"I'm surprised to see you here, Uncle Mal, I thought you never came to these boring brain deadening functions."
"This Robert, he's one of our own you know --went off to Hollywood, made good. I have to support our troops. And you know him, don't you Angelique?"
"Yes," she said wishing they weren't being shuttled to Malcolm's ringside table where Maureen and Tinka were already seated.
The Performance Center's ballroom was glowing, crystal chandeliers sparkling above reflected by a glimmering pale vermilion floor below. The dance floor was large, the tables surrounding it packed with people dressed in their finest, the tickets for the event exorbitantly expensive and wars having been waged mercilessly to obtain them. Robert was the hottest thing the city had ever seen. In fact at the moment he was the hottest male in the country and everyone wanted a glimpse, though the crowd packed into the ballroom definitely had a young-rich quality to it rather than an old-rich one.
"Has Robert joined up with you yet? Have you seen him?" an eager voice rang out. Seated uncomfortably at Malcolm's table (next to Maureen), Angelique looked up into Anthony Rodriguez' shining expectant face.
"I've seen him," Maureen answered before Angelique could speak and everyone heard the tiniest note of envy in her voice. "He's being kept pretty busy by the photographers and reporters."
"And girls I expect," Angelique laughed.
"Speaking of busy, May-May, has Lexa phoned you?"
"No, but she's emailed me. Apparently she's very busy."
"Somebody should go to Paris and make sure that girl's still alive."
"I received an email from the theatre manager there," Malcolm nodded dismissively at Anthony like he was an intruding subservient. "Her performances are being well received." Somehow he made Anthony feel like he wasn't even there at the same time he sounded almost threatening.
Anthony didn't like Malcolm Cochran, he was a dodgy sort of bastard, something about him was too sharp. He particularly hated how most of the women at the Center spent half their time falling all over themselves trying to get just a glance or kind word from the guy --rarely given. Ghoul he thought. He was almost going to ask Malcolm what else the manager had said but with the glacial tone he was receiving didn't feel it wise to ask the question. And the few times he'd met Maureen at these affairs, he hadn't liked her either --a high handed yakker always with a pride-filled glow. He'd never met Wyatt until the morning on the houseboat with Angelique but he was the one Cochran Anthony did like. Though he felt that Malcolm's other daughter, though urgently in need of a competent stylist, might be okay.
"Is that him?" Tinka squealed pointing toward the far end of the ballroom where the orchestra was playing. "Oh Angelique I just can't believe you know him! Can you get me an introduction? He is so sexy!"
Wyatt rolled his eyes at Angelique to show her how totally he understood and deplored the situation, thereby showing her he of course didn't understand anything at all.
Angelique (who was also remembering the turquoise teddy --being ripped from her body) hadn't been able to keep the smile off her face when she'd looked at the orchestra, and yes, it was indeed Robert striding across the stage. And yes, she had gone all out for this event but not to impress him, but to impress Wyatt.
She had stood in front of her mirror actually thinking sex goddess. To be exact, megawatt in-can-des-cent sex goddess! It was her rebellious touch of payback to Wyatt for his little leave-her-hanging-how-were-you-intimate-with-Robert torture, she would now give him some time to want it AND while he was having to tough it out thinking about her and Robert.
I mean is that appropriate or what!
Wyatt hadn't wanted to attend the event at all so Angelique had simply said that was fine (drawn him out onto the limb), said she'd go alone, say hello to Robert alone, drive home alone (and neatly sawed it off). Ergo Wyatt's presence. But while Angelique had given no real thought at all to Robert being there, Anthony had. And Anthony had prepared.
It was Anthony who had talked her into buying the dress from him. He knew darn well that Robert was desperately in love with her (the clueless one still being incredibly clueless about it). And now, even though Robert was a movie star able to be anywhere with anyone he wanted, he was here, it didn't take a genius to know why. Anthony figured Robert would make a move and since Robert's moves with Angelique were dance ones, Anthony guessed what the outcome was indubitably going to be.
Anthony expected Robert would get Angelique into his arms the way he had for two years --a dance performance. Hence the dress, it was dance-ready no matter what kind of dance Robert pulled her into. Anthony didn't think it would be a nice waltz around the floor, Robert wouldn't risk Wyatt cutting in. No, it would be some kind of dance Wyatt couldn't do.
Anthony had gotten Angelique prepared whether she knew it or not (he hadn't explained, explanations, he felt, tended to confuse her). The dress was floor length but it had a slit up each side so she could move. It had matching underwear in case Robert flipped her over his shoulder. She wasn't wearing a bustier, but the dress had straps to hold her up. And it was freaking gorgeous. The most electrifying ripe strawberry red. Sequins. Hugged the curves of her breasts like nobody's business, flowed free and easy around her legs. Just the sight of her in it was probably driving every male in the place into the bathroom to take care of themselves. Well, maybe not his friends, they'd be lusting after the dress.
Poor Robert, he thought. The depressing sterile futility of it. Never going to understand why he can have anyone else, just not the one woman he wants when even Mickey Mouse could figure that one out --just look at Angelique with Wyatt. Look at them. They are forever, man. God help them.
"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen," Robert almost serenaded the audience which hushed immediately. "I'd like to thank you again for coming, for supporting this worthy cause tonight." He waited for applause which came dutifully. "Now as many of you know, I got my start here at the Center but what you may not know was that what I did here was to dance with a beautiful lady who's here tonight. And she's agreed to dance with me once again for you all."
Pandemonium. He --the Sex Adonis Du Jour-- was going to dance for them. Who was the girl?
Can I call it or can I call it Anthony smirked silently.
Oh shit is what Angelique thought and that was downright saintly compared to what Wyatt was thinking.
"So Angelique Reising --dance with me!"
He was pointing at her. And he'd used her maiden name. Shit, shit, shit. She didn't dare look at Wyatt who she knew would be at Def Con Megablast One on the fission scale of explosivity.
Seeing what she had foisted on Angelique, Maureen was almost having a mini-orgasm.
In stunned politeness Angelique slowly rose. The audience was clapping like mad in expectation. Robert was holding his hand out to her, still smiling.
''Just look professional," was hissed at her --Anthony. And he was right. Professional. She snapped on her audience-smile and glided out over the dance floor to Robert who had cleverly meandered to the middle of it. She'd just have to deal with Wyatt later.
Oh let it not be--
The music started. And it was. It was the sexiest most intimate dance routine she had ever performed with Robert. Professional she thought. But Wyatt's words popped unbidden into her mind.
You're my wife. And you act like it.
She hadn't fully comprehended then what he'd been talking about but she sure did now.
I'll do it. Maybe worse. You choose to be my wife you accept that right now. No crying about it later.
How did she get herself into these things she inwardly moaned.
Never breaking eye contact with her Robert took off his jacket and threw it toward the orchestra. His tie came next and when he did that the top two buttons of his shirt wondrously popped open. Female (and a few male) voices gasped in unison. It was pure steam heat. The music quickly started pounding. There was no singer, just the orchestra, but it was a popular song and everyone heard the words
in their heads.
My fever is rising, rebellion, revolt...
Robert had Angelique in his arms, he was pressing her to him so tightly she couldn't breathe. And then he grabbed her by the waist and she went sailing around him, her red sequins flashing like they were on fire as he twirled her. He whipped her around to his side and she went pirouetting off around the dance floor on her stilettos.
I want it bad baby so you're not gonna bolt.
Robert spun himself and with an incredible leap caught up to her, seizing her, throwing her up above his shoulders, tossing her into the air. The chandeliers were quivering, vibrating to the beat of the coarse bawdy music and casting rainbow prisms of light dancing over the floor. Angelique flew through the air and Robert caught her again, pulling her to him but then dropping her, scraping her bottom along the floor between his legs.
It's gotta be you gonna give it tonight...
The audience was awe-struck, it was a vision. She was tossed up in the air again, her hair flying in one great erotic shimmering undulation surrounding Robert as he swirled her around and around and around.
Gonna happen now baby without any fight. Woooo...
You like what I do, I know what it takes. Woooo...
So I'm taking it now for both of our sakes.
He had her on his shoulder sliding down his body as they gamboled past Wyatt and then to the center of the dance floor, her rump pressed back up to his front as he ground into her, then on his knees before her as she kicked her leg over him, her stockings showing clearly, her skirt flaring wildly, like it had been caught in some kind of evilly fiendish wind. The music had reached its peak, Robert's face was shining wet. She was wiggling her shoulders at him (and therefore her breasts) as he dashed to his feet, grabbed her once again and threw her, the audience holding its breath at the perfect synchronization between the two.
Come for me now, gonna hear your sweet scream,
So tomorrow you'll know sure wasn't no dream.
They appeared to almost collapse into each other as the music ended and the audience thundered to its feet clapping. Angelique was panting, and looking --for Wyatt. Her eyes caught his and to her incredible relief he was not only smiling at her he was on his feet clapping too. He nodded at her and she thought oh thank goodness.
Prematurely.
And Robert saw it too. At the dance's end it had not been his eyes she'd wanted to find, but Wyatt Cochran's.
Wyatt was pissed, but nowhere near where she'd thought he'd be because of two reasons. When Robert had announced from the stage that Angelique had "agreed" to dance with him, Wyatt had seen the totally astounded look on her face. At the same time Wyatt had seen the oh so pleased with herself leer on Maureen's face --the organizer of the event. And though the dance had been sexy, it had also been incredibly, perfectly, precise. And from Angelique, it had been missing that hard to define inexpressible note of passion that she had when she was around him. All it was was a dance --a trick of Maureen's to accomplish what? Make him angry at her? Something nefarious no doubt. He looked at Angelique and blew her a smoochy kiss --and the ecstatic look on Maureen's face dissipated and fell.
Malcolm's face didn't change at all for the simple reason that though he'd watched the dance his thoughts had been very much elsewhere.
Somebody should go to Paris and make sure that girl's still alive.
He was disturbed about what the costume manager had said about Lexa, and Angelique's flamboyantly tawdry dance hadn't calmed him any. Damn. He wasn't worried about the costume manager per se --that man was the kind of cretin who knew nothing about everything-- but Malcolm Cochran hadn't escaped notice by being careless. Even a hint of suspicion, he could not allow. Even though he hadn't finished with her, he would have to get rid of Lexa.
Soon.
And ah well, look on the bright side. The sooner I get rid of her, the sooner Angelique can take her place.
Robert led Angelique back to the table where Wyatt was still standing, and Wyatt reached out his hand to her. She took it immediately.
"That was SO COOL," Tinka gushed not looking at Angelique at all but only at Robert.
"Everyone, I'd like you all to meet Robert--"
"Everyone knows who he is, Angelique," Maureen interrupted striving for a blasé stare but failing to make it, landing squarely on snippy.
"Anthony, good to see you again," Robert grinned shaking Anthony's hand, his delight obviously genuine. Malcolm scowled, Robert, the little punk, had risen so high now he could ignore him.
"And Wyatt, good to see you again."
"Robert," Wyatt said snaking his hand around Angelique's waist which Robert painfully noticed.
"I hear congratulations are in order," Robert smiled and Wyatt could see what it cost him.
"Thank you."
"Thank you for letting me borrow your bride. May-May, if you're ever in L.A., you'll visit, right? And when Lexa gets back tell her to call me. There's a movie role coming up I'd like her to test for --female lead to me."
"I will," Angelique smiled to him, knowing they were saying good-bye, knowing he knew it, grateful to him that he was deliberately not making it hard for her. He gave them a final wave, turned, and was instantly swallowed up by an adoring mob as he made his way to go find his jacket, his heart broken, his soul crying. He would never have her. He knew that now. Really knew it.
Angelique and Wyatt said their good-byes and headed home.
"I'm glad you're not mad," Angelique said.
Wyatt just smiled deadpan as Johnson, driving them up the driveway to the house thought no, no, I don't want to know.
*****
Angelique stretched out naked on the bed on top of an equally naked Wyatt. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so she was beneath him.
My angel he wanted to say to her but he knew she wouldn't like that so he didn't say it, just continued touching her with his potent effective fingers. The way she liked, what he knew she wanted.
"You like this, don't you, May-May?" he murmured into her neck. "I can feel how much you like this, I can tell, you're so moist."
"Wyatt, let me--"
"No, no, this is for your pleasure."
Her mouth was open, her eyes closed. Wantonly rapturous. He could feel her loosening, coming undone beneath him. He could taste her sweat on her, dried from her dance with Robert.
Oh Angelique, he thought, what I am going to do to you --your little surprise dance number for me, my little surprise for you.
He wrapped each of his arms around her waist encircling her, and with his right hand he ran his fingers forcefully down one of her buttocks as the memory of him slowly peeling down her panties and admiring her oh so perfect behind the first night he had ever seen her sprung into his mind. He smiled. If he'd only known then what he would be doing tonight to that perfect rosebud behind. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, he knew she was expecting him to enter her.
"Don't move, baby," and he could almost hear her thinking not for all the tea in China.
And he eased into her, just the tip of his pinky finger, but in a place Angelique had never had anything ease into her before only out of her.
"EEEK..." she screeched squirming uncomfortably, trying to rise, but his weight on her was too much. He withdrew, paused, and then wickedly continued, a little further this time.
"Did you enjoy your dance with Robert?" he mouthed darkly against her flesh. He withdrew, slowly.
"Ah... Ah..." was all she could articulate.
"Did it feel good?" He pushed in then withdrew --almost. And then he reversed... back in. He knew what he was doing to her, the steady rhythm of each insertion, each time sinking into her just a little further, and he felt her body start to bow under him as the deadly pleasure she had never before known began to invade her.
"Wyatt!" she gurgled and he heard the agonizing yearning in her voice.
"That's right, baby, say my name. Know who I am. I'm the man who can do this to you." He penet
rated her with his entire pinky finger and she convulsed helplessly underneath him.
"That's better," he said. "You're mine. Not his. You were never his, my angel."
She wrapped her legs around him and threw back her head, presenting herself to him in abandon.
"Nobody else's," he said. "Just mine."
And he took her, as every fiber of her being screamed for him to do.
*****
Two days later both Donald and Malcolm entered the peach bedroom.
"I would like you to entertain Donald," the monster said, the sound of foul cold-gutted finality splashing over her. All she heard was that he was done with her. She had not found an escape. The monster simply turned and left, leaving her with Donald.
Donald stayed for one violent, hateful, ugly hour. And another part of Lexa's soul was ignominiously killed.
Chapter Eleven
Larry paced queasily at the entrance of the resort. Christ, he hated this. Really hated this. The worst was not knowing what to expect. The second worst was knowing what Malcolm Cochran would do to him if he didn't pull this off. Again. He saw the yellow taxi pull in to the resort's grand entry drive and his stomach heaved in nausea at the outline of the woman in the backseat. The taxi pulled to a stop and he walked to it opening the car door recognizing her from the picture he'd been given. He applied his biggest, fakest smile to his face worrying that there was nothing as disconcerting as him trying to look sincere. He delved in.
"Hello, Lexa, I'm Larry." He didn't say her last name because that would indicate he should tell her his and he didn't want to. He preferred she just think of him as Larry the Lawyer, or preferably never think of him again, ever.
Lexa was seated alone in the back of the taxi, her eyes glazed, dead, staring wide, her face pale, parched, her body motionless. Bloody hell, this one's gonna be filthy Larry ceded grimly, his smile turning into a grimace, she looks like shit, the worst one ever, she's not even ninety pounds for crying out loud. He wanted to help her out of the taxi but he knew from experience no way to touch her, not unless he wanted disaster. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the two male nurses, one dressed in a tennis outfit and one looking like he just got off the golf course surreptitiously watching them. He knew what was in the tennis racket case, the tranquilizer and syringe, in case she went nuts. It was his job to see to it she did not. Larry wondered if Cochran had something on those nurses or if they were there just for the money. For Larry, manifestly unhindered in the integrity department, it was both.
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