The Pleasure Set
Page 9
“I’m about to leave the station. I’m taking the afternoon off to do some plumbing repairs at home.” She pulled on a pair of Levi’s.
“Sounds like loads of fun.”
“It’s more fun than having to go to the neighbor’s house to take a shower.”
Felicia laughed. “Can I talk you into lunch on the way home? I’m in between showing some properties and would love to see you.”
“Sure.”
“Meet me at Marix?”
“Give me a half an hour.”
Marix was as busy as always. The very popular Mexican restaurant sat in the center of West Hollywood and served as a gay gathering place for the margarita-thirsty crowd. They waited twenty minutes for a table, then ordered carne asada emborrachadas.
“You look fantastic, Sandrine.” Felicia gazed at her as she lifted a margarita to her lips.
“So do you, Felicia. You’re dressed to kill.”
“I need to. This real-estate market is threatening to murder us all.”
Sandrine drank iced tea, knowing that a margarita would put her on the couch later and not in her bathroom, where the broken showerhead was waiting for her. “If I were in the market, I’d call you first.”
“In the market for a house or something else?”
Sandrine responded in kind to Felicia’s mischievous expression. “Why, Felicia, what could you possibly be suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting the something else. I’m nuts about you, Sandrine. You drive me crazy every time we go out. I’d like to move this to the next level.”
“You mean sleep together?”
“Precisely. You’ll do some harm if you don’t help a girl out here.” Felicia was smiling wickedly as she pinched her straw.
Sandrine wasn’t opposed to having sex with Felicia, but she didn’t feel enough for her to start a more intimate relationship. “We’re not only talking about the next step, I suppose, but also about the next relationship step.”
“Well, that’d be something we’d have to see about.” Felicia squeezed Sandrine’s hand. “Baby, we don’t have to worry about all that serious stuff right now. I’m just saying that I’m crazy-mad attracted to you and I’d like to get to know more about that lovely body of yours.”
A few weeks ago, Sandrine might not have hesitated. On a couple of occasions, they had made out heavily but stopped short of oral sex or any other kind. And while full-on sex was the next logical step, Sandrine wanted to take one thing into account.
“Before we go any further with this conversation, Felicia, just so you know, I went on a date the other night.”
“That’s great.” Felicia nodded. “You know I date others too.”
“I do.”
“So, I’m a little confused, baby. What bearing does your other date have on us?”
Suddenly Sandrine wasn’t quite sure. Her reasoning had sounded coherent in her head. She had finally gotten to take Laney out, and that opportunity had been a long time coming for her. But in actuality, Laney was dating others as well. Maybe she was making too big a deal out of Laney too soon. She seemed to be going against her own credo—to let dating be just that.
“I suppose it doesn’t. I just thought you should know.”
“Well, thanks for telling me. Now let’s get back to a much more appealing conversation. Let’s talk about you.”
Sandrine laughed. “What do you want to know that you haven’t already asked?”
“You haven’t told me much about your work.”
“You know what I do.”
“But is it exciting? Do you get to use your handcuffs and your gun?” Felicia wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“No more margaritas for you, lady,” Sandrine joked. “Yes, I use my cuffs a lot and no, I haven’t used my gun.”
“Is that typical?”
“It is. Our guns are a last resort. We have many ways to apprehend a bad guy that lethal force, especially in my department, is rare.”
“You know, I’ve never seen you in uniform.”
“That’s because I’m a detective and we don’t wear uniforms.”
“Well, you look good. I tell you, you dress well enough to sell real estate.”
“Thank you, Felicia.”
“No need to thank me. I call it like I see it.”
After lunch, Sandrine walked Felicia to her car. She had parked a couple blocks up Flores Street, and when they reached the Lexus, Sandrine hugged her good-bye.
Felicia got into her car, started the engine, and rolled down the window. “Thank you for meeting me, Sandrine.”
Sandrine bent over and placed her hands on the window frame. “I had a very nice time with you.”
She kissed Felicia. Though she didn’t intend it to be a deep kiss, when Felicia’s arms wrapped around her to pull her closer, it became more serious. Sandrine was aware that her ass was sticking out into the street and just before she broke away, Felicia moved her hand around to the front of Sandrine’s shirt and, with a few clever twists of the wrist, she ducked inside and under Sandrine’s bra.
The swift onset, followed by a gentle pinch of her already hardening nipple, made Sandrine gasp. She pulled her lips away from Felicia’s, and they stared at one another while Felicia continued to massage Sandrine’s breast. When one of the many passing cars blew its horn, Felicia’s lips curved into a smile.
“Mercy.”
Felicia blew out a breath.
Sandrine looked down the street and back. “You might want to remove your hand from my breast now.”
Felicia laughed and did so. “You be careful with that plumbing job, Detective.”
“I will.”
As Felicia pulled out of her parking spot she said, “See you again soon, I hope.”
Sandrine straightened up and waved halfheartedly as Felicia drove off. She didn’t have to wonder why she didn’t feel more enthusiastic.
*
Hillary didn’t look too happy as she lunched with Laney at Patina.
“I haven’t heard much from you lately.”
“I know.” Laney pushed her fork around a Cobb salad, not hungry in the slightest. “I’ve been really busy.”
“With Sandrine?”
“No, not really. I mean, we had a date. It was amazing.” Laney wasn’t sure what she was doing. She really liked Sandrine, but she was distracted because she was spending so much time with Theresa.
“But…” Hillary coaxed her.
“Things happened last night.”
“With Sandrine?”
“No. With Theresa.”
“You mean you kissed her?”
“A little more than that.”
“You had sex?”
“More than that.”
Hillary stopped eating and placed her own fork down. “What could be more than that?”
“It was an orgy.”
Silent for a few beats, Hillary raised her eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I. It was crazy. I mean, I expected something to happen because of the way Theresa posed the invitation to the party. I just didn’t expect such a scene.”
“So you hooked up with a lot of women?”
“No, just Theresa. I mean everyone was with someone, or two someones. I don’t know. Once Theresa and I got together, I wasn’t aware of much else. Just a lot of bodies and noises. Sex noises.”
“Holy crap. An orgy.” Hillary sat back in her chair. “I thought most of these women were straight.”
“They are. I mean, outwardly. Maybe they’re bisexual. But they don’t really live a bisexual life. Most of them are married. I don’t know. It’s a little confusing.”
“You need to be careful, Laney. I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into.”
Laney was a little concerned, but she just didn’t want to drive down the safe and boring road anymore. “Judith sucked the life out of me, and before that, I always seemed to get with people who were too damn predictable. Theresa’s just
the opposite. She’s exciting.”
“It’s just that I’ve seen a change in you recently. We hardly talk anymore. You haven’t seen Isabelle in a long time. And you yourself have said that you’ve been out until all hours of the night for a lot of nights in a row.”
Laney was aware of that fact and also aware that she’d been coming in late to work the past week. That was so unlike her. She felt off balance and a little apprehensive about what people might think. She certainly hadn’t been a good friend to Hillary recently. But damn it, she was finally living.
“The other end of my candle has never burned. I can handle it, Hill.”
Chapter Twelve
Theresa’s house was nestled in the Holmby Hills section of Los Angeles, an affluent neighborhood situated between the equally wealthy districts of Beverly Hills and Westwood.
In an ultramodern kitchen, with high-end appliances and hand-carved cabinetry made from exotic wood, Laney sat in a sleek, chocolate-colored leather and chrome designer chair. Theresa had just finished uncorking a bottle of wine when a woman in a maid’s uniform walked in.
“Anything else, Mrs. Aguilar?”
“No, Dahlia. See you tomorrow.”
The woman left and from somewhere in the house, a door clicked closed.
Theresa poured the wine into two crystal Riedel Sommelier wineglasses. “So tell me about work.” She handed Laney a glass and stepped back to the kitchen counter to rest against it.
“What about it?”
“Your day. How was it?”
“Well, after I finally had some caffeine and an aspirin, I was able to tackle the usual affairs. Barely. I had to polish a set of documents on legal and regulatory banking requirements for our corporate office. Pretty boring stuff.”
“I wouldn’t say a president’s job is boring.”
“Well, it is.”
“You’re in charge of security, large sums of money, high-stakes business transactions—”
“Boring.”
“I think it’s quite exciting.” Theresa put down the wineglass and walked over to Laney. “I think you’re exciting.”
She stood over her and took a strand of Laney’s hair in her hands. Laney closed her eyes for a moment. This is kind of crazy, she thought. Her heart raced, but not purely from excitement. Theresa is married. I’m in her house after having sex with her last night. She shook inside at the perverse notion that, while being at the Tire Store or the Penthouse was fairly secure in its privacy, being in the house Theresa shared with her husband felt hazardous.
When she opened her eyes, Theresa was regarding her intensely. She then knelt between Laney’s legs. They kissed passionately, the sweet blackberry taste from the Chateau Margaux on their lips.
Theresa hiked Laney’s skirt up and worked her mouth down along Laney’s body, stopping between her legs. Silently Theresa pulled Laney’s legs apart and then toward her so that her ass rested on the edge of the chair. In this slouched position, Laney spread her legs to allow Theresa’s kneeling form to fit between them. Theresa kissed her again, licking and sucking Laney’s tongue and lips. Theresa’s quiet moans shot lightning bolts through Laney’s head. Theresa didn’t waste much time moving down between her legs once more. When she pulled Laney’s panties to the side, the immediate hot surge of Theresa’s tongue slammed through Laney’s body.
It was still light out and Laney was edgy about the large picture windows behind Theresa. Though her head spun at the blatant, mind-blowing seduction, Laney’s nervousness escalated. Anyone could walk by and look in.
Laney let her head fall back but the desire to watch what Theresa was doing and the necessity of keeping an eye on the windows made her lift her head often. The sensation of Theresa between her legs, essentially servicing her, was wicked and electrifying. In this position, she could only call up images of women going down on men, and Theresa’s head was moving in just that way. The positions they had been in at the orgy, and now this one, seemed almost pornographic, and she was surprised when the thought made her even wetter and hornier.
Laney knew she wouldn’t last long. Seeing the powerful, always-in-control Theresa kneeling between her legs, her hair lying disheveled on Laney’s thighs, was just too much visual stimulation. She let herself go and an incredibly strong orgasm ripped through her, making her grip the back of the chair and push herself into Theresa’s face.
As she bucked from the unbelievable contractions, a faint humming noise filtered through Laney’s consciousness—the sound of a car pulling into the garage. Laney tried to stop, grabbing Theresa’s shoulders, but Theresa refused.
Someone would be walking into the house, and the tension of knowing she and Theresa were seconds from getting caught tore at her brain while not wanting Theresa to stop tore at her body. As if she knew the exact number of seconds she had left, Theresa moved away from her and stood up just as a key clicked in the kitchen’s back-door lock.
Laney pushed her skirt down as Theresa’s husband strode through the door. He was on his cell phone, in the middle of a conversation about golf. Theresa had gracefully turned toward the counter and was acting neither shocked, fearful, nor guilty.
“Theresa,” her husband said, nodding that he was on the phone.
“Hello, Roger. Meet Laney DeGraff.”
“Hang on, Rich,” Roger said as he walked past and looked down at Laney. “Pleasure.”
Theresa took a sip from her wineglass and they both watched as Roger’s gaze swept from Theresa to Laney and back to Theresa. Theresa stared indifferently.
“Dinner at La Scala at eight,” Roger said as he made his way out of the kitchen.
“Of course,” Theresa responded.
Laney’s heart was pounding and her mind raced in fight-or-flight readiness. She had held her breath while Roger was in the room so he wouldn’t notice that she was panting from the last trembling contractions of her orgasm, but now she blew out the breath and stared at Theresa, who merely smiled back.
*
Wednesday morning was slow at the bank, so Laney was surprised when Kelly made a loud “Psssst!” sound in her direction.
Kay Kitterman had walked in and was talking to a customer-service rep. The bank customers, as well as the tellers, had all turned their attention to her. No one moved for a few seconds. Laney had to stifle a laugh since it looked like the bank had gone into a time freeze. After being pointed toward Laney’s office, Kay nodded her thanks and strode over. Laney met her at the office door and they hugged. Laney asked Kelly for some coffee and Kelly jumped up from her desk, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Laney, I’m so glad you’re in.” Kay took an offered chair at Laney’s desk.
“Don’t tell me you want to go shopping again,” Laney joked. “I’m tied up here until after five, plus my checkbook couldn’t take another onslaught.”
“No, silly. I’d like to open an account.”
“You, too?”
“Theresa recommended it. She liked the way you handled her.” Laney knew what Kay’s sly grin really meant.
Laney decided to ignore the jest and opened her drawer to pull out a form. “Well, then, let’s get you started.”
As she did with Theresa, she helped Kay fill out the form and asked, “What will the opening balance be?”
Kay reached into her purse and withdrew a large stack of one-hundred-dollar bills. “Twelve thousand.”
While that amount was not unusual in Beverly Hills, Laney said, “I do need to inform you that standard policy requires that we report anything over ten thousand.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t want any reporting. No one needs to know my business. I’ll deposit nine thousand, then.”
“Fine.” They chatted while Laney completed the forms and gave Kay her copies. After no more than fifteen minutes, Laney walked her to the bank’s front door.
As Laney opened it for her, Kay lowered her voice. “You asked me a while ago why we’re called the Pleasure Set.”
Laney nodded.
*
After picking up Sandrine’s voice mail saying that she’d had a nice time at dinner, Laney returned her call, apologizing for taking so long.
“It was lovely for me, too, Sandrine.” Laney had truly enjoyed their time. Dinner had been full of great conversation, and Sandrine had listened so intently. She had made Laney feel important, and she had found it easy to tune into Sandrine as well. They had a strong connection when they were together. Laney had thought it was just a work-related thing, but now she knew better.
Laney waved off another call that Kelly was trying to forward to her. “You know, I really like you.”
“You do?”
Laney could hear the gentle teasing in Sandrine’s voice. “I do.”
“Well, that would be a good thing because I have a huge crush on you.”
“Just a crush?”
“Much more, I have to admit.”
“Then I hope that means that you won’t think me too forward by asking you to go out to dinner with me again.”
“That would be fantastic,” Sandrine said. “I’m working on a few cases, but I’ll have some free nights toward the weekend.”
“Shall we plan on Friday night around seven? I’ll pick you up this time.”
“It sounds perfect. And if I didn’t have all this work staring at me, I’d beg you to make it sooner.”
“Can’t the criminals just wait?”
Sandrine laughed. “If it could only be that easy to push off work for another perfect evening with you.”
A flash of passion raced through Laney’s chest. Sandrine was so direct and wore her emotions and feelings on her sleeve. And she was always incredibly sexy.
“You’re going to make me fall hard for you, Detective.”
“Would that be a crime?” Sandrine almost pulled off the remark but sniggered.
“Ha! You’re not only smart but you can turn a great pun.”