by Velvet Veers
Every muscle in Taft's body grew taut. She knew they would reach the top of the mountain together. Victoria swallowed, sending them both over the edge before they both collapsed.
When they should have been basking in the glow of post-coital bliss, something caught them as strange when they both looked at each other.
Somewhere along the way the music stopped and the television came on by itself. Not so strange, she thought, in this day of remote control, but neither held one. Moans and groans coming from the screen had both Victoria and Taft sitting up.
Victoria gasped. There in front of her were the same two women who had flanked Taft on the dance floor. She sat mesmerized, stunned, as the two women pleasured each other—while Taft stood watching.
Taft stumbled to the set, meaning no doubt to turn it off, banging his shin on the coffee table.
"Shit,” he yelped.
Once he turned off the TV, he whirled around to face Victoria. “I am so sorry you had to see that. It's not what you think."
"I don't think any explanation is necessary. Pictures do speak louder than words, Taft. Those two women I recognize from the club. They were all over you on the dance floor. What kind of sordid little tryst do you have going? What kind of game are you playing? Do you want me in on it, too? Is that why you made sure I saw this?” said Victoria, her anger spewing with every word.
She grabbed her clothes and purse, heading out the door, trying to gracefully pull on her dress as she went. Taft grasped her by the arm, Victoria jerked away.
"Please, baby, let me explain. I should have told you about Melanie. I'm sorry."
"You could have at least had the decency to tell me you were involved with these two women. What kind of pervert are you, anyway?"
"No, Melanie is an old girlfriend. I broke it off with her because she is one sick puppy, a demented woman, as you can clearly see. She broke into my penthouse when I was having it remodeled and waited for me in the bed. When I walked in, she was there, with Lisa hiding in the closet. When Melanie's planned seduction failed, Lisa came out of hiding. They started their dog and pony show. I threw them out and told them I would have them arrested if they tried it again. End of story. I had no idea they videotaped it."
"It looked to me like you were enjoying it, Taft,” Victoria accused.
"I won't lie to you or make excuses, sweetheart. What man wouldn't watch if it's happening right under his nose? But I swear, I don't want her. I refused to touch them or be a part of their act. You have to believe me, Victoria."
Although, sick at heart, Victoria felt she knew the man well enough to believe he spoke the truth. “Okay, Taft, I believe you. My instincts tell me you're being honest."
Taft breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her into his arms. “I promise you, Victoria, you won't be sorry. I won't let you down."
"Please, Taft,” she said as she pulled away, yawning. “I'm tired. Can we get some sleep now?"
"Yes, princess,” he said, smiling, and led her to his room.
CHAPTER 6
Victoria woke up to a light masculine snore. She thought for a fleeting moment she was lying next to her ex-husband. But a quick glance around told her nothing looked familiar. For an eternal couple minutes she had no clue where she was. A hand brushed her breast and her memory quickly returned—Taft Houston. His somnolent touch sent fresh waves of desire thundering through her body.
"Oh, no,” She groaned. Here I go again, she thought. I can't seem to control my own flesh around this man. She had to get out of here and fast.
Her body rebelled as she slowly slid from under his hand. She had to sneak out without waking him. In the aftermath of the cyclone of passion that had swept through her the night before, her logical mind took precedence. She could lose her job. And she needed her job in a bad way if she were ever to get out of the shelter. Victoria, from this day forward, had to rely on herself and no one else. No more short cuts. No more excuses. No more sugar daddies. She was her own woman and she controlled her life. She would get her own apartment and be self-reliant. Getting caught up in this emotional and physical entanglement with Taft Houston would ultimately drag her down, maybe even destroy her. This was one of life's big tests, and by God, she'd pass it with flying colors.
She dressed quickly, but before she left she had to steal one last look. Taft slept peacefully, gentle smile on his face. Her gaze crept to the bulge residing beneath the sheet. She wanted desperately to take one last look at his gorgeous face and magnificent body she had enjoyed so much the night before, though not nearly enough to sate the desire now curling her stomach in a tight knot. She wanted to feel him buried deep inside her, wanted him to fill her with his flesh, wanted them to be one body, interconnected as close as a man and woman could ever be.
No, you have to go, she scolded herself. Walking out the door, her limbs felt like lead weights, trudging through the muck. One step—one agonizing step at a time.
Standing outside the door of Taft's office building stood the same woman from the club and the videotape. Melanie he'd called her. Victoria tried to walk past and ignore her, but Melanie grabbed her arm.
"So how did you like our little performance, Victoria?” Melanie asked, her voice low and throaty.
"Let go of me,” Victoria said, trying to jerk free of Melanie's grasp.
"Not before I say what I came to say."
"Then get it out quick and let me go."
Melanie stood nose to nose with Victoria, looking at her like a tigress. “Taft is mine, bitch. You stay away from him or you're going to be sorry—dead sorry. This is a big, bad world. Bad things can happen to pretty little girls like you."
Her heart pounded with anger and fright as Victoria broke away from Melanie's grasp and jumped into a nearby cab. “Hurry, please. Get me the hell out of here."
Melanie laughed hysterically as the cab pulled away, sending chills up Victoria's spine.
My, God, she thought, Taft was right; the woman was insane. Victoria gulped for fresh air when she alighted from the cab and shook her head, releasing the webs that had spun inside her over the past few mesmerizing days. The further away she got from this man, the better off she would be. The all-consuming passion between the two of them scared her to death. She wanted and needed him to a point of desperation. Not only did that thought frighten her, so did Melanie.
Victoria took her cell phone from her purse and called Stephen Sawyer's personal number. The sooner she got this over with, the better. Her mind was made up.
"Hello, Mr. Sawyer. This is Victoria Taylor. I'm sorry to have to ask this of you but please do not send me on any more jobs with Taft Houston.” Victoria held her breath while she waited for his reply, fearing he would deny her.
"Why? What did he do to you?” Mr. Sawyer asked, alarm evident in his tone.
"Oh, no, it's nothing like that,” Victoria reassured him. “I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm attracted to him. I didn't expect that to happen and I just don't want to break company rules. I agreed to certain standards when I went to work for you and I have every intention of adhering to them."
Stephen Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief. “I definitely understand your predicament and I appreciate your honesty."
"When I started working for this company I anticipated escorting older wealthy men, not young ones.
I will immediately place a flag on your jobs and we will set you up with older men from this point forward that you would feel more comfortable with."
"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. I have another favor to ask, if you don't mind. Do you think I could get an advance on my paycheck? I need to put a deposit down on an apartment.
"Sure come by the office today and Becca will write you a check."
* * * *
The next morning her pager went off first thing. Victoria wrote down the details for her assignment with a Mr. Sam Marks.
Since she was already awake, Victoria decided to get up and go apartment hunting after she retrieved the deposit money.
Excitement coursed through her with the prospect of her very first apartment of her own.
Dressing in a comfortable pair of slacks and a silk royal blue shirt that enhanced the blue in her eyes, Victoria left for Companionship, Inc.'s office.
Walking through the door, Victoria spotted Becca, leaning against the closed door to listen to her boss's conversation. When Becca saw Victoria, she raised a finger to her lips, indicating to keep quiet.
Victoria smiled at Becca's blatant, shameless eavesdropping. But her smile soon faded when she overheard the discussion in Stephen's office.
A man, possibly a detective, said, “Mr. Sawyer we have a homicide investigation in progress as of this morning. We found one of your employees dead in a hotel room at the Omni. A brutal death. Was she on an assignment for you?"
Stephen's voice seemed tight, almost clipped. “No, last night was her night off."
"We need to access the records of the men she had last been with."
"I'm sorry. Those records are confidential."
"Need we remind you this is a homicide investigation? We'll get a search warrant."
Stephen's voice rose. “Then get one."
The screech of chair legs across the tiled floor could be heard as the detective obviously rose. “We will be back. You can count on it."
Becca rolled her chair back to her desk just as two men stepped from the office.
They looked at Becca and acknowledged her in the way of a nod. Their gazes swept over Victoria as they walked to the door. A chill ran down her spine from the intensity of their glares.
Visibly shaken and white as a ghost, Stephen walked out of his office after the detectives had left. “Victoria, I didn't know you were here. Becca, Victoria needs an advance on her wages. Will one thousand be enough?"
"Plenty, thank you, Stephen.” A smile briefly curved her lips before turning down from the anger she saw in his gaze. “Is something wrong?
"Yes.” He sighed. “I might as well tell you both since it will likely be on the news. One of our employees, Judith Frye, was murdered last night.
"How? Where?” Becca asked, her expression not showing that she had been eavesdropping.
"I don't have all the details, but apparently at The Omni sometime late last night. If you will excuse me, I have calls to make."
"Certainly."
Victoria walked from the office, feeling as though she'd been hit by a Mack truck. Anger, sadness, and fear, boiled over her, a mixture of emotions. She would take a long walk and try to sort out the details of the past few days. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
* * * *
Tonight's escort job required formal attire. She dug into her boxes stacked along the wall for her floor-length, black sequined gown, then quickly swept her hair into a French twist. The appearance seemed elegant, refined, and older.
The cab driver's eyebrow quirked when he picked her up, donned in formal attire, in front of the shelter. “To the Anatole,” Victoria instructed.
She was extremely nervous about tonight's date and whom she would escort. What if he turned out to be Judith's killer?
Directly inside the lobby, Victoria spotted a balding man holding a red rose within plump, wrinkled fingers. Suddenly confident the date would be a cinch, she walked over to him and said, “I'm Victoria Taylor. You must be Sam Marks."
His broad smile revealed a solid row of perfectly capped teeth. They reminded her of Chiclets. She returned his smile as he thrust the rose into her hand.
"Sam Marks,” he repeated in a voice thin as tissue. His face reddened and he tore his gaze from her face, offering his arm.
"Are you ready to go inside?” he asked.
"As ready as you are."
The banquet setting seemed pleasant enough, though the food tasted like dry cardboard and the speaker droned on for what felt like hours. Victoria even nodded off a time or two and wondered with a chuckle if her pay might get docked for sleeping on the job. Luckily for her, Sam Marks sat next to her like a lump of clay, paying her little mind. Victoria attempted to draw Sam into the conversation several times, but he simply stared into space. She couldn't help but wonder if he might be in early stages of Alzheimer's.
* * * *
The following three nights reminded her of the movie Ground Hog Day—a nightmare that never ended and kept repeating itself. Different men, same scenario. By the last date, she laid her head back in the taxi and depression folded over her like a wet, woolen blanket. Victoria found herself extremely bored and lonely. She missed Taft.
After paying the taxi driver, she walked into the shelter. Her body nearly blazed from her acute memories of Taft. She wanted more. Her heart, soul, and body screamed for him, yearned for him. She burned to have all of this man. How will I ever sleep, she wondered? She wanted to feel again what she felt while in his bed, in his arms. The world seemed so flat and dull again. It was as though part of her body had been dormant for the past ten years and had now come back to life. What if she lost control and never got it back? She needed a release from the new heat wave that seemed to possess her.
Maybe a cold shower would sober her up. But the community shower this time of night held little appeal. The only private room on the premises had a toilet, washbasin and a full-length mirror, but no shower. She hoped splashing cold water on her face would do the trick. Victoria would be allowed ten minutes of solitude before hitting her cot.
She locked the door behind her and splashed cold water on her face and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her nervousness earlier in the evening kept her from taking more than a cursory look in the mirror before leaving for the job. Victoria looked at herself more thoroughly. She turned to the side and fluffed her hair, bringing it down to cascade over her shoulders. Not bad, she thought. She unzipped her dress and pulled the straps down to expose her breasts and lifted them with her hands, kneading them as Taft had done.
Victoria wondered how he felt when he touched her, fondled and tasted her. She allowed the dress to slip to the floor where it fell in a heap at her feet. She wanted to see herself naked—to see what Taft might see one day. Her skin glistened in the low soft light, a soft sheen of sweat radiant on her belly. She dropped her hands lower, feeling the tautness, the curvature of her waist, and the softness of her skin.
She closed her eyes, pretending her hands were Taft's, hands that knew how to touch her, to make her blood pulsate within her. Her hands dipped below her panties as she continued to think of his caresses, seeking that dark wet place, seeking the pleasure she had been denied for so long, pleasure that only his hands could bring. She spread her legs and allowed her hands to create the passion Taft had started within her. She imagined his mouth on her nipples, devouring her while his penis pressed against her, demanding, desiring, and insisting with need. Her hands stroked, finding her clit and feeling it swell. Her fingers probed deep and hard, forging the path his penis would take when he entered her.
Every muscle in her body tightened and her muscles clamped as her release washed over her.
"Ohh,” she moaned, her fingers wet. She crumpled to the toilet seat, exhausted and spent.
Victoria had finally found her womanhood.
CHAPTER 7
Five days had passed since Taft had seen Victoria, had held her in his arms all night. She had disappeared from his life like an apparition. He'd called Companion, Inc. several times a day. When he requested the services of Victoria Taylor all he received had been a recorded message stating Victoria Taylor was unavailable for the job. Upon hearing the last message, he threw his cell phone across the room, shattering it like glass.
Reaching his office, he called Stephen Sawyer's personal number. “Damn it, Stephen, I have paid a chunk of change to this company and can't even get the escort I requested. What's the problem? Hell, I can't even get you to return my calls."
Stephen cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, but we've had a tragedy at Companionship, Inc. One of our girls has been murdered."
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"I heard about Judith—Judith Frye, wasn't that her name? I hired her a couple of times for some business functions. She was a really nice person."
Stephen continued, “Was is the operative word. Someone stabbed her. The only lead they have is someone saw a fairly tall male, wearing a cowboy hat, leave her apartment. The cops are crawling all over this place. Won't give us a minute's peace. They want a backlist of every client she met. That would include you, so expect a call. Especially since you were the last one she escorted."
"Stephen, what about Victoria?” Taft asked.
"She requested no more jobs with you, Taft. I'm sorry."
Rendered nearly speechless, Taft asked, “She what?"
"You heard what I said. Let it go. There are plenty of other escorts available."
"I can tell I'm not making any headway here.” Taft slammed down the phone.
Well, by God, Victoria was going to see him whether she wanted to or not. He wanted her and Taft Houston always got what he wanted.
He called the limousine service he used the few times he had taken out Victoria and asked for the chauffeur, Malcolm. Damn, to his luck, Malcolm would not be in until four o'clock. Taft would have to wait an hour. He tried to get some work done, but memories of Victoria interrupted him. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way about anyone else in his life. Useless at the office, Taft made the trip to the limousine services personally to see the driver.
"Malcolm, you know the date I had the other night? Victoria Taylor?"
"Yes, sir, I remember her."
"I was wondering if you could tell me the address where you dropped her off?"
"Sure, let me check my log book. I wrote it down.” He walked to the limo and pulled out a book and flipped through several pages, then tapped it with his finger. “Yes, here it is, 1532 Pearl Street."