Cinder-Un-Rella [Companionship Inc., Book I]

by Velvet Veers

  Relief flooded Taft; he shook Malcolm's hand and gave the man a hundred-dollar bill.

  "Thanks man,” Malcolm said, tucking the bill into his trouser pocket.

  He knew Pearl Street and headed for the location. In twenty minutes, he would see Victoria. He'd get to the bottom of all this yet. Why wouldn't she see him? Surely she cared for him or she wouldn't have responded to him the way she had. His groin throbbed just at the thought of their shared passion.

  Pearl Street loomed ahead where he slid into a nearby parking place. Striding up to the townhouse, he knocked on the door. No one answered the call. He knocked louder and the door creaked open a crack.

  "Yes?” A tall, thin man answered the call.

  "I am here to see Victoria."

  "Who?"

  "Victoria Taylor. I believe she lives here."

  "No, sir. This is the home of Tom and Sally Madison. I am sorry I don't know a Victoria."

  Taft frowned and thanked the man. He stood on the sidewalk and called Malcolm again on his cell, but Malcolm confirmed the address to be correct.

  "Damn,” Taft cursed, having no idea where to look next.

  Back in his Dallas office, Taft buzzed his secretary. “Marge, please send Foster in to see me—ASAP."

  Not five minutes later, his senior vice-president, Stanley Foster, stepped into his office. “You wanted to see me?"

  "Yes, have a seat, Stan. I have a personal favor to ask of you."

  "Sure, anything you want, Taft."

  "I need you to call this number.” Taft handed him the Companionship, Inc.'s business card. “And ask for an appointment with Ms. Victoria Taylor."

  Stanley's eyebrows rose. “Am I going on a date with this woman? Although it might be nice, my wife might not think so.” Stanley chuckled at his own humor.

  "Yes, you are going on a date. For one night only, dinner and that's it. After your date, put her in a taxi and you go home. That's the end of it. I'll accept full responsibility for any wrath that might incur if your wife gets wind of this."

  "When do I set up this mystery date?"

  "Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock sharp.

  * * * *

  Victoria sprang from her cot. Today she would look for an apartment to call her own. She finally had the money for a deposit. And by the end of next week, she would have the funds for the first and last month's rent.

  She had spent the entire day searching for the perfect place. The first apartment she'd looked at seemed dark and depressing. The second had windows aplenty but she could not live with a kitchen the size of a matchbox. The third was cute enough but the neighborhood had fallen to deterioration. She walked back to the Center of Light dejected that she had not found the perfect place, but she carried the hope tomorrow would be different.

  Her pager beeped, causing her to frown. She didn't feel up to a client. She pressed the buttons to accept the assignment though her heart was not in it; she needed the five hundred extra dollars.

  At least she wouldn't have to get decked out for this one. A businessman wanted a simple dinner companion. Apparently, eating alone held no appeal for him. Hopefully, he would be talkative and interesting. A pleasant conversation and a nice meal with a glass of Chardonnay might just do the trick to pull her out of her present funk.

  Victoria immediately recognized Stanley Foster as he stood outside of Pappadeux with the rose calling card. He wasn't quite as old as she'd thought, maybe fifty, but old enough not to ruffle her feathers. She shook his hand and her tension eased. She might just enjoy the evening and the money she made from it.

  Stanley was a delight, an intelligent man who had traveled the world over. He made her laugh and Victoria hated for the evening to come to an end. She shook his hand and gave him a peck on the cheek when the taxi pulled up to take her home.

  * * * *

  Taft followed the taxi when it pulled out from Pappadeux. That little peck on Stan's cheek made him more determined to have her quit the escort service and be with him only. Hell, he could hire her to go to work for him if it came down to money. The thought of her with any other man made his jaw set. Intending to confront her in person and talk some sense into her, he stayed on the taxi's tail. All he had to do was follow her home and convince her to see his way of thinking. He wanted Victoria—all of Victoria, now and forever. To hell with his resolve. His barriers had been broken down and he was going for it. He would allow nothing to get in his way.

  Taft slowed down when the taxi driver pulled up to the Center for Light. What in the hell was she doing here? Was she visiting someone—but at this time of night?

  He parallel parked across the street, keeping one eye trained on her as she walked into the shelter for the homeless. He bounded out of the car and walked into the building, not seeing her anywhere.

  Taft spotted a woman in a tattered robe, standing close to the stairs. He walked over to her and asked, “Did you just see a beautiful blonde woman just come in here?"

  The woman flashed him a toothless grin. “You mean Victoria? Is she a friend of yours?"

  "Yes, she is,” Taft answered, in a sudden hurry to find her. “Do you know where I might find her?"

  "Sure, I'll take you to her. I was just going that way.” The woman shuffled down the hall and entered two big doors.

  When Taft walked into the large bunker like room, he immediately saw Victoria laying out her nightgown and turning down her bed covers. Shocked, he stopped in mid-stride. Surely she didn't live here!

  He walked up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Victoria."

  She jumped and turned toward him. Her hand went to her throat, her face paled. “Taft, what are you doing here?” She sounded breathless as she spoke.

  He placed his hands on each of her cheeks and asked, “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

  "Oh, Taft, it's such a long story,” she said, sitting down on her bed, shoulders slumped. Tears welled in her eyes and she buried her face in her hands.

  He sat next to her and took her into his arms. “I tell you what,” he said gently, “I want you to pack a bag and come home with me so we can talk about this in private.” He glanced over at the other residents watching and listening from their bunks. “Please, Victoria.” Nodding in agreement, she packed a small bag with necessities, which he carried as they walked in silence to his car. Once behind the wheel, he said, “You don't have to say anything right now. Just wait until we get to my place."

  She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “No, that's okay. I'm ready to talk, to get it over with. My husband was the owner of Rolf Industries..."

  "I remember reading all about that scandal. It was in the New York Times."

  Victoria continued. “As you no doubt read then, he was arrested and the Treasury Department confiscated everything. I had to leave the house. I had nowhere to go but here."

  "Wasn't there anyone you could turn to? Family? Friends?"

  "My parents were killed in a car accident two years ago. I have no sisters or brothers. My friends ... if that's what you call them, turned their back on me after my husband was arrested. They treated me like a pariah. I have no one."

  "Yes, you do, Victoria.” He lifted her hand and kissed the top of it. “You have me."

  * * * *

  Victoria drank in the atmosphere of Taft's newly remodeled penthouse in the heart of downtown Dallas. Contemporary brown and black furnishings with gilt-framed oils in the same colors rendered the perfect balance of sensual masculinity. Here, she felt comfortable and safe.

  Taft offered her a seat on the angular sofa. Animal print pillows decorated the surface. “I'll pour us some wine. I think the occasion calls for a toast to a new beginning."

  Victoria crinkled her brow. Taft obviously cared for her and wanted to be her friend during this time of need, but what did he mean by a new beginning? She scanned the room for pictures—seeing nothing in the way of attachments.

  Taft walked back in the living room with two glasses full of cri
mson-colored wine, which would hit the spot right now and take the edge off her nervousness.

  Taft leaned over, kissing her on the forehead, then offered his glass up to hers. Here's to a new beginning, a new life for you and one for me as well. Our past is behind us—from now on, we're in this together."

  "In what together, Taft?"

  "In this adventure called life. I want you with me, Victoria, every step of the way. I could spend every second for the rest of my life with you."

  Victoria almost dropped her glass, still not believing what she was hearing. “Wh ... what are you asking, Taft ... what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying I love you. I'm asking you to marry me, Victoria. Tomorrow's not quick enough for me."

  Victoria sat with her wine glass poised in mid-air, stunned by his proposal. “But we haven't known each other for very..."

  Taft pressed his lips against hers. “Shhhhh ... don't say a word. Just relax. Words aren't enough; let me show you how much I love you. I want you to feel it from me, not just hear the words from my mouth. Close your eyes, Victoria. What do you want more than anything in this world right now?"

  "Besides you? I would kill for a nice, long, luxurious bath. It's been so long. They only have showers at the shelter."

  Taft stood. “Your wish is my command, beautiful woman. I'll draw your bath. I have a Jacuzzi. Would you like the turbo jets turned on?"

  "That sounds like heaven,” Victoria whispered, her arms hugging her chest.

  Five minutes later, Taft returned. “Close your eyes and I'll lead you to the tub."

  He took her hand and they walked slowly as to keep her from stumbling over anything. She opened her eyes to the sweet, fresh scent of jasmine and candlelight flickering shadows against the wall. There must have been fifty candles in the room, Victoria thought. Soft piano music played in the background.

  "This is wonderful. Thank you, Taft. You're spoiling me."

  He took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. “I have every intention of spoiling you rotten—everyday for the rest of your life. That's my job."

  "Unfortunately, it doesn't pay very well.” Victoria laughed, then sobered at the thought of her pending job. “And speaking of jobs, Taft, I'm still employed by Companionship, Inc. If I, if we..."

  Taft drew his finger over her lips. “Not to worry. All of that has been well thought out. We'll talk about it later—after your soak. Here's a robe. I'll hang it over this hook. Meanwhile, I'm a real good latherer.

  "How can I turn down an offer like that?"

  * * * *

  "You can't. Here, we'll start with your clothes ... getting rid of them that is. You don't have to lift a finger. I'll do all the work. Drudgery it is,” he feigned a sigh, “but somebody has to do it."

  Taft slowly unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. He knelt down and pulled one leg out at a time, stroking each foot as he released it. He knelt on one knee as he inched her panties down her thighs, then pulled her feet free again. Soft shadows and silhouettes played over her body, which glistened in the semi-darkness. Taft studied the tautness of her stomach and the slight curve of her hips, the firmness in her upper legs. God, she was divine. He ached to take her on the bathroom floor but his iron will won.

  Taft wanted to enjoy the sensual pleasures of touching her body, to explore her while she relaxed and enjoyed it. He wanted this to be the longest foreplay he'd ever experienced. Her presence delighted him: her sweet scent, her abundant energy. He guided her to the tub and helped her step over the edge. Bubbles clung to her body, her every curve. She smiled and closed her eyes as she sank further into the steaming water. The jets gurgled as they pulsated against her.

  Taft grabbed a loofah cloth and slathered bath cream on it, gently massaging her shoulders, her back, then moving forward to wash her breasts. He molded his hands about her breasts ... a perfect fit. He couldn't resist bending down to take one nipple in his mouth.

  * * * *

  Victoria moaned with pleasure at the sensations taking over. Taft's administrations were soft, slow, and sexual without the urgency of bodies clamoring for release. She didn't know if she had ever been happier or more aroused in her life. Surely some of it had to do with Taft, but somehow she felt it had more to do with her: her learning to let go of constraints, worries, and pouring herself into the moment.

  The world today traveled at an incredible pace. It made it very difficult for people to have moments like this when there was always something out there to do or to accomplish, or someone to answer to. She was here now, with Taft, and she couldn't imagine anywhere else she'd rather be, or anyone else she'd rather be with.

  * * * *

  Taft picked up a soft cloth and began stroking the sensitive area between her legs. He could feel her labia swell beneath the cloth. Releasing the cloth, he replaced it with his fingers, finding her clit and gently rolling it between his fingers. He turned her to the side and stroked her center. Steam rose from her skin and the water. She looked like a sea nymph, her hair floating in the water.

  "Do you like that, baby?"

  "Oh, yes, Taft.” Her hips moved in the water in response to the ministrations of his fingers. He felt as if he were playing a delicate musical instrument—a pure, sweet song of sex on this siren of a woman in the water.

  Victoria braced herself, then lifted out of the water slowly. She moved his face toward her, spreading her legs so he could lick her with his tongue.

  "Is this what you want, Victoria?"

  "I want to feel your tongue"

  "Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets."

  * * * *

  He opened her legs wider and examined her pulsing flesh. “You are so hot,” he said, placing his tongue on her. White heat stole through her. She had never been so wet in her life as her limbs trembled with her impending release.

  "Oh,” she moaned, her body jolting at the shock of the pleasure.

  Taft sat back on his haunches and grinned. “Here, get back in the water. You're shivering."

  She sank back into the warm tub as he positioned her in front of the manual jet. He stretched the hose in front of her so the warm pulsating streams would massage her. “That feels so good, Taft, but I want you to come in here with me."

  Taft shed his clothes quickly, stepping in to face her from the opposite end. “And what would be your pleasure?"

  She didn't answer but moved toward him like a cat on prey, crawling onto his lap. His slightly downward shaped erection helped to stimulate her clit and slid along the outside of her slit.

  "Oh, Taft, that feels so good. God, nothing in my life has ever felt this good. I only hope I can make you feel like this."

  "Oh, baby, don't even worry. I'm going to make love to you every day for the rest of our lives and I'll still not likely get enough of you. Our bones will still be going at it in whatever nursing home we both end up in."

  Heat rose with every thrust, much hotter than the water surrounding them. She squeezed her muscles with every slide and knew she couldn't hold out much longer. “Okay, Victoria. Let yourself go for me."

  "I'm getting close. Yes ... yes ... ohmigod! She shuddered as her orgasm washed over her.

  "I think we better get out of here before we both shrivel up.” Taft stood, his penis still erect, and offered Victoria his hand.

  "Robe and wine time,” he said, winking at her. “This was just a preview."

  * * * *

  Walking to the living room, Taft heard a noise, a thump in the direction of the closet. His blood ran cold. Melanie. Before he had time to react, the closet door opened. Melanie jumped out, dressed like a man in blue jeans, chambray shirt, and cowboy hat—and clutched in her hand was an enormous butcher knife gleaming in the light.

  With eyes wide and crazed, a look that Taft had never seen, she walked toward him, pointing the knife at his chest. She tossed him a set of handcuffs. “If you want the bitch to live, cuff yourself to the bedposts."

  Taking her threat seriously,
Taft clamped his hands to the pole, hoping Victoria would just stay in the bathroom, but knew the impossibility of his wish. As if on cue, Victoria walked from the bathroom where Melanie waited.

  She thrust the knife beneath Victoria's chin. “If you want to live, do as I say."

  * * * *

  Victoria didn't as much as squeal, but her heart scudded in her throat.

  To Victoria's surprise, Melanie's pants had a bulge in the front. She no doubt wore her dildo. The woman was positively sick.

  Melanie stepped closer to Victoria, holding the knife in place. “Drop the robe, bitch. I want to see my competition."

  Victoria allowed the robe to slide from her shoulders as Taft struggled to get out of his handcuffs.

  "I think it's only fair to tell you what my plans are for the both of you. First I'm going to unzip Taft's pants and pull his cock out. Then I'm going to suck it and make you watch. I'll take care of what you obviously didn't moments ago in the tub. I'll show you how a real woman pleases her man.

  "Next, we'll have a little side show. We'll see how sweet little Victoria likes the Taft Shaft. After pleasing her and making her scream, I'm going to knife her, Taft. And you get to watch, knowing there's nothing you can do to save her.” She paused and looked on Taft in sympathy. “We have to do away with her, darling. She's keeping us apart."

  Victoria was sick and tired of being afraid. Fear drove her life up to this moment—she'd no longer be a slave to it, even if she lost her life in the process.

  "Melanie, who in the hell do you think you are—terrorizing people?"

  "I'm the Goddess and the she-devil. I am the power. I am the force! Besides, I'm the one holding the knife.” The last sentence she punctuated with a smug smile.

  Victoria continued, undaunted. “You obviously enjoy other people's fear. I, for one, am sick of it. Go ahead and kill me. But you're not going to terrorize me."

  "Same here, Melanie, the party's over, drop the knife and hand over the keys."

  "I..I ... this is not how it's supposed to.... “She turned to Taft, her lips curling up in anger. “You're mine; you told me you loved me! You made love to me so many times! Why don't you love me any more, Taft? Why? What's so good about her that you want her and not me?"