“Your mother would have loved to see you happily married off,” my dad says. “Would she have approved?”
His question takes me by surprise. “I think so.”
My dad’s eyes squint. “I think so, is not a good enough answer. Not for my daughter. Don’t rush into this if it’s not the right thing for you, sweetie. Marriage is nothing to take lightly. One should marry for love only, and that is only when it will last.”
Well too bad my marriage already has a divorce clause in it, I think.
“Have you spoken about the boring details like what you will do with the house?”
“Yes. We’ll be paying off the mortgage so you own it free and clear,” I say.
He nods slowly. “It certainly makes life easier when you have no financial worries.”
“I know. So do I have your blessing?” I ask.
“Only when you know for certain he is the one,” my dad says.
“He is the one,” I say and smile. “Michael makes me happy.” And miserable.
“So am I invited to the wedding?”
“Not only are you invited, I want you to give me away, Dad,” I say.
My dad’s eyes brighten and his eyes gaze over. “It would be my honor.”
“Would you consider coming to celebrate Christmas Eve with us?” I ask.
“I’d love to, Scarlett, but I am just in too much pain. Just come and visit me on Christmas Day, will you?” my dad says.
“Ok” I say.
20
I’m at the mall. I see Michael in the distance, so tall and so striking. I’ve completely fallen for this man, but I’m not willing to admit it openly yet. This is just crazy, though. What have I gotten myself into? I have to tell him that I’m Samantha and Scarlett, but just not yet. I have to find the right time and place, but not right here, and especially not on Christmas Eve. The mall is crazy busy with last minute shoppers desperate to find that one last perfect present.
Michael’s busy texting or emailing someone from his blackberry. I walk toward him, feeling the swarm of crazy butterflies in my stomach multiplying like wildfire. He doesn’t see me yet, which I’m grateful for, because I’d feel silly if he watched me walk all the way to him. He is so sexy, that man. I think of our amazing night last night and equally amazing rendezvous this morning. I could marry this man tomorrow and be happy forever, I think. Especially now that he’s forgotten about Samantha. Maybe Samantha will just slip away and he’ll never know the truth. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, right?
I stop right in front of him and clear my throat just loud enough over the congested noise of the mall-goers. “Who are you texting Mr. Manning?”
He takes my hand and pulls me so hard toward him that I nearly fall to the floor. But he catches me instead and kisses me on the lips.
“It’s just business Mrs. Manning,” he says.
I laugh. “Well, don’t mix business and pleasure.” He helps me sit up and I adjust my newly messy hair.
He leans over and whispers directly into my ear. “You. Are. So. Fine. I want you here and now.”
My entire body tingles, and I want this man to yes, take me here. Take me now.
He sits up, acting as if he just didn’t propose we do the forbidden on this bench. “How about we go to Saks Fifth Avenue?” he says casually.
It takes me a moment to get back from the depths of desire. “I don’t think my budget—”
He pulls me up by my hands. “It’s my treat.”
I look at him. “I thought—”
“Okay, it’s an advance. I’ll subtract it from your paycheck.”
I frown and stick my tongue at him.
“Did you just—?”
“Stick my tongue at you? Absolutely.” I say.
He pulls me in close wrapping his muscular arms around me and says, “Oh, what I can imagine your tongue doing to me.”
Having sex with Michael in the middle of the shopping mall sounds very reasonable at the moment. I squeeze him tight and exhale slowly.
“You are one hell of an amazing woman,” Michael says. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”
I’m amazing? I shake my head.
“Well, you are.” Our eyes lock and he pecks me on the lips. “Now let’s go shopping.”
For my Christmas dress I pick out a ruby red floor-length lace peplum dress. It has a slit in the back and capped sleeves. It’s sexy enough to make Michael’s jaw drop when I show him, but is it conservative enough to be worn around his family?
“Are you sure this isn’t too formal?” I look at the price tag, one dollar short of three thousand. Holy Shit!
“For my family, are you kidding? We live for formal events.”
“You think they’ll approve?”
He smiles wickedly. “I hope not.”
I pretend like I didn’t understand his last suggestive remark. “So how many are coming to the Christmas dinner?” I ask, thinking four, maybe five people tops.
“Usually we have about thirty to forty people,” Michael says.
I swallow a gasp. “That many?” I say as calmly as I can.
“Does that bother you?”
“No, I suppose not, but I am a little nervous to meet them all at once,” I say. A little? My subconscious screams at me. You mean a whole freaking lot!
“Don’t worry. They’ll love you,” Michael says.
I look down at the floor. “And if they don’t?”
“They will. I know what type of girl they want to see me marrying.”
What does that mean? I think.
“Is this the one?” Michael says.
“Yes,” I say, still confused about his last comment.
“Great. Now pick out your outfit for tonight.”
I pick out a long pencil skirt and an off-white fitted sweater.
“Get changed back into my normal clothes. I’ll go pay. Let’s get shoes next,” Michael says.
I slip out of my outfit and hand the clothes to Michael who goes and pays for them. Michael is already waiting for me when I arrive by the shoes. He’s texting on his phone again, and I’m curious who he has to be doing business with today. After we’re done, he follows me home so we can together drive over to his house.
Outside my house he says, “Hey, I forgot to ask. How’s your father?”
“He’s—well, he’s lonely,” I say. “And I told him about you today.”
“We could invite him over tonight, if you’d like. Might make our deal look even more believable.”
Deal? I guess I can’t expect him to call it anything else. It’s not like he has declared his love for me or proposed to me for real. But I can’t ignore that I feel like an object to be used for monetary purposes only. “No, I already asked. He’s just not feeling well. And besides, he’s more of a loner.”
“What’s wrong?” Michael asks.
“Nothing. It’s just my dad, he’s just—not well.”
“Well, the day after Christmas we’re taking him in to see a cancer specialist,” Michael says.
“Thank you. I truly am grateful for the opportunities this deal affords me.” I kiss him lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right back. I go inside and get changed into my Broadway outfit. I see my laptop, but I don’t have time to check my emails at the moment. I have a very hot date in New York.
Once we arrive at Michael’s, he packs a small bag and we head to his private airport.
21
We arrive at a small airport just outside of the JFK Airport. Of course a limousine is waiting for us when we de-board the plane, and we are taken straight to Broadway to the Winter Garden Theatre. It’s much colder here than in Portland, and I wish I would have had a warmer jacket. Entering the theatre, we are quickly ushered to our seats, front row, center. Though we had dinner on the plane, that was several hours ago, and now I hear my stomach growl.
“We’ll go out for dinner after,” Michael leans over and whispers to me.
“Sorry.” I’m embarrassed ab
out my rumbling belly. The performance is better than I have ever seen, and I remember why I like the Sound of Music so much. Sometimes I feel like Maria. I don’t always fit in, and though I want to live a life of virtue, I continually screw up. I like the way Michael holds my hand during the musical. It makes me think that maybe we can grow old together and spend time like this together the rest of our lives.
After the show we decide to get a room and head home tomorrow instead. We’re both exhausted. He books a room at the Ritz Carlton.
“How is it that you always seem to get everything you point at,” I say after he has haggled his way into the Royal suite. The hotel is the finest I’ve ever been to.
“It’s an art form,” Michael says, his lips quirking upward onto half a smile.
We get into the elevator and Michael takes my hand. It’s warm and he squeezes me tightly. “You want a massage?” he asks.
“What kind of massage are we talking about?” I say, raising my right eyebrow.
He glances at me and smiles. “When you put it like that, I think you might want some deep muscle manipulation.”
“Just the way I like it. I can’t wait,” I say and my knees go weak. He lunges at me once we’re at our door. He kisses and starts undressing me the second we’re inside the suite.
First he removes my jacket, then my sweater, then my black lace bra, and he unzips my pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He lets his hand glide from my shoulder to my fingertips as he’s studying my body. I was so sleepy just a minute ago, but now my body is completely awake and ready to go.
“No fair,” I say.
“What?” Michael gets a puzzled look on his face.
“I’m almost completely naked, and here you are, still fully dressed.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says.
Still in my heels, I step closer to him. I take off his blazer, unbutton this blue shirt and unzip his pants. Oh, he’s so sexy halfway undressed. He wiggles out of his clothes quickly, and I enjoy seeing him undress in front of me. With his boxers still on, I see his erection through the silky fabric. My insides yearn for him.
He reaches for my face and cradles it in his hands as he kisses me. His kisses are wet and wild, and I want him so much. He pushes me all the way to the bed, the back of my knees pressing against the mattress. I sit down and pull his briefs off, setting his full erection free. He is so deliciously large. I can’t help but grab him and put him in my mouth.
“Oh, baby,” Michael says as I press him into my mouth, deeper and deeper and as I suck on him hard, cupping my teeth with my lips.
“Careful,” he says. “I don’t want to come like this.”
I suck harder and he moans loudly. “Scarlett.” He pushes me back and I laugh.
“Are you a tease?” Michael says.
I lick my lips slowly, and his lips open.
“What do you want, Scarlett?” Michael asks.
“I want you inside of me,” I say, the words increasing the longing for him even more.
“How?” He’s kneeling on the bed now between my open legs. “Like this?” he says, gliding his fingers inside of me.
Not exactly what I had in mind, but it feels wonderful. He moves his fingers up and down, pressing his fingers up against the inside of my sex. I arch my back in pleasure and moan, and he quickens his pace, sending me into an orgasm.
I’m panting, and he is, too.
“You like this, Scarlett?” he says.
“Oh, yes,” I say.
What about this? He pulls his fingers out of me and places his erection right on my clitoris and starts massaging there.
“Was this what you had in mind?” he asks.
I cannot speak. The sensation is so intense. He gets on top of me and enters me slowly. I press my hips up to meet him, to fully receive his erection. I love the full sensation of him inside of me, and my pleasure is intensified so much more when he starts to move slowly.
“You’re so wet for me, Scarlett.”
I smile. “All for you, baby.”
“How is this?” he asks, still moving slowly.
“Faster,” I say, and he increases his pace a little.
“How’s this?”
“Faster.”
“Demanding today, are we?” He smiles.
He interlaces his fingers in mine, pressing them down into the mattress above my head. He ramps up his speed, and now I feel my insides building toward yet another peak. He’s fucking me hard and it feels so good.
“Oh. Michael.” I just can’t get enough of him.
“You feel so good, Scarlett.”
“Oh, Michael,” is all I can say. Our bodies have started sweating together now; it’s so damn sexy.
“Come for me, Scarlett.”
His words push me over the top and I climax right as he does.
“Scarlett, fuck. Oh Scarlett,” Michael says as he comes. Then he leans his head down beside mine, still breathing heavily. “Where was I before I met you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I think you were waiting to find me.”
The next morning Michael wakes me up at 7:15a.m. His hair is wet, so I think he’s already taken a shower.
“Time to get up.”
He kisses my cheek and I force my eyes open. Then, remembering our wonderful evening last night I smile.
“We have to get going if we want to make it to my Christmas Eve dinner.”
I close my eyes and stir and then I feel his lips pressing against mine.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Michael says.
I am not a morning person. He goes into the bathroom and turns the shower on.
I roll out of bed naked and wrap a sheet around my body. Coming into the bathroom, I see Michael’s already dressed I drop the sheet and hop into the shower.
“We’ve got to get back to the plane very soon. We can eat breakfast on the plane.” Michael says.
Soon we’re at the airport and I sleep almost all the way home. Once we land, I tell Michael I’d like to stop home for a few items before heading over to his place. He drives me home in his Porsche SUV and waits for me outside.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
“Sure babe.”
I unlock the front door and run up the stairs. My home is cold and dark and feels abandoned. I search through my jewelry box and pick out my rhinestone earrings and a few other personal items.
I see my laptop again and figure I have just a minute to check my email. I pop open my laptop and see that Samantha has four messages from Michael. I so hope he sent them before we…
Hesitantly I open the first one.
From: [email protected]
RE: Us
Date: 12.23.2013
_______________________________________
Samantha,
I tried getting hold of you at the Black Chapel, but you refused to meet me. Why? I thought we had a connection and was wanting desperately to see you again. Please respond to my email. If anything, please let me know what I did wrong so I can rectify the situation.
Yours truly, Michael.
________________________________________
Well, that was before he told me he had let the other girl go, I tell myself. I open the next email to Samantha.
From: [email protected]
RE: Please reply
Date: 12.23.2013
_______________________________________
Dear Samantha,
I really wanted to meet so that I could talk to you about something important. But I see now that you will not be responding to my emails. I want to wish you the best in the future, Sincerely, Michael Manning.
________________________________________
Fair enough, but why are there more emails? I check the date and time. It’s after he told me he had let Samantha go. My heart starts beating, and not in a good way.
From: [email protected]
RE: I can’t forget about you
Date: 12.24:2013 Time:
1:01 pm
_______________________________________
Samantha,
I’ve tried to get you off my mind, but I simply can’t. Every time I see a Christmas angel I am reminded of your beautiful body—just like an angel’s. The image of your body and the honest and passionate kisses we shared still haunt me. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please reply. And either kill my heart quickly, or agree to meet me again.
Michael
________________________________________
My heart is broken, shattered, devastated. How could he do this to me? The tears come out of nowhere, and I want to run out to him in the car and confront him right here, right now. And to make matters worse, the time he sent this email was right before I met him at the mall. So that’s who he had been emailing. The stripper! Deep down, I know the only person I have to thank is myself. I didn’t know I’d be such stiff competition. I try to laugh, but can’t. Dare I read the last one? I have to read on. I click next.
From: [email protected]
RE: Are you okay?
Date: 12.24.2013 Time: 2:04 pm
_______________________________________
Samantha,
I really need to speak with you. You have completely and utterly enthralled me. Just let me know what I need to do to earn your attention. Ask me anything at all.
Michael
________________________________________
He wrote that right before I got my shoes. That slime ball!
“Scarlett?” Michael yells.
Crap! I close my laptop and wipe the tears off my face. “Be right there!” I grab my earrings and my bag with my personal belongings. I need to find a way to make him pay. I meander down the stairs and the traitor of a man is standing there in the living room.
“What’s the matter?” Michael says, acting all cool.
“Why?” I ask.
“You’ve been crying.” He approaches me, but I step back.
“I’m just sad. This is the first Christmas without my mom.” I close my eyes. Oh, God, I hate myself right now. It’s the damn truth, but not in relation to his question.
The Black Chapel Page 11