by Lara Hunter
Soon Oliver and I walked arm in arm out of the restaurant; traipsing along a cobblestone street lined with cast iron lattice work benches and tall, noble, Victorian style lamp posts. Pausing to stare into the storefronts of classically designed shops, many of which boasted engraved signs, peppermint striped awnings and walls of pure sandstone.
I was thrilled as Oliver paused to buy me one precious gift from each store; a dew glistened red rose from the florist, a box of gourmet cream chocolates from the chocolatier, a vial of fine French perfume from a luxury boutique. Then he took me by the hand and escorted me through the doors of a beautiful building known as the Rose Ballroom.
The gathered crowd seemed to part for our benefit as we made our way across the crisp tiled floor; both admiring the chandeliers that hung low from the ballroom’s domed ceiling, which also came adorned with a rendering of a winged cherub flying free across a jewel blue sky.
I felt anything but angelic a moment later, as Oliver and I stopped beside an iced sculpture of a majestic swan; taking each other’s hands and staring deeply into one another’s eyes.
Our gazes held as Oliver swept me up in his arms; pulling me closer than close as we launched into a vigorous, very romantic waltz.
As our bodies moved in flawless time with the sound of classical music played nearby by a live band, I wrapped my arms around his muscled shoulders and drew closer to him.
As we continued to dance and sway, I felt my being tense as I came to a startling, but quite unavoidable realization. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was developing feelings for Oliver Clark. I could no longer kid myself into believing that our romance was all for show; and that my emotions existed within the realm of friendship or even curious attraction.
When Oliver left the room, I missed him; and when he came back I outright savored his beauty, his laughter, his charm, his very scent.
I gathered from the glow that I saw in his eyes, by the tenderness and respect with which he treated me, that he just might feel the same way; but I couldn’t help but wonder if his feelings ran quite as deeply as mine and if he joined me in the opinion that this faux romance was anything but.
As he dipped me thrillingly at the center of the floor, gathering my body in a warm embrace as again he touched my lips with his, I realized suddenly that I had my answer; and that I now was more than prepared to give him his answer in return.
“Yes,” I whispered with a smile.
An hour later I found myself ensconced in a far more modernistic setting; the living room of an upscale townhouse designed in clean, clear lines.
It came as no surprise that Oliver Clark’s apartment just screamed bachelor pad, with its pure leather furniture, sunny beachfront murals and thick white shag carpeting.
Yet as he invited me to lounge in the confines of his own private haven, Oliver still enacted the role of the romantic Victorian nobleman. He insisted on most literally sweeping me off my feet and carrying me across the threshold of his upscale bachelor pad; all the while whispering in my ear of the magical night that lay before us.
“This night is all about you, Lily,” he purred. “Your needs, your pleasures. I am at your command.”
Touching my lips with a gentle kiss, Oliver set my trembling body on the edge of the ivory cushioned couch that formed the centerpiece of his living room; kneeling before me to slip my feet from their tight, confining shoes and massage them to delightful effect.
“Mmmm,” I purred, relaxing in my seat as my attentive date worked his magic fingers across the pads and heels of my tired feet. “You know, Oliver, if you ever get tired of this billionaire executive heir gig, you always could take up a side gig as a foot masseur.”
Letting loose with a low, sensual chuckle, Oliver lowered his beautiful head to suckle my toes; seeming to relish the sharp, surprised moans that met this most pleasurable act.
Holding my gaze he rose to his feet. For a long, timeless moment we just stared at one another, sharing a secret smile as we seemed to contemplate the night that lie before us.
“Relax, darling,” he whispered hypnotically, adding in a soft, reassuring tone, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just let me do everything.”
With this sensual declaration he descended on the couch beside me; taking my hands in his as he stared deep into my eyes.
“I want to be sure that you’re ready for this, baby.” He leaned forward to smatter my flushed cheeks with a rain of sweet kisses. “That you really want this.”
Leaning forward in a single smooth flourish, I touched his lips with a gentle kiss; my mouth rubbing and massaging his as I braced my eager hands on his broad muscled shoulders.
“I want this,” I growled against his mouth. “And I want you. Now, Oliver.”
Taking this as a cue, Oliver wrapped his arms around my back and pulled my body flush against his in a tight but gentle embrace; all the while kissing my hands, rubbing my neck and shoulders, and finally cradling me in his arms and rocking my body back and forth on the couch to engage me in a romantic cuddle.
Pulling my body into his arms and holding me closer than close, an ardent Oliver continued his massage on a far more romantic level; running his hands down my back as he pressed his toned chest up against mine.
“I swear you won’t regret this,” he blew into my ear, pulling me to him in a passionate clench as we collapsed in the comfort of whisper soft silk. “I plan to make this very good for you. I want you to feel loved.”
“I want to be loved,” I released on a sigh, relaxing in his muscular arms. “By you.”
Taking this as a cue, Oliver tilted his firm, hard hips against mine as he bowed his head to my neck; kissing and nipping its sensitive skin as I ran my hands through his silken strands. Writhing in his arms, I took a deep breath as my body was immersed in a wave of red hot arousal; one that intensified as, with bold hands, I unbuttoned his white silk shirt to reveal finally the massive chest that had filled my fantasies.
Running my fingertips down the length of his taut, toned pecs and flawless washboard abs, I took in my breath as my lover repaid me in kind; reaching forth a daring hand to caress my breasts, all the while ravishing me with a hungry gaze that showed his blatant arousal.
“I must have you now,” he released on a growl, rising to his feet with me in his arms and taking me to his bedroom.
Much to my surprise, Oliver’s bedroom turned out to be a beautiful, very tasteful pastiche of ivory woolen bed linens with matching shag carpeting, shiny brass bedrails, and a pair of royal blue velvet curtains that enshrouded a pair of signature French doors holding court in a corner of the room.
Tossing my body into a soft cloud of comforters that cradled and soothed my voluptuous curves, Oliver crossed the room in a few smooth strides and opened these curtains; releasing a spectrum of radiant moonlight that illuminated his golden form; one still draped in the silken coat that likened my lover to a Victorian count.
But, I wagered, not for long…
Chapter Ten
~
The next morning I awoke from a dream; my mind swimming with beautiful images of a night of passion, shared with the man of my fantasy. I imagined myself in Oliver’s arms, our bodies entwining and our hearts pounding as one; kissing, embracing, our arms and legs entwining, until finally we joined as one.
Then I remembered with a sudden jolt that these visions I saw in my head were not dreams at all, but cherished memories. The vision that had lingered so long in my dreams finally was realized. Oliver and I had made love all night long; exploring each other’s bodies and fulfilling fantasies that had lurked in the recesses of both of our minds.
Although I’d lost my virginity in college and had two lovers before him—both boyfriends with whom I’d shared year-long relationships—I’d never known the pleasure and tenderness I’d discovered in the arms of Oliver. Sure I’d had sex; but never before had I truly made love—at least not in the sublime, very special way we made it.
Aside from bein
g an expert lover, pleasuring me in ways I never thought possible, he was endlessly kind and patient; asking me if I was comfortable and if I was enjoying our experience; constantly asking me what he could do to make it better for me.
“Just stay here with me,” I whispered, offering myself to him once again.
As he brought me to pleasure again and again, he whispered to me of my beauty and kindness, my grace and wit; all the things he loved about me. He was whisper gentle one moment and expressed animal passion the next; yet always maintaining enviable control over his body and desires at all times. Our bodies seemed to merge as one as our hearts and souls followed suit. And after the loving reached its beautiful completion, he cuddled me soft and sweet in his embrace and whispered something in my ear. A softly spoken phrase that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”
Suddenly I couldn’t wait to open my eyes and begin my day with Oliver; a man that I was now convinced was my real and true lover. Sex, after all, was not a part of our agreement; and neither were any declarations of true love. And, no matter how expertly planned or flawlessly well executed, no faux mance could carry this degree of intimacy or intensity. There was simply no way that he could deny the truth of our feelings for one another; just as there was no way I could deny that I was falling hard for Oliver.
At once I felt an overwhelming need to hold and kiss my tender lover; to greet a new day with my new love, to talk about our newfound bond and perhaps even make love again—repeating in full the ebullient journey that had carried us through the night.
Reaching my arm across his bed I felt nothing but cool, satin sheets; apparently I was the current sole occupant of Oliver’s dream bed.
He must be downstairs, making me breakfast. I grinned, stretching my arms high above my head as I writhed like a cat in bed. Or else supervising his maid’s preparation of my breakfast. Whatever works.
My cheeky grin dissolved abruptly as I saw a crisp piece of ivory white stationery laying on his pillow; one I retrieved with uncertain fingers as I struggled to focus my bleary eyes.
“Always nice to start the day off with a love note,” I chuckled aloud, grabbing hold of the folded stationery and opening it with anxious fingers. Perhaps he found it difficult to express the feelings that we both share so he had to write it, instead of say it.
My laughter and dreamy reverie were both silenced seconds later, as I read a note that sounded far more like an official office memo than a written declaration of love and passion.
“Hi Lily,” the letter read. “Hope you’re feeling well this morning. Feel free to grab some breakfast in the kitchen and let yourself out afterwards. I headed into work early to catch up on some projects. I’ll see you there later today. Oliver.”
My eyes widened as I reread the note three more times; a feeling of cold, hard shock overtaking my body as I considered his cool, formal words. My shock was equaled only by my complete and total revulsion; a feeling sparked by words that could not possibly have been uttered by the warm, tender man who’d cradled me in his arms the night before. No, this couldn’t be him.
Crumpling the note in my hand with a heated sigh, I tossed it into a nearby wastebasket and jolted upright in bed; awakened in more ways than one.
Was this, I wondered, the end result of a cold and calculated plan? First he tells me that we just have to date, for the good of the company; then he seduces me to get what he really wants before cutting me off cold?
I just could not believe it. After being so cautious and guarded for so long, I’d elected just once to let down my guard. Just once I had let him in, opening myself to him. Just long enough to give him access to my heart, so he could break it.
For a moment I buried my head in my hands and let loose with a single loud sob; a solitary tear creasing my cheek as I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach; shattering like glass as I considered his words and, just as important, his actions.
“How could he do this?” I said aloud. “And how could I, knowing all too well about his playboy reputation, fall for his clever little ruse? I always think with my mind, not my heart… why would this man, of all men, make me let down my guard?”
Shaking my head to clear it of its distressed haze, I sniffed back my tears and lifted my chin; steeling myself against the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me.
OK, so I had made a mistake; trusting a man when I’d clearly known better. And yes, it hurt, so very much but I would not allow it to destroy me.
With a defiant sniff I sat up straight in bed; squaring my shoulders as I choked back my tears and held my chin up high. Setting my lips in a defiant manner, I balled my fists and gritted my teeth as a wave of raw, angry power suffused and flew free through my veins; lending me a needed second wave of power and resilience.
After grabbing a wad of Kleenex from my purse and wiping my face clean, I arose from Oliver’s bed and vowed never to return.
***
Oliver
Oh, no. What have I done?
These were the thoughts that assailed my mind as I sat frozen at my desk; not able to work or even pretend to be working (a skill that I had perfected to an art during my years at Clark Industries).
My night with Lily had proven to me what I’d suspected all along; Lily and I cared about each other very much, more than we’d ever thought possible. We’d discovered so many bonds and common interests that we’d never known existed. I had ‘caught feelings’ for this amazing woman and I could tell through her touch, her tender kiss, that she felt the same way about me.
It was magical. It was romantic. It had to stop. Now, if not sooner.
Generally when I “caught feelings” for a woman, I cut off my feelings for her as soon as possible, cancelling all planned dates and conveniently forgetting to answer her phone calls or return her messages.
Of course, there was no avoiding or ignoring Lily; frankly I would fear for the very life of any man that ever tried either grave mistake. And, well, I’m not sure if I could live without her… professionally speaking, of course. And she’s a great friend. That’s all I meant. I couldn’t run this office without the bright, reliable Lily, who, I’d had to remind myself all too many times these past few weeks, was simply not my type. Not by a long shot!
I’ve got to stop leading her on, I mused, stroking my chin in a rare show of deep thought. She might think I’m really falling for her. And I’m not. I swear, I’m not. That level of involvement just doesn’t suit my lifestyle. It’s just not my style, in any way, shape or form.
My troubled meditation was disrupted by the opening of my office door; and the entrance of a cool, stone-faced women I hadn’t seen in ages.
I sat straight up in my chair and steeled myself against the return of Pre-Faux Romance Lily; a woman that sometimes looked at me like it was my last day on earth. Or so she hoped.
“Your faxes,” she announced, tone cool and crisp. “And your phone messages.”
Dropping a small pile of papers at the center of my desk, she seared me with cold, narrowed eyes as she turned for the door.
“Thank you, Lily,” I matched her formal tone, adding as I cleared my throat, “Look, I’m sorry that things got out of hand last night. I mean, I know we both enjoyed ourselves but it probably wasn’t wise. It wasn’t part of the original plan. And as badly as we both wanted to be together, I’m not altogether sure that we should have let things go that far.”
Lily nodded.
“Oh, after reading your brisk, rather short correspondence this morning, I realized just what a grave mistake we had made,” she agreed all too readily, folding her arms before her chest as she continued to send a steady supply of daggers from her eyes to mine. “I think, in fact, that we may at this point want to cut off all contact outside of work.”
I sat stock still, my eyes flying wide as I considered these words.