Shadows of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 2)

by Arianne Richmonde

  I’ve been parted from Alexandre for less than twelve hours yet I still ache with his absence. I had gotten so used to living alone before I met him that it seemed normal to be doing everything solo, save a dinner here or there with Daisy or with a group of friends. All I did was work. Now I’m part of a busy household, loved by a fiancé who calls me every few hours and I even have a dog. Everything has changed - I wonder how I survived before.

  The day has been so full-on with those two meetings with Samuel Myers, swimming and Daisy that I’m now soaking in the tub with some magazines, a glass of wine and some great chill-out music - Play by Funk. Heaven. Made all the sweeter by Anthony’s call to me earlier - Bruce has been stabilized, the operation was a success and he’s going to be okay. Panic over. I’m searching online on my iPad for hotels in Los Angeles when a Skype call comes through from Alexandre.

  “Hi baby,” I say and wait for the video to come on. His handsome face appears on the screen and my stomach gives a little lurch. I can’t believe that still, every time I see that face, or wake up with him next to me, it’s as if I’m setting eyes on him for the very first time.

  “Hey sexy,” he says, his voice deep, his eyes heavy-lidded. You’re in the bath?”

  “Had a busy, very eventful day.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t call earlier – was in that fucking meeting forever.”

  “And?”

  “All good. Sophie ate them alive. We’re going to do extremely well with this. Got an edge on any future competition – got the British government eating out of our hands.”

  I think of how Alexandre promised me that he would sell his share of HookedUp to Sophie and concentrate on starting new projects of his own, but now I realize that may never happen. He and his sister are as entwined as ivy in this business together. It seems he needs her on some deep, psychological level. But I don’t want to nag him on this issue so I have said very little lately. Especially as she’s being so sugar-sweet to me - I really don’t have a leg to stand on.

  “What about you?” he continues, his eyes scanning my naked shoulders soothed with big white, foamy suds from the bubble-bath.

  “Well, after that little porn film that you whipped up this morning, right in the middle of my million-dollar meeting, thank-you-very-much, dear fiancé, I have to say it was a little tricky to concentrate, but Samuel Myers and I have made a deal.”

  Alexandre smirks irreverently; his wicked mouth a little crooked making a tiny dimple appear in his cheek. “I knew you’d handle it. Nothing can faze you, Pearl, not even my dick.”

  I laugh. “Of course Samuel Myers is delighted. He really enjoyed your video – thinks you could be a big star. He’s branching out into doing porn movies and would like to sign you.”

  Alexandre’s face flinches for a second but then breaks into a broad grin. “Very funny.”

  “No, but seriously, the meeting went better than expected. Two meetings, actually. We’ve got Alessandra Demarr on board,” I tell him proudly. “An L.A trip could be coming up shortly.”

  “Really, you’re joking – Alessandra Demarr?”

  A rush of surprise courses through my body. “You know who she is?”

  “Of course I do. I saw her at the National in a play. She’s an amazing actress - stunning too - she looks like a young Sophia Loren.”

  I smile sweetly but feel nauseous inside. Why am I jealous? It’s absurd. Perhaps it’s because I’m blonde and girl-next-door-ish and Alessandra Demarr is a ravishing beauty – the type that screams sex-siren and smoldering sophistication. “She’s gay,” I snap, not meaning the words to come out that way.

  “So I’ve heard. Nothing like a sexy gay woman to turn a man on.”

  “You’re attracted to her,” I hear my voice creak out. I try to stay cool – after all, he can see every expression on my face, every nuance of emotion.

  “I’m attracted to you, baby, and I know you have a penchant for pretty women. That first time, in your apartment, when you told me the story of your first real orgasm when your best friend stroked you with a feather? That was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. Fuck, I’m hard now just thinking about it.”

  “I’d love to suck your cock right now,” I purr, making sure he has me on his brain and not Alessandra Demarr. I know I’m going to have to keep him well away from her. Gay people can be swung and I’d rather not put temptation in his path.

  “Tell me what you’d do,” he says, running his tongue along his upper lip. His thickly lashed eyes sear into me – tiger’s eyes – keen, intense as if he wants to eat me whole.

  “First, I’d take your big, beautiful cock in both hands and bury my head between your legs,” I murmur. “I’d run your silky smoothness around my nose, my cheeks and then on my lips, breathing in the smell of you, and just run my eyes all over you – this one thousand percent pure, unadulterated all-male, luscious helping of Alexandre Chevalier.”

  His lips tip up in that crooked smile of his.

  And I keep talking, “I’d tease my lips along your balls and gently flick them with the tip of my tongue letting it ride up your length - your thick, throbbing cock – thinking about how it’s gonna make me come after I’m done with sucking it first – how it’s so sexy and virile that even after that big bad boy has spurted in my mouth, it’s ready again for round two.”

  He groans. “Always ready for another round with you, Pearl. Always ready to fuck your slick wet, tight pearlette.”

  I smile at his poetic rhyme and continue, “I’ll ring my tongue around your soft, satiny head, making it flicker over your one-eyed jack. I’ll slowly lick off your pre-cum – you always taste so good, so sweet, Alexandre. The only man in the world I could ever do that to.”

  “Don’t even put the idea of another man into my head,” he growls. “I don’t want to know who’s touched you - I don’t even want to imagine you having ever been with anyone else. Your mine, do you hear that, Pearl? You’re mine - and you were born to be mine.”

  I instantly regret what I’ve said – it’s made him edgy. His gaze narrows – his green eyes on fire, covetous, greedy for me. I know I have to keep my secrets to myself or all hell could break loose – I can’t risk letting him find out anything. But it turns me on – knowing his jealous flame is alight. My Venus is pounding with desire – I squeeze my thighs tightly together as both hands are holding onto my tablet and I don’t want to drop it in the bath. That already happened a couple of weeks ago with this very same scenario – Sex-Skyping is getting to be a regular habit with us. I’m writhing now, squeezing, crossing my legs and clenching myself. I need this release.

  “I want you to come in my mouth,” I carry on in a whisper.

  “Tomorrow night I’ll be back and I’m gonna lick you all over, tease your clit – then I’ll fuck you. Your. Tight. Wet. Pearlette is going to make. Me. Explode.”

  “Alexandre, I’ll be with you in a minute.” I can’t bear it anymore. I set the iPad down on the floor and turn on the faucet of the shower-head. I can hear him moaning now, groaning at the release of his orgasm. I think of his gorgeous face, his dark hair flopping about his defined cheekbones, his huge, smooth cock stretching me open and fucking me. I turn up the power of the water and let it pound my clit. I press the metal on my mound and it’s enough to push me to the edge – the water’s firing inside my slit, shooting at my clitoris like tiny bullets – I start climaxing in a shattering orgasm, rushing through me with continual spasms as the water continues to draw out the intensity of pleasure; my sensitive core coming in undulating waves.

  I finally let go of the shower head.

  I reach down for my tablet and observe the relaxed face of Alexandre, spent, orgasmed-out, but then my freaking battery goes dead. I set the iPad back down. I lie back in the bath and press my fingers on my clit to draw out the last little ripples of satisfaction.

  I close my eyes and snooze off, the warm water lapping around me in a gentle swell.

  ***

  I was look
ing hot. Really hot. Loved getting ready to go out. Madonna’s latest hit, Secret, was playing on the radio and I was moving my hips to the rhythm, dancing around the room. I checked myself again in the mirror and tossed my teased-up curls about and then ran my fingers through my long, wild blonde hair. Eyes looking like smoldering fires – make-up just right. At least some guys appreciated me. Fuck him! Fuck Brad – I’ll show him. He needs space, I’ll show him goddam space.

  We’d been dating for four years and now, suddenly, he was telling me he needed space! I knew it was because of his studies, I knew - med school looming, exams to get through. That, I could understand, but all that studying lately with Alicia – all those all-nighters. I’m not some Kleenex to be tossed aside, I’m your girlfriend, I told myself. He didn’t want me to cramp his style? Two can play at that game, buddy.

  Julia breezed into my dorm. “Are you ready?”

  “What d’you think?”

  “I think your skirt might be a little short,” she said eyeing up my electric blue mini, my legs going on forever in high clunky heels.

  I laughed. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

  “You don’t usually wear stuff so…so revealing,” she stammered.

  “I want to look sexy.”

  “You always look sexy, Pearl, you don’t need to try so hard.”

  “All I wanna do is have some fun,” I sang.

  “Come on, Sheryl Crow, or we’ll be late. The boys said to meet them at the bar.”

  “So not my thing,” I said, rolling my eyes, “football, frat boys from that dorky college but, hey, who knows? Maybe we’ll have a good time.”

  ***

  I wake up with a jolt. The bath water’s tepid. I must have dozed off. I bury my hands in my face as hot tears pool in my eyes. Memories are being unleashed but I’m not sure why. All this talk, lately, about keeping my past to myself is making me remember.

  I let the plug out and stand up. I grab a warm towel and relish the cocoon feeling it gives me when I wrap it tightly about my cold body. I wish Alexandre were here. I need him. I need his strong arms to protect me, to envelop me with love.

  I’d completely forgotten about that electric blue skirt.

  I get out of the tub, take another towel and dry my feet. My tablet’s on the floor and I take it back to the bedroom and plug it in. The cell is sitting on the bed – I pick it up and call.

  “I just want to hear your voice,” I tell my husband-to-be but it’s just his voicemail. Where can he be? I flop on the bed, slip under the down comforter and before I know it I’ve lapsed into a profound sleep.

  ***

  I was leaning against the juke box – lapping up everybody’s stares – all eyes were on me and my sexy dance moves. I’d lost count of how many shots of tequila I’d had. I was licking the salt seductively off my lips, then I tilted my head back to empty yet another glass. The blond guy – what was his name – he had his hand up my electric blue mini.

  The other was fisting my hair. The music was loud – Snoop Doggy Dog singing intensely about something intense. The football player shouted in my ear, “Fuck, you’re hotter than a bitch in heat,” then he said to his friend, “we all need to get out of here.”

  I’m suddenly in a lavender field and Alexandre is smiling at me. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.

  “But it already has happened,” I say. “It’s too late.”

  I wake up with a start and feel the small of my back drenched with sweat. The bottom sheet is soaked. I peel off my silk nighty, toss it, and shift my naked body over to a fresh part of the bed. Blurry-eyed, I look at my watch. Two twenty-five a.m. I swivel it around; it’s a Reverso, (another extravagant gift from Alexandre) and the other face, the London-time side, seven twenty-five – five hours ahead. Perhaps Alexandre is having breakfast; like a true Parisian, drinking a strong dark espresso. Should I call? And say what? My dreams are keeping me awake but I can’t tell you what they are.

  As if he could smell my angst, Rex comes wagging into the room. His basket is next to the kitchen but he comes to say good morning every day. Today he’s five hours early. He nuzzles his nose next to my hand which is dangling over the mattress. Dogs know when things aren’t right – they know.

  “Alright, Rex, but don’t tell Daddy - come on up.”

  He gazes up at me with his almond-shaped eyes as if to say, “Really? Truly?”

  I’ll get in trouble for this. Rex isn’t allowed on the bed but I’m sad and lonely, so who cares. I pat the mattress and he jumps up excitedly, his windmill tail in motion, digging his paws into the comforter, not believing his luck. Tomorrow, I’ll change the sheets so there’s no evidence. He crawls almost on top of me and I put my arms about his solid black body and squeeze him tight. “Just this once Rex, as a special treat – I could really use a hug right now,” and I kiss his soft, silky ears. I need him close to get through the night. He’s my bodyguard to chase away the bad dreams.

  I fall fast asleep with my doggie-love in my arms.

  ***

  “Ah, ha! Caught you, you naughty boy!”

  I rouse from my sleep and there’s a big commotion going on around me, Rex padding about the bed, wild with happiness. Alexandre has tried to sneak into the bedroom without waking me but got more than he bargained for.

  I look at my watch - 7a.m. “You’re back early,” I mumble into my pillow, my eyes half closed.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” he replies, planting a soft kiss on my lips, “but it looks as if you got there first - while the cat’s away—”

  I couldn’t sleep – I needed a French lover by my side. You were gone so Rex offered himself up.”

  Just then, I hear the elevator door open and Rex leaps off the bed and into the hallway. Sally must have arrived to take him on his morning walk. I rouse from my sleepiness and stretch my arms languidly in the air. “I’ve missed you, Alexandre.”

  He throws his raincoat on a chair. “Next time I go, you’re coming with me. I don’t like us being separated.” He moves towards me, his eyes flashing with passion. He strokes my head and then folds me in his strong arms, pressing his face to my throat and breathing me in as if his life depended on it.

  “I felt empty without you,” I whisper. I relax into him, his natural scent intoxicating, and my heart beats with anxiety at the thought of being away from him again. Ridiculous; it’s been less than two days. I bury my head in his wide, warm chest. He lifts my chin with his hand for a kiss but I slip away from his clutch. “I’ll be back, hang on a sec,” I tell him, sidling underneath his embrace,

  “Meanwhile I’m getting straight into bed,” he says.

  I go to the bathroom to pee, freshen up and brush my teeth. When Alexandre tried to kiss me just now I closed my mouth tightly, lips sealed – morning breath, the horror of it. Why is it I always want to be perfect for him? I want to be his princess – faultless, blameless and flawless. I want to reach unattainable heights. Yet at the very same time I yearn for him to love me just the way I am and for all my faults, even my wrong doings. A paradox. I’m asking for the impossible.

  When my teeth are squeaky clean and I’ve washed my private parts in the wonderful bidet that Alexandre had especially installed, I feel ready to come back to bed. I stand at the bathroom door and just survey the scene around me, realizing that my luck is a chance in a million. How many people get to love someone in their lives? I mean, really fall in love, not because of habit, or convenience or security but for passion – get to experience a real romance? I observe him now lying in bed and imagine there must have been angels fluttering about me that day when I bumped into him at the coffee shop four months ago. Was Cupid there, himself, with his bow and arrow? What were the odds of that?

  Was Puck from Midsummer Night’s Dream sprinkling love dust in Alexandre’s eyes?

  Because what were the chances that a ravishing twenty-five year old Frenchman with the world at his feet would fall in love with a
run-of-the-mill, forty year-old American woman?

  “What are you staring at?” he asks with a grin.

  “You.”

  “You’re so beautiful, Pearl. Even when you’re all ruffled up and half asleep – especially when you’re ruffled up. You’re like a fluffy chick, all sweet and innocent. Come here, I need to hold you.”

  I scurry over and slip under the comforter, nestling myself next to him, wondering where he gets these notions that I’m so unblemished. If he knew otherwise, would he do a three hundred and sixty degree turn?

  He takes me in his arms again and strokes my hair. “You’re my jewel, my angel – your hair’s like spun gold in this morning light.”

  I run my fingers underneath his T-shirt - I need to feel him, to own his flesh and blood, press my fingers against his heartbeat to make sure this is all real. He lifts up his arms and I ease the T-shirt over his strong shoulders and fix my eyes on the rise and fall of his pecs moving with the rhythm of his breath. I touch his smooth skin and marvel at the fact that this gorgeous man before me is going to be my husband.

  He gazes at me for a moment, his green eyes tender and warm, and then rests his defined lips on mine, softly at first. Then his tongue begins to tease me, running quietly along my upper lip. I let my mouth open and close my eyes in response. My tongue meets his and the tips tantalize each other in little flutters, like wings of a humming bird above a flower full of nectar; quivering, flickering. I moan and grip my arms tightly about his shoulders – I can’t be near enough to him – close enough – this is beyond desire; it is an aching need for Alexandre to own me, to possess me. I abandon myself to him completely. I tilt my head back and melt into him, relaxed like a rag doll as his lips devour me, wet and all-consuming into a deep, insatiable kiss - our mouths as one, our tongues tangled in love and want for each other. I pull back for a beat to catch my breath, then nip his bottom lip playfully and open my eyes to observe his all-male beauty.

  “I love you, Pearl. I need you.” He pulls me into him and cups his hand under my butt forcing me even nearer. I feel his solid erection up against my belly and a bolt of desire shoots between my legs making me moan again. He licks my tongue with fiery lashes, the passion growing as if this kiss were alive - a being with a heart and soul all of its own. “You’re mine, Pearl,” he growls like an untamed panther. “Only mine – you have never belonged to anyone else – you were made for me, God created you just for me.”