The Black Chapel

by Marilyn Cruise

  I have to squelch a laugh. His line is kind of cheesy, but the fact that it’s coming from him and that he thinks I’m his angel actually turns me on.

  “I hope you can understand my hesitancy, Mr. Manning,” I say in my angelic voice. My wings are rubbing up against the back of the couch, and I find it hard to sit.

  “Please, call me Michael.” He scoots closer, and I can feel the electricity in the air increase. The lights are really dim, and I’m grateful for that, especially now that he’s so close.

  Should I tell him the truth that this is my first time, or feign competency. I go with the truth. “To be honest, Michael—” I love saying his name. “—I’ve never been in the Sanctuary before. You are the only one who has convinced me to—stretch my limits.”

  He smiles and then strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s very sweet of you to say. I’d like to believe that.”

  “It’s true,” I say, somewhat unsettled that he doesn’t believe me. But I suppose I can’t blame him. To him, I am only a stripper after all.

  He pauses. “Well, then, I feel honored. It’s my first time, too.”

  Now I don’t know if I believe him.

  His hand makes its way down to my shoulder and chest and onto my thigh. “Is it okay that I touch you like this?”

  “Yes.” I’m so heated, I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to straddle him and kiss him, but I’m not sure he’ll approve. Maybe he wants to be in charge.

  His hand makes its way slowly up my thigh, and then stops short of my sex. I want to sigh, but I haven’t been trained on what to say or do in this room, so I smile instead. Being this close to him completely intoxicates me.

  “May I kiss you?” he asks, grazing my lips now.

  I smile. “In this room, you are the ruler,” I say, and I can’t wait for his lips to touch mine.

  He pulls me closer and our lips touch. A shiver of pleasure goes through my body. His tongue glides across my bottom lip and he sucks on it gently. Instinct takes over and I straddle him and run my fingers through his cinnamon hair. I feel him hard up against my sex and it drives me wild. This heavy burning fire needs to be relieved.

  He cups my breast with his hand and I moan into his mouth.

  “Oh, Michael,” I say.

  The mention of his name makes him go wild, and he pulls my hair gently back so he can kiss my neck.

  I groan and he laughs. “You are so spellbinding, Samantha.”

  I laugh, too. I grind my pelvis against his, and feel him so full and long. How long will it be until he makes me his?

  “You smell and taste like an angel,” Michael says.

  “I’m your angel,” I whisper.

  “Will you dance for me?” he asks.

  I climb up onto the round glass table and start dancing. I imagine his arms all over my nude body as I touch myself, and it is the most erotic dance I have ever performed. I put my finger in my mouth and suck on it.

  Michael’s eyes are blazing, and he stands up and pulls me down off the table. He helps me take my wings off and then he gently lays me down on the couch and gets on top of me. His body feels firm and heavy on top of mine. He kisses me passionately and his hands are groping my derriere. I grab his hips and pull him closer. Can’t get close enough. Oh, shit. I don’t know if I can hold back any more. I need him inside me now.

  “Please give me your information so I can call on you,” Michael says.

  “No, I can’t,” I say.

  Then the lights slowly go up. I realize I need to get out of here before it gets too bright and before he recognizes me. I turn my head to the side.

  “I need to leave now, Michael.”

  He stops kissing me. “Please give me your phone number so I can call you.”

  “No,” I say.

  He kisses me again. “Please?”

  “No.”

  “Then what about an email?”

  I’d have to create a new one with my stage name. Totally doable. “All right,” I say.

  He sits up and searches his overcoat pocket for a pen. I write my email address on a red napkin, hoping the email address isn’t taken already.

  “Samanthatbc88@yahoo.com,” he reads.

  I nod and then head quickly for the exit.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he says, and I’m out.

  11

  I get off work early and head home immediately so I can create a new email account. I open my laptop and do an email name search. Phew! It’s available. I create the account and then hop into the shower. What an evening. Just thinking about Michael’s hands and lips on me sends tingles all through my body. I hop out of the shower and blow-dry my hair.

  Once I’m in my flannel pajamas, I hop onto my bed and check my email. He’s already sent me one. I open it, my heart racing.

  From: MM@ManningRE.com

  RE: Hello

  Date: 12.23:2013 Time: 2:01 am

  _______________________________________

  Dear Miss Samantha,

  It was a pleasure seeing you tonight. I hope you will allow me to call upon you again. I hope you don’t think I was too forward. And I hope in time you will trust me enough to give me more than just your email as a form of outside contact.

  Sincerely Michael Manning.

  So proper, I think, and it dawns on me that he probably was telling the truth when he said it was his first time hiring a stripper. My heart flutters.

  I hit the reply button.

  From: Samanthatbc88@yahoo.com

  RE: Hello

  Date: 12.34:2013 Time: 2:06 pm

  _______________________________________

  Dear Michael,

  It was a pleasure meeting you in the Sanctuary. I hope to meet you there soon again.

  Samantha

  Is that too vague? I mustn’t encourage him too much. I’m not going to give him any more information. He must never find out that it’s actually me, Scarlett. If I marry him and seduce him into falling in love with the ‘real’ me, Samantha will just slip into oblivion, never to surface again. I hit the send button.

  One minute later, I see a reply from Michael.

  From: MM@ManningRE.com

  RE: Vague

  Date: 12.23:2013 Time: 2:09 am

  _______________________________________

  Dear Samantha,

  Why so vague? You know that eventually you will give in to me. I know you felt more than just your duty to your work when you were kissing me today, if I’m not too bold to say. I will be visiting the Sanctuary daily until I earn your trust.

  Sincerely, Michael Manning

  I smile. He wants me. But then I frown. He wants the counterfeit me. Crap. Maybe I have to give my notice in to Laila sooner so the real me has a chance. I don’t want to, because I still need to make ends meet between now and my imminent high-paying divorce. I hit the reply button.

  From: Samanthatbc88@yahoo.com

  RE: I can’t forget about you

  Date: 12.23:2013 Time: 2:11 am

  _______________________________________

  Dear Michael,

  It’s not a trust issue. I never date anyone I meet at work. I hope you will respect my professional boundaries. But I do hope you will call on me at work again soon.

  Samantha

  I close the laptop, not wanting to discuss it further. I know Samantha will have to break his heart, but then have Scarlett be there to catch it. This is getting too complicated, just like Anne said it would. I put my laptop on my desk, hop back into bed feeling like I’m at war with myself. Will the good girl or the bad girl win?

  12

  Next morning, Michael arrives fifteen minutes early and I’m not quite ready. I open the door and he kisses me lightly on the lips before entering. I smile, thinking about our time in the Sanctuary last night. He looks hot as usual. He’s cut his hair and looks really sharp in his crisp, white shirt.

  I offer him a cup of coffee and head upstairs and finish doing my hair. Hopping d
own the steps, I see he’s studying the few paintings I’ve managed to produce over the years. Of course, they’re nothing compared to the great ones like Picasso and Monet.

  “Did you paint these?” Michael asks.

  I reply with a yes.

  “You are a very talented artist. I love how you’ve captured the light and depth in them.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  “Have you ever tried selling these?”

  “No. I just painted them for myself, really. I don’t want to make a career out of it,” I say.

  “If you ever reconsider, I would be more than happy to help,” Michael says.

  “Thanks.”

  He walks over to me, a spring in his step.

  “Happy today?” I ask.

  “Yes, I had a great evening last night.”

  My heart drops. Geez, this is problematic. “Really? What did you do?”

  “Oh, just hung out with a friend.”

  I’m not going to meddle. “Sounds like fun.”

  “The best.” He smiles “Ready to pick out a wedding dress?”

  My insides turn to water. “A wedding dress?”

  “You know, a white dress that you’re going to get married in—?”

  I shoot him a don’t-mess-with-me glance. “I know what a wedding dress is. Where are we going?”

  “There’s a great place right next to the mall off of Main Street. They do invitations and Tuxedos and cakes. We could get everything taken care of in one stop.”

  “Great,” I say. I’m glad I did my hair up today. It will look nice with the dress. Then I realize I really want Anne there. Even though this isn’t my actual wedding, I still would like her to come. But then I remember. This is a business deal, not an actual wedding.

  “And I thought we might as well have the ceremony and reception in my back yard, what do you think?” Michael says.

  “But it’s winter.”

  “We’ll have a tent and have the official ceremony inside in the ballroom. Would you mind a Catholic wedding?”

  I try to keep my emotions out of this. I hadn’t anticipated that I’d feel so stressed, and even finding myself wanting the wedding to be planned a certain way. “A Catholic wedding is fine.”

  “Splendid. My mother will love that. Ready?” Michael says.

  We head to his car, a silver Audi SUV this time. He opens my door and then gets in on his side. Before he drives off, he kisses me deeply, and in the back of my mind I hope he doesn’t recognize the kiss.

  He looks happy today, giddy even. Turning the radio on, he asks, “What type of music do you like?”

  “Depends on what mood I’m in. But around Christmas time I usually like Christmas songs.”

  He turns to a station playing Jingle Bell Rock, and sings along.

  To my surprise, he’s a pretty good singer and I smile because he just looks so cheerful. Goofy cheerful. I attribute it to my alter self last night, but I’m definitely not happy that she has this effect on him. I want him to like me!

  We’re at Eternally Yours in 25 minutes. Three women come to my attention immediately, and I feel like a princess. We sit down in the back by a consultation station and Gail, a chipper young blond, hands me a gigantic book.

  “Please let me know which type of wedding dress you are looking for.” Gail smiles warmly and she looks genuinely excited for me.

  I flip through the catalogue and pick out a couple of styles I think I might like to try on.

  ”Now, some brides don’t like the groom to see the wedding dress before the actual wedding ceremony. Is that the case here?” Gail says.

  “No,” both Michael and I say in unison. We smile at each other.

  Before Gail takes me to the dressing room she has Michael sit down and wait on a very plush couch in the showroom. A large circular platform is situated in front of three huge mirrors. There’s a crystal chandelier in the ceiling and there are wedding gowns everywhere.

  “We’ll be back soon, Mr. Manning,” Gail says and escorts me out. The dressing rooms are gigantic, and when I enter, they’ve already hung seven dresses in my room.

  “Do any of these interest you Ms. Hansen?” Gail asks.

  I pick out the one I like the most. It has a deep scoop neck with thin straps. The waist is a drop waist and the skirt, a long fine chiffon, with a flowing chapel train. I love it.

  Gail helps me walk out to Michael. The moment I step in the room, he stands up. Such a gentleman. But then I see something has changed in his eyes. He stares at me for a moment, and then says, “You look—amazing, Scarlett.”

  I take my place on the platform and look in the mirror. The dress shows off all my nice features, my full bosom, my long sloping neck, and my firm arms.

  “Shall we try the next one?” Gail says.

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to mess it up. This is the one.”

  “How about a veil?”

  “No,” I say. I want my hair down.

  “Jewelry?” Gail persists.

  “Absolutely,” I say.

  Once I’ve picked out a wedding tiara and chandelier earrings, Michael approaches the podium. He reaches out his hand and there’s unmistakably something different in the way he looks at me.

  “You look absolutely amazing,” he says.

  “Yes, you said that before,” I tease. I beam at him and he steps up to the platform with me. Looking in the mirror, I note that we make a striking couple. He grabs me around my waist, dips me, and then kisses me.

  The clerks sigh.

  I can’t help but wonder if he really is starting to like me, or if this is all a show. It’s a show! my subconscious yells.

  “Now for the flowers, the invitations, the cake and the tuxedo,” Gail says.

  Once we’re finished, I’m famished. Michael takes me out to lunch to a small café called Nellie’s right down the road. We sit in a booth across from each other and he orders us a pizza to share.

  “I’m exhausted, how about you?” he says.

  “Yes, and starving.” I laugh. “I think it will be a lovely wedding.”

  “Of course. No expense will be spared for my future wife.” Michael’s phone rings and he answers it. “Yes?”

  I look around the small café. The walls are painted green, but it definitely looks like it could use a facelift.

  “Yes, we picked that all out today. And we decided on December 31st.” He looks at me. “The colors are yellow and—?”

  “Fuchsia,” I fill him in. I assume he’s speaking with his mom.

  He nods and winks. “—Fuchsia. No, we’re going to have the ceremony and wedding at my house. Invite whomever you’d like. Sure, one moment.” He hands me the phone.

  I take the phone, not really too eager to talk with his mom. “Hi.”

  “Hi, Dear. I wanted to see if you’d come over to my house tomorrow for lunch?” Diane says.

  I can’t say no, even though that’s what I want to do. Alone? A small panicky voice says: You’ll never fool her! Don’t go! But I have no choice. “Sure, I’d love to come, what time?” I must be out of my mind.

  “How is noon, dear?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say. Perfectly horrible!

  “That way we can spend a little one-on-one time and get to know each other better,” Diana says.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I lie.

  “Until tomorrow then. And Michael will give you my address.” Diana hangs up and I hand the phone back to Michael.

  He takes a sip of his beer. “Lunch with my mother, huh?” He looks amused.

  “Ok, I’m like panicking here, and you think it’s funny?” I huff.

  “She’s not going to find out. I’ve covered all my tracks,” he says.

  What does that mean? “Is that something you’re an expert in?” I tease.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.” He looks smug, but then takes my hand. “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for helping me out with my predicament. I know it isn’t goin
g to be easy for you.”

  He’s so damn sexy when he’s serious, and I love that he’s holding my hand right now. “Thanks, for the offer. I don’t know what I’d do without it either.” We sit for a moment, our eyes holding each other’s gaze.

  The waitress comes with our pizza and Michael squeezes my hand before he lets go.

  “So what’s next?” I ask.

  “Want to spend the night at my house?”

  “I—can’t tonight. How about Friday or Saturday night?” I say.

  “Maybe I can sleep at your house tonight then?” Michael says.

  “Well, I work late every night this week.” Totally not a lie. “There’s this restaurant that had some extra work and I really need the money.”

  Michael pauses. “You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to supporting you during our engagement phase and during our marriage.”

  I feel stupid. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know you didn’t, but you are really helping me out, and it’s the least I can do.”

  “I’d feel better about it if you didn’t,” I say, unable to swallow the little pride I still have left.

  “Well, think about it at least. But back to tonight. I don’t mind waiting for you at your house. That is if you’re okay with it.” He smiles a mischievous smile.

  I’d love to have him wait for me. “Okay. So tonight then?”

  “Tonight’s great.”

  13

  Michael drops me off at home and we’ve agreed that I hide my front door key in the stucco pot on my front porch. He has to go to work and pack his bags to come over.

  After I finish my laundry, I’m off to the Black Chapel. I take the same detour route to work as before, afraid if I don’t I might have one of Mrs. Manning’s stalker detectives after me.

  Anne hugs me when I arrive. “So how was the Sanctuary?” She smirks.

  “Great,” I say. “Michael still wants my phone number, but I am refusing to give it to him. I did give him my email, though.”