By the time I flop into bed, I’m exhausted. Did I dislocate my shoulder blade by punching my fist into the air too hard?
I fall into a deep sleep which feels like five minutes. The alarm on my iPhone goes off and I get ready for work. I have failed both Anthony and Natalie. I did not become Madonna’s NBF and sorry, Natalie, I did not feel inclined to pinch a towel from the hotel. You can buy one online, my dear, from their E boutique.
* * *
Daisy has lost weight in the space of one week. Incredible. Less Annie and more Nicole Kidman. I order a bagel, lox and cream cheese for my breakfast (uh oh) – and she, a fruit salad and tea.
“Well, you look great for someone who has just had her heart broken,” she observes, glancing me up and down.
“Don’t be fooled by the tan.”
“Look, you had a good innings. Inning? Innings? I never know if that word should be singular or plural.”
“I don’t know either,” I say. “But you’re right, it lasted longer than I expected.”
“Did you get to keep the pearl necklace?” she inquires with raised eyebrows.
“No, I left it at his house and he never gave it back.”
“Oh well. You win some, you lose some.”
“What would you have done?” I ask.
“If I still had the necklace?”
“Yes.”
“Tough call. Pride would make me want to return it, but then…well…there is such a thing as severance pay.”
I laugh. “Anyway, I don’t have it – so luckily, I’m not in that predicament.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Humiliated. But strangely grateful.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Pearl.”
“Look….sex,” I whisper, lowering my voice, “was out of this world with him. I am now hoping that he has awakened something in me. That I can find another great relationship with someone else. In the future. I’m also more open to younger guys, something I never would have dared to consider before.”
“Watch out, mothers, lock up your sons, here she comes! Just teasing, Pearl, don’t look so horrified.”
“I’m just a little sensitive to the cougar insult that Sophie spat out at me, that’s all.”
“Not every woman can pull a younger guy.”
I squint my eyes at her.
“Pearl! Where’s your sense of humor?” Daisy takes a large mouthful of strawberries and banana. “So, what’s Plan B?”she asks with her mouth full.
“Do you think there’s any way all this was a mistake?”
She shakes her head. “I doubt it. Those two are as thick as thieves. He obviously confides in her. Sorry, Pearl, I’m just giving my honest opinion. Bitchy as Sophie has shown herself to be, there must be some truth in what she said, or how would she have that information about you? I’m sure she made it sound worse than it was, but still. She knew stuff about you that she shouldn’t have been party to. Can you imagine telling Anthony intimate stuff about your boyfriend?”
“Eew, gross, no!” I glug down the rest of my orange juice. “You know what gets me more than anything?”
“What?”
“Not hanging out with his dog, Rex. I had visions of us all together – walks in Central Park, you know, the whole family dream thing.”
“Were you imagining a real family with him, too? Babies and everything?”
I haven’t told Daisy about the condom-less sex. I know she would disapprove. A faint shiver runs through me and then I take a deep breath. No, Pearl, that ship has sailed.
“Well, you know, a girl can have her flights of fancy,” I say.
“It all seemed so on the cards, Pearl. Until this sister crap messed it all up. I’m surprised. No, shocked, actually. I really believed he was into you. He had me fooled.”
“You never met him, Daisy.”
“I didn’t have to. The pearl necklace spoke volumes, the trip to France et cetera. It seemed he went to extremes to make you happy – he didn’t have to do all that, he still could have accomplished his ‘challenge’ without all those extra trimmings. The truth is, the more I think about it, it doesn’t add up. But then….he is French, I suppose. Maybe he wanted to do it all with flourish and style.”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“Hasn’t he called you a million times?”
“I don’t know. My cell is switched off. Between him, and Anthony obsessing about Madonna, I don’t dare listen to my messages.”
“You’ll need to give Alexandre a chance to at least explain.”
“Explain what? That his only sister is a psycho bitch from hell who once stabbed her father in the face, and who has it in for me? To be honest, maybe it’s better like this – I’m well out of it. Do I really want her on my tail? Sharing my life with her? I mean, she’s his sister and they’re business partners. I wouldn’t want to test her temper.”
“Alexandre did say, though, that the father was a monster, didn’t he? Maybe he deserved to be stabbed,” Daisy reasons.
“Whatever – I don’t want to be on the wrong side of her. Perhaps it’s best I keep well away from Alexandre.”
“Probably. If you see him, you’ll only get tempted again. And this Sophie character sounds like bad news, whichever way you look at it.” Daisy checks her watch. “Crap! I’m really late! We’ll speak this evening, okay, Pearl?”
“I’m late, too. Thanks for listening, Daisy. Thanks for being there for me. And you look great, by the way. Ten pounds slimmer.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Pearl, but thanks.”
We both get up from our seats, pay the check and dash off our separate ways.
* * *
When I get home from work, Luke, the skinny doorman who I thought had been fired, presents me with a box. I recognize it – wrapped with the same type of white velvet ribbon in the gray box. I think I know what it is. My heart is thumping through my chest, adrenalin pumping through my veins as if I’m preparing to run from a wild beast. Funny how nature has adrenalin kick in whether we like it or not.
I have a quick shower to ease the day away and when I pick up the box again I am a little calmer.
Déja-vous. I set it on my bed and open it. The pearl necklace wrapped in one of his T-shirts which I pick up and smell. Bastard. He knows just how to get to me. He hasn’t washed the shirt and I can smell him all over it. Sunshine, salt, the odor of his skin. I inhale it and feel a surge of desire sweep through my body. There is a long note in his handwriting and attached a typed, printed note on different paper. It reads:
Darling, precious Pearl,
You are my pearl, you are my treasure. Don’t deny me this. Don’t deny me the love I have for you.
When you left my heart broke in two. The Spanish describe their soul-mate as ‘media naranja’ the other half of the same orange. And that is what you are to me, the other half of me, the perfect half that matches me. I have never felt this way before about anybody. Ever.
You think I betrayed your trust. No, I would never do that. Sophie snooped at my iPad and saw my personal notes. They were written in English so I never imagined she would bother to translate them. Call me a jerk, call me a nerd for making notes concerning you. But here they are. (I have copied and pasted this). This is what she saw:
Problems to be solved concerning Pearl:
Needs to reach orgasm during penetrative sex. (My big challenge).
Needs confidence boosted – age complex due to American youth worship culture.
Need to get her pregnant ASAP due to clock factor. (Want to start a family with her.)
I feel embarrassed showing this to you but it is the only way I know how to explain myself. I write lists and notes – I write them for everything – you know that.
When I first set eyes on you in that coffee shop, I was smitten, instantly. I remarked to Sophie how beautiful you were. Sophie commented on how easy American girls are, how they jump into bed with anybody at the drop of a hat. I told her, that in your cas
e, I thought I stood very little chance – that you looked sophisticated and classy. (Given that I had never been with an American woman I had no idea if what she said was true). It was disrespectful of me to discuss this in French with her while you were standing right there before us when we were all waiting in line. I apologize. But that was then.
This is now.
Now I have found my Pearl I do not want to let her go.
I will fight for you. I want you in my life.
I have made a decision. I am giving over HookedUp to Sophie. I will still keep shares but will no longer be involved in the daily decisions of running it. I’d like to start up a new enterprise – a film production company and I will be looking for someone to run it (production skills mandatory). I wondered if you would consider yourself for the job?
Here is the necklace. It belongs to you, and only you.
A squadron of kisses,
Your Alexandre
P.S Rex has arrived and wants to meet you.
P.P.S For the present time my family members will no longer be staying at my apartment when they visit New York.
I smell the T-shirt again and go all weak. His natural scent is like an elixir of love. Before I have a chance to consider the contents of his note, the telephone rings. It’s Luke, the doorman.
“Ms. Robinson, did you call the Fire Department?” he asks nervously.
“No, I didn’t. Is there a fire in the building?” My voice flies up two octaves.
“Not as far as I know, Ms. Robinson, but a fire fighter is on his way up to take a look. Somebody must have called 911.”
“Well, it wasn’t me. Mrs. Meyer from the eleventh has been known to call emergency services. They came once to retrieve her cat from the fire escape – did you ask her?”
“I’ll call her now.”
“Or that guy on the second floor, what’s his name? Oh yes, Mr. Johnson. He is always burning his food.”
“Okay, ma’am, thank you.”
I go to the kitchen and look out the back door to see if I can hear a commotion. Nothing. All is silent up and down the back stairs. Why only one fire fighter? Usually they come in pairs. I hear some clanging outside my kitchen window and I look over with a start. The fire fighter is right there on the fire escape, peering into my apartment. Is he about to smash my window? I race over to open it – I don’t want shards of glass everywhere. I lift up the window, raise my eyes and cannot believe the vision before me. I break into a smile.
Hot. Hot. Hot!
But not from any fire.
“Excuse me ma’am,” the voice exclaims, “I heard there was fire in this apartment.”
I observe the sexy outfit, the dark pants with yellow stripes. But the fire fighter isn’t wearing a top. His muscles are ripped, shining with perspiration, his cheeks dark with yesterday’s stubble. Any girl’s fantasy.
I open the window wide and his big black boots jump down into my apartment followed by his drop-dead gorgeous body.
“You nearly had me fooled,” I laugh. “But your accent gave you away.”
Alexandre is standing there, legs astride, holding a Fire Department helmet. It’s not such a crazy idea – the electricity between us really does have me on fire.
“I heard there was a lot of heat coming directly from this apartment,” he says with a big grin on his face. He takes a step closer and stares into my eyes. I can feel his breath on mine. Mint, apples, sun, Alexandre. He takes my chin in his hand and lets his lips graze my mouth. I respond with a gasp. I can hear him take in a gulp of air, inhaling the scent of me, of my hair. It feels like a century has passed since we were last together, yet it was only one night away. I open my mouth a little and his tongue finds mine, letting the tips meet. The connection, like lightening, goes straight between my legs.
“A lot of heat is coming from right from down here,” he tells me. He palms his large hand on my crotch and I feel a rush of blood pump through me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to have to put out this fire any way I can.”
He gets down on his knees and places himself underneath me. He unzips my skirt and lets it fall to the floor. He pushes my legs apart and hooks his fingers inside my panties, peeling them down. Very, very slowly. He blows softly in between my legs, then flicks his tongue for just a second on my clitoris. Then he blows again.
“If you knew anything about fire, Mr. Fire Fighter,” I gasp, “you’d know blowing on a flame just gets it more excited.”
“True,” he murmurs, letting his tongue lap along my slit. “Perhaps it needs some help cooling down.”
He presses his tongue flat against my buzzing V-8 and I hold onto his head, my fingers running through his soft dark hair. I push my hips forward, pushing my Venus so the lips rub up and down against his mouth. I am so stimulated – so hot and horny. I’m moaning. I am still wearing a bra, nothing more, and I look down to see my breasts held like cupcakes in a demi push-up. I pull out one breast and play with my nipple, watching it turn hard. Alexandre begins to stand up and circles his right arm around my thighs, lifting me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift! He’s so strong – the way he does it so effortlessly makes me feel as light as a feather. I’m hanging upside down over his shoulders, gripping on to the waistband of his sexy fireman’s pants with one hand, and with the other, cupping his cute, tight butt. He’s taking me to the bedroom.
“Are you abducting me, Mr. Fireman?”
“I need to teach you a lesson, Ms. Robinson.”
“What kind of lesson?”
“To teach you not to play with fire. To trust me, and not play silly, girlish games. Or you could get burned.”
He lays me on the bed. As he does so, the telephone rings.
“It could be the doorman,” I say. God knows what chaos Alexandre has caused.
“Answer it. Tell him I’m showing you some fire safety tips.”
I laugh, and do as he suggests. Poor Luke is confused. Half of the building is in a panic. I assure him there is no fire here, that everything is under control but he did the right thing letting the fire fighter into the building.
Alexandre stands on the edge of the bed and undoes the zip of his pants. Like a cobra, his erection comes free, proud and magnificent. The black pants, the big heavy boots, the clinking of the bits of metal on the waistband have me mesmerized in a Playgirl Fire Fighter Fantasy. I walk on my knees and take his erection in my hands, letting my loose hair brush back and forth, swishing across his shaft. I kiss him there, up and down, mini nips and kisses all over, and on the tip.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, and I mean every word.
I take it in my mouth, rimming my lips about his hard shaft and look up at him from under my lashes.
“Turn around,” he says and swirls my body using his hands to control my hips, so my butt is facing him. I am on all fours.
“I’m going to have to spank you, Pearl You did wrong abandoning me in France the way you did. You had me desperate, distraught. I have to punish you so you won’t do it again.”
He pulls my thighs further apart.
He’s into hurting women, after all, I think. I brace myself. How bad can a spank be? He pulls me closer to his pelvis. I’m waiting for his hand to come down on my ass. Instead, I feel a thud right up between my legs right at my entrance. I don’t know what he is doing, exactly, but it feels so erotic, the thud, whack, thud. I bend my head all the way down and push my head under my thighs. I look up from under myself and see his cock slapping me. His dark pants against the color of his smooth flesh, has me throbbing with excitement.
“Pearl, I’m going to have to bite you now. Bite that creamy ass of yours.” I feel his teeth nipping into my flesh, all over my butt, and then at my wet entrance where he gently tugs my lips with his mouth.
“Keep punishing me,” I murmur in a faint whisper. “This feels incredible.”
“Greedy… (bite)… Girl…. Greedy…. (slap)…. Girl.”
I’m groaning.
Sudde
nly, he lifts me off the bed, holding me in his arms like a baby. What? Don’t stop now!
“You’ve been punished enough,” he says seriously. “I want to make love to you now. I think we’ve fucked enough, don’t you? I think we need a bit more commitment from one another. No more games.”
“But I am committed,” I protest.
He sets me back down so I am sitting on the bed, and he gazes deep into my eyes. “Undress me, Pearl. Get me out of this gear. I feel claustrophobic trussed up in this outfit.”
I smile wickedly. “Not so fast, Mr. Fireman. I think Mr. Fire Fighter needs a little dance first. A little lap dance to ease his tension. I find my iPhone and go to my play list and select the most sensual song I can think of – a French song – Je T’aime….Moi Non Plus. I start slowly gyrating my hips to the rhythm of the music, the deep voice of Serge Gainsbourg, the breathy, ecstatic sighs of Jane Birkin – a love song if ever there was one.
Alexandre’s erection is jutting out from the uniform pants and I dip down on it, parting my Venus lips as I do so, sitting on it then rising up, pressing my pelvis against his stomach, rising all the way up and impaling myself on him again to the beat of the music. But he grabs me tight, his hands immobilizing me.
“Pearl, that’s enough now. Get me out of these. Game’s over. I don’t want my future wife doing a lap dance for some dirty fire fighter.”
I burst out laughing. “But you’re the fire fighter.”
He’s trying to suppress a grin. “Some dirty fire fighter who broke into your apartment uninvited.”
I smile, realizing what he just said: future wife! I unbutton his waistband and pull the pants down over his hips, stopping to gaze at his navel, kissing it, tugging gently at the hair there with my teeth. I peel the pants down past his muscular thighs and stroke his arms until my hands are resting on his. He holds my hands, squeezing my palms and caressing my fingers. There is a stillness about him, a calm. I see such tenderness in his eyes – an expression I have not noticed before. I bend down and unlace one boot, and then the other. Then I stand up, and push him backwards onto the bed with a hard shove. He topples back and laughs with surprise. I tug each boot off and throw them, one by one, on the floor.
Forty Shades of Pearl (Part One of The Pearl Trilogy) Page 21