She quickly dials Jay Westgate’s work number.
A sexy sounding secretary answers the phone, and politely informs her that Mr Westgate is out of the office.
Carmen hangs up without leaving a message, and dials the number he left for his cellular.
She can hardly believe it when he answers.
‘Jay Westgate.’
‘Hello, Jay, this is Carmen… can you hear me?’
‘Yes, but you’re breaking up!’ The interference is so intense he sounds as though he’s in the middle of the ocean with wooden masts cracking and sails snapping disastrously around him. ‘I’ll be right there! I’ll take you to lunch!’
‘But I’m not at work,’ she cries, ‘I’m at home.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘In the Gables.’
‘I’m in your neighborhood, give me your address.’
‘Forty-Eight Sixty Nine Salzedo, apartment four!’
‘I’ll be there in five!’
He arrives ten minutes later looking like a lion forced into a bath. ‘I could have sworn I had an umbrella in the car,’ he remarks.
She quickly closes the door behind him.
He leans against it to avoid dripping all over her carpet. ‘I guess I didn’t.’ He smiles wryly. Strands of dark red hair look painted onto his pale forehead and cheeks.
‘I’ll make us lunch,’ she says firmly, ‘and you have to get out of these wet clothes. Come on.’ She gingerly takes hold of one of his dark heavy sleeves, and quickly leads him into the tiny bathroom opening off her bedroom.
‘How did you manage to get so wet between here and the car, Jay?’
‘I walked to the wrong building,’ he explains. ‘I couldn’t see any numbers through the rain, and for some reason I decided you lived across the street. It must have been the statue of Venus in the courtyard.’
The compliment pleases her so much that she ignores it. ‘I don’t know what I can give you to wear.’
‘You don’t have any male clothing lying around? That’s good.’ He smoothes the hair away from his face with both hands, drawing her attention to his bone structure, which is so symmetrical it might look common from a distance. But up close, her thoughts slip over his features as an irrational sense of knowing him possesses her.
‘Um, there are some towels in the cabinet behind you. You’ll have to settle for a big old bathrobe while I throw your clothes in the dryer downstairs.’
‘Do you always undress a man on the first date?’ He doesn’t smile. ‘Thanks.’
She leaves him for a moment to fetch a forest-green terry-cloth robe out from the back of her closet, an old Christmas present from her grandmother two sizes too big for her.
‘I’ll be right out,’ he promises, holding her eyes as he slowly closes the door.
Breathless, she hurries into the kitchen, where she rinses off the two boneless skinless chicken breasts she just defrosted in the microwave. Fortunately, she has some of her homemade fat-free Caesar dressing on hand. She’ll broil the breasts, cut them up, and whip up two Chicken Caesar Salads. She pulls a head of Romaine lettuce out of the refrigerator, and washes that as she listens for the sound of the bathroom door opening.
There is another naked man in her house.
She stops what she’s doing for a moment as she realizes with a shock that he will be the third man she has somehow helped undress, in one way or the other, in less than twenty-four hours.
She has just finished chopping up the lettuce when she hears the bathroom door opening.
She quickly sets two wineglasses out on her marble table.
Jay strolls out of the bedroom. He has taken everything off, including his shoes and socks.
He stares fixedly at something across the room. ‘Oh, no,’ he says.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You have a cat.’ From his expression you would think Sage was a white tiger about to leap for his jugular.
‘No,’ she corrects him mildly, ‘I have four cats.’ She indicates the furry knot of kittens sleeping in a corner.
He closes his eyes and thrusts his hands into the robe’s deep pockets.
What she can see of his chest is a hairless, translucent rose, like alabaster with a flame burning inside it. ‘You’re allergic to cats?’ She can’t hide her dismay.
He opens his eyes and stares intently into hers. ‘It seems the powers that be are doing their best to keep us apart, Carmen.’
‘Yes, it does seem that way, doesn’t it? Um, I’ll be right back.’ She walks back into the kitchen to turn on the broiler.
He comes and stands in the doorway.
She can’t quite bring herself to smile over at him. ‘I hope you like Chicken Caesar Salad.’
‘Is that what you’re making?’
‘Yes.’ She drizzles a little extra-virgin olive oil over each cutlet wishing he had stayed in the living room so she could concentrate. ‘Unless you’d like something else.’
‘Not at all.’ His hands still hidden inside the robe, he leans against the door frame. His feet and ankles are pale and slender – Christ-like. ‘I hope you’re not going to too much trouble.’
‘No, all I have to do is broil the chicken.’ She seasons the breasts liberally with salt and pepper, fresh minced garlic from a jar, and dried rosemary. ‘I already had the Caesar dressing made.’
‘You made it yourself?’
‘Yes, I love Caesar dressing.’ She doesn’t look at him. ‘But it’s so fattening with all that oil, you know, so I came up with a fat-free version that tastes pretty good, considering.’
‘You mean it doesn’t have to be sinful to taste good?’
‘No,’ she slips the breasts under the broiler, ‘it just has to be complex. There are more ingredients in the sinless version, which in this case also happens to make it more nutritional.’ She reaches up into a cabinet, and sets two black salad bowls down on the counter.
‘I can’t wait to try your unique combination of ingredients, Carmen.’
She laughs, hoping he doesn’t realize how much his presence is affecting her. ‘I’d better go put your clothes in the dryer.’
Instead of stepping back out of her way, he turns in the doorway so she is forced to brush up against him as she leaves the kitchen. ‘Is there anything I can do to help, Carmen?’
‘Just keep on eye on the breasts for me.’
‘I’m more of a leg man. They’re the first thing I noticed about you.’
She laughs again shyly, and steps away from him. ‘I meant the chicken…’
‘I know what you meant. Those are great sandals, baby. Put your foot on that chair for me.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Just do it.’
She hesitates, because she knows her dress is short enough that lifting her leg will reveal most of it, but in the end she obeys him.
He casually rests his left hand on the base of her spine and the other one on the back of her raised thigh. He caresses it slowly, and her breath catches when his fingers brush her panty line. She can’t help wondering if they would feel as good as Will’s, and the thought makes her so receptive to his touch that she is disappointed when he lets go of her and steps back.
‘Very nice,’ he says quietly.
She brings her leg down, shyly avoiding his eyes. ‘I’ll be right back.’ She escapes into the bathroom, where she collects the amazingly heavy material of his suit that he graciously placed in the bathtub along with his wet socks. ‘You can also open a bottle of wine if you like,’ she tells him on her way out.
‘I usually don’t drink at lunch,’ he crouches down in front of her rack, ‘but today I’ll make an exception. Hurry back.’
She runs down the covered stairs, but the wind still manages to hit her with sharp little spears of rain.
The laundry room is empty, and the small space is even damper and stuffier than usual.
She pulls on a frayed old rope to switch on the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, and tos
ses the heavy bundle of Jay’s clothes into the dark bowel of the ancient dryer.
The wind abruptly slams the door closed behind her, muting the roar of the downpour.
She sets the dryer on low, and turns to go.
The door won’t open.
Carmen jiggles the knob and pulls, but the door seems to be jammed shut. The humidity must have swollen the wood, yet it still seems unreal that she can’t even budge it.
‘I don’t believe this!’
The light flickers above her.
She pulls on the door again, and stumbles backwards as the rusty knob comes off in her hands.
The dryer’s mellow hum is cut short, surrendering to the storm’s wet fury as the light goes out, and plunges her into a roaring darkness.
She drops the cold metal sphere, unconsciously crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the cool washing machine, and sinks slowly to her knees.
Jay doesn’t know where the laundry room is, but he is a smart man. She’s sure he will come for her and get her out of here. There isn’t anything for her to be worried about. The absolute darkness is just merely sapping her reason, as if her brain cells need light to function properly. There aren’t any windows, but the room can’t possibly be airtight, she has plenty of air…
…Lying deep in the cave, she can still hear the pounding roar of the ocean at high tide…
‘Carmen, are you in there?’
Her voice emerges as a dry whisper, ‘Yes…’ She clears her throat. ‘Yes, get me out of here!’
‘Move away from the door.’
Sage decides she likes this human male after all and expresses her approval by jumping onto his lap and sprawling across it in that boneless way of felines.
‘Jay, you shouldn’t let her lie on top of you like that if you’re allergic.’
‘It won’t make any difference, and at least she keeps me warm.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, are you cold? I’ll put the air conditioner on energy saver.’
‘That’s all right. I had no idea a simple lunch date could prove to be such an adventure. Let’s see… first, I nearly drown trying to find the place. Then, after I finally make it here, I have to struggle to breathe.’ He caresses Sage, who responds with a thunderous purr. ‘After that, flames start billowing out of the kitchen and I have to put out a fire before rescuing you from the laundry room dungeon. Now, I’m freezing to death. I could have had a less eventful lunch in the heart of the rain forest. It was delicious though, and well worth it for the company, thank you.’
‘I know it’s cooled off outside, but I hate it when my furniture gets all damp from the humidity.’ She feels compelled to defend her environmentally sinful love of air-conditioning.
He stares fixedly over her shoulder as if seeing a ghost, and sneezes.
Sage jumps disdainfully off his lap.
Carmen also gets up, to get him a tissue.
The power surged back the second he kicked the laundry room door open and found her crouched against the washer. She is still embarrassed about that; she had never realized how claustrophobic she was.
During lunch neither one of them had mentioned the incident. Instead, they made typical first-date conversation even though she had sensed he was just as bored as she was by the usual questions and answers.
‘Here.’ She hands him a tissue. ‘Your clothes should be dry by now.’
He blows his nose. ‘Are you so anxious to get rid of me?’
‘Not at all, I just thought that since you’re getting so congested…’
‘I’ll be all right.’ He gets up and stares seriously down into her eyes. ‘But I suppose I should get dressed.’
She doesn’t say anything.
‘I’ll go get my clothes this time.’
She clears the table while he’s gone, and is beginning to wonder what’s keeping him when he finally returns.
‘I hope your suit isn’t ruined, Jay.’
‘No, I was just inspecting the door.’ He steps cautiously around kittens, pausing beside her on his way to the bedroom. ‘I don’t see how it could have jammed like that.’
‘Well, it did,’ she insists.
‘Carmen, did you realize you were claustrophobic?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Then maybe there’s other things you don’t know about yourself.’
Before she can ask him what he means by that, he turns away.
He reappears a few minutes later. His shirt and pants are in serious need of ironing, and he didn’t bother putting his tie or his jacket back on. ‘I hope I can make it to the car without being seen.’
‘I’m sorry you had such a disastrous time, Jay.’
He comes and stands so close to her that she has to throw her head back to look at him. ‘I enjoyed myself very much, Carmen.’
His eyes are such a soft deep gray, yet the look in them is hard, like a stone wall veiled in mist. Once again his bone structure arrests her, and how firm his perfect mouth looks when he smiles suddenly makes her feel weak. If she can’t feel his lips against hers she’ll die. He has to kiss her goodbye.
He tosses his jacket and tie onto the couch, cups her face with both hands, and lowers his head until their mouths are almost touching.
She closes her eyes breathlessly.
He lets go of her.
She looks up at him again, dazed. Their breaths had mingled, their souls had mysteriously ached to touch through the bodies of their lips, and he had pulled back. She sounds like a hurt little girl as she asks, ‘Don’t you want to kiss me?’
‘Yes, I do, very much, which is probably why I shouldn’t.’
She places her hands on his chest and slides them up towards his neck.
He grabs her wrists. ‘No.’ He lowers her hands.
‘Please,’ she whispers.
‘Please what?’ he asks sternly.
‘Please kiss me,’ she begs softly.
‘Would you be happy with just one kiss?’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes close again in an agony of disappointment when he turns away. She braces herself for the sight of him picking up his jacket and tie, and can scarcely believe it when she looks, and sees him sit down on the couch instead.
‘Come here, baby.’
She obeys him as if hypnotized. She is ready to do anything he says if it means he’ll kiss her before he leaves, because he can’t, he just can’t, leave without kissing her.
He pats his thighs. ‘Sit on me. No, not you,’ he tells Sage, who was about to obey him. ‘No, not like that,’ he is addressing Carmen again now, ‘like this.’ One hand grabs her arm while the other one clasps her behind the knee, and pulls her down on top of him.
Her short dress hikes around her thighs and the thin skin of panty protecting her pussy lands right over his hard on. She gasps from the shock of feeling it pressing up against her before their lips have even touched, before they have politely gotten to know a little more about each other in a kiss. Her body’s intense response is another surprise, and it frightens her a little, as if she is daring to play with electricity while soaking wet. She rests her hands on his shoulders as the thrill of knowing she excites him dominates every other feeling.
His hands rest lightly on her hips. ‘Now I’m ready for that kiss.’
Her nipples become painfully firm little magnets straining towards his warm chest as she attempts to keep some distance between them. She is trying desperately not to fall into a dangerous desire to fuck him right then and there as she finally gets the kiss that was all she wanted. At least she thought it was all she wanted, until he made her realize otherwise. And almost as if to punish her for being so naïve, he keeps his lips sealed, denying her access to his tongue and any real intimacy with him apart from the impersonal, undeniable one, going on between the bulge in his slacks and her wet panty. She tosses the hair out of her eyes in breathless pleasure and frustration, but refuses to humiliate herself with another attempt at a real kiss.
His hands slip up into her dress and around to her ass. ‘Happy now?’ He gives each tender cheek a hard squeeze.
‘No…’
‘Oh, really?’ Another brief smile touches his hard mouth. ‘Why not?’
Avoiding his eyes she struggles with the urge to rub up against him. Her vulva is deliciously full of his stiffness, and his helmet rests in his pants in such a way that it is in direct contact with her clitoris.
‘Go on, baby,’ he says gently.
She can’t possibly resist the fact that he read her mind and the tension in her body. She begins moving her hips back and forth against him tentatively, then a little more boldly as she gets carried away by the pleasure.
‘Look at me, Carmen.’
She was embarrassed to feel herself climaxing almost as quickly as she did the first time, but as she obeys him now and meets his eyes, she realizes it is going to be much more intense. His stare seems to penetrate straight through to her soul, telling her things about herself that her mind doesn’t dare grasp but which her body understands right away, and has no problem accepting. ‘Oh, God,’ she whispers.
‘Yes?’ he whispers back.
The arrogant arch of his eyebrow gives her body the mysterious push it needs. She is scarcely aware of shifting her grasp from his shoulders to his head as she comes, his hair a divinely cool fire between her fingers.
When her insides feel solid again she opens her eyes, unable to believe what just happened. And suddenly his still buried erection feels like an accusation, like degrading proof of how easy she is. She hangs her head in shame, avoiding his eyes again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, ‘that was selfish of me.’
‘No,’ he caresses the hair away from both sides of her face, urging her to look at him, ‘you did exactly as I told you to. You were a good girl, and I’m very pleased with you.’
The happiness that rises in her almost makes her feel she could purr.
‘But now,’ his right hand gently spanks her bottom, ‘I have to go.’
Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica Page 3