Texas Knight: Desert Dream

by Cat Shinier

  I like that idea. That sounds even better than a gym. I like to be challenged, and working with a tough male trainer sounds like the kind of thing that would really give me a good workout and the ability to react to a dangerous situation if one should arise. So I signal my approval with a nod. Sounds like a beginning.

  “Great, I’ll ask Rick if he’ll train you, too. And if you then think you’d still like to go to a studio, I’ll look into it and check out which one could be suitable for your needs.”

  “Great,” I answer and feel really relieved, because I actually had been expecting him to resist.

  “And actually that reminds me. Would you like to have me show you Houston tomorrow? There are some really nice sites I bet you’d enjoy, things you’d be interested in.”

  Yes, and how. I’d love to have Shamar show me things he loves.

  “Yes, that would be great. Where will we go first?” I ask while I cuddle up to him.

  “I thought we’d sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast and then start off. I’ll take the day off. How about the uptown shopping center? Texas has lots of shopping centers, but The Galleria downtown is the biggest in Texas and one of the ten biggest in the United States. I think I remember reading somewhere that it has about 400 stores. It’s a fun place to go.”

  “You want to go shopping with me?”

  I can’t get over it. I thought going shopping with a woman was every man’s worst nightmare, no matter if it is his sister, a wife or a girlfriend. This must be true love.

  “Are you sure you want to subject yourself to this ordeal? I’m not that great of a shopper myself, but I think it could be pure torture for you!”

  “Luna, I wouldn’t be offering it if I weren't certain that that is something I would like to do with you. There are other things we can do afterwards, like going to see Waterwall Park or even the downtown Aquarium.”

  “What’s Waterwall Park like?”

  “Waterwall Park and The Galleria are both uptown, and Waterwall Park has a huge water sculpture.”

  “What’s a water sculpture?”

  “It’s a wall that is about 60 feet high, is shaped like a horse-shoe and has cascades of water running down it.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Then I’d love to see it.”

  “Great. Then that is our plan tomorrow. First we’ll go shopping at The Galleria and then head over to Waterwall Park.”

  That sounds like a fun way to spend the day, and I’m already excited.

  We cuddle up again and enjoy the peace and quiet and the landscape. All too soon it is time for us to leave again. But this time we ease up on the horses and let them trot at a slower pace. When we arrive at the stables and dismount, I notice that the other horses are out in the meadow. We attach the reins of our horses to the hook in the wall and ease the saddle straps. Then Shamar and the trainer I met before each take a saddle and carry them back to the building, before returning.

  Afterwards, they take the horses out to the meadow and take off their bridles, and we climb up on the fence to watch the horses graze and watch the sunset. Soon it’s time to leave, and we climb back into the Cayenne and head back to Shamar’s home and the Woodlands.

  Annie has prepared our dinner, and once more she’s surpassed herself. The dinner consists of grilled salmon on a bed of fennel and various vegetables, and crème brûlée for desert, accompanied by a nice fruity Chardonnay from California. We sit and talk and laugh and make plans for tomorrow.

  Much later, when we are back in Shamar’s bedroom, I realize that I can hardly wait to touch him. As if on command we start taking off our clothes, slowly and deliberately, item by item, as if we had all the time in the world. Every once in a while we take a sip of a glass of the Chardonnay Shamar has brought along. When we have taken almost all of our clothes off, and I’m only wearing the lingerie I hasten over to the bathroom to freshen up. When I come back, Shamar has already climbed in bed and is still holding the glass of wine.

  “Come over here, darling," he says, holding up the sheets, while I slip under the covers next to him. “Do you still have your period?”

  I know what he wants. “Not really. Probably due to the pill.”

  “Then let’s wait, and I will spoil you.” He pulls me over. “Relax, angel, and just enjoy yourself.” He smiles at me.

  I’m reclined, and my head is on the pillow and my legs are covering his. He pushes me aside, and now I’m laterally extended and bent at the knee. I’m presenting him my most intimate spot, and he is caressing my breasts. Then his hands move lower, and he licks his fingers and starts stroking my clit. I feel like a musical instrument that’s being played, masterfully and lovingly. He searches and finds every place on my body that gives me lust. And the more the lust grows within me, the stronger I start wriggling around beneath him.

  “Just lie still, darling. Enjoy it. Let go.” The wine has made me so relaxed I’m able just to sink back into the pillows and arch my back. He seduces me with gentle and relentless strokes. Slowly my muscles contract while a huge warm wave develops in my tummy and lower abdomen. His fingers glide over my clit, slowly and deliberately. And finally I orgasm. Slowly, and really intense. He pulls me towards himself, and I lie there with my head on his chest. His heart is beating almost as quickly as mine, and he is very aroused. I would like to make him orgasm, too, and pamper and spoil him the way he just did.

  “And you,” I ask him.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. It was your turn. I can wait.” He remains obstinate, even though I try several times. So that is what he meant when he referred to “other options”. I definitely like it. We cuddle up against each other and at some point we both fall asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day is overcast. And even though it is Saturday, Shamar is busy on the phone already. My impression is that in the future he will not be able to spend as much time with me as he has been in the last weeks. When I return from my trip to Germany, I would really go crazy if I had to be here all the time. And I’m glad that I talked it all over with Shamar.

  Our tour of Houston today won’t be our last, I’m pretty sure of that. Houston is such a big city, and there is so much to see. So many things to discover, and everything here is so different from Europe. It will be great having Shamar show me his favorite places. While I wait for him to get off the phone I whip out my BlackBerry and check the incoming phone calls.

  And thank God Susan has left a message. She writes that her exams went well and that she can now start looking for a new job. Right, she told me that. That the work contract, she has with the hospital she has been doing her internship in will end when she graduates. Unfortunately, that is the case with most companies where people train, and since the month of September will be coming to an end soon, it really is time for her to start looking.

  I answer and congratulate her passing all of her exams. We’ll have to celebrate that one when I get back. And then I start thinking of the fact that when I move to Houston and live with Shamar I won’t be able to see her as often as I have in the past. And that is going to be hard. Up until now we’ve been able to get together whenever we felt like it and when our schedules permitted. Saying goodbye to her will be the only thing that will make leaving Germany and coming here difficult. And I really hope that we’ll be able to visit each other. At least I have a huge house. She will be welcome any time she feels like coming. That is only a small consolation, but at least it makes me feel better.

  I can see that my boss in Germany, the guy I work for at the insurance company, has also called and left a message on my phone. And when I listen to the message I have to laugh because he seems so surprised that the message on my BlackBerry has switched from German to English. He’ll be even more surprised when he sees his phone bill, I think to myself.

  He leaves a long message telling me that he does not want to intrude on my vacation but that there is something we must talk about and that I’m to call him immediately when I get back to Germany. Something�
�s happened, and they desperately need my help at work. Oh well, I think to myself, I won’t be able to help out. I’m too far away, so he’s going to have to wait until I’m home again. I delete his message with the press of a button and put the phone aside again.

  Then I head over to see Shamar in his office and am pleased by my timing because just that moment he switches off his computer. He says he’s ready and that we can leave, and sure enough, less than ten minutes later we are heading uptown in his Cayenne. Traffic is pretty heavy, and we even get into a traffic jam on account of an accident. But of course it is nice and cool in the car, and we are completely shut off from all of the noises and smells around us.

  We reach the Galleria about an hour later. From the outside the whole complex looks absolutely gigantic, and there are tons of parking spaces around it, so it doesn’t take Shamar long to find a parking space for our car that is close to the entrance. We head towards the entrance holding hands.

  A huge glass roof covers the building. In some places, the roof is almost shaped like a dome, and some of the windows can be opened, it seems, as there is a nice fresh breeze blowing throughout. There are four stories in all, and lots and lots of interesting looking stores for people to shop to their hearts’ content. Everything is open so that you have a full view of all the booths on the bottom floor which is made to resemble a kind of market place.

  We stroll across the bottom floor before heading upstairs, where I discover a bookstore, and I tug at Shamar’s hand to signal I’d like to head over there to see what kinds of books they sell. And sure enough, there is one of my favorite authors, Jussi Adler Olsen, a Danish writer. I was about to buy one of his books to read on the plane, so I’m thrilled to find the book here in German in the international section.

  Shamar apparently has had German at school, because he is suddenly reading a few lines in German from the blurb on the book’s jacket out loud. His German is not bad at all, but it is strange hearing him speak in my mother tongue. His English accent is really strong, and I’m unable to understand some of the words he is reading. I wonder if listening to me speak English is as weird for him as it is for me to hear him speak in German? We have never really spoken about how good or bad my English sounds to him, and I decide it is about time to broach that subject, if I want to live in this country for any length of time.

  “So how does my English sound to you?” I put my thoughts into words immediately.

  “Luna,” he answers, “your English was very good to begin with and it is getting better all the time. You probably don’t notice yourself, but you have sped up a lot when you speak English now. In the beginning, you were slower, and sometimes a bit hesitant, and now you almost talk faster than I do,” he laughs. “You mean because I’ve been reading this blurb?” I nod. “And your accent has changed a lot, too. In the beginning, you had a kind of Danish accent – maybe because you love Jussi Adler Olsen? Just kidding. I think your Danish accent is really sexy. But now the Danish part has gotten less. Not the sexy part.”

  I laugh. I love it when he makes me laugh. So instead of a terrible scratchy German accent I have a Danish accent when I speak English. That is really funny. I’ll have to tell Sue.

  After we purchase the book, we continue walking outside and take a seat in one of the cafés. We grab one of the back tables to be able to watch the people around us. A dark-haired Mexican waitress brings us the menu and then comes over to take our orders. She’s wearing a dark skirt and a T-shirt with a flamboyant logo. Every time Shamar and I have been out and among people I notice how women react to him. Sometimes they just stop and stare. Even his receptionists. But I didn’t think that was as extreme, as he is their boss, and they probably think it is normal.

  But now I watch the waitress focus all of her energy on him while he gives her our orders. She even blushes, which turns into a really deep blush when she thanks him. It makes me feel invisible, even though she must have registered me sitting there next to him. I decide that this is something I will have to get used to and that it is probably the price you pay when the guy you are with is as handsome as Shamar is. I make a mental note to see if I react the same way to handsome men and their female partners as the women are reacting to Shamar.

  The same thing occurs when she brings us our beverages, so I decide to have a go at it.

  “Are you aware of the effect you have on women?” I ask Shamar, while I dump the little packet of sugar into my cappuccino and stir it slowly, making the spoon clink against the side of the cup.

  Shamar gives me a boyish grin. “Honey, there are things I just can’t change, but I can live with them.” Yes, I think to myself, there really are things that are worse than having women swoon every time you look at them. He obviously does not lack self-confidence. And actually I’m really pleased that he does not reciprocate and only seems to have eyes for me, even as the waitress appears a third time with the bill. I notice that Shamar leaves her a generous tip. A while later we decide to leave and continue our stroll through The Galleria. Shamar puts his arm around me again, and he smiles at me.

  Even though the sun has appeared and is burning down on the glass roof, the air inside is nice and cool. I had expected the air inside here to be really stuffy and muggy on account of all the people.

  We stop in front of a boutique. The window is decorated with just the kind of clothes I like. I see a black dress that has a kind of wrap-around skirt, which appears to be an optical illusion due to its design. There are zippers along the front and the shoulders, so I stop and stare at it while I try to imagine what it would look like on me. Shamar is also staring at the dress.

  “Okay, let’s go in there, and you try on the dress.”

  He tugs me right into the store, and immediately we are approached by a saleswoman who stares at Shamar and asks what she can do for him. I think to myself that the woman seriously lacks a professional attitude, as it is quite clear that I’m the person who will want to purchase something in a store like this. On the other hand, she probably assumes that Shamar is the one who will be paying for whatever I buy.

  While I think this to myself, Shamar steps back and says that I’m the person to ask. The saleswoman gulps, looks embarrassed, looks down and then turns and faces me. I see her name tag, which says Jane. She gives me a once over with her eyes, and then gives me a really fake smile. Now that is something you should practice, I think to myself. It looks like she’s glued her smile to her face.

  “I like the black dress in the window and I was wondering if you happened to have it in my size?”

  She looks at me intently again. But this time her gaze is business-like and neutral.

  “In XS?”

  I nod. XS is the size I generally wear.

  “Yes, we do. Hold on a sec, I will go and check,” she says and turns around and hurries off.

  While we’re waiting I discover a second dress, I like. It’s an off-white designer dress. The top has small, horizontal folds and ends right above the waist-line, to which two cups are attached that look like the top of a bikini and which has vertical folds. The whole top is set on a different kind of material which makes it semi-transparent. The top is held by a ring that lies around the neck and the dress, which is strapless and ends in a long flowing gown that is floor-length. The dress is made to look ancient Greek, and the only thing that is missing is the bangles.

  The saleswoman approaches us with the black dress on a clothes hanger. She shows it to me, and I nod.

  “I’d like to try it on. Where are your dressing rooms?” I ask.

  She walks ahead of me to show me the way, and I’m followed by Shamar, who gives me a pat on my behind. I turn around, shaking my head in mock indignation. On the one hand I like him to show everyone just how much I mean to him, on the other hand I don’t want him to feel too secure in the thought of how much I like him.

  “The same right for everyone, Shamar.”

  He gives me a boyish grin as if he was already looking forward to me mak
ing a similar kind of gesture.

  “Here we are,” Jane says as she stops in front of one of the dressing rooms. To the side of it there is a group of armchairs and a table. Presumably for the men. Shamar takes a seat while I enter the dressing room.

  “And, by the way, I just saw another dress I liked. It was white and had a sort of Greek toga look to it.”

  Jane nods. “Yes, I know which one you mean. It is a designer dress. The designer is still young and not all that well known yet. We only have the one model. And maybe it is even your size. I’ll go and check for you.” “Yes, thank you,” I answer. “That would be nice.” She hurries off.

  In the meantime, a second saleswoman has appeared and asked Shamar if he’d like something to drink. I’m surprised. I have heard of this kind of service in stores that have this kind of prices, but I have never experienced it first-hand.

  Neither the dressing room nor the sitting area can be seen from the sales room. So I don’t even have to shut the curtain while I try things on. Shamar is sitting in his comfortable looking armchair while sales lady number 2 fetches him some water. I would have liked to have some myself, but unfortunately she’s left before I can tell her.

  As I stand there and am about to close the curtain I wonder what it would be like to have Shamar watch me while I try on clothes. Maybe he would not be quite as relaxed in his chair if he was watching me. The idea amuses me, and I start undressing slowly. Maybe this way I’ll have his complete and absolute attention, and the saleswomen will notice.

  Since I knew that we’d be going on a buying spree, I decided on my sheerest lingerie this morning. The ones that Shamar gave me when he gifted me the dark blue dress. And now I will be able to make sure that he will get his money’s worth for his lingerie investment. And sure enough, I can see him staring at me in the mirror. I see that special look in his eyes as they darken and shimmer in that dark gray mother-of-pearl color that I have come to love. He does not even notice that saleswoman number 2 has placed a glass of water down on the table next to him. She stops and stares at me.