The Chronicles of Stella Rice: January

by Adrienne Kama

  “I didn’t know you were coming, Jake,” Katarina practically accused. “I didn’t know you and Stella were seeing each other.” She barely seemed able to grit out my name, her teeth clenched tightly in apparent anger. “You don’t think it’s unprofessional to date a client?”

  Jake transferred his hypnotic eyes to Katie, who seemed unimpressed with Jake’s dark good looks.

  “Stella and I have been seeing each other for a few days now,” he explained.

  Three heads swiveled round in my direction, three sets of eyes pinned me to my seat. I eyed my friends, and one by one, I gave each my most winning smile. It was a smile meant to communicate that I could see whomever I chose.

  Sitting at the end of the table, Gerard poured beer from one of the three pitchers into two mugs. The first mug he handed to Jake, the second he took a swallow from, and then passed to me. “Yeah, yeah, Stella, I know. No beer. But you know you want one.”

  I accepted the proffered drink and sniffed delicately at the glass. “This smells domestic. I don’t drink domestic beer.”

  “What a princess,” Jake said, letting his fingers dance up to the edge of my very short mini-dress.

  “You have no idea, Jake,” Meagan began. She regaled us all with tales of my princessly behavior, from my refusal to sleep on anything less than two hundred thread count cotton sheets as a child to my inability to use drugstore shampoos and conditioners on my hair as an adult. I tried to tell her Jake wasn’t interested but he only shushed me quiet.

  Ann, Katarina, and Gerard even threw in a few anecdotes of their own. How encouraging it is to have friends that are always ready to embarrass you in front of possible boyfriends.

  On the bright sight, my humiliation seemed to cheer Katarina.

  “It’s always so comforting how some people never change,” Meagan finished.

  Jake fixed me with those eyes, a slight grin pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Why mess with perfection.”

  I smiled stupidly and let loose with a ridiculous sounding giggle.

  Okay, so this was the lamest come-on ever, since he’d said I was weak and underweight on Monday. Still, I indulged myself. It wasn’t every day a sex god of a man set his sights on me.

  I knew Jake’s game, and I was a willing participant.

  Ann held her beer mug up and gave him a slight bow over the table. “Nice. My kind of man.” She’d said the latter while staring at Gerard who promptly flipped her the bird.

  Rolling his eyes as he set his hand back in his lap, Gerard grabbed the half-empty pitcher in front of Ann. The liquid looked dark and syrupy. He politely emptied the offending mug he’d given me earlier in three large swallows and replaced the former liquid with the darker brew. “Stout,” he said, as he again set the mug before me.

  I sniffed again, approving of the chocolaty aroma. I hadn’t planned on drinking beer, but I couldn’t be rude to Gerard when he was already feeling down in the dumps.

  “Jim,” Katarina beamed, “why don’t you tell us about your yacht.”

  Pleased to have been brought into the conversation, Jim sort of swaggered forward in his seat and reached in his back pocket. He came up holding a wallet, which no doubt held pictures of his yacht. He told us about the joys of sailing when Jake leaned toward me and whispered into my ear.

  “Let’s go,” he suggested.

  “We just got here,” I whispered back.

  He looked at his watch then back at me. “It’s been over an hour. Let’s go. I want to be alone.”

  Was I ready to be alone with Jake again? There was no telling what I was likely to do if left alone with this man. I wasn’t doing a very good job at playing hard to get. I was making this whole affair too easy for him. But then again, why shouldn’t I? I’d never been one to play games. I was more the “if you like him, tell him” type of girl. Besides, I was an adult. There was no reason why I couldn’t handle an adult relationship with Jake, even if he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever known. He was gorgeous, and he seemed to be taking our budding relationship very seriously, which was a plus.

  “Okay,” I said with a decisive nod. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Katarina wanted to know.

  “Away from here,” Jake answered before I could.

  Jim, who was suggesting he take everyone out on the Fourth of July for a cruise, paused.

  “We’re not ready to go,” Katarina said.

  ”You don’t have to. Only Stella and I are leaving. It’s a private party.”

  Katarina’s lip curled. “Who else will be there?”

  “A private party for two.” Jake gave Gerard a nudge to step from the booth so we could get out.

  Gerard didn’t seem inclined to move. “I think you should stay, Stella,” he said.

  I couldn’t see Jake’s expression, but apparently it was convincing enough to inspire a change of heart in Gerard. Or so I thought. As I stepped away from the booth, Gerard held my arm long enough to whisper, “People aren’t always what they seem Stella. Be careful.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jake opened the passenger door of his Jag, waited while I eased inside, then shut the door with a single thrust of his hip.

  In the seconds it took him to walk to the driver’s side, panic had set it. Was I really going through with this? I’d never gone home with any man I wasn’t dating, and despite what Jake said to the contrary, we weren’t formally seeing each other. What would we do once we got to his apartment? Okay, I knew what we’d do, but could I actually do it with Jake? What if I wasn’t good at it tonight? And what would we talk about before we did it? Would we have anything to talk about?

  And most importantly, what had Gerard meant by that ominous little statement? People aren’t always what they seem? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  Shit!

  Shit! Shit! Shit! My legs!

  Shit!

  Jake opened his door and slid inside. The sound of his leather incased ass gliding over the leather seat made me suddenly ravenous with need to have another taste of him. A shiver of anticipation danced up my spine even as I decided I’d have to think up an excuse and make my escape. I couldn’t have sex with Jake with hairy legs.

  “You know what,” I forced myself to say.

  Jake shifted in his seat, put the key in the ignition, and twisted. The car purred to life.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Stella,” he said.

  First of all, how the hell had he known what I was gonna say? Second, who died and made him boss?

  As if that was all to be said on the matter, he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space.

  “Wait a minute, Jake. I’m having second thoughts.”

  He cruised to the parking attendant and pulled a twenty from the ashtray, pausing a few seconds to fix me with his green eyes. “You’re not going anywhere, Stella,” he said again. This time he was careful to speak more slowly, enunciating every word carefully so I couldn’t possibly miss his meaning. In a nutshell I’d agreed to go home with him, now there was no going back.

  A betraying rush of pleasure surged through me, followed closely by a less potent rush of confusion. What the hell was going on here? What was wrong with me? He couldn’t talk to me like that. Could he? I’d never allowed anyone to level orders at me. I can’t stand bossy people.

  Why was I letting Jake get away with it? When I’m at class I have to do what he says because he’s the instructor. But I didn’t have to take his crap beyond that.

  “Until I say otherwise,” he continued, conversationally, “that nearly nude body of yours belongs to me.”

  Again, pleasure surged through me. My stomach felt so light and airy, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d floated away on cloud nine that very second. And my panties were so damp, I’d been squirming around on my seat, trying to find a comfortable position since I’d sat down. I’d never wanted a man more than I wanted Jake right then and there.

  I bit my inner cheek hard. I had to
get control over the situation again, and fast. If I went through with this, Jake would have full control over everything—my body, my freedom of choice.

  “My body,” I squeaked, allowing myself a few seconds to clear my throat and begin again. “My body,” I said an octave lower, “belongs to me.”

  He crossed Pratt and drove up Light Street, a slight smile playing on the edge of his lips. “You say one thing, Stella, but your face and your body tell me something different.”

  “My face and my body are saying that I’ve changed my mind. My face and my body are saying—”

  He breathed in deeply. “I can smell you. I bet your panties are soaked.”

  I clamped my mouth shut as heat rushed to my face. Embarrassed, I closed my eyes and faced my window.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Stella. Knowing how much you want me…knowing how much I turn you on…” his voice began to waver so he let the sentence go unfinished.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Change of subject? Okay, I’ll play. I live here. Harbor Towers.”

  He turned right then made another series of quick turns. By the time I’d opened my eyes and gotten a look around, the car was descending into another parking garage.

  Still, I didn’t need to study my surroundings to know where we were. “Harbor Towers,” I said. “Impressive. And expensive.”

  He shrugged. “They’re not so bad. I own a condo here. And it’s close to the gym.”

  Harbor Towers were the nicest, most exclusive residence in all of Baltimore. Built on the Inner Harbor, Harbor Towers has its own private yacht club, restaurant, and sports complex. Impressive didn’t begin to describe the rich complex.

  “Stella?”

  I was jolted back to the present and realized he’d parked the car and now stared at me.

  “What?”

  “Come here.”

  I felt the tip of his finger on my chin a moment before he drew me forward, closer to him.

  The kiss was slow, hot, and so sensual I practically melted into the seat. His tongue was wet and tasted as sweet as honey. Even as he delved deeper, I opened to him, welcoming him, losing myself in him.

  He settled a hand on the back of my head and pulled me closer, moaning into my mouth as he deepened the kiss. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he vowed. “So good you’ll never want any other man between your thighs.”

  I sighed, forgetting my fears, my hairy legs, and Gerard’s admonition. “Promise?”

  He pulled away from me and let those emerald eyes rove my face. “What do you think?”

  I don’t remember walking into the lobby or the trip in the elevator to the top floor. All I remember is the nearly overwhelming hunger I felt as we traversed fifteen floors knowing I had to maintain my decorum.

  After we walked through his front door, I was pressed firmly against the wooden frame with Jake’s body against mine.

  We kissed again, touching each other in a frenzy of desire. His bare chest scorched the exposed skin of my breasts, but the heat barely registered in my brain. I was so lost in the thrill of being alone with Jake and fulfilling my wildest fantasies.

  “My room,” he groaned.

  He shoved off of the wall, pulling me with him.

  I tried to scurry across the foyer beside him, but I slipped on the slick surface of the marble tiles. The heel of my boot skittered ahead of me and I would have fallen had Jake not bent and scooped me up into his arms.

  Then his lips were on mine, possessive and intense, as he walked down a hallway. We broke contact long enough to mount the spiral staircase that led to his bedroom.

  Deep hues of green and maroon gave Jake’s room a brooding ambiance. A mahogany four-poster bed dominated the large space. Complete with sheer curtains set into richly carved rails, the bed was ornate and looked expensive. Jake was the first single man of my acquaintance to show such extravagance in decorating his home.

  He’d just settled me on his comforter when I remembered my earlier misgivings.

  My legs were hairy as a yeti.

  I bolted upright on the bed and let out a yelp of dismay. “Wait!”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  My mind raced. “You have to. I’m not on the pill,” I said, making this up as I talked. “I have to put in my whatsamajiggy.”

  “Your whatsamajiggy?”

  “Yeah, you know. My contraceptive thingy.” Damn it all, what the hell was that thing called?

  “You mean a diaphragm?”

  “Yes. That’s it.” I hopped off the high mattress, purse in hand. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  Obviously sensing defeat, he settled on the bed, legs wide, and motioned at the door on the far side of the room. “Through there.”

  I nodded and sprang for the door.

  Once inside, I shut and locked the door, cursing myself silently for my stupidity. After all, I had gone to a fetish club tonight hoping to meet Jake. Common sense should’ve dictated that I shave my legs just in case anything happened, not to prevent anything. But damn it, I was charting new territory here.

  “Razor blade,” I muttered, scanning the bathroom.

  The obvious choice was the medicine cabinet. Where the hell was it? Every home I’d ever lived in the medicine cabinet was within a mirrored or a shuttered door.

  There were no cheesy shuttered doors in this bathroom, but there were mirrors a plenty. Mirrors were over the sink, mirrors positioned artfully around the sunken bathtub, and mirrors were just outside the shower stall. There were frigging mirrors everywhere.

  I started with the mirrors above the sink, but struck out.

  “You okay in there?” Jake called from the bedroom.

  “Yeah,” I said, checking for mirrored doors around the tub, “just need a few more minutes.”

  No mirrored doors, I decided a minute later. Who the hell had a bathroom with no mirrored doors? Where was the medicine cabinet?

  That’s when I noticed it, a single door on the far side of the bathroom. I ran to it and pushed it open, finding myself on the threshold of the biggest walk-in closet I’d ever seen.

  Could any one person possibly own so many clothes? I felt I’d somehow stumbled into a small designer clothing boutique. This wasn’t a simple walk-in closet with four walls; this oversized clothing sanctuary had rooms.

  Curious, I entered, promising myself I’d only stay a second. Hopefully not long enough to attract Jake’s suspicion. I walked down the main aisle, passing room after room of clothing. None of the rooms were overly large, perhaps five by ten, but the sheer order of the space astounded me. Every room had mahogany shelves and racks, and every one was full of male clothing. Business suits took up one room, casual button up shirts and trousers took up another. Then there was the room with all the jeans and t-shirts, a room for shoes, and a room for…leather.

  I took a step inside this last room and stared, open-mouthed. There was a rack of leather pants and a shelf with all sorts of leather boots. Then, on the far wall I saw shelves containing masks, handcuffs, fur restraints, and other items I couldn’t quite name. Beside those were an assortment of paddles, riding crops, and whips hanging on the wall.

  Not thinking beyond curiosity, I walked further into the room. From the look and feel of the leather, the implements of punishment were well made and cared for. For reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, the paddles were of particular interest to me. One was covered in rows of blunt-edged spikes that I imagined were horribly painful when applied to flesh.

  I lifted a different paddle off the wall and tested it against the palm of my hand. I’d only struck lightly but the sting of pain had me replacing it fast. Though it wasn’t covered in spikes, it had less give than the other. I didn’t imagine this paddle would feel any better than the last when wielded with enough enthusiasm.

  A bright red paddle hanging on one of the bottom rungs caught my eye. It was smaller, more delicate than the others, but in addition to being more colorful, I realized Ja
ke’s name was etched in cursive script on the side facing me. Seeing his name on the paddle, I imagined what it would be like to be bent over his lap as he used it on me. The thought made me take a step back in surprise. I’d had fantasies about such scenarios before, however I could never actually picture myself submitting to such treatment.

  I glanced down at the paddle again, ran my hand over the carved forms of naked bodies that twisted and writhed along the length of the handle. How would being whipped with something like this feel? Would it sting or would it hurt like hell as I suspected?

  The thought had been in the back of my mind, but now it spilled into my consciousness. How would being whipped with something like this by Jake feel?

  What kind of man had a collection of paddles in his closet?

  “See something you like?”

  I jumped about two feet into the air and dropped the paddle I’d been studying onto the floor. When I was grounded again, I found I was suddenly frozen to the spot, unable to move.

  “I knocked on the door for a good minute,” he was saying from behind me. His voice grew louder as he closed the distance between us. “When you didn’t answer I unlocked the door from the outside and went in. I thought something had happened to you.”

  What could I say? I was looking for a razor blade but found these instead. Somehow that hadn’t seemed like the right approach.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s impolite to go snooping around someone else’s things?”

  I couldn’t gauge his emotional state from his tone. He didn’t sound angry, but some were at their most dangerous when they took on that silky smooth, butter-don’t-melt-in-my-mouth tone. Silence seemed the most appropriate course of action at this particular juncture, so I didn’t say a word.

  Behind me, he bent to the floor and picked up the paddle I’d been holding.

  I stiffened.

  When he set his hands against the wall, effectively caging me in, I tried to make myself smaller.

  “In this house,” he continued silkily, “there are repercussions for such behavior.”