Smoldered

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I glided my car along Washington Avenue, my eyes scanning bar crawlers on a crazy Saturday night, party-goers on a mission, and vacationers out for a good time. They weren’t who I was here to see.

  Narrowing my focus on the locals, I searched for a familiar face. When I saw who I was looking for, I pulled over, shifted into park, and levered out of the small sports car. After patting my little lady’s door for good measure, I took short strides down the street, pretending to be out looking for a good time.

  “Hey, Chantilly, how you doing, girl?” I said, wrapping my arm around the shoulder of a tall, curvy blonde clad in black leather and lace, walking confidently on mega-heels.

  “Hey-a, Mikey baby. How ya doing, tough guy?” she answered, pulling me in for a hug.

  There I was, Michael Wind, Big Mike, the prep-school-educated, bad-boy bouncer turned strip club owner to everyone who was close to me, caught in a full-on embrace with a high-end escort in the middle of South Beach. And it was the best I’d felt in months. Fucking months.

  Lingering in Chantilly’s arms a second or two longer than appropriate, I finally said, “All good, Chan. All good,” before releasing the woman from my arms, feeling empty as soon as I did. She was all I had…my only true connection to her was a five-foot-nine-inch bottle blonde with a tube of KY and a box of condoms in her small purse.

  She hooked her hands on her hips. “Come on, Mikey, don’t play games with me. You good? Business booming at your joint?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, business is always booming. Got good girls who make even better money. You should come work for me. Got a girl who’ll show you the ropes, help you make a decent living.”

  She laughed. “Nah, baby. I got a good gig. Heading over to the upscale joint on Seventeenth now for a big-money job. Don’t you worry about me, honey.”

  I tilted my head toward the sidewalk and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

  She hooked her arm in mine as we started making our way.

  “So, did you have some extra free time and decide to take a walk on the wild side tonight, Mikey, or you here for your regular?” Chantilly asked as we made our way to her destination.

  “Regular,” was all I said.

  The pesky call girl stopped moving and turned to face me. “Michael, honey, I haven’t seen her. She’s gone. Haven’t seen her in thirteen months. Told you she was cagey the last time I laid eyes on her, was up to something she knew I wouldn’t like. A gig even I wouldn’t be down with, so she clammed up. I’m worried just like you, but there’s nothing we can do. This isn’t something we can involve the authorities in, honey. We gotta let it go.”

  Arriving at the entrance to the Fritz Hotel, I lied when I said, “I know,” before letting her go do her thing. I might have not approved of what she was about to do, but Chantilly was her own woman. And I knew better than anyone, when a woman was an escort…there was little to nothing anyone could do to change her mind.

  I figured it was a mindset so deeply ingrained, a facade any self-respecting girl immersed herself into in order to degrade herself enough to hook, it took nothing short of a military de-conditioning like in the Special Forces.

  Watching the last person known to have seen Lynx on the Florida Coast walk away from me, resigned to let the whole situation drop, I knew what I had to do. Call Carson. Something I’d been avoiding, but the problem was too big for me. I needed his help, and quick. Women didn’t just up and disappear without a trace.

  I walked back with a full-blown knot in my stomach and slipped into my white BMW, flicking my finger into my green dice on the rearview, watching them rock back and forth in limbo, like my life, before I sped out. I brought those dice all the way from Sin City with me. Funny, my life had been hanging by a thread since I left there three years ago.

  Palm trees fluttered in the breeze along Collins Avenue as I cruised along, hoping for a glimpse of long and lush almond-colored limbs, and not really seeing anything else. I tried to catch some of the beauty surrounding me, but I couldn’t because the most beautiful gem I’d ever known was gone.

  Gone.

  Mike

  SCRUBBING MY hand over my face, I rolled over and picked up my phone to look at the time. It was early. Seven o’clock in the morning on a Monday, my day off.

  Lying back down, I dragged the small figure still snuggled tight next to me, even closer, feeling my dick rub against her ass as I ran my hand along her side and moved her hair out of the way so I could kiss her neck.

  She moaned softly, a small, yet eager sound floating from her lips all the way back to me. It drifted along all my senses, brightening my day as my whole body popped awake at the promise she was making without a word.

  And the girl made good on it throughout the day, following through with her unspoken promises of the morning. After all, it was my “day of relaxation.”

  Then she went to work, and I spent the night with a bottle of my good friend, JD.

  SLIGHTLY HUNGOVER from my pity party for one, I brushed one hand over my buzz cut with one hand and threw open the side door to the Cove with the other, allowing the bright Miami sunlight to sift inside the cool, purple haze of the club. It was Tuesday, and the girls were having a planning meeting backstage with Petal, now back to her birth name, Staci. She was the latest in a long line of Asher’s rescue projects.

  Although originally taken in by Lila when she was the Tunnel’s main headliner, and brought into the Tunnel fold as her protégé, Petal had become Asher’s responsibility when Lila moved to Cali.

  So now I was tasked with making Staci into a legitimate businesswoman, if that was what one called a woman with nothing more than a GED who had started out lap dancing at Sin City’s finest adult establishment, and was currently settling in to take over the Cove, Miami’s steamiest night spot.

  It wasn’t exactly what one would label as success, until you took into account where the girl came from and where she was going now. If not for the fucking Tunnel, Staci might be whoring herself out to some fat, sweaty fuck with a small dick—like Lynx did—so it was a big fucking whopper of a success.

  And just like that, my mind was no longer focused on my business day, but tied in knots over the girl I couldn’t forget or let go of. Motherfucker.

  “Hey, Big Mikey,” Marta called out to me with a smile, drawing me out of my fog and dragging me unwillingly back to the present.

  “Hey, babe,” I said while giving her a chin lift. She’d left my bed less than twenty hours ago. I owed her a decent hello—at the very least.

  The beautiful specimen in front of me was the first girl I discovered in Florida. I met her at the pool when I was back scouting locations for the Cove, and decided to bring her in to dance when she solicited me to hire her as an escort.

  Asher warned me not to sleep with her, but I couldn’t fucking listen to my friend, mentor, former boss, and current partner. As if he really knew shit about relationships. The dude had messed up the first decade of his own kid’s life while hitting up every easy lay in Vegas, stringing along a woman who loved him.

  But this girl Marta was incredibly hot, all curvy and exotic with dark tanned skin, more like black coffee than café au lait, contrasting with light blue eyes and long, flowing highlighted hair. And she was soft and caring in a way I wasn’t used to. None of the women in my life so far had treated me that way. Not my pill-popping mom; my bitch of an ex, Rochelle, who slept with my dad; or her, the one who left me high and dry, holding my dick in her hands and stomping my heart on the floor.

  There was no way I could resist Marta’s charms. I was so hard up, constantly worked up, and she was so easygoing about the whole thing. The girl took what I gave her—a dinner here, a sleepover there, a day spent in bed once every week—and never asked for a damn thing more.

  It was fun, sexy, easy, and absolutely nothing more. Zero emotions involved. After a lifetime as Mr. Relationship, I’m that guy. Mr. Cold and Removed.

  The outer club was mostly quiet as I headed a lit
tle deeper toward the back. A slow R&B vibe serenaded the main floor as I tossed a gaze over the whole sparkly, scantily clad group gathered for the meeting. “Hello, ladies. Y’all good?”

  Yes, I’d adopted a little bit of a Southern twang in the four years since ditching the desert.

  Staci spoke for the whole gang of iridescent beauties. “All good, Mike. We have seventeen bachelor parties prebooked for this week, all of them complete with limo, booze service, and VIP treatment. I’m giving the ladies their assignments and working the dance rotations, so everything is fully covered and leaving space in the schedules for walk-ins and other groups.”

  “Good. You got this, honey,” I said before I slipped back to my office. It wasn’t upstairs like Asher’s at the Tunnel, but it was just as tricked out. Private bath and shower, wet bar, leather couches, and a full video feed to the club were just a few of the features I installed. I spent a lot of time there, mostly because I ran a tight fucking ship when it came to the club, and there was nothing I didn’t have my two eyes on.

  Or at least one eye, while the other scanned the window facing the streets of South Beach…

  Unscripted

  by Christy Pastore

  Coming December 2014

  “WILL THERE be anything else for you Miss Prescott?”

  “No thank you, Eli, and for the hundredth time call me Holliday, please.”

  “Yes, Holliday, a fitting name for the most beautiful woman in all of Manhattan. I’d celebrate you every day if you were my lady,” he said sweetly.

  “You really have a way with words, Eli,” I said, handing back the credit card tray.

  Leaning closer to me he whispered, “If you like my words you should see what I can do with my tongue.”

  Eli pulled back and shoved a hand through his dark hair sweeping it back out of his brown eyes.

  I shook my head as a smile crossed my lips, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Things are picking up. I need to get back to the bar,” he said pointing towards the revolving glass doors.

  I turned my gaze back towards the window and watched as the busy streets bustled with holiday shoppers scurrying to finish their lists before the impending snowstorm approached. With arms full of bags and packages, New Yorkers were hailing cabs, waiting for their town cars and rushing to the subway with all their festive goodies in tow. The inside of the hotel was warm and cozy. The fireplace crackled. My hands were warmed by the delicious Chocolate Kiss in which I was indulging. Two young girls ran by where I was seated and bumped my arm almost causing a fashion emergency. I barely escaped spilling the hot drink all over my white cashmere sweater. If that had happened, my sister surely would have killed me. The sweater was one of her latest designs from her fall/winter collection. The girls were entranced by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree adorned with red and silver ornaments and bows. Several shiny metallic packages embellished with gorgeous red, green and blue ribbons sat beneath the tree, coaxing the girls into rattling the gifts.

  I glanced around the lobby to see if a frantic parent or nanny was following close behind the two curious and wide-eyed girls but didn’t see anyone who seemed to be looking for children they’d lost track of. I kept a close watch on them as they shook several packages, running their fingers over the bows and laughing. Smiling, one of them ran up to me. She was holding a small silver present. Giggling she asked, “What do you think this is?”

  It shocked me that this pretty little girl with brown hair would speak to me. Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?

  Her hair was loosely curled. A black velvet headband neatly held the swirling locks off of her face. She was wearing what appeared to be a Lanvin black dress, which I recognized from their latest collection. My sister’s twins were accustomed to more than a few items from the Lanvin, Dior and Burberry children’s wear collections.

  I smiled at her adorable face. “What do you think it is?” I replied.

  Very quietly, looking me straight in the eye, she answered, “I think it’s chocolate chip biscuits.”

  Upon hearing her speak again, I quickly detected an accent. It was a bit thicker than English, perhaps Irish or even Scottish. I looked at her quizzically. “Biscuits? What are chocolate chip biscuits?”

  Taking a deep sigh, she replied, “You Americans and your words.” She giggled again and waved her hand at me playfully. I was now intrigued even more by this young girl whom I suspected was a bit dramatic.

  “Biscuits are cookies silly.”

  Giggling I asked, “Cookies huh? What makes you think that?”

  “My daddy says the best things come in tiny packages. He says that girls like tiny gifts way more than great big gifts,” she stated very seriously while making a big circular motion with her hands and standing on her tip toes.

  Your dad is smart man. I’d love to peek at your mom’s jewelry box.

  Wrinkling up my nose and smiling I said, “Let me guess. You think chocolate chip cookies… I mean chocolate chip biscuits… are the best thing ever?”

  She nodded her head fiercely as her sister came up and stood beside her smiling, saying, “No, Sugar Snap cookies are the best.”

  “No, they’re called Ginger Snaps,” she corrected her sister sternly.

  The other young girl was dressed exactly the same way except her long brown hair was straight with two white bows clipped on either side of her head.

  “My name is Holliday. What are your names?”

  Giggling uncontrollably they both said, “Your name is Holliday?”

  “Like holiday presents?” asked the girl with the straight hair.

  I nodded, giving her a wink. “Something like that.”

  I couldn’t help but smiling at these two lovely faces. I wondered who they belonged to. They told me their names were Leah and Jade. Leah had the bouncy curls, and Jade had the shiny straight tresses.

  “Where are your parents?” I inquired politely.

  They exchanged devious glances and then Leah said, “We left Nanny Ruth in the room because she fell asleep.”

  “Ahh-gain,” Jade said loudly, rocking back on her little heels.

  Sensing these two were a mischievous pair I decided to play their little game. I pulled out two sheets of blank paper from my messenger bag along with some of my colored pencils. I handed the papers to the girls, keeping them entertained while I asked them a series of questions.

  I asked them if they knew what room they were staying in. They said it was not a room with a number and it was way high upstairs. Of course it was—children running around in Lanvin don’t usually associate with a three digit hotel room and standard pillowcases. This adorable duo was undoubtedly staying in one of the lavish suites, maybe even one of the penthouses. I inquired about their last name, and they said it was Connolly. I could only hope the front desk would forego the rules and take pity on these two lost girls by deciding to ring the suite and allow me to return them safely back to their nanny. Easing out of the plush red chair, I told them I would be right back and asked if they could make sure no one took my laptop.

  “You’re very good with them,” I heard a sexy and gritty voice say.

  Looking up I found myself inches away from and staring directly at Ronan Connolly, one of Hollywood’s sexiest movie stars. I politely smiled at Ronan and wondered what he was doing in The York Hotel of all places.

  Both girls jumped up, screaming, “Daddy!” He swept them up in his strong arms, effortlessly kissing them both on their cheeks, and then he gently placed them back to their feet. Immediately I checked my makeup and hair in the mirror above the fireplace. I smiled at my reflection to check my teeth, smoothed out my loose dark brown waves that had become slightly knotted behind my neck and fluffed my blunt bangs. Ronan returned his gaze to me, flashing a half-smile.

  Ronan Connolly was the most coveted leading man these days. The gossip and entertainment blogs along with business insiders all agreed he was the hottest man in Tins
el Town and possibly the world. A few months ago he finished filming the most buzzed about film since The Hunger Games or even Gone Girl. Everyone was waiting to get a peek of Ronan Connolly playing Billionaire London Playboy, Cameron Carlisle in the film, A London Love Story. Ronan Connolly was dangerously good-looking and even hotter in person. His deep set, green eyes and curly dark, chestnut brown hair coupled with his insanely sculpted body made him the total sexy dreamboat package. Sounds cliché, but no one says, “Oh look at that double chin and beer belly. He’s so dreamy.” I’ve had a few dreams about Cameron Carlisle, or maybe I was actually dreaming about Ronan… some very naughty dreams. Is my mouth hanging open? Dear God tell me it’s not. Thankfully it wasn’t.

  I had to blink twice to make sure it was really him. “Uh… I… I’m sorry they were just,” I stammered.

  Leah saved me by saying, “Oh Daddy, Holliday is our new friend. She’s way more fun than boring sleepy Ruth.”

  Great first impression Holliday. Real smooth.

  Ronan smirked at his young daughter’s comment and gave her a pat on the head. People were starting to stop and stare, taking out their cell phones to capture a picture of Ronan. He was not affected by the sudden mob of people that gathered mere feet from where I had been sitting by the fireplace. He calmly motioned to a towering man with broad shoulders and extremely dark glossy hair who was wearing a black leather jacket. The man, who was probably in his late thirties or maybe early forties, had an earpiece or Bluetooth. I’m guessing this tall, physically fit man was Ronan’s bodyguard. They exchanged words, but I could not tell what Ronan said to the man. Within minutes the crowd slowly dissipated.

  An older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, wearing a black and red sweater and black denim jeans suddenly appeared and came rushing towards the girls. Ruth, I presume.

  “Oh my goodness, Mr. Connolly I am so very sorry sir. I took my heart medication, and I must have fallen asleep again. I will be sure to get that fixed immediately. I will call my doctor now,” she said sharply. Ruth was completely breathless and turning as red as her hair.