by Anna del Mar
The air just went out of me. She was the densest planet in the universe and I was stuck in her orbit. She was also the senate’s shrewdest negotiator. She wasn’t going to let the matter go. She wasn’t going to let me go either. Ever. I groaned inside. But I had density too and, no matter what, I wasn’t going to share a meal with Durant.
I stuck out my chin. “We meet here, at the office, say two o’clock, and I have to be out of here by three.”
“Afternoon tea,” she countered. “Five o’clock, at the Mayflower?”
“Drinks, three o’clock, last and best offer.”
“Drinks it is.”
Mother flashed her dazzling smile. She was so beautiful when she smiled. Victory was her greatest pleasure. Had she been a cat, she would’ve been purring.
I gestured at the door and invited her to leave my office. I’d have to remember to dig out those panties from under the desk later. My muscles worked over the toy lodged in my sex, clung to it with renewed grit as we walked to the conference room. Diane followed us, mouth pursed, golden eyes scanning the hallway as if the mail boy was a potential terrorist and assassins hid behind every door.
“Does she always have to look so unfriendly?” I asked Mother under my breath.
“Diana is thorough, that’s all,” Mother said. “Don’t forget she saved my life. She’s the only person I feel safe with.”
It had happened years ago, before I’d been concocted in my designer petri dish. Mother had been holding a meet and greet among her constituency and a madman had attacked her with a gun. He killed one and wounded five, including Diana, a rookie back then, recently assigned to guard the junior senator from Virginia, who’d been receiving death threats.
Since then, Diana had been the chief of Mother’s private protective detail. Tall, elegant and lithe, she was sharp and impressive, always impeccable in her blue suit. She was also stunning, with razor-short hair, high cheeks, full lips that were always shiny with pink gloss, and a dark, flawless complexion that any woman would kill for. Mother hardly went anywhere without her.
“Matthew Morris asked me to talk to you,” Mother said out of the blue.
“It’s over.” Better lay this to rest for good. “We’re not getting back together.”
“The poor chap is so distraught about the breakup,” she said, as if she cared and Matthew could be distraught about anything that didn’t entail his checkbook. “He wants a second chance. He’s a good match, excellent family, well-endowed at every level. You need an escort for the gala and how could a second run hurt anything?”
The only person liable to get hurt in a second run was me. I suspected Mother knew he’d been unfaithful. I also suspected she couldn’t care less, as long as he threw his financial support and prominent media influence behind her upcoming campaign. I’d made a huge effort to please her by dating Matthew. Hell, I’d almost married the guy. We’d never been compatible, but his constant need to sleep with other people had made the relationship impossible for a basic monogamist like me. Effort aside, he’d had his chance and now I was free.
“I won’t be going to the gala with Matthew,” I said as we entered the board room.
Mother’s eyebrows cocked like a pair of pistols. “We’ll see about that.”
I took my chair at the head of the table, where our next battle was about to take place. I didn’t know which of the foundation’s programs would survive my mother’s teeth, but I knew one thing for sure: I was ready to fight and I was done giving her the say on who deserved a second chance from me.
Chapter Thirteen
Clara
Wednesday found me in an excellent mood, even though it was raining cats and dogs and the city’s skies had turned a solid charcoal gray. The board meeting on Tuesday had gone well. After my session with Noah and my new fancy sex toy, I’d felt balanced, as if the sexual release had incinerated most of my anxiety. By the time the board meeting began, I’d been sharp, focused and able to make a strong case.
The selection committee listened. They even approved five years of funding for the Nigerian girls’ school, under the condition that I had to find additional donations to fund security for the girls, who were at risk from Boko Haram. It wasn’t a slam dunk, but at least the school was still in the game.
The stress-busting method that Noah practiced on my body lifted my spirits, kept me on my toes and worked better than yoga or the gym. Best of all, I’d woken up to Noah’s face on my screen again this morning, and last night his was the last voice I heard, wishing me good night.
I spent the morning trying to find a private donor to pay for security at the Nigerian school and writing grants for the same purpose. It was hard. Nobody wanted to invest in such a high-risk venture. And yet these girls deserved the right to a good education.
The blood test results came in at lunchtime. Noah’s report hit my inbox even as I got ready to forward him mine. All clear, all done. I swear, the guy could accomplish the impossible, and at blinding speeds, even from his isolated perch on Avalon.
My high mood lasted all the way until two o’clock, when I went into the conference room to review the final arrangements for the benefit. The event planners had set up a demo table for my approval. I’d been looking forward to seeing all of our hard work come together, but instead I found everyone in the room huddled in a corner and my mother beaming blistering rays in their direction.
“What’s going on?” I asked Lori, who cowered by the door.
“She doesn’t like anything,” she murmured. “We’re all dead.”
“What’s this?” Mother’s manicured nails tapped on the tablecloths that had been woven at the foundation-supported textile cooperative in Bolivia. “What moron thought this piece of crap could fit in with a gala event?”
“This moron.” I straightened my shoulders and walked into the room. “Don’t you have committee hearings today?”
“We’re on break,” she said. “I thought I’d come over and help out with the benefit.”
Or to make my life hell.
“I don’t understand why you’ve made all these changes.” Mother’s mouth puckered into a petulant pout. “Tablecloths, venues. I liked it when we did it at the Mayflower.”
“The Wilkins Estate is one of DC’s finest private museums,” I explained, and not for the first time. “The gardens are amazing and the great gallery will fit all of our guests. Since the foundation collaborates with the Wilkins Institute on African Studies, it seemed natural that we should partner for the gala.”
“Well, I suppose if that’s the way you want it...” Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed the room at a brisk clip. She halted at the door and turned around to face me, curling her upper lip to show her teeth in a fake smile. “By the way, Clara, don’t forget, Alex is going to fix your roots before the benefit. We want to look our best, don’t we?”
She walked out with her usual flair. Everybody in the room exhaled a communal breath of relief. Everybody except me. My hand went to my head. When was the last time I’d been to the beauty shop?
I gritted my teeth. I was reacting to my mother’s hypercriticism in that sick, codependent way I’d been trying to overcome. Dr. Dodd’s voice echoed in my head. Don’t fall into the old trap, Clara. But the temptation was there, to run out and fix everything that was wrong with me, to gain her approval even if it meant losing my perspective in the bargain.
My phone chimed. It was Noah’s cell. The mere thought of him heartened me.
“The table settings look fantastic,” I said to the planners on my way to the door. “Thanks for doing such a great job.”
I stepped into the hallway and accepted the call. “Noah?”
“Are you okay?” he said right away.
“Fine,” I said, walking to my office. “Why do you ask?”
“The w
ay you said my name. Your voice has a shrill edge to it. You sound stressed.”
How could he know? “Mother was here.”
“Ah. That explains it.”
“No lasting damage done.” I considered my roots on my reflection in the glass windows. “I fixed what she broke and we’re going full steam ahead. I just hope the benefit doesn’t zap my brain and fry my nerves.”
“You did great last year.”
“How do you know?”
“I read the social page,” he said. “You’ll do great again this year.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but success only heightens expectations.”
“It’s your high expectations I worry about.”
I halted in my tracks. “What?”
“You worry too much, Clara. You want everything and everyone perfect all the time.”
“Not true.”
“It is and you know it,” Noah said with certainty that left me breathless. “Go get your coat.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need a break.”
“But—”
“I want your panties gone, sex toy in, raincoat on, elevator, headset, in that order, now.”
I made my way to my office, reeling from the instructions but secretly giddy. What was he up to? Part of me was wary. Who knew what he’d make me do next? The other part of me was thrilled and excited as I lubed Noah’s gift and popped it in place.
“Where are you going?” Lori asked as we crossed paths on my way out.
“Break,” I said, donning my silver trench.
Lori’s eyes widened. “Workaholic Clara is taking a break?”
“Weird, right?” I shrugged. “Back in a bit.”
I clipped on the earpiece in the elevator. As soon as I stepped out onto the street, the rain began to tap on my umbrella. The soothing beat added a musical spring to my step and accompanied me on my walk, along with Noah’s voice telling me where to go. I felt strange, walking around without my panties, as if I’d omitted something important, which in fact, I had. The feeling was also oddly liberating.
I treaded carefully, and not only because I wore some wicked heels. As I crossed the busy streets and dodged the splash of cars rushing by, my pussy clutched the golden cargo like a stubborn fist. Four blocks later the odd weight tested my endurance, but my body hung on tight.
“How are you doing?” Noah said in my ear.
“It’s still in the trunk, if that’s what you want to know.”
His strong, wonderful laughter came crisp over the headset. “Think of it as a workout, a highly localized one.”
“Right.” I tightened my pelvic muscles. “At this rate, I’m going to be the fittest woman in America.”
He laughed again. “My cock likes the sound of that. He’s rearing to put your fitness to the test.”
The mere thought had my heart tripping and my walls pulsing around the vibrator.
“Pay attention,” Noah said. “You just missed your turn.”
Hard to think with all the blood flowing to my pussy. I turned around and found myself on a smaller side street dotted with restaurants and small businesses.
“This is it,” Noah announced. “To your right.”
I consulted the small building’s marquee. “Dark Fantasies?” I caught my breath. “Do you want me to go in there?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You’re well connected here too?”
“Bingo.”
“Please don’t tell me you made an appointment for me here.”
“Not an appointment per se,” Noah said. “But they’re expecting you. And don’t worry. You won’t be using your easily traceable credit cards in there. I’ll be paying.”
Paying for what?
My palms felt a little sweaty. We talked about sex stores often on the blog. Several high-profile online sex shops were heavy advertisers on my site. I knew which were the best and the ones my readers preferred. But, unbeknown to those lovely folks, their moderator had never set foot in an actual brick-and-mortar sex shop. Until today.
I took a deep breath and concentrated on mustering the courage to go in the store. I rummaged through my purse, pulled out my big sunglasses and put them on. I looked strange wearing shades on a rainy day, but what the hell. I really hoped nobody I—or my mother—knew would see me going in or out of a place called Dark Fantasies.
I made my way down a narrow flight of stairs and entered a brick-walled basement, filled to the rim with shelves that held every sexual toy, accessory and device known to mankind. A look at some of the posters on the wall had my pussy ruminating on its precious load.
“I’m here,” I said sharply. “Now what?”
“Nip the attitude,” Noah said. “You’ll need to pick three items for this weekend.”
Me? Pick three items? Here?
“Can I help you?” The clerk stood before me, a platinum blonde in pigtails dressed in a Mad Men outfit, authentic down to the cone breasts. I might have called her adorable if it wasn’t for the hefty bull ring dangling between her delicate nostrils.
“Ask her if she’s Amy,” Noah said in my ear.
“Are you Amy?”
“Yes. Are you, per chance, Sarah?”
“Tell her yes,” Noah said.
“I am.”
“Awesome,” she said. “Come this way. You’ve got to pick three things, right?”
“Right.”
“How exciting. Yay.” She bounced her hands together in quick, silent claps. “I love it when they get creative.”
They?
She selected a package of rings and stubs and handed it to me. “How about these?”
I turned the package in my hand. “What are these?”
“Ornaments,” Amy said in her nasal voice. “You know, to add to your piercings?”
“Piercings?”
“Let me show you.” She unbuttoned her blouse and unsnapped the cup of what looked like a maternity bra to display a generous breast. A horizontal bar pierced her nipple, adorned by a variety of dangling metal charms.
“What do you think?” She grinned. “You like?”
“Um...sure.” I couldn’t help grimacing. “Does that hurt?”
“Not anymore.” She returned her breast to the cup and snapped it shut. “Want to see the ones on my pussy? They snap on and off, so my mistress can open and close me if she wants.”
Holy crap on a cracker. “Oh, no, no, thank you, that won’t be necessary. How about we look at something else?”
“By all means, take a spin.” She gestured around, buttoning her vintage blouse. “We’ve got lots of interesting stuff.”
Interesting was the right word. I walked around the store aimlessly, too self-conscious to inspect the merchandise in detail and too uncomfortable to ask questions. Yes, I knew all of this existed in my virtual world, but until this moment, I hadn’t connected it to my real world. If my mother knew I’d set foot in this store, she’d send Diana and her entire security detail to snatch me out, shut down the place and propose legislation to annihilate all places like it.
“Did you pick something already?” Noah asked.
“No.”
“Make up your mind,” he said. “Quickly now. We don’t have all day.”
A keyboard clicked and computers hummed in the background as Noah spoke. The knowledge that he was fitting me into his hectic schedule, multitasking through his day, had me on edge. He had much more important things to do and yet, here he was, talking me through my insecurities. I had a lot of things to do too. A smile tickled my lips. We were both willing to make space in our days for each other. I felt as if I’d entered milestone territory.
“This is hard.” I contempla
ted the crowded shelves. “I don’t know that I want any of this.” The buzz hit me at the same time that the vibrator started deep inside my body. I lowered my voice. “Noah, please, not here!”
“I’ll turn it off as soon as you’re done with your shopping,” Noah said. “So pay attention, and pick something you like.”
The vibrator purred as if a happy cat had climbed into my pussy and settled for a long nap. My knees failed. I had to steady myself against the wall and force myself to function. How the hell could I think with that thing churning inside me?
“Are you okay?” Amy said from her perch at the register.
“Fine.” I lied. “Noah?”
“I’m here.”
I lowered my voice. “I don’t think I can do this.”
His answer came in the way of a jolt. The vibrator accelerated like a fine Porsche. I weaved in and out of the shelves like a freaking drone.
“You’re a terror,” I rasped as I looked through the dildos populating the huge display. “You’re a cruel, barbaric slave master and a reckless driver to boot.”
“You can stop me anytime,” he said, laughing. “You can make me slow it down if you want.”
I braced myself on a rack of porno movies and struggled to control my body, rasping little breaths in and out my mouth. I was not going to cave.
“Three items,” Noah said. “Then you’re done.”
I tore through the store, trying to select some harmless gadgets so I could get the hell out of there. Rushing through the shelves in nearly a manic state, I selected a leash and a crop from the Latest and Hottest display and headed for the register.
“He said you had to have three purchases,” Amy pointed out in a whine, trying to be helpful.
I looked around in near desperation. My gaze fell on the spinner rack that stood next to the register. Festive little square packets hung from metal pegs in tidy rows. Sexprise! the sign on top advertised in big bold letters. Surprise Your Lover and Yourself.
Thighs firmly pressed together and glutes clenched, I snatched a little red packet from the rack and plunked it on the counter. I had no clue what was in it, but honestly? I didn’t care. “Could you please, like, hurry?” I begged through gritted teeth.