by Ju Ephraime
She didn’t bring any elaborate clothing with her because she was not expecting to be going out on dates. It would have to be a pair of jeans. She had four pairs. She hoped if she paired it up with one of her dressier tops and put her hair in an up-do it would do the trick.
She took a quick bath and got into her jeans and top, but somehow she didn’t think it would pass for semi-formal. She sat down on the bed, feeling foolish, and remembered this was a boutique hotel, so it has to have one of those upscale boutiques.
Picking up the phone, she called the front desk to find out if there was a boutique and, if so, which floor it was on. She was told the boutique was on the second floor. Grabbing her purse and keys, she went down to the boutique and was immediately transported back home.
This was indeed a high-end boutique similar to any she would find in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré district in Paris. She bought a snazzy red number with some strappy sandals and was even able to find an evening clutch to go with it. Taking the elevator back to her room, she was shocked to find she had spent a cool nine hundred Euros and had used up almost all the time she had allowed herself to get ready. Now she had to hurry if she wanted to be ready before he got back.
Changing into her new outfit lifted her mood immediately. Red was her favorite color; it complemented her. She kept the same up-do and earrings, and she was ready—not a moment too soon.
As if on cue, her phone rang. It was Raymond, telling her he was coming up to her room. She’d just hung up the phone when there was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Raymond standing there looking so deliciously handsome. There was an animal magnetism about him that drew her in, even when she knew nothing would come of it. He had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man. His shoulders were so wide they practically filled the doorway. He was tall and all muscles. She was not a short woman, but he could still have eaten off her head if he wanted to.
She felt him watching her with that same intensity she’d noticed in the airport. It was as though he was trying to decipher a puzzle. He leaned toward her, his steel-gray eyes holding her captive as he came within touching distance of her lips and stopped, not touching her. Still, she was intensely aware of him, the heat and solidity of him, and suddenly she had a mental image of him over her, touching her, filling her as she rose up to receive him, her hand stroking the firm muscles of his back. She felt her body’s response between her thighs as it pulsated in anticipation. She wanted to die of mortification when she felt the resulting dampness in her panties. She stood there mesmerized as his nostrils flared, and he breathed in deep, and then his mouth was on hers.
It was not a demanding kiss. It was a seeking kind of kiss, his mouth wandering to the edge of her mouth, the corner of her lips, and back again. In between, he’d probe her mouth with his tongue, then resume caressing her lips again.
“Laisse-moi entrer, ma chérie. Let me in, sweetheart,” he whispered, and the tip of his tongue returned to its probing against her mouth.
She closed her eyes and opened to him—to a taste and feel that was addictive. He kissed her slowly, searching without demanding, while he brought up his hand to cradle the side of her jaw. He touched her so gently, as if she was made of fine porcelain. His gentleness disarmed her.
She allowed her body to relax into his, and then the tone of the kiss changed. He searched more deeply, probing, caressing, still with that maddening restraint, until her body began to make demands of its own. She pressed against him, against the massive erection she could feel through the layers of fabric between them. His cock was hitting her directly on her most sensitive spot, and she heard herself making a mewing sound in her throat.
Swinging her around, he closed the door and placed her back against the closed door and took his mouth off hers long enough to explore the column of her neck and the pulse beating at the base of her neck. By the time he returned to her mouth, she was pressing into him for all she was worth. Her fingers sought to grip the solid surface of his back, but there was no give in the firm flesh. With a soft mutter, he took her wrists and drew them around his shoulders. By then every muscle in her body was straining to get closer.
He held her firmly, anchoring her against the door with the hard framework of his body, and took her mouth again. This time his kisses were no longer exploring, but deeper, longer, all-consuming as he stiffened his tongue, using it to mimic coitus movements in and out, in and out of her mouth, as if he was already inside her. The kisses were greedy with teeth, tongue, lips, of unbearable pleasure that made her want to do things with him she had no business doing. She clung to him, moaning and grinding against him without shame.
His hands moved to her butt and brought her closer to the hard, jutting pressure between them. It felt so good that desire flooded her body, and all sense of self-preservation fled. She wanted him something fierce. She wanted him to take her right there on the hotel floor. She wanted him to do anything and everything to her. His mouth continued to eat at her, licking deep and raw. Every thought and impulse dissolved into white heat, raw pleasure consuming her, demanding release. She was on fire.
She completely lost it when she felt his hand weighing her breast before applying pressure to the nipple that was sensitive and hurting. She arched her back in desperate welcome, offering him her body to do with as he would.
Then his cell phone rang.
The unexpected interruption caused them to move apart. He raised heavy-lidded eyes to her face, and she quickly turned away and walked to the bathroom to get herself under control. She was throbbing in every part of her body, but especially between her thighs. She was shocked at her response to this man whom she hardly knew. The burn for him was electrifying, pure erotic fire.
She heard him answer the phone and say something in his native Créole. It was so quick she was not able to catch what he was saying, but she did hear him say Wolfe. He was evidently talking to his brother.
She quickly freshened up her lipstick and was pleased to see her hair was still in her up-do. It wasn’t neat, but she liked the slightly disheveled look. There was nothing she could do about her mouth. It was swollen and appeared even more pouty than usual.
She hastily emerged from the bathroom and went to get her bag off the bed where she had placed it when she answered the door what seemed like eons ago.
Raymond was standing, very tense, in the same location next to the door, frustration coming off him in waves.
“I’m ready now.” She tried her best to sound as normal as possible, as if her whole entire world hadn’t just gone through a seismic shift. Her whole perspective on kissing had changed forever. Never would she settle for just a kiss. This man had taken kissing to an art form.
“That was Wolfe telling me I was running late. Let’s get out of here while I still can,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin.
He was so beautiful. She had to avert her gaze as she answered him. “I’m ready,” she said. Meanwhile, her body was screaming, Liar, liar, you know you’d like nothing better than to have that man take you into the bedroom and have his way with you. But she kept walking in the direction of the door, one foot in front of the other. Had he said halt, she would have halted in a minute, but he took her hand and walked out of the room with her.
She didn’t know how far away the place was, but, unless it was the next block, there was no way they’d be getting there on time.
“By the way,” he said, “I forgot to tell you, you look sensational.”
“Why, thanks,” was all she could think of at the moment.
She was too engrossed looking at him from the corner of her eye, a trick she had learned at modeling school. She used to think it was underhanded and silly, but now she found it very useful as she pretended to be staring straight ahead while her eyes looked at him from the side.
He was wearing a rust-colored, long-sleeved shirt and dark blue dress pants. She couldn’t see his feet, but his hands appeared perfectly manicured with short, square nails. His hair was
a bit tousled, and she wondered if it was a result of her running her hand through it or whether that was the way he wore it. She couldn’t recall touching his hair, but then, she could barely remember her name when he had his mouth on her.
She liked the tousled look on him. His long lashes were like fans against his cheeks, and he had a deep dimple visible in the center of his chin.
“Do I pass muster?” he asked, shocking her into awareness of what she had been doing.
“Why do you ask?” she wanted to know.
“You've been examining me from head to toe, from the minute you opened the door. I just wanted to know if I measured up.”
“I wasn’t trying to measure you up, as you put it. I’m sorry, I was not aware I was being so obvious. How soon do we get to your brother’s place?”
“In less than ten minutes. Why?”
“No reason, I just wondered.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
They had exited the hotel and were walking through the parking lot to where he’d parked his car.
It was a beautiful day, with big fluffy white clouds in the bright blue sky. There was a kaleidoscope of color everywhere she looked. It was like what she envisioned paradise would be like.
“The scenery here is so beautiful. I can see why the native Indians named this place Island of Flowers. Everywhere I look, there are flowers growing in a riot of colors, as far as my eyes can see.”
“Yes, the soil here is unique. That’s why, no matter where I travel, this is always home. There's something about the very air here that fills you with a sense of belonging.”
“Funny you should say that. I felt it the minute I stepped off the plane yesterday. I put it down to the people. They're so friendly and easygoing, and everything is so clean and pristine; although, the same could be said for Paris. It's just a bit more personal here.”
“Yes, that’s just what it is, more personal.”
Soon he got off the freeway and took a local side street. He drove a short distance, and the buildings and landscape changed, becoming more commercialized with auto dealerships, supermarkets, and restaurants. Every restaurant you could name was juxtaposed on this long wide boulevard.
He stopped in front of a huge restaurant where a line was already forming outside. If this was his brother’s restaurant, Petits Pois, his brother must be loaded. This was no ordinary restaurant. Petits Pois was almost like a hotel with two levels and valet parking. Walking over to her side of the vehicle, he opened the door for her. She liked the special attention he gave her. She felt like a queen. Stepping out of the vehicle, he escorted her through a door marked, Private.
Oh, boy, this is getting better and better.
Chapter Nine
Working in the modeling industry had pretty much removed all sense of awe from her, but that was before she’d walked into Petits Pois. Every conceivable thing in the restaurant was geared toward making the guests feel welcome. There was a huge waterfall as you entered the main lobby, with soft music playing in the background. The music appeared to be coming from the fountain. She knew this was not possible, but the impression of being serenaded by a group of mermaids was truly exotic, and this set the tone of the place.
There were three separate rooms, and from what she could see, it was packed. Each room had a totally different décor. One was designed like a scene from one of the beaches around the island, including realistic looking sand and the sound of the waves lashing against the shore.
Another room was all dark and secluded, the only lighting coming from pinpoints of light shining down on the center of the table so the food and the diners were visible only to those sitting at the table. You couldn’t tell who was at the next table even if you tried. The wait staff wore some type of goggles. It was out of this world. The third room was bright and cheerful, decorated like a scene from Disneyland. Raymond told her the background changed every ten minutes, accompanied by music from whatever scene was showing at the time.
There were families with young children laughing and having a good time. It must have been a big hit with young children. Little wonder there was a line outside.
She couldn’t wait to meet the man who had envisioned this out-of-this-world restaurant. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before.
Raymond took her up one flight of stairs and to another room that was decorated like a private family dining room, complete with chandelier, plush chairs, sideboard, plush carpet—the works. The fresh flower arrangement was to die for.
She was just beginning to wonder about this man when a door in the far corner of the room opened, and in walked a man who could be none other than Wolfe. He moved silently with long strides. In two of them, he was standing next to her. Unlike Raymond, who had extended his hand the first time he’d met her, this man reached for her and gave her the customary kiss on both cheeks.
“Salut! Je suis Wolfe,” he said, taking a step back. “Et vous?”
“Je m'appelle Gabrielle.”
“Bienvenu, Gabrielle.”
She thought Raymond was handsome and beautiful. Wolfe took it to a whole other level. He screamed sex appeal, and he did it without even trying. He was a bit leaner than Raymond, but they were about the same height. She could see the muscles on his biceps when he moved, but his were leaner. His pants were loose black dress pants. The pants hung on his waist, with the belt sitting there as if for show. She was convinced if he were to remove the belt, the pants would stay put, held in place by the musculature of his butt. He wore a black silk shirt that was opened at the neck, where she caught a glimpse of a golden cross nestled among the hairs on his chest.
“Are we done with the sizing up?” Raymond asked, bringing her back to the present.
Wolfe gave her a brief glance and a smile. The smile almost looked like the grin of his namesake. This man is not to be trifled with.
“What would you like to drink, Gabrielle?” he asked, before walking to the bar on the other side of the room. His voice had almost the same tone as Raymond’s, only his was a bit more gravelly.
“I’ll get her a drink, Wolfe. Don’t you have anything else you should be doing besides trying to scare people with your wolfish grin?”
“Me, scare people? Surely you jest. Who have I been scaring? You’re not referring to Gabrielle, are you? I only wanted to make her feel welcome.”
“Whatever you say, brother.”
They went on back and forth in that vein while Raymond brought her a drink he said was the house specialty. It was slightly sweet with a hint of bitters and lime.
“Drink this slowly, especially if you haven’t eaten anything all day,” he said.
She took a cautious sip, and she was hooked. Even though he’d told her to drink slowly, she did the exact opposite and practically finished the drink in two gulps.
She put down her glass after the last gulp and was not surprised to see Wolfe watching her with a look on his face that was pure poetry, as if to say, “I told him you’d do what you want” before it was replaced with a grin that softened the lines of his face. It reminded her of the sun breaking through the clouds. This man was truly amazing. She admired the woman who had been able to tame him enough to get him to marry her.
She quickly lowered her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand to hide the grin that was threatening to turn into laughter just as Raymond returned from putting some relaxing music on the system. The soothing sound of Journey’s “Don't Stop Believin'” filled the room. She was sitting there, struggling not to laugh as Wolfe quietly left the room.
“What’s the joke about? Is that brother of mine bothering you?”
“No, he’s not bothering me, but you know your brother. I believe he thought it funny you told me not to drink my drink too quickly and I did just what you told me not to do.”
“You finished your drink?” he asked incredulously, taking the glass and looking inside. Then he, too, was fighting not to laugh. “Do you want another one?”
“Yes, ple
ase. It was delicious.”
“Well, that’s the whole purpose of this drink. It’ll knock you out in a minute. It’s meant to be sipped very, very slowly. Gulping it down will only make you feel the effects all at once.”
“I feel fine,” she said, standing up to prove to him that she was.
She had to sit back down in a hurry because her head was spinning and her eyes were out of focus.
“See what you get for not listening?” Raymond said, giving her a kiss on the nose. “It will soon wear off because I’m not giving you anything more until our food is here and you’ve had something to eat. Talking of which, Wolfe...,” he called to his brother, “where is Foxx? I need to get some food for Gabrielle. I don’t want her feeling that way when Foxx gets here.”
“There’s some blaff soup on the sideboard,” Wolfe told him, without entering the room.
Blaff was seafood, mainly red snapper, cooked in seasoned soup, which could be mild or hot. If he knew his brother’s restaurant, this one would be a bit on the hot side and be enough to get rid of the effects of the drink.
As if on cue, a waiter came in and dished out a bowl of soup, which he brought over to Gabrielle. “Pour la mademoiselle, for the lady.”
“Merci, thank you,” she said as he placed the food in front her. She was still not able to focus, so she picked up the spoon and tried to drink some of the delicious-smelling soup. After the third try on her part, Raymond took over, removed the spoon from her hand, and spoon-fed her. She knew she wouldn’t live this down, but she was grateful to him. After the third spoonful, the effect of the drink was wearing off. But having him feed her was such a novel experience that she pretended she couldn’t do it herself until the last drop of soup was gone.
This night promises to be exciting.
As she settled down and took a sip of the water that the same waiter had very thoughtfully brought her, the door opened and in walked Wolfe, only this time he was accompanied by a very pregnant woman.