by Ivy Mason
“I have to go home soon,” she said sadly. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”
Pierre looked disappointed. “I will have Rafael take you.”
Madison shook her head. “No. I have to go back to my home. In Denver.”
“Oh.” Pierre grew quiet. He nodded slightly and looked down at his glass. “I see.”
She waited, but he didn’t press her for details. For a moment, they sat in a somber silence. Finally, Madison cleared the lump from her throat.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
The vodka mingled with the wine, making her feel a little woozy.“How come you’ve never asked me why I’m working at that place?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”
She shrugged. “Aren’t you curious?”
“Very.” He held her in an unblinking gaze. “But it is rude to ask such a thing. You are a very intelligent young woman. I have faith you know what you are doing. And why.”
She stared at him. He was so different from any man she’d known. He respected her. And it was clear to her that he’d lived enough to know better than to jump to conclusions about people. Suddenly, she was desperate for him to know everything about her.
“My dad died about six weeks ago.”
Pierre closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “My God. How terrible.”
Madison nodded. His cool eyes were full of compassion, and it made her want to cry. She kept her eyes on the shimmering crystal glass in her hands.
“So my mom kind of lost it.” Her voice wavered.“He basically gambled away everything we had, including the restaurant that’s been in her family for generations.”
She looked back up at him, and saw how changed his face was. The composed elegance was gone, softened into such open sincerity, that for a moment, Madison’s words caught in her throat. She took a long drink.
“I’m trying to save the restaurant,” she said quickly. “It’s the only thing I might be able to save.”
They sat in silence again listening to the music and watching the cruel and indifferent city shimmer below. Then Pierre looked at Madison with a melancholic smile.
“I am so sorry for all of it,” he sighed. “But you are prepared. You are too intelligent and strong not to fight. And I admire you so very much.”
Madison smiled her old Madison smile. “You do?”
“Yes.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “And I am so crazy about you.”
Their eyes locked, but neither moved. Pierre’s face was beautiful in the subdued light, his features softened; seductive. The air grew increasingly charged with the electric force between them. Finally, Madison ran fingers through her bob and leaned forward over her crossed legs to show a hint of cleavage.
“Pierre?” she asked softly.
“Hmm?”
“What did you really think of the dance? The one I gave you at the club that night.”
Pierre stared at her, unblinking. He drained the glass and set it on the end table beside him.
“The truth?” he asked.
“Yes. The truth.”
“It was the single most erotic experience of my life.”
Madison smiled.She emptied her glass, and put it aside. The next thing she knew she was pulling off her boots and socks. Pierre tilted his head with curiosity. She got to her feet. Holding him in her gaze, she unbuttoned her pants and slowly pulled them down, exposing her slender thighs. He froze. She was still wearing the black thong from the club, and she noticed Pierre shift restlessly in his chair at the sight of it. He watched her carefully and said nothing, but his lips parted slightly, as if in anticipation. Madison sat down again and pulled off the pants. She left them in a heap on the floor and moved toward him with the sensual sway of a table dance.
As she unbuttoned her blouse, she was surprised to see Pierre fixated on her face, as if it were the nexus of his desire. His cool blue eyes appeared unusually warm, and in them she thought she glimpsed a hint of that reckless bad boy of his past.
When Madison pulled open the blouse and exposed her bosom, full and straining at the black silk bra, Pierre’s eyes left her face. She could see his chest rise with a deep inhalation as he stared hungrily at her breasts. Madison smiled coyly, gently stroking her cleavage the way she did at the club, and then cupping and squeezing her breasts, which always made men squirm. Pierre let his head drop back with a frustrated groan.
Slowly, Madison let the straps fall over her shoulders. She opened the front clip of her bra, pausing for an excruciating moment before letting the silk spring back so that her breasts tumbled free. Pierre let out an audible sigh and muttered something unintelligible in French.
She moved closer to him, resting her hands on the arms of his chair and arching her back so that her taut nipples were mere inches from his lips, just as she had done that night in the club. But this time she gasped to feel his tongue gently prod at them, testing. She closed her eyes and shuddered with pleasure. When Pierre took a nipple into his mouth and suckled it, she cried out softly. Then, with great restraint, he sat back in his chair, urging her to continue the dance. Madison struggled to regain her composure. She managed to turn a sensual circle that showed off her firm, round bottom. He let out another quiet groan and pushed a hand through his thick hair, his eyes wild. She ran her fingers over her body, touching every part of herself with relish.
Finally, he could bear it no more. With surprising strength, he scooped her into his arms and pulled her down, kissing her feverishly before they’d even hit the floor. He was like a different man; a feral creature who wanted to devour her whole. His mouth traveled the length of her neck, gently biting it at the curve, which awakened sensations Madison had never felt. She arched her back, longing to feel his tongue on her breasts. He eagerly complied, sucking rhythmically at her nipples until she was panting. Then his mouth found the soft, ticklish underside, which he licked and kissed.
Madison tried to wrap her legs around his body, desperate to press herself against him, but Pierre wouldn’t allow it. Instead he continued to set fires with his mouth, unrelenting; wanting to taste all of her. When he reached the velvet thong, he paused for a moment to stroke it gently with his finger. He caressed the core of her, pressing just hard enough to make her moan.
She was dizzy with pleasure, both dying for the release and never wanting it to end. Nothing had ever felt so right on her body as his strong, calloused hands;his mouth. She wanted to feel them on her every day for the rest of her life.
When Pierre slipped the fabric of the thong aside, Madison bit her lip in suspense. Even though she’d always longed to experience it, no man’s mouth had ever touched her there. The guys she’d dated had been too inexperienced and afraid. Pierre seemed to sense her eagerness, and hesitated. She squeezed her eyes closed tight, unconsciously rocking her pelvis in anticipation. When at last she felt the unbelievable softness of his tongue on her, she cried out and clenched at his hair. She lifted herself to him as he licked her, scarcely aware of her loud, savage cries. At first she tried to hold out, to make it last as long as she could. But it was no use. The pleasure rocketed through her with such ecstatic force that it took her breath away.
Pierre quickly pulled the thong down her legs and climbed on top of her, abandoning all restraint. Madison gazed up at his beautiful face, like the masterwork of a sculptor. Suddenly, she just had to see his body, to expose his flesh and touch it. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt.
“Take it off,” she muttered breathlessly. “Take all of it off.”
Pierre’s eyes twinkled at her commands. He ripped off the shirt and pulled the white undershirt over his head. His chest was solid with a light smattering of dark curls. His muscular arms were each encircled at the bicep with barbed wire tattoos. Madison stroked the tattoos with her fingers.
“God, you’re sexy,” she whispered, tugging impatiently at the buttons on his trousers.
His hands went to her b
reasts, which he squeezed and rubbed while Madison fought with the buttons. The fire was rising inside her again. Frustrated, she yanked at the fly, sending the buttons skittering in every direction. Pierre was so drunk with desire he didn’t even seem to notice. He frantically freed himself of the pants and his boxer briefs in one go. And then he was there, all of him, skin hot and pressing against her. She ran her hands over his smooth back, and then stroked his tattoos again.
Their lips met and they kissed tenderly until Pierre’s hunger grew too strong. His breaths were ragged as he pushed inside her. At first he closed his eyes to savor the sensation. He thrust deep and slow at first, muttering in rapid-fire French. Then he rolled over and pulled Madison on top of him. There she felt him filling her completely, and she moaned. As she began to rock back and forth, Pierre watched her intently. He watched her full, parted lips, her young, bouncing breasts, her taut stomach, concentrating hard on holding on. But when she pinched at his nipples and caressed them with the soft tip of her finger, he gasped. She couldn’t help but move faster, feeling the swelling at her core once again; flooding her brain, taking control. He gritted his teeth as she bucked on top of him, until he gripped her thighs and threw back his head, his hoarse shout sending her over.
When at last their panting breaths had slowed and the low lulling of the cello dominated the room once again, Pierre sat up and gazed at Madison’s beautiful, spent body for a long time. When she met his eyes, he smiled.
“Madison,” he whispered. “You are the strangest, most sensual creature alive.”
That night, for the first time since her father died, Madison felt safe. She curled against Pierre, ensconced in his arms. On the bedside table was a book of essays by French intellectuals, and Madison asked if Pierre would read to her. Though she couldn’t understand the language, it was beautiful to listen to him; to live the fantasy she’d had since she could remember. He was perfect. They were perfect together. And yet that night would likely be the only night they would ever spend together.
When Madison awoke, for a moment she thought she was dead. The room was blindingly white with a skylight directly overhead where sunlight flooded in and created an ethereal glow. The bed sheets and down comforter were also meticulously, relentlessly white.Pierre’s alarm had sounded, alerting him to a morning meeting. But the feel of Madison’s soft skin instantly aroused him, and they’d made love again until they were tangled in the sheets and breathless.
At breakfast, Madison grew quiet and remote. She couldn’t stop thinking of the deal she’d made with Ramon. If Pierre only knew, he would do everything in his power to put a stop to it. But it was something she had to do. Though she knew that Pierre was rich enough to give her the money she needed, and probably would if she’d asked, accepting it would mean cheapening everything. After selling so much of herself, she refused to reduce their love affair to a base, transactional exchange. She sensed that Pierre felt this way, too.
Pierre wanted Madison to stay with him until she had to leave for the States, but she told him she had to go home and pack.
“Just one last night with my best friend Enzo,” she lied, her cheeks flushed with guilt. “And then I’ll come back.”
And she hoped beyond hope that she would.
Chapter 15
Enzo had started working at a new Cuban cabaret, dancing a Tropicana-style show every night for weeks, so Madison didn’t have to explain to anyone where she was going that night. She chose the black, backless gown from her work collection, which always seemed to make her the most money.She made up her face, combed her hair in a sexy style, and headed out the door before eight o’clock.
When she stepped through the front gate, she was so hopped up on adrenaline that she didn’t notice the damp chill in the air, or realize that she’d forgotten a coat. A black SUV with dark tinted windows was already idling in the quiet street, waiting.The moment Madison appeared, Ramon got out of the passenger side. He was dressed in a tan sports coat with black jeans, and fancy white cowboy boots.His eyes darted around at the shadows, as if expecting someone to be hiding there. He pulled a duffle bag from the floor of the car and gestured toward Enzo’s house.
“Hurry up,” he said by way of a greeting.“Let’s take this inside.”
For a moment, Madison just blinked at him, not comprehending. Then she realized it was the money. A duffle bag filled with money. She led Ramon inside and up the stairs to her room, trying not to look nervous. But it was Ramon who was nervous this time. He tossed the bag on her bed.
“Want to count it?” he asked.
Madison sat down on the bed and unzipped the bag. Inside were bundles and bundles of hundred dollar bills, each bound with a rubber band, just like in the movies.She fingered them, pretending to count, but she felt dazed and couldn’t focus. One thing was for sure: she was running her hands through rivers and rivers of plata.
“Arizona,” Ramon growled. “I need you to get one thing straight. This money is not just for coming with me to the party tonight.” He looked directly at her, and his steely eyes made her blood run cold. “It’s also for keeping your mouth shut.”
“About what?” she breathed.
“Anything and everything you see tonight.” He held her in a steely gaze. “And no questions. Do you understand?”
Madison nodded dumbly. There was no turning back now. She followed him down the stairs and into the street, where the SUV was waiting. Ramon opened the back door.
“Get in.”
Gerardo, the silent, fat man who was always with Ramon at the club, sat at the wheel. Madison climbed into the back seat, which reeked of cigarettes and cologne. The moment the door closed, she felt trapped. Her heart began to race, and she struggled to catch her breath. Ramon sat in the passenger seat, one foot on the dashboard, rubbing at scuff marks on his boot. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension and anxiety.
Madison stared out at the architectural hodgepodge on Insurgentes street, with its grand, colonial-style restaurants and low-slung car repair shops. At traffic lights, shoeless children meandered in and out of the cars selling glow sticks and sugary gum. She felt a flutter of guilt when a small boy with a tray of knick-knacks knocked blindly on her window, knowing that whoever sat behind the dark glass had plenty of money to spare. It was a cruel world. Suddenly, Ramon turned around in his seat to face her.
“Here,” he said, thrusting a box over his shoulder and into her hands. “Put this on.”
Madison opened the box and found a beautifully sewn jade green dress, made of a thick, exotic fabric that shimmered in the darkness. She looked up quizzically at Ramon, but he’d already turned back and was staring out the side window.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“No questions,” Ramon said flatly without turning around.
Madison pulled the dress from the box and held it up. It looked a little small, she thought, but she clearly didn’t have a say in the matter. She glanced up and saw Gerardo watching her in the mirror, waiting for the show. Being inside the enclosed space made her feel shy about taking off her clothes. But she took a breath and thought of the mound of bills in her closet.
She slipped the shoulder straps down and pulled the dress to her waist. She could feel Gerardo’s gaze boring into her naked breasts. Pretending not to care, she slid the dress over her hips and pulled it free of her feet. Ramon turned around and looked at her, a half smile on his face. His eyes luxuriated over her nearly naked body as she fumbled her way into the tight, jade dress. Embarrassed, she tugged at the fabric to pull it over her hips.
“Be careful with it,” Ramon suddenly snapped. “If you tear it, we’re fucked.”
Mystified, Madison carefully pulled the dress over her voluptuous form, relieved that it did, indeed, fit. Ramon looked relieved as well. Satisfied, he turned back to the window and fell silent again. No one spoke for the rest of the ride.
They quickly breached the boundaries of Madison’s familiar stomping ground. It was
such an enormous city that she couldn’t know even a fraction of it in so short a time. They passed through a few decrepit neighborhoods, and then into an elegant stretch of mansions nestled into a hillside. The SUV navigated hairpin turns until Madison was sick to her stomach, climbing until they’d reached the summit.
The house was like a glass tower at the top of the hill. It glowed softly against the night sky, and even from the front door,city lights shimmered everywhere below them. When they arrived, the house was already crowded with elegantly dressed guests. A servant stood at the door and nodded at Madison and Ramon as they went past.
Inside, the place was extravagant and gaudy, with wall-to-wall carpeting, imitation Renaissance paintings in gilded frames, and a gurgling marble fountain. The ceiling-to-wall windows of the front room look out onto an ethereal infinity pool, where several naked women were laughing and splashing around. Madison noticed that of the many guests at the party, most of them were women. Occasionally she would see a short, rough-hewn man in a cowboy shirt, his arm around a busty woman in a low cut dress, chatting flirtatiously with a cluster of beautiful women.
Ramon looked anxious, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for someone. He led Madison to an up-lit bar in the corner of the room, where a young man was pouring wine and making cocktails. When the bartender saw him, he quickly snapped to attention; like a grunt soldier approached by an officer. Without asking Madison what she wanted to drink, Ramon ordered her a glass of white wine. He didn’t get a drink for himself.
“Ramon,” called a tall, dark-skinned man who was quickly crossing the room. He was wearing a white suit with a dark red shirt, and even had a handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket.“We’ve been waiting!”
Ramon grabbed Madison’s wrist and pulled her away from the bar. He said nothing to the man, but followed him through the raucous crowd, down a long, dimly lit hall, and up a bizarre glass staircase. Each smoky glass step was illuminated from within, glowing with blue light.
The upstairs walls were painted gold and more plush white carpet covered the floors. The tall man led them down another hallway, and then into a room at the farthest corner of the house. He knocked briefly, and then opened the door. Inside it was windowless and claustrophobic, and all of the walls were bare. It was sparsely furnished with a few large sectional couches and coffee tables, where half-empty bottles of water were scattered about. Several short, rough-neck types were gathered on the couches. At the end of the room was a well-dressed, bearded man sitting behind a desk. There were no pictures or adornments on the desk, which Madison found strange. Her stomach was so tightly clenched she couldn’t even drink the wine.