The Black Door

by Velvet

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” the waiter said, approaching their table. “Can I get you sparkling or flat water?” He handed them two menus.

  “Flat is fine for me,” Trey said, and then turned to Mason. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Evian, if you have it. I don’t care much for carbonated water.”

  “And a bottle of Veuve Grand Dame,” Trey added.

  “Sure, sir. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  They perused the mouthwatering menu, with its selections of nouveau Asian dishes; every item on the extensive menu was tempting, from the honey-glazed spare rib appetizer, to the succulent Peking duck and ginger-infused squab with an orange glaze. Even the coconut tapioca, winter-fruit parfait for dessert sounded totally sinful.

  The waiter returned with their water and champagne. “Can I start you off with an appetizer?”

  “You can bring the spare ribs, and two orders of the rock shrimp,” Trey said, ordering for the table.

  “And as an entree, I’ll have the roasted garlic lamb chops,” Mason said.

  Trey added, “”I’ll have the sesame-crusted salmon, medium rare.”

  Once their orders were placed and the champagne poured, Trey raised his glass. “Welcome to the executive suite.”

  Mason, clinked his glass. “Thanks, Trey. It feels good to not have to worry about finances anymore.”

  “Hey, wait a minute . . . Who said I was paying you a salary? This is an internship position,” he said, without cracking a smile.

  Mason stopped drinking and looked Trey dead in the eyes. “What? I thought—”

  Before he could finish, Trey burst out laughing. “Just kidding, my man. Of course I’m going to pay you a salary. After all, ‘the ladies love them some Mason,’ “ he said, mocking Mason’s earlier words. “And I’m counting on you to increase our membership numbers by referring quality ladies who need some excitement in their lives.”

  Mason breathed a sigh of relief. “Done!”

  The champagne was flowing and the food was beyond delectable, so Trey and Mason sat back and ate and drank like kings. After dinner, they each ordered Lagavulin, an aged, single-malt Scotch, and shared stories of the women they had loved and lost. Trey was tempted to tell Mason about his tryst with Ariel, but stopped himself. He realized that saying he knocked boots with his future stepmother would sound bizarre—at best—so he kept his mouth shut. When the check arrived, Trey reached in his wallet, took out his American Express Black Card, and put it on the table.

  Trey’s cell phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID. It was Michele. He didn’t feel like being bothered, so he pressed DECLINE and sent her call into voice mail. He hadn’t seen her since the cocktail party a week ago, and was trying to avoid her so that he could slowly break off their relationship. After experiencing such a cosmic connection with Ariel, Trey knew that if Michele was indeed his soul mate, he would never have been attracted to another woman. He didn’t want to waste Michele’s time, and realized that he needed to step up and tell her that it wasn’t working out for him. But his true confession could wait until tomorrow. “I gotta take a whiz,” Trey said, and excused himself to the restroom.

  The bathrooms at 66 were as unique as the restaurant itself. Hidden behind silver mesh curtains was a darkened hallway lined with several individual bathrooms. Each unisex stall was private, complete with its own sink and vanity mirror. Trey tried the first door, but it was locked, so he went to the next one and knocked, but it was occupied as well. He wasn’t in the mood to try each door, so he decided to wait until the person came out of stall number one. With champagne and Scotch flowing through his veins, Trey was feeling no pain. He was in a good mood and whistled lightly as he waited. He heard the lock click and stepped aside. When the door opened, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing in front of him was none other than . . . Ariel Vaughn.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him standing there. Ariel stood in the doorway motionless, practically paralyzed from shock. Trey was the last person she expected to see. She didn’t know what to do, so she did nothing.

  Trey’s animalistic instincts took over and he knew exactly what to do. He didn’t say one word, just took hold of her shoulders, walked her backward into the bathroom, and kicked the door shut with his foot.

  Trey released her shoulders, locked the door, took her face in his hands, and kissed her passionately He almost groaned. He had wanted to do this in the kitchen of his father’s town house. Her lips were as soft as butter and melted into his. He then slipped his tongue inside of her expectant mouth. Their tongues met and danced together to a seductive rhythm all their own.

  Ariel gently pushed Trey against the door, pressing her body closer to his. She knew it was wrong, but couldn’t stop herself. Her skin craved his touch and she wouldn’t be satisfied until he kissed every pore on her body.

  Trey seemed to read her mind. His kisses went from her mouth down to her neck. He unbuttoned her blouse with one hand as he held her tight with the other; once her blouse was opened, he trailed his tongue down to her bra. He nuzzled his head between her breasts and traced his tongue around the edges of her tattoo. Trey loved that rose, because if it were not for that discerning mark, he would have never known that she was the woman behind the red mask. He kissed the rose, and began nibbling on the edges of her lacy bra. He bit open the front snap with his teeth, causing her bra to pop open and her breasts to spill out. Unlike the model with the saline boobs, Ariel’s were the real thing. He caressed them and loved the way they felt— soft and voluptuous. He leaned down and licked each nipple with the tip of his tongue, then proceeded to suck them ever so tenderly.

  Ariel’s eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled to the back of her head at his masculine, yet gentle touch. He pressed her tits together and went from one to the other with a combination of kissing, licking, and sucking. The sensation made her gasp with pleasure. She reached down to unzip his pants, but he caught her wrist and stopped her hand from going any further.

  In an uncharacteristic move, Trey hooked Ariel’s bra closed and carefully buttoned each pearl button on her blouse. Ariel looked disappointed, but understood why he stopped himself. This was so wrong. They had committed the ultimate betrayal and now that they knew each other’s identity, the only choice was to stop before Preston found out.

  Trey grabbed her by the hand and unlocked the door. He headed straight for the exit with Ariel in tow. They walked right past the hostess and out the door. He didn’t say a word and neither did she; outside, he hailed a taxi with one hand, while still holding her hand with the other.

  “Take us to 128 East Thirty-eighth, right off Park,” he told the driver.

  Neither spoke as the taxi weaved through traffic on the way to midtown. Remembering that he’d left Mason and his AmEx card, Trey took out his cell phone.

  “Hey, man, something came up and I had to leave. Can you sign the check and hold onto my card for me? I’ll get it from you tomorrow . . . Okay, thanks.” Trey put his phone on vibrate, and stuck it back in the breast pocket of his blazer.

  Realizing that she had abandoned Meri, Ariel took out her phone and dialed her friend. “Uh, hi. Something came up and I had to leave,” she said, using the same words as Trey.

  “Not to worry, daarliing. I see a handsome young thing with yummy biceps sitting all alone, and he looks familiar. I think I just might have to have him for dessert tonight,” Meri said, with a devilish grin.

  Ariel was glad that Meri wasn’t the needy type and could fend for herself. But she knew that in true Meri style, she was going to call back at some point and drill her for the real reason as to why she left so abruptly. Ariel wasn’t going to take any calls tonight, so she turned off her phone and put it back in her purse. She knew that they were breaking all the rules, but this chance encounter was fate giving them one final good-bye. She should’ve asked where they were going, but she didn’t want to ruin the magic of the moment, so she remained silent.

  Trey
felt his phone buzzing against his chest, but he ignored it. Five minutes later, the phone buzzed again. He knew it could only be one person annoying the hell out of him—Michele—and he wanted to toss the phone out of the window so that he would never have to talk to her again. But that was useless, because she’d only call his house phone. He was definitely going to tell her that it was over, but not tonight.

  It had begun to rain slightly, and Ariel watched the tiny droplets fall softly against the window. She loved rainy nights; they could be so sexy, especially when you were cozied up with a warm body. For the first time in a long time, Ariel felt completely relaxed. She leaned her head on Trey’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the rest of the ride.

  Within a few minutes, they were pulling up in front of his building. After paying the fare, Trey took off his sports coat, held it over his head, and got out; he then reached inside for Ariel’s hand. He stood over her with his blazer held high, shielding them both from the rain, which had increased from a few drops into a torrential downpour.

  Trey was so busy being the attentive gentleman that he didn’t notice Michele’s black BMW parked across the street. She had been calling him all evening, but kept getting his voice mail. Usually he accepted her calls, but tonight he was purposely ignoring her. She became suspicious and decided to drive over to his apartment. Michele hadn’t been sitting there five minutes when a taxi eased in front of Trey’s building. A couple got out, but she couldn’t see their faces, because the man was holding a jacket over their heads as they rushed quickly toward the door.

  “Gene, no visitors tonight,” Trey instructed the doorman, before they stepped onto the elevator.

  Gene nodded. He knew that meant if Trey had any unexpected guests, he was to say that Mr. Curtis was out for the evening.

  Neither one spoke on the ride up to his apartment, as if words would ruin the magic between them. Even though their only communication since seeing each other at the restaurant had been nonverbal, they both spoke the same language—the language of lust. They stood hand in hand until the elevator stopped.

  Trey led Ariel down the hallway to his apartment, and she willingly followed like a helpless puppy. He released her hand long enough to unlock the door. Once the door was open, he swept her into his arms and gallantly carried her inside. Not missing a step, he kicked the door shut with one foot and kept walking. He carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her across the bed.

  The room was dark, with only the faint light from the street streaming through the slits of the blinds. Ariel couldn’t see his face, but she saw the shadows of his movements as he pulled the mock turtleneck over his head. She heard him unzip his trousers, and heard the buckle of his belt hit the floor. Her eyes were glued to him as he stood there in his snug boxer-briefs. In anticipation of what was to come, her heart was beating as loudly as the rain that was pounding the window sills.

  Trey wanted to take his time. He knew that this would be their final rendezvous, and he wanted to relish every second. He eased onto the bed, lay on his side, and pulled Ariel close to him. She curled up into a semi-fetal position, and her body molded into his. For the first time since meeting her, Trey stroked her dark raven tresses, and they felt silky smooth. He moved her hair to one side and softly kissed the nape of her neck.

  Chills tickled Ariel’s spine the instant he kissed her erogenous zone, and she shivered. That was the sweet spot that very few knew about—not even Preston—and his soft lips on the back of her neck made the crotch of her pantyhose moist with desire.

  Trey ran his hands underneath her skirt, slowly rolled her nylons down to her ankles, and removed them along with her pumps. He leaned up on one elbow and helped her wiggle out of her skirt. Once she was naked from the bottom down, he pulled on the waist-band of his underwear and slid them off in one smooth motion. Trey cradled her back into his arms, and began to rock back and forth; with each move, his penis grew an inch, until he was fully erect. Trey spread her legs and eased his hard dick into her wet vagina.

  Ariel arched her back and her butt jutted out a little farther so that there were no empty spaces between them. She closed her eyes and swayed to his rhythm. They seemed to move in sync with the sound of the rain, and the sensation was extremely erotic.

  AS TREY ANDAriel were upstairs making tender love, Michele was downstairs making a scene. She had finally gotten out of her car and decided to go inside.

  “Hi, Gene,” she said to the doorman with a forced smile. “Is Trey in?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Richards. He’s out for the evening.” Gene was familiar with Michele from seeing her with Trey on numerous occasions, but his loyalty lay with the tenant.

  “That’s okay. I’ll just wait for him,” she said, taking off her rain-drenched trench and walking over to one of the leather sofas in the waiting area.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Richards, but I think it best that you come back tomorrow,” he suggested strongly.

  Michele spun around on her heels. “Excuse me?” She shot him a menacing look that read, Don’t fuck with me.

  “I’m sorry—”

  She cut him off. “Yeah, I know you’re sorry. But you’re going to really be sorry if you don’t leave me the hell alone and let me wait!” she shouted.

  An elderly couple walking through the lobby stopped and stared at Michele as she waved her hands in the air and stomped her foot in protest.

  Gene had purposely pushed Michele’s buttons so that she would cause a commotion, giving him justification for putting her out. Over the years, he had seen his share of irate wannabe girlfriends and knew how to handle them. “Ms. Richards, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said in no uncertain terms.

  “You’d better be glad I have an early meeting tomorrow. Otherwise, I’d sit right in this lobby until morning, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it!” she huffed, trying to save face.

  Michele threw on her coat and dashed through the rain back to her car. Once inside, she snatched her cell phone from her purse and called Trey again, but after five rings, she was greeted by his voice mail. She was fuming. The way Gene was acting all territorial and protective, she had a sneaking suspicion that he was lying. Trey’s probably in his apartment at this very moment flicking someone else, and told Gene to keep me out, she thought.

  Well, whomever he was with had won this round, but the fight had just begun. Michele was a woman with stamina, and was prepared to go the distance to keep Trey, no matter who got hurt in the process.

  25

  IT HAD been a week since the cocktail party in honor of the senator, and the wheels of progress were rapidly rolling along. It was just a matter of time before the nomination was official and Preston could already taste the spoils of victory. He knew that he would have to resign his current position on the bench, which he’d gladly do, but would wait until the official nod before stepping down.

  Preston and Michele were at the town house working on his relocation agenda. If he won the nomination he would have to move to Washington in the ensuing months for an easier commute, but would keep his New York residence for return trips to the city.

  “Bethany, the Realtor in D.C. faxed me these listings,” Michele said, handing Preston a stack of papers.

  He carefully scanned through them, separating the possibilities from the impossibilities. Preston was looking for another town house; he loved the layout of the space—roomy yet cozy—it was perfect for entertaining. Once he was ensconced on the Hill, he would host a series of cocktail and dinner parties to establish his position among the in-crowd. “I’m definitely interested in these two.” He held up the listings featuring two redbrick colonial town houses, gave her his choices, and tossed the other listings in the trash. “Call Bethany and schedule a showing.”

  “When do you want to see the listings?” Michele asked, but without her usual gusto.

  Preston was accustomed to Michele’s spunky personality and had never seen this side of her before. He loo
ked at her face closely and could see tearstains on her cheeks. It was apparent that she had been crying and he wanted to know why “Michele,” he called her name softly “What’s the matter?”

  She held her head down, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. “Nothing,” she whispered.

  Preston got up and walked around the desk. “Michele, I can see that you’re upset.” He put his hand on her should in a fatherly gesture. “Please tell me what the problem is; maybe I can help,” he offered.

  She threw her hands up to her face and began to cry softly. She attempted to speak but was choked up, rendering the words inaudible.

  Preston reached over, pulled a few tissues out of the silver holder that was sitting on the corner of his desk, and handed them to her. “Now, now.” He patted her back until her tears stopped and her sniffles subsided. “Well?” he asked, once she had calmed down some.

  Michele wiped her eyes and blew her nose with the damp tissue. She cleared her throat and said, “It’s Trey.”

  “Trey?” Preston asked, surprised to hear his son’s name come out of her mouth. The last time he had seen them together at the cocktail party, they appeared to be very much a couple. But now thinking back on that night, he remembered that Trey seemed preoccupied, as if something heavy was weighing on his mind.

  “I think he’s having an affair,” she blurted out.

  Oh, is that all? Preston wanted to say. Trey was young, handsome, and single. And if he was anything like his old man—who in his youth before he married had a string of woman a mile long— had more than one pillow to lay his head on. Michele may be his main girl, but they were not married, and Trey had no legal obligations of fidelity to honor as far as she was concerned. “What makes you think he’s having an affair?” Preston asked instead, playing the concerned boss and father figure.

  “Because I’ve been calling since yesterday evening and all morning, and I keep getting his voice mail, and . . . !” She hesitated a second before confessing. “Last night I went over to his apartment but he wasn’t there. I wanted to wait in the lobby until Trey came home, but the doorman wouldn’t let me. He was quite nasty about making me leave.”