“Just wanted to make sure you’re enjoying your present.”
“Oh, yeah! It’s the best gift ever.”
Lark didn’t say another word. She resumed her expert technique, only this time with extra force.
Dash placed his hands on her head and rode the wave of pleasure. He found the unexpected “gift” totally erotic. He loved her spontaneity. She was exciting him more and more with each touch of her mouth.
“Damn, baby, you’ve got skills, but let’s save this until after the party.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, coming up for air.
“Yes, but don’t worry—we’ll definitely pick up where we left off. You are something else, Lark Randolph. You’re full of surprises.”
“I just like pleasing my man,” Lark said, a mischievous grin on her face.
Chapter 20
As the Mercedes arrived at the 40/40 Club, Lark noticed a group of young women scantily clad in short shorts, midriff tops that revealed their bellies and heels so tall they resembled small stilts. They were posing behind a velvet rope like supermodels in training, waiting to gain entry into the trendy nightspot. Lark had never been to this bar, and she wondered if the clientele was too young for her liking. Those in line seemed to barely be over the drinking age. Suddenly, she felt old, overdressed and out of place.
Why did his friend pick this place? Looks like the people going in still have breast milk on their breath. “I think I should go back home and let you and your friends enjoy the party. This isn’t my scene.”
Dash took her by the hand. “There’s no way I’m letting you leave. Yes, the crowd does look young, but Vance reserved a private room. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
She exhaled. “Oh...okay.”
They exited the car and moved past the velvet rope. Dash gave the menacing-looking doorman his name, and they were ushered inside.
Lark took a look around at the chicly designed, cavernous space, with its muted tones of gray. The focal point of the room was a towering display featuring golden bottles of champagne. The crowd outside may have been young, but the interior design of the club was mature and laid-back.
A hostess greeted them and led the way through the main level, up an open flight of stairs, to the top floor, where the private rooms were located. She opened one of many doors. Inside was a richly appointed sports-themed suite with large framed pictures of Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Michael Jordan, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, among others. A black felt-covered pool table occupied the center of the space.
The first thing Lark noticed after entering the room was the ratio of women to men. There were at least three females to every male. It was obvious a guy had organized the party and had invited more women than men. The entire group seemed to be under thirty. Lark self-consciously tugged at the peplum on her dress, now wishing she had worn something more casual, like leggings and a leather jacket, instead of a dinner outfit. Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, she thought and stopped fidgeting with her clothes.
“There’s the birthday boy!” Vance said, excusing himself from a group of women and walking toward Dash with his arms wide open. After hugging his friend, Vance turned to Lark. “And you must be Lark Randolph.” He lifted her hand and kissed the top of it.
“Hey, man, don’t be kissing my girlfriend,” Dash teased.
Lark watched the handsome men and could just imagine them giving the ladies double trouble. Vance, with his rich chocolate skin and closely cropped hair, was just as striking as Dash. He was dressed to the nines, in a purple-and-white-striped shirt, purple tie, gray vest and slacks.
“Sorry, man, my bad!” Vance threw his hands up in mock surrender.
“Nice to meet you, Vance,” Lark said.
“You guys are a few drinks behind and need to catch up. Let me get you some champagne,” Vance offered, walking over to the bar area. After pouring the bubbly, he gave them each a glass and then gave a toast. “To Dash, one of my favorite people. May you have many more healthy, happy birthdays!”
“I’ll drink to that.” Dash clinked his glass to theirs and downed his champagne in two swallows.
“Happy birthday, baby!” Lark said, chiming in. “So how long have you two been friends?”
“Since high school, Dash was always the goody-goody boy. He didn’t have a string of girlfriends and always made it home before curfew,” Vance said, laughing.
“What was wrong with dating one girl at a time and obeying the house rules?” Dash responded.
“Absolutely nothing,” Lark said, jumping in. She could tell by Vance’s cavalier attitude, he was the playboy type. Although Vance seemed like a nice guy, Lark was glad Dash didn’t share his friend’s viewpoint.
Dash kissed Lark on the mouth. “Thank you, babe, for coming to my defense.”
“Anytime, love. You know I got your back.”
“Aw...you two are just too mushy,” Vance said, waving his hand in their direction.
“It’s not mushy. It’s called a relationship,” Dash said, correcting his friend.
“I hear you, man. Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to find the right woman to settle down with,” Vance said with a serious tone to his voice.
“Hey there, handsome. Remember me?” a woman asked Dash as she approached them.
“Uh...not really,” Dash responded.
Lark eyed the short woman with the long weave. She was wearing heavy makeup and a tight hot-pink dress with a plunging neckline that exposed balloon-type breasts.
“Me and Cindy—” she pointed across the room to another woman “—were at the Monkey Bar and tried to buy you guys a drink. Vance stayed, but you left before we had a chance to meet.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dash responded.
“You should have stayed. The three of us had a great time that night,” she said without shame.
“That we did.” Vance leaned closer to Dash and whispered, “I finally got my threesome and it was awesome.”
“Good for you,” Dash whispered back.
“Come on, Dash. Let me introduce you to Cindy. She’s dying to meet you,” the woman said, totally ignoring Lark.
“No disrespect, but I’m here with my girlfriend.” He took Lark by the waist and pulled her to his side.
The short woman gave Lark an up-and-down look.
“Oh...my bad. I didn’t know you were taken.”
“Yes, I am,” Dash responded, hugging Lark even closer.
Lark couldn’t believe the gall of the woman, talking to Dash as if she weren’t standing there. Lark had the mind to set her straight, but thankfully Dash had already done so. Lark was relieved to know her man wasn’t the type of guy who flirted openly with other women in her presence.
“You got some tequila behind the bar? I’ve had enough champagne,” the woman said to Vance.
“Anything for you, baby. Let’s go downstairs and get a bottle. We’ll be right back,” Vance said, escorting the woman out of the room.
“So is this what I have to look forward to?” Lark asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Women coming out of the woodwork to pour themselves all over you.”
“What can I say? I’m hot!” Dash laughed.
Lark didn’t crack a smile. “I’m not kidding, Dash. You’re a chick magnet, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to deal with all the competition.” Lark spoke her mind without any filters. Seeing Dash in a group of his peers brought home the fact that they ran in completely different social circles. He would always be on the radar of young, brazen women.
Dash held Lark in his arms and kissed her with abandon. “I couldn’t care less about other women, young or old. I’m committed to you. You got that?” he asked, releasing her.
“Yes.”
“Good. N
ow, I don’t want to hear any more doubts or age-related comments,” he said in a stern voice.
Lark knew Dash was being truthful. He only had eyes for her. The lingering doubts she’d had about them were now gone. Lark realized that if they were to have a successful relationship, she would have to release all negative thoughts about the two of them. Their age difference was something she could never change, but she could change her outlook on the matter. She vowed from here on out not to revisit the issue, since Dash had firmly put her fears to rest.
When Vance returned with a bottle of Corzo Anejo, he poured shots for the four of them. “Happy birthday, my friend!”
Lark sipped her shot of tequila, while everyone else downed theirs.
“Wait a minute—we’re doing shots, not sips!” Vance said to Lark.
“I can’t possibly drink all of this in one gulp.”
“Maybe you need a wedge of lime and some salt,” Vance said, handing Lark the chasers.
“Here, let me show you how I do it,” the woman said. She squeezed lime juice in her mouth followed by a sprinkling of salt. She then downed another shot.
“Okay, your turn,” Vance said, nudging Lark’s elbow.
Lark did exactly as the woman had done. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head after swallowing the liquor.
“Are you okay, babe?” Dash asked.
She nodded her head. “That wasn’t too bad... Let me have another shot,” Lark responded.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Vance said and poured another round.
They spent the remainder of the evening doing shots and playing pool. Lark had entered the 40/40 Club with trepidation, but she was now having the time of her life.
“Come here, you,” she said, nearly slurring her words. Lark tugged on Dash’s collar after he had finished playing a game of pool with Vance.
“Looks like somebody is having a good time,” he said.
“I’m having a ball, but I could be having an even better time.”
“Oh, yeah? What would make this party better?” he asked.
Lark peered around the room. Into his ear, she whispered, “Is there a private restroom?”
Dash nodded his head in the direction of the far wall. “Yep, right over there.”
“Okay, I’m going to go in first and then you’re going to come in after me. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Lark disappeared behind a door. The bathroom was just as plush as the main suite, with a sitting area, a marble sink and a huge framed mirror. Lark leaned against the sink, hiked up her dress and removed her thong. She struck a pose looking over her shoulder in the mirror at her naked butt. Ever since she had been with Dash, Lark found herself doing and saying things she had never done before. Instead of shying away from the new adventures, she was embracing them.
“Wow! Look at you!” Dash said in a hushed tone, stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.
“What can I say? I hope you have a condom, because I’m ready to get my groove on.”
Dash retrieved his wallet from his pocket and produced a gold-wrapped rubber. He walked behind Lark, put the package on the counter and took two handfuls of her buttocks. “Babe, you are so hot!”
Lark jutted her butt out farther. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’m truly a lucky man.”
Dash unzipped his pants, reached into the opening and removed his member. “I want you,” he whispered in her ear. Dash then ripped the foil wrapper, took out the condom and rolled it onto his slate-hard manhood. “Lean over.”
Lark placed her hands on the counter, arched her back and readied herself for her lover.
Dash eased the tip of his manhood into her wetness, took her by the hips and began slowly rotating inside her. He moved his member around and around, circling her moistness.
“Ohh, that feels so good,” Lark whispered.
Dash held her tighter and filled her moist insides. He was holding and lifting Lark off her feet with each determined thrust.
Lark held on to the counter and clinched her eyes shut. He felt so good inside of her that she wanted to scream out in pleasure, but she kept silent as Dash took her from behind. She opened her eyes and watched the two of them in the mirror. The sight of her and Dash making love was so erotic that she let ecstasy take over and gave in to her desires. Soon after, Lark could feel Dash slowing down. He gave a few more hard pushes and reached the pinnacle shortly after she did.
“Happy birthday, baby!”
Chapter 21
Lark was sitting at her drafting table. She should have been working on sketches for their fall/winter line, but her head was pounding and she was finding it difficult to concentrate. She had a major headache, a result of drinking too much tequila the night before. Dash’s twenty-fifth birthday celebration had gone on until last call was announced. By then, they had polished off two bottles of tequila and quite a few bottles of champagne. Lark hadn’t partied like that since her early thirties. Being with a younger man had its perks—great sex—and its pitfalls—staying out too late on a work night.
She rose from the stool and went over to her desk for a bottle of aspirin. She swallowed three small white pills with a sip of water. Lark sat down, put her head in her hands and began massaging her temples, trying to alleviate the pain.
“Looks like somebody has a hangover.”
Lark slowly raised her head. Dash was standing in the doorway looking fresh and spry, as if he hadn’t tied one on the night before. His navy pin-striped suit fit his body perfectly. His white shirt was neatly laundered, his hair coiffed and his face smoothly shaven.
“As a matter of fact, I do. How’s your head?”
“Fine. I feel great!” He walked into her office and sat in one of the chairs facing her.
“You’re all starched and pressed. Where did you go this morning? When I woke up, you were gone.”
They had ended the night back at his place, where Lark had passed out across the bed with her clothes still on. She had crept past his doorman, made it home, showered, changed and barely made it to the office before nine.
“I had a meeting with the president of the Boys and Girls Club of America. They are one of the organizations I sponsor annually. I donate funds every year after my birthday. It’s a tradition I started after my inheritance kicked in when I was sixteen.”
Lark smiled despite her throbbing headache. Dash was young, but he had admirable qualities. “That’s sweet of you to give back. I’m sure they appreciate your generosity.”
“Yes, they do. I’d rather help those less fortunate than waste money on useless games at a casino or a fleet of luxury cars.”
“Dash Migilio, you are a wise soul. I think you’ve been on this Earth before,” she said with a chuckle.
“That’s what my mother always tells me. I’m not so wise. I just believe in doing the right thing. Not to sound boastful, but I have enough money to last a few lifetimes. I’d rather share my good fortune than have it sitting in a bank.”
As they were talking, Angelica came into the office. “Here’s your mail,” she said, giving Lark a stack of envelopes, large and small.
“Thanks, and, Angelica, can you order me a double shot of espresso?”
“Sure. Dash, would you like anything from the coffee shop?” Angelica asked.
“No, thanks.”
Once Angelica left, Lark took a letter opener from her desk drawer and began ripping open the envelopes one at a time.
“So tell me, Dash, why don’t you have a hangover? I feel like a truck broadsided me.”
“The key is water. I tried to get you to drink a bottle of water, but you kept yelling, ‘Shot, shot, shot!’”
“I vaguely remember that.”
“Maybe n
ext time you’ll listen to me.”
“I promise you there won’t be a next time. I’ll stick to my Manhattans. Those I can handle.”
“You drink Manhattans? So do I. That’s my dad’s favorite cocktail. He started drinking them when he moved to New York. He always said that he was living in Manhattan, so he might as well drink one.”
“That’s a cute story.”
“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? There’s a new restaurant in the Village I want to take you to.”
Lark didn’t respond. She was holding a check in her hand and reading the accompanying note. “Oh, no!” she blurted out.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe this!”
“What?”
“It’s a check from one of the major retailers, but it’s short by seventy thousand dollars!”
“Why?”
“The letter says they deducted funds for markdowns in order to put our merchandise on sale,” she said in disbelief.
“Why didn’t they notify you beforehand?”
“I don’t know. I usually get an email well in advance of them deducting markdown money.” Lark tossed the letter on the desk and slumped back in her chair. “I can’t believe this!”
“Maybe it’s a mistake. Why don’t you give the buyer a call?”
“Yes, she could have mixed up our sales numbers with those of another vendor.”
Lark searched the contact file on her computer and found the buyer’s number. She reached for the phone and made the call.
“Patricia Taylor speaking.”
“Hi, Pat, it’s Lark Randolph over at Randolph on the Runway.”
“Hi, Lark, what can I do for you?”
“I’m calling to clear up a misunderstanding. I just received a check from your store from our last purchase order, but it’s short seventy thousand dollars.”
“Hold on a second. Let me check our records.” After a brief pause, she came back on the line. “There’s no misunderstanding. That number is correct—we made the adjustment to account for the markdown money. The collection wasn’t moving, so we had to reduce the prices.”
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