“There’s one more empty stool,” Kay announced into the microphone, cupping her hand over her eyebrows to scan the back of the room. “But maybe she left.”
Please make me invisible, I prayed. I can’t cross the room in this dress, to be auctioned off in that crowd. I’d make a fool out of myself.
“She hasn’t left!” Matilda yelled, pushing me forward.
“There she is!” Kay crooned. “It’s Miss Cassie Robichaud, one of our lovely volunteers. Now, doesn’t she look enchanting!”
Matilda placed her hands on my shrunken shoulders. She must have been able to tell I had died a little inside. She whispered in my ear, “Remember, Cassie, this is Step Six: Confidence. You have it in you already. Find it. Now.”
With one last nudge, I was launched into the crowd, and I made my way slowly, eyes heavy on me. I curved around the tables, my skirt brushing chair legs and calves. As I crossed the empty dance floor and headed to the stage, the dress elicited some oohs and aahs. But the healthy wolf whistle from the balcony actually made me laugh a little. Had it really been meant for me? When I passed Pierre’s table, I tried to avoid eye contact with him. I climbed the stairs and passed Tracina, perched on her stool like an agitated bird.
“You seem more and more interesting the longer I know you,” she hissed as I took my seat.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Kay started the bidding with the news anchor, who, after a fierce back and forth, went for $7,500 to the general manager of one of the waterfront casinos. The model, who’d made aggressive attempts to get Pierre’s attention, was crestfallen when Mark “Sharky” Allen, the Gem and Jewel King with the cheesy late-night commercials, battled it out to the tune of $16,000 to win a dance with her. The sisters went as a package deal and two of the debutantes attracted five-figure bids. Tracina kept primping and preening while she eyed Pierre at his table close to the stage. But it was Carruthers Johnstone, the exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered district attorney from Orleans Parish, who opened and closed bidding on Tracina for $15,000, a hell of a sum that caused the room to erupt in a round of applause.
I was never going to garner that kind of money. Tracina had those long legs and a vivacious personality. She was funny and hip. She could work a room. She could stand up for herself. Even dressed as a pixie she was sexy as all get out. I felt even more humiliated as the event came close to an unceremonious end.
“We are still short of our goal, but we do have one more bachelorette up for auction. Cassie works as a waitress at Café Rose, one of our esteemed sponsors. So I guess, let’s open bidding at $500, shall we?”
Oh God, oh God, someone take pity on me and get this over with. I’ll actually pay you back if you just give me one low bid and get me off this podium, I thought. But when a man’s voice said, “I’ll start the bidding at $5,000,” I was sure I had misheard. The spotlight was on me and I could hardly see the faces in the crowd.
“Did you say $500, Mr. Castille?” Kay asked.
Mr. Castille? Did Pierre Castille just bid $500? For me?
“No. I said $5,000, Kay. I’d like to open the bidding at $5,000,” he said, stepping towards the podium and into the spotlight where I could finally see him. His eyes looked me over like I was a sweet confection he’d never tried before. I clasped my hands in my lap, then crossed my legs, then uncrossed them.
“That’s … that’s very generous, Monsieur Castille. We open at $5,000. Anyone willing to go higher?”
“$6,000,” said a voice in the back, a voice belonging to … Will.
He came back? Tracina shifted on her stool and pursed her glossy lips. What was Will thinking? He didn’t have that kind of money!
“$7,000,” said Pierre, glancing over at Will. I felt sick to my stomach, then felt amazing. Then sick again.
“$8,000,” Will choked.
Tracina shot me an angry look and threw the same one at Will, who was moving to the front of the room to stand beside Pierre. What was Will doing? Kay was about to slap the gavel down to announce a victory to Will, when Pierre announced, “I bid $50,000.” The crowd gasped in astonishment. “Does that get you to your goal, Kay?”
Kay was dumbfounded. “Monsieur Castille, $50,000 gets us well past that. Any other takers?”
The look on Will’s face almost made me cry. He dropped his head and smiled the smile of the defeated.
“And, sold!” Kay yelled, closing the bidding with a pound of her gavel against the podium. “Let the dancing begin!”
The crowd immediately began to chatter and rise from their seats, making their way to the empty space in front of the stage.
Tracina sprung off her stool and disappeared among the throng to find her bidder. Pierre stood at the edge of the stage, a grin on his face, Will standing awkwardly beside him.
“Good try, old friend,” Pierre said, clapping Will a little too hard on the back. “I’ll be sure to stop by the Café now that I have a good reason to.”
“You do that,” he said. “Cassie, I hope you don’t … Oh forget it. I’m going home.”
Before I could say anything, Will disappeared in the crowd.
“You look magnificent, Miss Robichaud,” Pierre said. “Fit for a prince,” he added as he took my hand and led me to the center of the dance floor, his bodyguards never far behind.
I could sense the question in everyone’s minds as they watched us: Who is this girl who has so captivated Pierre Castille? And even though other couples were now joining the dance floor, it felt like Pierre and I were the only two people in the room. He pulled me so close I could feel his breath on my neck. When the band started and he began to move me around the floor, I thought I would faint.
“Why me?” I asked. “You can have any girl you want.”
“Why you? You’ll understand why after you accept the Step,” he said, holding me even tighter.
Pierre Castille is a S.E.C.R.E.T. participant? “I … but … you?”
“Cassie, do you accept?”
It took me a few seconds to absorb the fact that this man was a participant. Who else in this room was part of S.E.C.R.E.T., or knew about it? Kay? The D.A.? A debutante or two? The room spun along with my mind until the band ended the song with a flourish. Pierre released me and kissed my hand.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Cassie Robichaud. Until we meet again.”
I wanted to scream, Wait! I do accept the Step! But did I? What about Will? Pierre bowed deeply, then left the room surrounded by his security guards, stranding me alone on the dance floor. I looked around for Matilda, Amani, anyone besides Tracina, but of course Tracina was the first to get to me.
“Aren’t you a little mystery,” she said, fist on the waistband of her wilted tutu.
“Where’s Will?” I asked, craning my neck to try to find him.
“Gone.”
Before I could say anything else, a security guard grabbed my elbow. “Miss Robichaud, there’s an urgent call for you. Please come with me,” he said, to my and Tracina’s astonishment.
The guard guided me out of the ballroom, across the marble lobby and into a waiting limo, eyes on me the whole time. My head was spinning. What a night. The entire community had seen me being picked, chosen, desired. It was all so heady and so lovely. But to enjoy it fully, I had to push thoughts of Will out of my head.
In the limo, I found a chilled glass of champagne in the armrest. I took a sip and sank back into the leather seat as the driver took us down a private ramp where a cluster of security guards appeared. Before I could even blink, Pierre pushed through them, secretly ducking into the limo with me. It was all so swiftly executed, it seemed second nature to everyone except me.
“We’ll exit from the back, out the parking garage,” he instructed.
The driver nodded and then closed the window between the front and back of the limo.
“Hello,” Pierre said, facing me now, grinning and a little flushed. “That went well, I think.”
“I … yes, it did,” I stammered,
while playing with the folds of my dress. It truly was the prettiest piece of clothing I’d ever worn, let alone seen.
“So. Do you accept the Step?”
I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that the Bayou Billionaire was a participant in S.E.C.R.E.T. I flashed back to the opening night of Halo, the time I saw him chatting with Kay Ladoucer in the lobby. I reddened slightly, remembering that distinguished British man and the things he did with his hands. Was Pierre participating in a fantasy that night too?
“Cassie, the rules say this is the last time I get to ask: do you accept the Step?”
I waited a beat, then nodded.
His kiss came at me so quickly, it took me several seconds to catch up. When I did, I had no problem matching his ardor. He pulled me on top of him, kissing my clavicle, my shoulders, my neck, his arms completely wrapped around me. Then through the limo window, I caught the briefest glimpse of Tracina holding hands with the D.A. What? No!
“Is that Carruthers Johnstone?” I asked Pierre, breathless.
Pierre turned just as the giant man scooped Tracina up and placed her on the trunk of a car, kissing her deeply.
“Yes. Bit of a ladies’ man, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, poor Will,” I muttered.
“Cassie.” Pierre cupped my chin, making me stare directly into the greenest, most mischievous eyes I’d ever seen. “I’m right here. We have to get you out of this dress. Right now.”
I couldn’t, wouldn’t think about Will right now. Not while I was in the back of a limo with one of the sexiest men in the city.
“What about the driver?”
“One-way glass. We can see him, but he can’t see us. No one can.”
With that, he reached around me and I felt the delicate zipper of my dress snake down my back, the bodice peeling away from me, leaving me surrounded by pink crinoline and sateen, a cupcake melting in his lap. He began to sort through the folds, grabbing a lush handful of fabric and lifting the whole garment over my head. My tiara caught in the folds, ripping my chignon loose, so by the time he got the dress fully off and tossed it to the other side of the limo, I was a flushed mess, wearing only a lacy strapless bra, a silk thong and my sparkling heels, my hair cascading down around my bare shoulders.
“Unbelievable,” he said, pressing me back into the seat opposite him. “I want to see all of you. Take the rest off, Cassie.”
I was emboldened by the auction, the dance, the champagne, the privacy of this fast-moving limo, and his obvious attraction, and so I did. I slowly unfastened my bra and let it drop to the floor. Then, I hooked one finger under the band of my thong and eased it down to my ankles, and flicked it off with a toss of my foot. Then I pushed back into the plush seat and opened my legs to him, heels still on. What had become of the shy Cassie who couldn’t leave her bedroom wearing a bathrobe? I was jelly in that seat, my legs weakened and shaking. Our eyes looked so deeply into each other that I didn’t think it would be possible to break the gaze.
“Amazing,” he said, waiting a beat before springing forward to bury his face in my breasts, his hand isolating a nipple and sucking and licking it, slowly then urgently. It was, he was, so sexy. He slowly slid a finger inside me. My hands drove through his soft hair, his kisses trailing back and forth between my breasts, until his mouth moved down over my fluttering belly. My God, this was all too much! I was quaking with every kiss.
“I’m going to make you scream, Cassie,” he said, before dipping down into me, his tongue landing on that exquisite spot.
“Oh God.” It was all I could say as I fell back on my elbows and gave myself up to the sensations. He kissed down my thighs, teasing me, then his warm mouth closed down around me, pulling me fast into that magic place. I couldn’t stop the pounding waves of pleasure, nor did I want to. I fully submitted, my legs splayed, my body melting into the seat.
And then I passed that point, that white-hot turning point that his mouth brought me to so easily. I could hear his voice, the catch of his breath. I let the sweet tornado build inside me, knowing he was just beginning.
As I lay there panting, he ripped his clothes off as though they were burning his skin. He sheathed himself with a free hand, while I reached out and grabbed for the muscle of his arms, holding on as he entered me.
“You feel so good,” he said hoarsely.
The determination on his face was so sexy. I had to touch it, and when I did, his mouth captured my fingers and sucked them as he rocked inside me, a whole new level of desire filling me. My legs wrapped around his slim hips and I moved with him, gripping his buttocks, careful not to dig too hard with my nails but loving the feel of his firm flesh in my hands. He never lost tempo with my body, even when the car turned. He said my name over and over again, until at last I felt him shudder and stiffen, his arm scooped beneath me, arching me into that sweet space I was coming to know so well. And then he brought me to a whole new place of bliss. I came again, my body pushing into his as I clutched him between my thighs. I could feel him release, too, and then, slowly, he lowered himself on top of me, holding one of my hands, our fingers entwined, mouths a few inches apart, though we couldn’t kiss each other anymore. We had to catch our breath. He pushed away gently, collapsing back on the seat opposite me as I lay gasping.
“I’m sorry if the limo felt a little rushed, but I wanted to rip your dress off when you were on the stage tonight. So I think I exercised some restraint, don’t you?”
“Glad you held back.” Feeling bold, I asked a few questions of my own. “Have you done this before? With S.E.C.R.E.T.? I mean, you’re kind of, um, an eligible guy. Why would you need to do something like this to have your sexual fantasies realized?”
“You’d be surprised, Cassie. Anyhow, I’m told I’m not supposed to say too much. Matilda warned me that you were the curious type. I could ask you the same question. Why would such an alluring woman like you need S.E.C.R.E.T.?”
“You’d also be surprised,” I said, sitting and gathering up my dress. I felt vulnerable and a little angry that Matilda had told him anything about me.
“Has it been everything you thought it would be?” he asked.
“S.E.C.R.E.T. has taught me a lot,” I said, securing the bodice, adjusting the back myself.
“Like what?”
“Like that it might be impossible for one man to fulfill all of a woman’s desires.” Why was I being so insouciant?
“You might be wrong about that,” Pierre said, sliding into his boxers and then his tuxedo pants.
“Oh?”
He reached across the seat, put his hand around my wrist and tugged me towards him, until I was kneeling in front of him. His eyes held mine for a few moments before he plunged his face into my neck and buried a firm kiss in the place where it curved into my shoulder. Just then the limo pulled up in front of the Spinster Hotel. He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket and took out a gold charm. My gold charm.
“Ah, let me see. A Roman numeral six, with the word Confidence on the back. Very … charming.”
While he grinned at his play on words, I reached for the charm, but Pierre dangled it farther away from me.
“Not so fast,” he said, the light in his green eyes now ablaze. “I want you to know something, Cassie. When you’re done with this … thing you’re doing, I’m going to come and find you. And when I do, I’m going to show you that one man can fulfill all your desires.”
I didn’t know whether to feel overjoyed or overwhelmed, but I carried his good-night kiss, and my shoes, up the stairs and past Anna’s door on the second floor, where I noticed that her light was still on.
For days after the Ball, my mood careened from ecstatic to morose. I’d flash back to scenes with Pierre in the limousine, and I’d have to squeeze my legs together to contain my longing. Other times, I’d plummet, because the flip side of a fantasy is that despite how real it feels, and how fantastically it’s executed, it is not, in fact, real.
Still, it was hard to re
sist poring over the society pages in the Times-Picayune, one of those New Orleans mainstays in a city that loved its benefits and balls. There I was, photographed in the background, of course, because Pierre Castille was the focus of the evening. The caption described me as the “Cinderella Seductress” who “captivated the Bayou Bachelor.” This provided endless fodder even for Dell, who seemed more impatient with me than she was with Tracina.
“Hey, Cinderella Seductress,” Dell teased, “any chance you could look after table ten for me? I got a prince picking me up tonight in a giant pumpkin. Pulling up right here on Frenchmen Street. Got any shoes I can borrow?”
Tracina, on the other hand, had grown more subdued. She seemed withdrawn, though I often got the feeling she was coiling up, storing her venom until a future opportunity to sting me presented itself.
I was admittedly occupied with thoughts of Pierre. When I met Matilda for one of our post-fantasy talks, I immediately asked about him: would I see him again? Had he asked about me? But before she opened her mouth, I already knew she’d advise against seeing him again for fear that I’d reignite something. Because by this time, we were both aware my body was drawn to men my mind knew were not necessarily right for me.
“It’s not that he’s a bad man, Cassie,” she said. “He’s generous and intelligent. But he can also be dangerous to any woman who believes him to be capable of more intimacy than he is.”
“If Pierre’s so dangerous, why did you recruit him?”
“Because he was perfect for that particular fantasy. I was thrilled when he called me and said yes. We’ve been trying to recruit him for years. And I knew you wouldn’t be disappointed. Isn’t that the fantasy you wanted to experience?”
“Yes, I did. But—”
“No buts.”
I nodded, on the brink of tears. Oh God, I thought, don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about. It was just a little fling. Some sex, great sex, but that’s it. Yet the tears flowed.
S.E.C.R.E.T.: An Erotic Novel Page 15