The Paradise Box Set

by Pike, Leslie

  “Pure? That’s a laugh. If he’s with you, he’s not. I know you staked your claim that first day in Park City, and good for you. He’s a lucky guy. But you’re trippin if you think any of us want to be with other women. We’re all going to behave, BB. Believe me.”

  “Ah huh. Just make sure you bring him back the same way he’s going to leave here.”

  “You’re pretty stingy with that big bad dog, aren’t you?” He laughs as if the whole idea is ridiculous.

  “Yeah, I am. There may be enough cock for three women, but I’m the only one who’s going to know it.”

  “Okay. I’ll take good care of your man. Tell him I called.”

  We disconnect, and I turn to see Darius watching, studying me.

  “What?” I say a little too loudly.

  “Nothing, I’m just floating,” he says, paddling for the pool’s edge.

  “I need your help. I’ve got that stupid table in the entryway. Can you help me get it to the bedroom? I want to surprise Paul.”

  “Yeah sure.”

  He lifts himself effortlessly from the water. Gee, the kid is solid and pretty cut. Let me rephrase that. The kid is cut. I’m still dripping water, and so is he, as we walk back into the house.

  I’ve got to figure a way to move the heavy piece of furniture.

  “Okay, you go backward and I’ll go forward because you’re stronger,” I say.

  He laughs at my messed up reasoning. “Okay, but wouldn’t it be easier if we slid it over the tile? Put something under the legs.”

  I think about it for a moment and realize he’s right. “Good thinking. Let me get some washcloths.”

  Ten minutes later we’re admiring how well the bedside table looks next to the king-sized bed.

  “Does that look level to you?” Darius asks, his eyes squinting.

  I look closely then back off a few feet to get perspective.

  “It’s crooked. Fuck me sideways, it’s uneven. The left side’s lower, right?”

  “Yep. Have you got something I can wedge under the foot?”

  “I’m not about to pay fifteen hundred dollars for a crooked piece of furniture.”

  “I know. But until you have it returned, we can at least make it level.”

  He sits on the edge of the bed and leans over, trying to see if he’ll be able to lift one leg.

  “In the drawer on the other side of the bed. Grab one of my CD’s. Just roll over the top.”

  He does just that and opens the drawer. Oops. I forgot about my vibrator and lube. Crap. He’s just staring inside the drawer, trying to figure out how to get the CD without touching my plaything.

  “Umm ,” is all he says. But his mouth curves into a smile.

  I start laughing; he’s red-faced and laughing too.

  “What the fuck?” Paul says.

  We both turn to find him scowling in the doorway.

  “Hi, honey,” I say hoping it’s a mirage.

  Uh oh. His expression is dark and full of accusation. This whole scene doesn’t look good, I know that. But shit, I’m innocent.

  “This isn’t how it looks,” I say, aware of the fact that I sound like every guilty person who got ever caught.

  Darius stands and Paul looks him up and down. His brows snap together.

  “Are those my trunks?”

  “BB said I could borrow them to go swimming. I’m sorry. I’ll take them off. I have to be going anyway. We were just moving some furniture.”

  I want to say shut up kid, you’re over explaining.

  “Keep ‘em,” Paul says. “BB can I speak to you privately?” he says, his jaw set.

  “Sure. Darius, why don’t you change and you can join us for dinner,” I add.

  That does it for Paul. I think I see the smoke coming from his ears.

  “What? No he won’t.” He turns to Darius. “Sorry, but we’d like some privacy. Let yourself out.”

  That pisses me off royally. “Don’t be a jerk! Nothing happened. We were moving the fucking nightstand, you boob.”

  I’m vaguely aware of the retreating figure of Darius as he makes his escape. Now it’s Paul’s turn to yell, and there’s a fire in his eyes.

  “You want to talk about being a boob? You’re making an ass of yourself. But I’ll be damned if you’re going to make one of me. I’ve fucking had it with your unnatural need for cheap attention.”

  “Fuck you! Go analyze yourself!” I snap.

  “Do you really think I’m overreacting? I walk in here to find the two of you in the bedroom, going through your toy drawer laughing. And you’re half dressed! Ha! Other than that, I guess I have nothing to base my case on.”

  I think I just saw spit coming out of his mouth. Maybe he’s frothing.

  “OR, maybe you found two friends who just moved in the new furniture and found it wasn’t level. Then they looked for something to wedge under the leg.”

  I get right in his face and poke him in the chest. He grabs my finger and pushes it away.

  “Oh, and yeah we had been swimming, so we were wearing…wait for it…BATHING SUITS!” I yell.

  We just stare at each other, neither willing to admit the other has a valid point. Then I see his temper change into something new, but equally charged. It’s lust. He doesn’t lose the scowl, but he aims his frustration in a new direction.

  “Come here,” he commands.

  “Not everything’s as it looks, Paul. You need to trust me.” I take a lighter road.

  He roughly grabs me around the waist and pulls me close. “Shut up,” he says.

  And so I do, because he kisses the words away and the thought of him inside me finishes the argument. God, I love the smell of him and the way desire transforms his face. He unties my bikini top and it’s off in two beats. His head dips to my breasts and he sucks on my nipples. Hard. I like it. I lean my head back in response. Then he picks me up and tosses me like a sack of potatoes on top of the bed.

  “Take off the suit,” he says as he strips out of his own clothes.

  I do as ordered and lie back with my eyes closed, waiting. I spread my legs. That’s where he most often begins. But not today. When I open my eyes he’s standing at the end of the bed watching me and stroking himself.

  “Come on baby, have a little taste,” I say opening my legs wider in the invitation.

  He doesn’t answer me at first, but just gets on the bed and flips me over on top of him. “You have a little taste.” His eyes bore into me.

  Ok, we’re going to settle things here then. I can live with that. And so I acquiesce to a détente. And never has a treaty worked so well. I move down between his legs and take him in my mouth. It’s solid with the blood that pumps it. I feel the veins that run the length of the shaft, and tease the edge of the head with my lips. My reward is his response. He’s lost in the feeling and I don’t think even aware of his expression. It’s pure sexual pleasure. I keep sucking. He grabs the edges of the pillow and the muscles in his arms bulge with the tension. Then he moans. I go faster and suck harder. For once he doesn’t stop me so he can be inside me. He lets me do it right. Just when it’s getting close, I slow down and then remove my mouth. He opens his eyes. They’re almost pleading with me to keep going. So I wrap my fingers around him. Up and down, up and down, slowly for maximum effect. He’s going over the cliff now. It’s about to happen and nothing can stop it. I lean down to look him straight in the eyes and open my mouth.

  An hour later we’re spent of every ounce of strength and will. “We should fight more often,” I say.

  “No, we shouldn’t. I get no pleasure in that.”

  “Agreed. But please, Paul, make sure in the future you’re not misinterpreting what you see. I did nothing wrong today, except maybe the drawer thing. That was my bad.”

  “I’ll try. But I want you to think about if things were reversed. Would you be so understanding?

  I just lie there thinking about the question. I’m not so sure I would be.

  By the next mor
ning I’ve hatched a plan. I’ve considered Paul’s question. I thought about it in the dark for an hour after we went to bed. Is he such a pillar of good behavior? Even when I’m not with him? What about when he’s faced with temptation? He hasn’t had the opportunity to find out. He’s been with me since the first days out of the priesthood. So when he says he’s never act inappropriately, it’s a statement he can’t back up. Who knows, maybe if the right opportunity presented itself he’d misbehave. Fucker. I’m getting pissed just thinking about the possibility. My behavior’s out on the table. I wouldn’t do anything behind his back that I wouldn’t do in front. The fact that some of it pisses him off is another story. But I’m true to the man. For the first time in my life, I’m purposely faithful.

  For now, it’s his cell I’m looking for. Where’d he put it? I’m creeping around the room in the dark looking for it. These blackout curtains have left him in a deep sleep, so I don’t even sense a stirring. This is a crucial part of my plan. I just need five minutes to load the tracking app. It’s not here, so I quietly make my way out. And there’s no time to put on clothes, so I’m stark-ass naked.

  I look in the bowl in the entryway. No. maybe he left it in the kitchen. I make my way across the living room looking at every surface. Nothing. Then I scan the dining room. Damn it man, where’d you put your phone? Only the kitchen’s left. I walk in not expecting Cora to be standing there. I’m just as much a surprise to her. We both jump and let out a startled yell. Quickly I bring my finger to my lips. “Shhh!”

  The fact that I’m naked doesn’t faze her. It’s as if it’s the most natural expected thing she could see. My only clue as to her opinion is the small snarky sneer she gives me as she shakes her head. She goes back arranging the flowers she’s working on.

  “Have you seen Paul’s cell phone?” I whisper.

  She points to the basket on the counter. Eureka! I pull the basket to me and there it sits. My fingers move swiftly. I find the app and purchase it with my account. One click to download and I see the scrolling begin.

  A few twigs of Baby’s Breath flowers fall off the counter at my feet.

  “I’ll get it,” I say, bending down to retrieve them.

  By the time I stand back up the app is downloaded and available. I’ve already done the same on my phone, so now we’re linked. I replace the phone in the basket and feel pretty pleased with myself. There’s something tickling my back, but just as I’m about to reach for it Paul walks into the room. He looks at my nakedness.

  “Good morning Lady Godiva. Cora.” He stares.

  “Morning,” I say, as if being naked in front of my housekeeper is completely normal.

  “Good morning, Mr. Paul.”

  I come to him and offer a kiss. His arm wraps around my waist.

  “What’s that?” he says turning me around.

  “What?”

  I feel the gentle removal of something stuck between my cheeks. When I turn back around Paul’s holding a small twig of Baby’s Breath.

  “You were growing something back there,” he says smiling.

  I look at Cora, who’s not making eye contact.

  “Did you lose something, Cora?”

  She takes the twig from Paul and tosses it to the trash.

  “How did that get there?” she says innocently.

  “You, asshole. I’m going to get you for that,” I say.

  She tries to hide her pleasure but it’s obvious she’s enjoying her victory.

  “You two are something else. I could spend a year psychoanalyzing you both.”

  “Start with her. I’m going to take a shower.”

  The last thing I do as I walk out of the kitchen is stick my ass up to them both.

  * * *

  It’s seven thirty. I didn’t really expect Jack to be on time. He had to pick up the other men and they’re pretty spread out. But I’ve got work to do before I leave the house so I wish they’d hurry. Paul’s dressed and waiting in the living room. Of course he’s ready on time. Those priests must have had sticks up their asses for punctuality. Maybe it’s a sin to keep others waiting, because Paul sure acts like it. If so, I’m going straight to hell.

  “I brought you a water and an aspirin,” I say walking into the room.

  I hand it to him and take a seat on the couch.

  “What’s that for?”

  “If you drink too much, it’ll help with the hangover.”

  “I doubt if I’ll need it. I’m not much in the mood for drinking tonight.”

  “Ah huh,” I grunt.

  He knows there’s something behind my sound effect.

  “What?” he says.

  “Who are you kidding? You’re going to be wasted. It’s a bachelor party.”

  “Maybe. I’ve never been to one. I can’t say.”

  “Yeah, to that point you know there’ll be women, right?”

  “I seriously doubt that, BB. Which man there would want to be with some other woman?”

  “Remember you said that when you’ve got some skank’s pussy in your face. Don’t be a Boy Scout. There’re going to be strippers. And those women are going to be doing their best to hook up with the movie stars. Get it?”

  “I’m not an actor.”

  “No, but you’re a hot guy with a big dick.”

  “No, that’s not going to happen. And even if it does, I’m not interested. I know how to act appropriately. We’ve had that conversation,” he says with a smug look on his face, making his point in no uncertain terms.

  “Do you really now?” I say knowing his theory is about to be tested.

  “Yes, I do. So don’t worry. I’m a big boy.”

  “That’s exactly what worries me.”

  Outside I hear what sounds like a bus pulling into our driveway. There’s a song playing, but I can’t quite make it out.

  “That’s them,” Paul says getting up.

  “I want to see.”

  Outside is a sleek, long party bus without any identifying marks or logos. It’s a white ship of a vehicle with blacked-out windows all around except for the windshield. Yeah, better to hide the hookers and pole dancers. Jack’s at the top of the steps.

  “Greetings! The Polar Express is about to pull out of the station! All aboard!”

  I can tell he’s already half wasted.

  Paul gives me a peck on the cheek. “Wish me luck.”

  “No. Just be good,” I say pointedly.

  I want so badly to have a peek inside, but that would look pretty emasculating. So instead I just give a little wave as he boards, the doors shut and the bus pulls away. It sounds one honk and the music starts inside. Fuck me.

  Back in the house I get to work. First, I check to see if my app’s working properly. Thank God it is. I watch the route the bus is taking across the map on my screen. Yes! I can watch exactly where they go now. This is going to be interesting.

  Time to get dressed. I’ve got to be ready when they get to the strip club they’re certain to be headed for. If I know Jack, it’ll be a private party. No witnesses with cameras to record and then sell the proof to the rags. I can talk my way in if my disguise is good enough. Just chat up the security and flash my tasseled titties. I’ll get in and then I’ll watch it all.

  Four hours later I’m still sitting in the living room looking like a big whore. I’ve got my “fuck me” stilettos on and this God-awful black bobbed wig. A trench coat covers my daisy dukes and my exposed breasts. But all I’ve seen on my screen is a tour of four bars and a steak house. None of them have naked women. They’re in Irvine now, so I wouldn’t have to go far if they make a strip club detour. But the bus turns and comes back toward Laguna. Okay I wait.

  At two o’clock in the morning I’m still waiting. Fuck me. I take off the shoes. The bus is stopped somewhere in Laguna, but I can’t identify a business. At three o’clock the wig comes off. I’ve got a pounding headache and my head itches. I almost fall asleep. But then the bus starts moving again and it’s headed this way.
Oh shit!

  Running to the bedroom I work to remove all evidence of my untrustworthy intentions. I throw on a silk robe and wipe off the whore makeup. My hair takes a minute to resemble something closer to normal. Then I get into bed. My cell tells me they’re very close now. The bus’s brakes release, and it seems like I’m waiting for ten minutes till the doorbell sounds. What? Doesn’t he have his key? I get out of bed and pad to the front door.

  When I open it I’m greeted by a so totally wasted Paul that he has to be lifted by Finn and Jack. If they’re the most sober choices it’s stunning, because both look as if they’re about to fall over too. Jack’s wild hair now matches the rest of him. He’s a mess. Finn’s eyes are no longer strikingly blue, but a watery bloodshot gray.

  “Oh my God! What the hell?” I say, my eyes boring into them.

  “Bejdroom woman,” Jack attempts to say.

  “Down there, last door to the right.”

  They stumble down the hall and nearly drop Paul. They hit his head on the wall. But they find that funny and start laughing.

  “Sorry, Paul boy. You’ve been thoo enoge,” Finn says.

  I’m starting to boil because I’m watching Paul’s pants slide slowly off his hips. What the hell? Obviously, he’s unbuttoned. They fall to the ground and the men don’t even try to pull them back up. They let them drag along the floor. Oh that mother fucker. We all make it into the bedroom and they roll him onto the bed, just barely.

  “There! Home safe judge like I prmijed you,” Jack says looking at me.

  He spots Paul’s pants around his ankles. “He had to take a pish. That’s why.”

  “Get out. I’ll take it from here,” I order with a pointed finger. I’d like to use my middle one.

  So they make as quick a getaway as they can manage. I hear one of them hit the wall as they leave. Then both of them laugh and one of them farts as a result. The front door slams shut. I look at Paul, who’s passed out, legs spread apart, hanging off the bed. His shirt is wrinkled and his pants puddled at his ankles. But what throws me over the edge is the perfect lipstick kiss I can detect right on top of the crotch of his pants.

  Chapter Thirteen

  NICKI