Sex, Lies & Black Tie

by Kris Calvert

  Crossing the room, I sidled up behind her, running my hand along her arched foot as she stood on her toes. Slowly I dragged my fingers up her tight thigh to caress her muscular behind, slipping one finger under the lace that cupped her perfect bottom.

  Swatting at my hand, she didn’t look at me. “Mac.”

  “Mmm Hmm?”

  Gathering the soft pink linen with my fingers, I kissed my way up her thigh. The chill bumps on her skin said what she didn’t.

  “What are you doing?”

  Reluctantly, I paused between kisses, moving my lips across her thigh, getting closer to my ultimate destination. “What…does…it…look like?”

  She stopped searching among the many titles on the bookshelf of the old library and turned on the ladder to face me, my hands still up her dress. My mind and body were too far gone to stop until I had what I wanted.

  “McKay Waverly Callahan, don’t you ever think about anything else?”

  “You mean do I think about anything other than you?” I murmured into the warmth of her body.

  Samantha stared down at me, the blue eyes that made me weak in the knees from the moment I met her, sparkling in the faint stream of new moonlight coming through the window. With each breezy turn of the sheer curtains her long hair blew from her shoulders.

  Taking my face in her hands, she ran her thumb across my bottom lip and I kissed it. “Yes,” she replied. “Do you ever think about anything other than me?”

  Pulling Sam’s hips into my body, I buried my face in her and confessed. “I do, but the other things that occupy my mind aren’t always readily available.”

  She descended the ladder, allowing my hands to push her dress even higher over her hips, exposing her white lace panties. “Like what?”

  I kissed her on the forehead now that she stood flat-footed on the rug. I towered over her petite frame. “You don’t want to know.”

  Her eyes twinkled with curiosity and the corners of her mouth turned up. “I know you miss it, Mac. How could I not know? I watch you sweat in your dreams as if you’re reliving each heart-pounding moment.”

  Popping my eyebrows I stepped away, allowing the pink linen of her dress to fall, turning my back on her. Guilt overcame me. I shouldn’t need or want more than what I had. Any reasonable man would be ecstatic to walk in my shoes for the rest of his life. Not to mention, I was horrible at lying and I was even worse at lying to Samantha. I only worked cases as they needed me, but I was always away from the one thing I missed—the action.

  Hearing the sirens of the local police department rushing down the highway in Shadeland was enough to make my breath quicken and my heart drum through my chest. It was like a drug and I was a recovering addict. I loved my wife and children, but as the life coach Sam had encouraged me to see explained, you can’t change who you are unless you want to change. The problem was, I didn’t want to lose that part of myself and merely talking about leaving it behind was useless.

  I heard Sam’s heavy sigh over my shoulder and I knew we were about to embark upon one of our chats on how we almost lost each other. How we couldn’t take those kinds of chances. I knew in my heart it was true. Samantha had already lost her first husband to a terrible car accident, I’d been shot trying to save her and we’d all been stalked by a killer seeking revenge. Surely that was all more than enough to make me rethink working in the field. And yet I thought about it every day—every damn day.

  I sat back in the chair my father, and his father before him, had used while making the most important decisions of their lives and watched Sam walk across the room to me. I couldn’t help but smile at her. I loved her and the kids more than life itself. There was nothing that made me happier. But I felt as if part of me was missing. The part that made me a man.

  Funny how the tables had turned. When I met Samantha, I felt like I wasn’t a man because I could never have a family, only a career. Now that I had the family I’d always longed for, I missed the high-octane, testosterone-filled, man with a gun and an attitude that I used to be. I’d worked hard to achieve both sides of the coin. I didn’t know how to be one without the other and still remain true to myself.

  Sam crossed the room, swaying her hips to and fro as she made her way to my lap. “What if I told you something that might perk you up?”

  “Miss Celia left me a pie before she took off for the night?” I asked, thinking that the lifelong housekeeper of Lone Oak and my other mother was once again trying to drag me from my funk with her southern cooking.

  She shook her head. “I have a real surprise for you.”

  “I already know you’re wearing panties, but you could take them off and we could start all over again,” I said nodding my head to the ladder in the corner.

  Samantha sat, straddling my body in the chair, lifting her dress to accommodate the maneuver. “That’s your favorite surprise? Me not wearing panties?”

  “What can I say? I’m a man of simple needs.”

  She glanced at the open door of the study. I could read her mind as she calculated in her head the time Celia had been gone and if the children were asleep or if they were an escape risk that could crash our adult party in the study.

  “They’re asleep,” I said pulling her body into mine to kiss her sweet smelling neck.

  “Shouldn’t I at least close the door?” she asked.

  Standing, I wrapped her legs around my waist as she gripped my neck with her arms. I walked to the door and closed it, Samantha still clinging to me, softly giggling. It was a sound that turned me on even more. Turning the skeleton key in the lock, we were alone. I kissed her gently and walked us both to what Samantha called the fainting couch by the fireplace. Placing her body gently on the red velvet cushions, I watched the fringed bottom sway under the weight of her body. Tucking a pillow behind her head before pulling away, I slipped the loafers off my feet.

  She stared up at me with a hooded gaze and I was undone before I was even undressed. Samantha adjusted her body on the couch to lie on one hip. When she reached out her arms to unbuckle my pants, I knew she was angling for a better position.

  I dropped my hands to my side, allowing her to undress me. Her cool fingers on my skin sent a charge through my core. Two buttons and a zipper later, my tan linen pants were at my ankles and I stepped out, nude from the waist down.

  “Mac,” she cooed with another giggle.

  “Unlike you,” I said soft and low. “I didn’t wear underwear today.”

  Samantha started unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom, and I met her in the middle, sliding it from my shoulders.

  She traced her fingers lightly across the scar on my shoulder—evidence of our first adventure together. Leaning in to kiss her, I ran my tongue across her bottom lip before parting her mouth. Her body trembled under me. I moaned as she sat up to crisscross her arms behind her back, unzipping her dress.

  “Hold on, beautiful,” I said shifting her body. “Don’t take away the jobs I really enjoy around here.” I nuzzled her shoulder and heard the teeth separate as I pulled the zipper.

  “What jobs?” she whispered, kissing my earlobe, sending a chill through my body.

  “Taking out the trash, taking off your clothes.”

  “Ah,” Samantha murmured into my neck.

  Slipping the dress from her shoulders, I admired her bare breasts and let out a low moan of satisfaction. She was mine—all mine. I didn’t deserve her, but for some reason she loved me.

  “I’ll never be able to get enough of you, Sam,” I said cupping the underside of her breast before kissing it. Suckling at her nipple, I felt her body rise against mine in approval. I trailed my tongue down her tight stomach, wetting the fabric of her dress.

  Tugging at the dress, she lifted her hips for me and I slipped it from her narrow frame, tossing it to the floor. Climbing on top of her nakedness, I enfolded her body into mine. Pressing the hardest part of me against her softness. Desire intoxicated my body and soul. When she whispered yes in my ear, I was
undone.

  I laved her neck with my tongue as she slid her hands along my tense arms, taking hold to lift her hips and grind into my engorged manhood.

  I stared into her blue eyes, gasping at her beauty. I could barely hold it together in her presence, feeling like I was eighteen all over again each time we were together. She was my everything and I wanted to touch, taste and be inside her body and mind every minute of every day. I was desperate, but didn’t want to rush the moment. Sweeping my tongue through her mouth, she kissed me with fiery passion. It was one of the things I loved most about her. Under her demure exterior was the heart and soul of a passionate lover and nothing was off limits.

  “Don’t tease me,” she begged. “I want you.”

  “Baby, you’re every fantasy I’ve ever had. And you’re all mine. Forever,” I said, devouring her with my gaze. Running my fingers between her legs I felt her shiver and take a sharp intake of breath. Men waited a lifetime to feel this way with a woman, and I had it every day.

  My weight pinned her to the couch and I kissed her hard—the kind of kiss I didn’t want her to recover from right away—deep, all consuming and soulful. Then pulling her knee toward me, I listened to her soft moan, knowing I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to have her.

  Her soft, velvet skin was warm against me and in a fluid motion, I guided myself into the very heart of her.

  I moved deep within her body and heard a shallow breath whimper from her lungs. Breathing her name, I began rocking in an unconscious rhythm, the fringe along the bottom of the couch swaying in perfect harmony with our sensual tempo. My control now nonexistent, my adeptness with her perfect body, now gone. I operated purely on instinct.

  “Sam,” I nearly cried out, my body aching for release.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered in my ear, our bodies warm with a sudden burst of perspiration.

  “I can’t.” I ground the words through my teeth and felt her body tighten around me. An incoherent plea erupted from her lips and her ragged gasp told me what she couldn’t.

  Moving in punctuated strides, she shuddered under the weight of my body. Convulsing against her, I collapsed as satisfaction flooded from me and I pinned her to the couch, breathing in swallow bursts against her neck. I was spent. Glutted. Sated.

  My knuckles rapped the floor as my hand fell from Samantha’s bare skin. Groggy, I could barely focus my eyes on the grandfather clock in the corner. It was midnight. We’d made love and fallen asleep on the couch.

  I kissed her shoulder to gently rouse her. She lifted her head at the touch of my lips, giving me a sleepy smile. “What time is it?” she asked.

  Gently, I brushed the hair from her face. “Midnight.”

  Samantha rolled to her side, pulling a cashmere blanket from the floor before propping herself on her elbow. “I need to tell you something,” she began as she whisked the stray hair from her face. “Well, ask you something—no, maybe tell you is the correct term.”

  Wedging a small pillow behind my head, I pulled Samantha into my chest once more. “Sounds to me like you need to explain a decision you made without me.”

  “Maybe.”

  I stroked her cheek and smiled. “Fine. As long as you’re not leaving me for another man.”

  “Well, Scott Eastwood did call and ask for me just yesterday.”

  She traced her finger across my chest sending chills through my body and I shuddered in response, finally taking her hand in mine. “I was more worried about that guy you’re always talking on the phone with. You know, the politician that looks like a cartoon character.”

  “He looks like Clark Kent. You know, Superman’s secret identity.”

  “Yes, darlin’,” I said with a sigh. “I’m aware. What’s his name again? Daniel Boone?”

  “Boone Henry,” she droned.

  I knew who he was. Senator Boone Henry of Alabama had become one of Samantha’s closest friends. In his mid-thirties, he was what most Washington insiders hated: well-connected, handsome, adored by men and women alike, and he possessed an agenda that seemed to move forward, even in the face of old school politics. He was Washington royalty—the son of a beloved long-time senator. Boone was new Washington and he was getting mass attention. Only in office three years, I’d already heard the whispers of a presidential run all the way to our little town of Shadeland.

  “I got a call today. You know how we were supposed to go to Atlanta for the black tie gala this weekend?”

  “How could I forget?” I didn’t mean for my response to come off as a groan, but somehow it did.

  “C’mon Mac, you know how important this is to me.”

  I stroked her hair and kissed her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. Tell me what’s up.”

  “We have to move it to a new location. There was a water main break at the venue and it’s either move, or cancel it altogether.”

  “So we don’t have a black tie party this weekend?” I was unable to hide the joy in my voice.

  “Not exactly.”

  Her mischievous look meant she didn’t want to tell me what was next. I knew the face—I knew it well.

  “Lone Oak has been selected as the new venue for the North Star gala.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The party has been moved here.” Samantha laid her head on my shoulder and began to stroke my chest again. “I didn’t have a choice. It was either move it here, or cancel the whole thing, and we have some really important people coming with very big checkbooks. You know how much this means to me.”

  “I’m sure your boyfriend, Boone, had something to do with this.”

  She looked up at me with her big eyes and batted her lashes. “Are you jealous?”

  I scoffed and looked away. “Me? Jealous of a powerful politician who speaks to my wife every day and will be invading my home to throw his party? Not to mention he looks like—”

  “Superman?”

  I paused. “No. Clark Kent—especially when he wears those nerdy glasses of his. I guess he resorts to those when he needs to be taken seriously.”

  Samantha ran her cool fingers down the side of my face before turning it to meet her gaze. “Mac, you know how important this is to me. I’ve worked hard to make a difference at North Star.”

  North Star was an advocacy group charged with humanitarian work in the area of human trafficking. It was a cause dear to Sam’s heart and I was proud of the way she’d worked her way through the national organization. Still, I was unsure of how a bunch of stiffs in black ties, including Boone Henry, with ball gown clad escorts on the grounds of our home was supposed to be such a wonderful surprise. “And?”

  “Boone just confirmed the President and Secretary of State will be attending. There’s going to be a ton of Secret Service and FBI agents here before and during the event this weekend.”

  I nodded and did my best to smile at my bride’s happiness, but the last thing I wanted was to sit idly by while the Secret Service and FBI invaded my home while I watched from the back porch and sipped sweet tea. Samantha might as well have told me she’d set a date for my castration.

  “Isn’t that amazing?” she asked, sitting up, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  I was so in love with this creature, her happiness alone should’ve been enough for me. But it wasn’t. I managed my next word with care. “Sure.”

  “So be expecting a call from Dan,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the lips before rolling over me and standing up.

  Wrapping the blanket around her naked body, she sauntered to the door. With each sway of her hips she made the situation easier to tolerate. But then I processed what she’d said. “Dan?” What did my old boss have to do with any of this? Jesus. Was I going to have to sit on the sidelines while the old team readied my own damn house?

  “See you upstairs.”

  Sam blew me a kiss and I laid my open hand on my chest. It was our way of silently saying I love you. She shut the door, leaving me naked on the couch with only the
smell of her perfume on my chest.

  “Shit fuckin’ fire,” I muttered aloud. “This is gonna suck.”

  Escaping the house and the immediate party planning that had begun, I tore out in my father’s 1963 Aston Martin DB5 convertible. My dad had named her Pussy Galore after a character in an old James Bond movie, but with little ears tuned in around Lone Oak, the beautiful car was merely referred to as Pop’s Car now. It was what I called my own grandfather Callahan and what Dax and Katy would’ve called my dad if he were alive.

  The new moniker didn’t deter from the magnificence of the car in any way, although I only drove it on special occasions. Today was one of those. Pussy needed her oil and possibly brake pads changed. It was tedious work I could’ve have easily given to Timms, my mom’s long time driver, but I liked doing it myself. It made me feel connected to my dad. Now that I was a parent, I missed not being able to seek his advice on everything concerning our family.

  I dropped the top on the way up the long lane that led to the rural highway that would take me into the small town of Shadeland—a place where my family had lived since before the Civil War. Located just outside of Birmingham, I inhaled the lingering smells of the sweltering summer and the magnolias that lined the roads.

  Listening to early seventies rock I beat my fingers on the steering wheel to Jimi Hendrix when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Callahan.”

  “Mac, it’s Dan Kelley. How the hell are you?”

  I slowed my pace on the highway knowing it would be hard for my old boss to hear me with the top down at sixty-five miles per hour. “I’m good, Dan. I’m good. How are things in D.C?”

  “Same old shit, different scumbag, different case, different day.”

  I shook my head, thinking I’d kill to be chasing a scumbag. “I hear ya.”

  “You keeping busy?”

  I glanced at Dax’s Alabama football cap lying in the passenger seat beside me and replied. “It turns out, keeping up with kids is a lot like executing case exercises on Hogan’s Alley.”

  I listened to Dan’s laugh on the other end and joined him thinking of the training battlegrounds at Quantico.