by M Never
“I’ve seen a lot of plays,” I inform him.
“I’m pretty sure not this one.”
“You know, you are very secretive.”
CJ shoots me a knowing smile. “It’s in my nature.” He draws small circles on my inner thigh as we drive, slowly moving higher and higher.
“Are you teasing me on purpose?”
“Yes. By the time this date is over, you’re going to be begging me to make you come.”
Oh, really? I place my hand on his cock and squeeze. CJ groans. Two can play at this game. “I may not be the only one begging.”
Before things get too heated, the car stops.
“Arrived, sir,” the driver announces. Up until a second ago, I’d completely forgotten about him and am now wondering if he heard our whole exchange.
Whoops.
We step out of the car, and for the second time today, I’m left confused on the sidewalk.
“Is it an off-Broadway play?” I ask since we are definitely nowhere near Times Square.
“Sort of.” CJ assumes his customary position with his fingers laced through mine and leads me down the sidewalk to an unnoticeable black steel door. He opens it to a stairwell lit with red lights. “Is there going to be a crushed velvet couch and one-way mirror during this show?”
CJ laughs animatedly. Glad he finds my inquiry so amusing.
“Not this time, shortcake, but close,” he enlightens me as we climb the stairs. At the top of the landing, a pretty, young blonde is sitting behind a hostess stand.
“Tickets?” she asks sweetly.
“Carmichael. I’m on the list.”
She checks a sheet of paper in front of her in the dim light.
“Christopher John?” she asks.
CJ sighs annoyed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I asked them to make the reservations under CJ though. Only my mother calls me that.”
Is it bad I had no idea what CJ stood for until now? I have been with this man twenty-seven different ways from Sunday, but if you’d asked me his real name, I wouldn’t have had a clue.
My gut tells me the less I know about CJ, the better. It’s safer for my heart that way. But my curiosity and desire are outweighing my good sense, and I find myself more invested in him than I should be. I have no business getting emotionally involved. This is a temporary thing. A fantasy weekend that will end when the clock strikes twelve and turns me back into the pumpkin I am.
I resign to worry about that when the time comes. I’ve walked away from CJ once; I’ll just have to be strong enough to do it again. I don’t have a choice in the matter, really. My life is more complicated than I let on. But that’s my cross to bear, and a worry for another day. Right now, I’m just going to dance at the ball with my naughty prince.
“Coats?” The hostess offers sweetly, and both CJ and I shrug ours off and hand them to her. When she returns, she hands CJ a ticket and shows us to our seat. It’s a small round table only big enough for two. The entire room is set with various sized tables draped with white tablecloths and decorated with tealight candles. Both the walls and ceiling are a deep crimson with crystal chandeliers hanging directly overhead. The whole place has a vintage 1920’s feel. Directly in front of us sits a stage with a blood-red curtain pulled closed. By the looks of it, we have the best seats in the house. A waitress in a skimpy, black rhinestone two-piece takes our drink orders as the rest of the tables fill up. By the time she’s back with my Manhattan and CJ’s scotch, every seat is taken. When the lights dim, CJ pulls me close. So close I can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes and smell the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath.
Music suddenly kicks up and the curtains fly open. I gasp as strobe lights flash and several scantily clad women flaunt it across the stage.
“Burlesque!” I announce excitedly, immediately noticing the name of the show - FANTASY - glowing in purple over the dancing women’s heads.
“Something different,” CJ admits, speaking in my ear. “The name caught my eye while I was searching online.”
“It’s perfect,” I beam as I try to catch every movement on stage. The performers are amazing. So vibrant and sexy and alive.
“Have you ever seen a burlesque show before?”
“Does the movie count?” I ask glancing over at him.
“I don’t think it compares to the real thing.”
“Definitely not,” I respond, mesmerized by the flashy display unfolding directly in front of me.
CJ keeps his arm around my shoulders during the whole show as one beautiful woman after another graces the stage. Some are group performances, others are solo acts. The solo dancers performing tasteful strip teases on beds or chairs. I love every erotic, enticing second of it. CJ does too; he’s begun to grope me under the table and tickle my neck with kisses.
“Quit that.” I giggle.
“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re mine.” He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh and tickles my piercing.
“CJ!” I jump, the sensation setting off sparks.
“Easy.” He tightens his arm around me and lays off my clit, sinking a finger into me instead.
“CJ,” I murmur, tormented as he begins to tease me.
“Quiet, Tara. Watch the show.” He chastises while lazily moving his finger in and out. He said he was going to have me begging by the time this night was over. Right now, I’m close. I try to concentrate on the dancers, but CJ’s measured strokes have my vision going blurry. I breathe steadily trying not to draw attention, but there’s too much stimulation clouding around me. The man I can’t get enough of touching me while watching the most provocative performance of the night in front of me. A couple on stage, the man putting his hands all over a woman who’s chained to a pole. He pulls her clothing off a piece at a time. She pretends to hate it at first, then reluctantly embraces it as if he’s stripping away her reservations little by little to reveal her true self. Her true need. The barer she becomes, the more aggressive he becomes. My heart pounds harder and harder as the heat elevates on stage and between my legs.
“CJ,” I heave, as he continues to deliberately assault me, leading me blindly to the edge.
“Shhhh, shortcake.” He hums seductively in my ear.
I grab his wrist, but that doesn’t dissuade him.
“Watch,” he orders.
I fight to turn my full attention back to the stage, where the woman is nearly naked now. Only a black thong and nipple tassels left on her body. She’s beautiful—blonde and curvy with an air of innocence.
A virgin sacrifice? Possibly.
Maybe she’s just a woman with dark desires that she’s afraid to set loose. Or afraid to embrace because, to some, they’d be deemed wrong. She’d be judged. I really can’t decipher. The only thing I do know is the man is stripping away her inhibitions the same way CJ is stripping away mine. My whole body starts to tighten and my pussy twinges with a delicious pain.
Oh, fuck.
I watch the theatrics on stage as the scene comes to a crescendo. The male performer drops to his knees and buries his face right between the tethered woman’s thighs, draping one leg over his shoulder. The lights flash as bright as daylight and the music hits a high note as she seemingly screams with pleasure. I almost come right along with her but crash and burn instead as CJ removes his finger.
I suck in air to avoid passing out.
As stealthy as a cat, he takes the finger that was just submerged inside me, dips it into his glass left only with a tiny bit of scotch, and then sucks it into his mouth.
“Mmm . . .” He savors as the lights go up. “My two favorite flavors. Macallan and you.”
I just sit there frozen in my chair, a wet achy mess.
“Are you ready to beg yet, shortcake?” He taunts me.
Yes, relentlessly. But I won’t tell him that. Instead, I grin and lean into him. “Not even close. Is that all you got?”
CJ’s big brown eyes sharpen.
“The night is just beginn
ing,” he assures me darkly. “Time to eat.” He stands up and holds out his hand. I notice the way he conceals the bulge in his pants with his sports jacket.
“You going to be able to handle that all night?” I stand as well, pressing myself against him deliberately to rub against his stiff cock.
“You have no clue what I can handle.” He nips at me inconspicuously then spins me around, walking close behind me as we retrieve our coats and leave the building.
It’s freezing outside, the wind whipping up between the buildings as we hurry to the car. If I didn’t love Christmas time in New York so much, I would consider moving to Hawaii with Ellie. I could do without winter.
Once inside the car and shielded from the elements, I decide it’s time for a little revenge. That stunt CJ pulled during the burlesque show left a lingering effect. Just as he intended. But I’m not one to let things slide—in these kinds of instances anyway. I cuddle up next to him, lightly kissing his neck and caressing his chest, subtle with the affection.
He moans softly and palms my ass with one hand.
“I enjoyed the show. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He closes his eyes and tips his head back giving me full access to his neck. I don’t apply any more pressure or move my hand from his chest, only continuing with the sweet ministrations.
“What was your favorite part?” I ask.
“The black widow,” CJ responds with a devious smile. He’s referring to an act where one of the performers stripped down to this spider web looking outfit. Black leather crisscrossed all over her body, barely covering her most private parts. It was definitely erogenous, and the woman knew how to work up a crowd. She was so raw and carnal she had me questioning my own sexuality for a moment.
“We should get you an outfit like that,” CJ muses.
“Oh, yeah?” That is exactly the opening I need. “I would definitely strip for you.” I slide my hand down into his pants, going straight for the kill.
“Tara!” CJ twitches as I jerk his cock.
“What?” I go after his mouth, pumping harder.
He expels a low feral growl as he hardens again under my touch.
“Thinking about me taking my clothes off?” I ask between starving kisses.
“I’m thinking about me ripping your clothes off.” He grabs my neck and plunges his tongue into my mouth.
“We still have to go to dinner,” I playfully remind him as I slow down my wrist action.
“I know.” He pants. “Dessert will be totally worth it.” He attacks me again, pressing his hand over mine as he flexes his hips. He lets out a muted whimper as if restraining himself from coming. I know he wants to. I know if his pride wasn’t in the way, he would fuck me right here in the backseat, driver watching and all. And I’d totally let him.
“Sir.” The driver suddenly clears his throat. “Arrived.”
We both inhale a collective breath as we hurry to put ourselves back together.
“When we get back to the hotel.” CJ locks me against his body right before the driver opens the door. “I am going to break you.”
I widen my eyes. I think that is the most arousing threat I have ever received in my life. My clit actually cramps with need because I know without a doubt, he means it.
The restaurant is small, cozy, and dim inside. It’s all dark wood, extravagant furnishings, and candlelight. We’re seated in a semi-private booth in a corner of the room.
“Do you bring all your weekend flings here?” I toy with CJ as I look over the menu.
“Definitely not. Only my fantasy girl.”
I flick my eyes up. I didn’t miss the fact girl was not plural. I know I shouldn’t pursue it. I should just leave it alone. But I can’t help myself.
“And how many fantasy girls do you have?”
CJ smiles shrewdly, looking straight into my eyes. “Only one,” he discloses.
I try not to let the answer go to my head. But I’ll admit it just scored him a thousand bonus points.
I conceal my elation and draw my attention back to the menu. Everything looks outstanding. The waiter comes and goes, taking our drink orders and providing in detail the specials tonight—risotto with prosciutto and arugula, grilled octopus, and scallops sautéed in brown butter.
We opt to share some oysters as an appetizer. I’ve never had them before, so this should be interesting. I order the salmon as my main course, and CJ gets the veal saltimbocca.
“This is a little odd,” I admit as I take a sip of the red wine CJ suggested.
“What is?”
“Being out in public.”
“And not having to worry about someone trying to kill me?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “Something like that.”
“It is nice to share your company and know my balls are safe at the same time.”
“Yes, we both know how important your family jewels are.”
“Someone has to carry on the Carmichael name,” he jests.
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“I do. Two half-sisters from my mom’s second marriage.”
“Oh, well, you carry a heavy responsibility then. Do you want kids?”
CJ makes a conflicted expression. “I haven’t really given it much thought. My business,” he clears his throat, “keeps me pretty busy. I travel a lot and am involved in time-consuming transactions. I don’t know if that kind of lifestyle is conducive to a family.”
“It sounds like it would be a lot to juggle.”
He nods in agreement, taking a large swig of wine. Did that question make him uncomfortable? I was just making conversation. He told me I could ask him anything.
“I didn’t mean to get personal. I know . . .” I search for the right words. “I know this weekend—”
“It’s fine, Tara.” He puts his hand over mine. “I don’t have a problem with getting personal.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. It’s part of the reason I wanted to take you out. I enjoy your company as much as I enjoy your body. I just wasn’t prepared to jump into the subject of family right off the bat.” He chuckles, his warm brown eyes catching the light off the hurricane candle.
“Sorry. I guess the conversation just took a weird turn.”
“Don’t be sorry. Go ahead. Ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”
As confidently as he says that, some little part of me is skeptical about how true that is. No one is an open book. We all have our secrets. Good, bad, and indifferent. But I take the opportunity for what it is and decide I want to get to know CJ better, even if it is just superficial information.
“What do you do when you’re not working or hiding from Kayne?”
“I guess that depends on where I am. You pretty much saw my life in Hawaii. Beach, surfing, hanging out. I ski when I have the opportunity, and I just got into rock climbing.”
“You’re an all-around jock.”
“I work in an office most of the time. I like to take advantage of the outdoors as much as I can.”
“I can understand that. I’ve always wanted to learn to snowboard.”
CJ stays silent, and I know exactly why that is. There are no promises of tomorrow at this dinner; it’s only the here and now. It makes my heart heavy, but I also know that’s just the way it is.
“My turn,” CJ says just as the oysters are placed on our table. I inspect them. They look appetizing and appalling all at the same time as they sit on a bed of ice and lettuce with lemon wedges and a dollop of horseradish.
“I don’t know if I can eat one of those.” I crinkle my nose.
“You definitely can. After you answer my question.” He takes a shell and places it on his plate. “I know you study music.” He picks up a small forkful of horseradish and dabs it on the oyster. “But what are you planning to do with it once you finish school?” He squeezes some lemon onto it next.
“Um,” I reply distracted as he picks up the oyster and brings it to his mouth. �
�Teach,” I say. “It’s not my passion, but it will pay the bills.”
“Sensible,” he answers right before he tips his head back and allows the oyster to slide into his mouth. “What is your passion?”
“Music is my passion. But there’s not many job opportunities that pay. So, I figured if I can at least teach, I will still be able to enjoy what I love.” I have loved music for as long as I can remember. It’s like I was born with it ingrained in me. My earliest memory is standing on my parents’ bed with an audience of stuffed animals belting out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
“Makes sense.” CJ picks up another oyster and repeats the horseradish and lemon routine. “Your turn.” He holds it up to my lips, and I inhale a stinging whiff of the horseradish. I’m not sure I can do this. “Come on, Tara. Be as adventurous outside the bedroom as you are inside.”
Using my sexual prowess against me is so low.
I open my mouth.
“You know oysters are an aphrodisiac,” CJ enlightens me as he feeds me my first ever oyster. “Don’t chew, just swallow. I know you’re good at that.”
I could smack him, but I am experiencing strange textures and tastes in my mouth at the moment. It’s not horrible. It’s not great either. I swallow quickly and let my taste buds register the new flavors.
“Not so bad?”
“Not too bad,” I admit.
“Try another one?”
“You first.”
“You like to watch me use my mouth, huh?”
I roll my eyes. Maybe a little.
CJ alternates feeding himself and me until all eight oysters are gone. I enjoy the last one the most, now appreciating the appeal.
Dinner continues smoothly as we each allow a little more freedom for our personalities to come out. I find out how much CJ loves music and the theater and that he has two bachelor degrees, one in computer technology and another in business. Above all though, I realize how much he can make me laugh. I think it’s what drew me to him in the first place.
The first time we met had been under such dire circumstances. Ellie was lying in a hospital bed and no one knew if she was going to wake up. My dad was a mess, my mom was a rock, and I was just me, alone trying to figure out exactly what I should do with myself. I think CJ could sense my confusion, for lack of a better word. He was always hanging around the hospital, showing up at the strangest times to check on Kayne and my parents and me. I remember standing outside Ellie’s room completely out of sorts. My sister could die and there was nothing I could do to help. I felt worthless. That’s when CJ showed up. He just seemed to appear with his laid-back energy and inviting smile. He offered to buy me coffee. Suggested I take a walk and get some air. That day, our acquaintanceship grew. He became someone I could lean on. It was purely platonic. An older brother hanging out with his younger sister. It’s where the nickname shortcake came from. He preoccupied me, and I welcomed the distraction. It wasn’t until two years later at Ellie and Kayne’s wedding that our relationship changed. I don’t exactly know how it happened or when. It was just different the second time around. Maybe it was because I was older? Maybe it was because the circumstance that brought us back together was a joyous one. I don’t know. I can just tell you that when I got off the plane and he was there to pick my family and me up for the second time, the attraction was instant. Like two lost souls reconnecting in the dark of night.