone wore on a daily basis. She did have a few nicer things now, but nothing that Nikoletta would be caught dead in.
The old expression “Clothes make the man” came to mind, and Ariadne thought that in this case it applied. Only here, it was the clothing and a whole lot more that made the woman. Nikoletta’s grooming, her daily use of makeup, and her expensive haircuts and styles, along with the costly designer clothing that made up her wardrobe, made her look very different from her twin. Strip all that away, Ariadne thought, and Nikoletta would look just like her. Performing the reverse procedure would turn Ariadne into Nikoletta, or one of the Nikolettas.
For what amazed Ariadne more than anything else was that there seemed to be many Nikolettas, all rolled up into one person: Nikoletta the party girl was joined by Nikoletta the fashion statement, the businesswoman, the philanthropist, the seductress, the publicity hound, the hostess, and the sportswoman. And Ariadne had a strong sense of Nikoletta the bitch, a presence that somehow seemed to pervade all the other images.
Ariadne felt like a voyeur watching the videos, but in a strange way, she felt that she was watching herself. No, not herself, she thought. Nikoletta was truly different in every way. She didn’t walk; she strutted as though she owned the world. She gestured extravagantly. She smoked on occasion, something Ariadne didn’t even want to try. She cursed like a sailor in a number of languages.
The longer Ariadne watched the videos, the heavier was the sinking feeling that came over her. I was right, she thought. Pulling off this charade is impossible.
After hours of viewing Nikoletta, overload began to set in, and even after she turned the television set off, images of her twin sister swam in front of her eyes. During a lunch break, Ariadne and Angelo had lunch on trays.
Ariadne picked up her fork but put it back down.
“What’s wrong?” Angelo asked.
Ariadne shook her head. “I . . . I’m just not hungry,” she replied. The truth was, she thought food might make her sick.
“Are you beginning to panic?” Angelo asked.
“I do feel overwhelmed,” she replied. “I feel as if my entire life has been an awful joke based on lies, and it seems that’s what my future’s going to be, too.”
“I won’t try to humor you,” Angelo said. “This is going to be extremely tough. You can see now that your sister is a complicated and brilliant young woman. But you have what she has plus something else. Something she doesn’t have.”
Ariadne looked at him in amazement. “That person I’ve been watching could run circles around me. She is so accomplished and beautiful and savvy. I can’t even imagine being compared with her.”
“Ariadne, don’t forget that you’re
twins. You, too, are beautiful, and you’re extremely bright. And you have heart, something your sister doesn’t have.” He touched her tenderly. “You can do this, Ariadne. I know you can. For yourself, for us, for my poor Bianca and the others who’ve suffered—and still are—because of her.”
She felt tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll try,” she promised.
“Now, pick up that fork, young lady,” he said. “You’re going to need energy.”
Chapter Twenty-one
East Hampton, Long Island
Summoned to Nikoletta’s shingled “cottage”—a sprawling estate with indoor and outdoor swimming pools and tennis courts—tucked behind the dunes by the ocean, Sugar arrived by helicopter from New York City as dusk was falling. As the helicopter neared the mansion, she could see that the circular driveway was lined with trucks and vans, and two huge party tents had been erected on the lawn, along with outdoor dance floors and a stage. Potted tropical trees and flowers and miles of strung lights were everywhere.
I wonder what the occasion is, she thought. Nearly always apprised of Nikoletta’s big parties and often invited, she knew nothing about this one. As the helicopter began to descend to the helipad, she noticed that the vans and trucks were being loaded, and the party planner’s work was being dismantled. Has there already been a party? she wondered. That was unlikely because she would have read about it in the papers or already had a phone call from a friend. What’s going on?
After the helicopter landed, she was immediately whisked to the house by one of the retinue of plainclothes security men who guarded Nikoletta and her various homes at all times. In the house, the servants were all virtually on tiptoe, and Sugar received a subdued reception.
“What’s going on?” she asked Percy, the requisite British butler.
“Madam is on a rampage,” he whispered.