The Chronicles of Stella Rice: February

by Adrienne Kama

  “Go back to sleep,” a man advised.

  He fumbled with the clock for a moment, then the horrible sound was gone.

  “Jake?” I whispered.

  A low chuckle sounded from beside me. “Sorry about that,” Jake said. “Dev sleeps right through the alarm so I didn’t think to turn it down last night.”

  I was lying on my side, facing him, with something very hot, and very large curled behind me. Dev, I realized.

  I reached blindly in front of me until I found Jake’s arm. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  I felt him stretch, listened in the darkness as he yawned. “Work,” he said.

  “Do you have to go? It’s not like anyone can fire you.”

  “Do you ever blow off work?”

  Sighing, I released him. “No. Sorry.” I hated it when people assumed that because I work for myself I could arbitrarily take off days whenever I pleased. Working for yourself didn’t mean you could be lax. Quite the contrary, it meant you had to be ten times more devoted and put ten times more of your energy and strength into your work.

  Jake sat up, then eased out of bed. Immediately, I felt his absence. I wanted to reach for him and pull him back to me, but I fought the impulse.

  “When will you be back?” I asked his retreating form.

  “I’ll be home around one-thirty.” He stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and turned to face me. “Will you wait for me to come home?”

  I considered, but only for a moment. “Can’t. Have too much work to do at home.”

  Nodding, he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. I heard the shower come on a moment later.

  I was debating the merits of getting up myself and heading home when I felt Dev move behind me. With an unintelligible murmur, he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. The warmth that had escaped when Jake left the bed was replaced with Dev’s body heat.

  “You’re not going anywhere, kitten. Not yet,” he said, as if he could read my mind.

  Then he was there, the taut length of him stroking gently between my cheeks, prodding me to open my legs for him. At his touch, my body began to waken, to rouse with languid desire. Even as I leaned into him in welcome, he rocked his hips against me. He eased between my thighs, not entering me, but slowly lubricating himself with the moisture seeping from between my folds. His movements were slow, unhurried.

  When I thought I couldn’t take anymore of this delicious torture, he slid into me.

  I would’ve cried out if he hadn’t covered my mouth with one large hand.

  “Not too loud,” he advised. “Don’t want Jake to hear?”

  I wanted to know why, but my body and mind had descended into a sexual haze. Nothing mattered but the delicious sensations sweeping through me as Dev moved inside.

  He cupped my breasts with his free hand, teased my nipples until I was gasping for air. The combination of the slow rocking of his hips and the gentle touch of his fingers felt too good.

  He traced a path over my stomach, then between my legs. Gently, almost playfully, he tickled my clitoris.

  “God, Dev,” I hissed against his palm. I wanted to scream his name, to cry out how good this felt.

  He seemed to want to draw the pleasure out, to slowly ride me until I was mad with my need for release. But my body was too sensitive to his touch for a leisurely coring. I whimpered against his hand, rode his thrusts, pushing back until the full length of him impaled me.

  “Yes,” he whispered into my ear.

  He seemed to sense my need, to know I couldn’t hold on much longer. He quickened the pace, driving into me, possessing me totally, then retreating. Each penetration felt better than the last, each withdrawal left me closer to climax.

  As Jake turned off the shower in the bathroom, I crested hard. The orgasm rolled over me, making me moan even as Dev spilled into me for the second time in mere hours.

  When we were done, we both lay still, panting.

  Jake’s soft footfalls as he moved around the bathroom were the only sounds I heard as Dev drew me onto my back and rolled onto me. The kiss that followed was slow and deep.

  1/15/05 7:32 a.m.

  I woke alone in the morning.

  I didn’t have to search the apartment to know Dev was gone. Didn’t have to find the note on the refrigerator written in Dev’s neat script advising me to make myself at home.

  I had a lot on my plate for the day, so I showered, dressed, (one of them was thoughtful enough to lay my dress on the armchair for me) then went home.

  What an awesome night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  1/15/05 8:32 a.m.

  “What do you mean you’re not surprised?” I demanded.

  We were both at our desks in the office, supposedly getting work done. The only things that had been working for the last twenty minutes were our mouths.

  Ann swiveled away from her desk and faced me. “Look,” she said. “Jake called Monday morning while you were meeting with Mr. Peters. I may have mentioned something about us going to Club Blue for Valentine’s Day.”

  “And,” I prodded.

  “And, he got off the phone after that.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know he’d use what I told him to kidnap you of all things. Who the hell kidnaps a woman anyway? Jake has some serious control issues.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Are you mad?”

  “If it hadn’t turned out so well I might have been.”

  “You still going out with Chester?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. At least one more time. It’s the only way I’ll know how I feel about him.”

  2/17/05 3:03 p.m.

  Still don’t know what to do about the Jake/Dev and Chester situations. I’ve spoken with all of them in the last few days. Jake and Dev want me to come over, and Chester wanted to make sure we’re still on for the weekend.

  Argh! I don’t know what to do.

  I can’t get Jake and Dev off my mind, yet it doesn’t feel right to end things with Chester before finding out if a relationship between us could work. Not after we had such a wonderful time together.

  Chester had gotten back into town yesterday and I’ve been coming up with excuses not to see him. I’m afraid he’ll see the duplicity in my eyes. The fact that I’m with him physically, he’ll know that emotionally I’m with Jake and Dev. However, he’s insisting to see me on Saturday night so he can make up for missing Valentine’s Day. So I agreed. As previously planned, Saturday night we’ll meet at my place, then I’ll take him to meet Ann, Katarina, Meagan and me at The Oak Room. We’ll see how that goes.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  1/18/05 10:05 p.m.

  The night started out fine. Perfect even. For about ten seconds. Then everything went to hell.

  Chester and I arrived a little after ten. Katarina and Jim, Meagan and Peter, and Ann with her prop date, Sean, were already in residence. Everyone had been briefed as to the situation, and Operation Lure and Deceive was in progress.

  The first sign of trouble was the state of near pandemonium reigning in The Oak Room. Waiters and waitresses scurried about with trays of food, drinks, and desserts balanced precariously over their heads. Sebastian, the owner, who usually greeted me with questions and conversation whenever he saw me, gave me a quick air kiss.

  “It’s busy tonight,” he said, hardly able to stop smiling.

  Unable to hide my dismay, I frowned. “I noticed.”

  Completely oblivious, Sebastian rattled on, “Isn’t it great. Hired a PR firm last week. Expensive as hell.” Head tilted to one side, Sebastian surveyed his domain. I could almost see him counting all the money he’d make tonight. “Isn’t life fucking awesome!”

  “Yep. And thanks for hooking us up tonight. We really appreciate it.”

  “Promise me you’ll spend lots of money.”

  I raised my right hand. “Scouts honor.”

  “Oh, and tell Katarina that I can reserve The Tower for you girls every Saturday
night for five hundred dollars. Ciao!”

  I gaped at Sebastian’s retreating form. When had the girls decided they wanted to rent The Tower every Saturday night? Five hundred dollars a month to reserve one frigging table? They must have lost their damned minds. I wasn’t kicking in. What’s one fourth of five hundred dollars…a hundred and twenty-five dollars for a table? I didn’t care if it was The Tower.

  And why had Sebastian hired a PR firm? Okay, so I knew why, but I didn’t like it. The Oak Room had been a cozy hangout for locals. Now it seemed The Oak Room was the place to be. Seeing the hordes of beautiful people crowded at the bar, on sofas in the lounge, and in the dinning area made me long for the good old days of last week when The Oak Room was a secret getaway for me and my friends. There was never a crowd to elbow past, and never so much noisy chatter that a person had to yell to be heard.

  This was a horrible turn of events. A disaster. My Shangri La, my Utopia was being overtaken by obnoxious twenty-something.

  “Hey beautiful.”

  Forcing the unfolding disaster of The Oak Room to the back of my mind, I smiled and turned to face Chester. “Hey yourself.”

  Chester did look pretty amazing tonight. The thick, cream-colored sweater made his blue eyes even more luminescent than usual. There wasn’t anything outstanding about his black pants, except the way they hugged every inch of him. This was a man who looked good in everything. Jeans, suits, casual clothes. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off of him. Hell, I would’ve fought to keep my hands to myself, but just now, my life was anything but normal. I feared Chester could’ve appeared for our date in nothing but a G-string and a smile, and I would’ve still been spending more time than necessary thinking about Jake and Dev.

  He held me at arms length and looked me over. “You get more gorgeous every time I see you.”

  An hour ago, when I was slipping into the sleek, zebra print dress with its sparkly bodice, low neckline, and non-existent back, I’d worried that I was over doing it. Now, faced with a room full of women ten years my junior, I was glad I had. My black, strappy heels added a final sexy touch to my outfit. They looked killer and made my legs long and sleek, however it had been hell getting from the car to the club without stepping in snow. But then Chester carried me—actually carried me—over the bad spots.

  “So do you.” Grinning at Chester, I took his hand and began to wind through the labyrinth of sofas, bodies, waitresses, and anything else that happened to cross our path.

  Walking close behind me, Chester gave my hand a squeeze. “This place is packed, Stella. I don’t think there’s anyplace to sit.”

  “Don’t worry. My friends reserved a table.”

  “Don’t see places like this in Virginia,” he confided.

  I looked at him over my shoulder, smiled at the sight of his eyes darting around the room, taking it all in. “Don’t usually see places like this in Baltimore, either, but this is a city on the rise.”

  “We’re going up there?” Chester asked a moment later, when we reached the stairway to The Tower.

  “Yep.”

  Named for its placement at the top of a lush, red velvet stairway, The Tower was located in a loft that overlooked The Oak Room’s lounge.

  We ascended the stairs, then I paused at the top to push aside the sheer gold, purple, and red curtains. As soon as Chester saw the room within, he murmured appreciation.

  The Tower boasted a Mediterranean décor. It was extravagant dining at its most opulent. Instead of an ordinary eating space, it had a knee-high, oval shaped table surrounded by fat red, gold, and purple pillows. Each pillow was large enough to serve as a seat. Sheer draperies hung on the walls, the glimmering material reflecting the soft light of numerous candles positioned around the room. A mammoth fireplace was the crowning glory. It was so large, I worried that if things didn’t go as planned, Ann would get drunk again and fall in.

  When we entered, everyone looked up.

  “Stella!” Katarina announced, as though she hadn’t seen me in centuries. “You made it.”

  Nodding, I found two over-stuffed pillows and settled in.

  After introductions were made, Katarina depressed a hidden button on the underside of the table, notifying our waitress that we needed her. Though, I had no idea why. Already they’d ordered Buffalo wings, chicken quesadilla’s, lobster and artichoke dip, fried calamari, mussels, a fruit and cheese platter, and a platter of coconut shrimp. There was so much food on the table already I wondered if ordering an entrée would be necessary. The smell of all this delectable food was intoxicating. I wasn’t hungry when I arrived, but the more I smelled the delicious aromas wafting up from the table, the hungrier I became.

  “Why so many appetizers?” I asked.

  Jim leaned forward and gave me a wink. “Nobody’s eaten dinner yet. And we couldn’t agree on anything, so we ordered all the appetizers on the menu.”

  Not only had they ordered every appetizer available, but they’d also ordered two bottles of French wine and a pitcher of beer. They also had several half empty margaritas on the table.

  Jim looped an arm around Katarina and proceeded to start a discussion sure to get every man at the table fired up. “So, what do you all think of the Ravens’ chances of making it to the Super Bowl next year?”

  Not realizing how rabid Baltimoreans can be about the Ravens, Chester grimaced. “What chances?”

  And they were off.

  Why men cared so much about football, I’ll never know. But I took this opportunity to get Katarina’s attention. “What’s this about a monthly rental? I think our usual table is fine.”

  Looking more at ease with her faux date than I thought necessary, Ann leaned into him and shook her head. “We don’t have to shout up here. I’d pay a hundred and twenty-five a month for that alone.”

  I eyed Meagan. “You agree?”

  Shrugging, she gave me a half-hearted nod.

  “Look,” Katarina began. “Did you see the lounge when you came in? It’s like a madhouse down there. And according to Sebastian, this is just the beginning. I figured we should reserve The Tower while it was still affordable.”

  Five hundred dollars a month on a table is affordable? “Why can’t we find someplace else to hang out?”

  From the melodramatic gasps and throat clutching, you would’ve thought I proposed we take off our clothes and walk butt-ass, naked through the streets.

  “Have you no loyalty?” Katarina demanded. “Sebastian would die if we went someplace else, he’d absolutely die. He’s like family now.”

  “I don’t know about your family, Katarina, but mine doesn’t charge me five hundred bucks to sit at the table.”

  “It’s hardly the same thing,” Meagan advised. “Sebastian has a business to run, and we like coming here. Personally, I prefer to socialize without being propositioned by twenty-year-old boys. How about you?”

  Damn it to hell. Even as I sat with three pairs of eyes on me and three matching looks of determination pointed in my direction, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. In a last ditch effort I focused on Ann. Since I’d made her a co-owner of AIR, she didn’t work for me anymore, she worked for the company. Still, I knew how much money she brought home. “You can afford this?” I asked her.

  “It’s an investment.”

  I stared up at the ceiling. Clearly I wouldn’t win Ann’s support. Katarina had already convinced her. Katarina was big on “investing”, just not on financial investments for the future. She invested money in a gym to find a husband, she invested money on a maid, to save time, and now she was ready to invest money on The Tower to have…I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think she was so enamored of quiet that she’d think five hundred a month was a reasonable expense. No, it probably had more to do with the image of having a VIP table reserved just for us, one always available on a Saturday night whenever we wanted.

  “All right, fine,” I said. “I’ll put in too. But I don’t like it.”


  Katarina beamed. “You won’t regret it.”

  “I already do.”

  I was about to ask Ann to remind me what time Gerard said he’d show up when I heard the unmistakable sound of footfalls on the stairs.

  Ann’s back went ramrod straight. Katarina’s eyes widened, Meagan bit her lower lip, and my arms broke out in gooseflesh. As one, the four of us turned to stare at the doorway.

  “You rang?” our waitress asked.

  “Shit!” Ann said, deflated.

  “Can we have a bottle of Sam Adams,” Katarina looked at me for guidance.

  “Whatever seasonal brew you have is fine,” I told the waitress.

  “Stella hates mixed drinks, is particular about wine, and—”

  “Thank you,” I interrupted, wondering why on earth Katarina thought she had to give the waitress an explanation of why I was ordering a Sam Adams. Then I remembered the copious amount of alcohol already on the table and understood. Katarina didn’t want the waitress to think we were drunks.

  The waitress left, promising to return with my beer shortly.

  “What time is it?” Ann wanted to know.

  Meagan raised her wrist and squinted at her watch. “Ten thirty-seven.”

  Slumping slightly in her seat, Ann gazed at her nearly empty margarita and declared forlornly, “He’s not coming. He said he’d be here at ten thirty.”

  “He’s only seven minutes late,” I said. “He’ll be here.”

  Sean slipped his arm around Ann and pulled her close. “I’m sure he’s coming.”

  Beside me, Chester laughed. “So Stella wasn’t kidding. You guys have really set up Ann’s ex to come here and see the two of you together,” he pointed to Ann and Sean, “and get jealous?”

  “Let me tell you something about Gerard,” Meagan said. “For two years, for as long as I’ve known Ann, I’ve known Gerard. And Gerard has always been in love with Ann. The only reason he’s dating Candace is to get Ann jealous.”

  Chester grimaced. “Sounds confusing if you ask me.”

  I shrugged, still annoyed that I’d been roped into renting a VIP table.