“I’d say that they’re not here, in your office, with a well-thought-out plan,” Gina quickly retorted. “No one will work harder for you than I will, Mr. Covington. Not even Lois Edwards.”
Chaz’s brow rose. “Few people in this business, or any business for that matter, can top Lois’s skills, Gina. You’d do well to steer clear of comparisons where she’s concerned.”
Gina had wondered how secure Lois’s job was as Chaz’s assistant, a job that she’d love to have even more than that of office manager. She’d just found out. “I don’t mean to imply that Lois is anything but a first-rate assistant,” she explained, a bright smile following the obvious faux pas. “I like Lois. Speaking of which, will she be in today or should I call the temp agency?”
“That won’t be necessary, Gina,” Lois said from the doorway. “I’m here.”
Chaz looked up, Gina turned, and two pairs of eyes widened in surprise. Chaz spoke first. “Wow, it’s obvious a day off agrees with you, lovely!”
The usually chatty Gina was at a loss for words. When she found her voice, her statement was obvious: “You’ve changed your hair.”
Lois shrugged, yet displayed her nervousness by self-consciously running a hand across the newly cut do. She was still getting used to the silky tresses, permed to within an inch of their life. The asymmetrical cut framed Lois’s face in a way that highlighted prominent cheekbones, and the freshly arched brows brought attention to almond-shaped eyes that before went unnoticed. “I went to the mall,” she finally offered, with not yet enough courage to look Chaz in the eye. “They were offering free makeovers.”
Thankfully, the phone rang, ending what was for Lois an extremely awkward moment. “I’ll get that,” she murmured, rushing to her desk to do so. She’d been surprised to see Gina’s computer on when she’d passed her desk, and even more surprised to hear voices from Chaz’s office. Belatedly, she realized that in her nervousness, she’d paid absolutely no attention to what other cars were in the parking lot shared by several companies in the building. What is Gina doing here this early? she thought, even as she passed the call through to Chaz. The bigger question, Lois realized, was what were Gina and Chaz doing here together so early in the morning?
The early morning encounter with Chaz and Gina threw off Lois’s rhythm. She went through the motions of her normal routine to try and get it back: going to the mailroom for the day’s correspondence and then on to the break room for what had become a daily cup of joe. Everyone noticed the change in her appearance: some complimented, others commented, and a few simply stared. By the time she reached her desk, the butterflies had returned.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. After Friday’s embarrassment, Lois had gone to the mall to get the kind of fix that only shopping could provide. She’d gone to a large department store to purchase a gift, and run into a company promoting makeovers for the summer. One of the promoters had taken one look at Lois and declared her a perfect candidate. Any other time, Lois wouldn’t have considered such a thing for a second, but the rough morning she’d experienced had left her open for change. That and the fact that she’d have an entire week before she’d have to explain herself, since her mother was preaching at a week-long, out-of-town revival. In a rare moment of spontaneity, Lois had agreed to the makeover, and had spent the next three hours being pampered and prodded, scrubbed and massaged, and given tips on how to dress in a way that flattered her physique. She’d then bought two skirts that would dare show her knees for the first time since puberty, and a suit jacket with a flared bottom that covered her hips while giving the appearance of a rounder bottom. She’d also purchased a pair of flashy gold earrings that complemented her cross necklace, and a pair of spiked heels, a marked contrast to the clunky two-inch heels she preferred, and in which she felt most comfortable. That she’d still managed to stumble and fall in said clunky heels would have given a lesser soul pause, but Lois had made a decision while languishing on the floor in her boss’s office: she wanted Chaz to notice her the way she believed he noticed Gina and Elizabeth and Delicia and Jennifer: as a desirable woman.
The perfunctory routine of opening mail began to calm Lois’s nerves. She continued to ponder on the events of the morning, the way Chaz’s eyes had widened noticeably when he took in her appearance. Is it me, or did his eyes sparkle a bit? Lois allowed her imagination free rein, imagined being with Chaz behind closed doors, sprawled beneath him for reasons other than a snagged heel. These types of thoughts were still uncomfortable for Lois, but the small trickle had become a torrent ever since she’d received the first anonymous letter two weeks ago.
Lois reached for the next piece of mail and her hand stopped in midair. It was as if she’d conjured it up with her thoughts. She instinctively knew what it was before she opened it—even though this envelope was larger and bubble cushioned. The familiar bold, Arial font lettering seemed to leap off the page. Lois closed her eyes, swallowed, and then opened her eyes once more. The envelope was still there: teasing, taunting. Open me.
It was the first physical piece of mail they’d received in almost a week, the writer having shifted to e-mails and text messages. Lois had been glad for the reprieve, even though she’d reread the letters contained in the Miscellaneous—N folder several times. It was a fact that embarrassed her, yet over which she seemed to have little control. With every word, every letter dripping with sexual innuendos and promiscuous promises, a part of Lois had seemed to come more and more alive. And later, with each word she’d typed, her soul opened up. Now there were feelings—vibrant, pulsating longings and needs—that Lois had previously pushed to the bottom of her heart. The times were still few and far between that she allowed herself to acknowledge these carnal urgings, after which she’d ask forgiveness for the sins of her weak flesh. But now, looking at the envelope that seemed hot to the touch, Lois knew it was one of those times when she would stop the judgmental thinking and simply allow herself to feel. She quickly looked around and, seeing that no one was looking at her or coming down the hall, Lois slipped the envelope into her purse and headed for the restroom.
Chaz, my soon-to-be-lover . . .
I’m still reeling at the fact that you responded, that I’m actually exchanging words with my heart’s desire. Said heart is pounding with excitement at the thought that we may soon be together, that I’ll soon be writhing and sweating beneath you. My pussy tingles at the thought of your dick thrusting deep inside me. Ooh baby, I’m so wet, even as I write this.
Lois squirmed on the toilet seat as she continued to read.
In anticipation of the inevitable, I’ve purchased a few playthings. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: our night together will be one that neither of us ever forgets.
Signed, Ready and Waiting
Lois quickly read the note a second time before placing it back inside the envelope. She checked herself in the mirror, thankful that how she felt on the inside did not show on her face. New hairdo, plucked eyebrows, and minimal makeup aside, Lois felt she pretty much looked like she always had. But inside, the changes felt immense. As she walked back to her desk, her mind stayed on what had been said in the letter, as well as the enclosures that had accompanied it. It was the first time she’d ever held a package of condoms; she hadn’t known that they came in “magnum” size. Shortly after sitting down at the computer, she learned the use of the other item that had been enclosed. Forbidden images of Chaz leaped into her mind. She tried to shake them, but it was impossible. Would Chaz ever really do such a thing?
“Lois.”
Lois jumped at the sound of Chaz’s voice on her phone’s intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Covington?”
“I need the transcript for the Jones’ case. And have you finished typing that motion?”
“It’s almost ready. I’ll bring in the transcript now.”
“Thank you.”
A few seconds later, Lois walked into Chaz’s office. She was keenly aware of how handsome he looked
, impeccably dressed as always, in a chocolate brown suit paired with a tan shirt and pin-striped tie. “Here’s the transcript on the Jones’ case. And here’s your mail.” She placed it in Chaz’s in-box and then hesitated. “You received another letter.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, I filed it along with the others.”
Chaz noted Lois’s discomfort. “Did you read it?”
Lois nodded. “I scanned it. There were, it had . . . there were enclosures.”
“Don’t tell me. Naked pictures.”
“No, Mr. Covington . . . other things. Look, I’d better finish typing that brief. I know you need it ASAP.” Without waiting for a response, Lois fled Chaz’s office.
She tried to keep the image of the Chaz she’d just seen in the front of her mind: professional, respectful, but most of all, clothed. But another image kept flitting across her mental screen, the one that she could barely imagine: the one with Chaz using the items that the anonymous letter had contained, one of which she’d had to look up online to learn its use. Since reading the description, Lois couldn’t stop imagining Chaz naked and wearing . . . a cock ring.
17
Chaz had purposely waited until he arrived home to examine the latest anonymous letter’s contents. The look on Lois’s face had definitely piqued his curiosity, but Chaz didn’t want anything to take him off focus from what had been a full, yet productive day. The text messages between him and his mystery woman had gotten more and more provocative and, along with what seemed to be an insatiable libido, the woman had also displayed intelligence, creativity, and a sense of humor. While changing from his suit into a pair of sweats, he remembered her response to his request to tell him more about her:
I’ll tell you a little, but not too much;
I’m firm to the handling but soft to the touch.
At first glance, you might consider me meek and mild,
But behind bedroom doors I will get buck wild!
Chaz chuckled at the memory, poured a glass of OJ, and then went into his home office. He laughed again when he pulled out the condoms and the cock ring. “A little freaky, huh?” he said to himself, while examining the sex toy. He wasn’t a man much into sex aids, but after reading the description on the box, decided to be open to new possibilities.
After finishing the letter, Chaz reached for the prepaid phone, which, after suspecting Lois of snooping, he now kept at home. He leaned back, got comfortable in his chair, and typed in a message: Thanks for the gifts.
Chaz sipped his drink and checked e-mails, waiting for a response. She might not be near her phone. He reached for the iPod that was banked in its dock, and turned it on. Soon, the classic sound of George Benson’s Breezin’ oozed out of the speakers. A second later, his message indicator beeped. Chaz smiled as he read it.
You’re welcome . . . in every way.
You seem extremely adventurous, and experienced.
Not professional, are you? :)
Ha! Not hardly. I just have a vivid imagination, like you
have a big . . . I did get it right, didn’t I? With the magnum condoms?
Yes.
::Smiling:: I want to be with you . . . now!
My curiosity is piqued, not sure meeting is wise.
Why?
You’re a stranger.
Not so strange . . .
You like getting your freak on.
Yes. I want to get it on with you. When?
When what?
When can I feel your dick in my pussy?
Chaz shifted in his chair, and allowed more room for his burgeoning shaft. You’re being a very bad girl.
Not as bad as I want to be.
I have a reputation to protect.
It will be our secret, promise.
How can I be sure?
You make the rules: time, place . . . whatever you want.
There are lots of successful men. Why me?
The response wasn’t immediate. For a moment, Chaz thought she’d decided not to respond. But after a while, his message indicator beeped.
Because I respect and admire you. I adore you.
You’re a good man.
Thanks.
I meant every word. Can I be with you? Please?
I’ll think about it.
Just say the word and I’m there, with legs spread
wide....
Chaz turned off the prepaid phone. He massaged his shaft, grateful when it finally began to lose its erection. He looked at the clock and thought to call Taylor. Even though it was only a little past eight, inviting her over was a short-lived idea. He didn’t know that he would ever be intimate with Taylor again. After his conversation with James, and even with her husband’s indirect blessing, Chaz felt guilty. He decided instead to take a quick shower. When he stepped out of the stall, his phone was ringing.
“I’m in the mood to be a bad girl.”
Chaz’s heart clinched. Naomi! Using the words that . . . He smiled, believing the identify of his mystery letter writer might not be anonymous for very much longer. “Hey, you.”
“I called earlier, didn’t get an answer.” Naomi’s voice was soft, sinfully sweet.
The sound reminded Chaz of the sticky bun he’d eaten that morning. “I was in the shower.”
“Umm, and thinking of me.”
“Always.” Chaz didn’t miss the fact that this was spoken as a statement, not a question. “When am I going to see you?”
“I’ve been asking the same thing.”
“So,” Chaz began, reclining on his bed. “Are you finally ready to acknowledge that you miss me and that you can’t live without me?”
Naomi chuckled softly, her voice lowered even more. “Not exactly.”
“Then tell me, Ms. Stone. What are you ready to acknowledge?”
“I’m almost done here.”
“Another happy client, I’m sure?”
“This one was fun, actually. A young ex-punker who’s trying to brand a style that is a cross between grunge and glam.”
“Is that possible?”
“You’d be surprised how sexy crystals can look on a pair of well-worn jeans.”
“Not if you were the one wearing them, I wouldn’t. Baby girl, you’d look good in a paper bag.”
“Thanks, baby. That’s sweet.”
“That’s fact.”
They chatted a little longer—Naomi inquiring about Chaz’s children, Chaz explaining his latest legal victory. The flow of conversation was smooth and natural, and before long, turned sensual again.
“I’d better get off of this phone. I can see you’re about to start something that you can’t finish.” Not only did Chaz have an early morning appointment, but he didn’t want to have to take another cold shower. “Seriously, Naomi. When am I going to see you? I’m tired of going to bed and waking up alone. I want you here, now.”
“I’ll arrive when you least expect it,” Naomi answered, enticingly. “Just know I’m on my way.”
18
Delicia stood in the exquisitely manicured backyard of another potential new home. She’d been house hunting for almost a month, ever since the day the judge and jury had sided in her favor. It would be another six to eight weeks before she received the check, but based on the inevitable arrival of a big chunk of change, she’d found a bank willing to extend her a line of credit. Having grown up on the south side, Delicia had often dreamed what it would be like to have the type of home you wanted, the type of car you wanted, and all of the clothes that you could buy. She remembered watching Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, had even made champagne her drink of choice for a while, inspired by the show’s famous tagline: champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Now, she was realizing everything she’d wished for, and very soon would be living the life of her dreams.
“Country Club Hills is a wonderful community for your family,” the realtor said as she continued the tour. “The streets are safe and the schools are excellent. This house is priced to sell, which
means there will more than likely be several offers. If you’re interested, I suggest we move fast.”
Delicia nodded. She found it interesting, bordering on ludicrous, that a home listed at over three hundred thousand dollars was considered a bargain. But that’s how the four-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath, Tudor-styled home had been described. When she’d begun the search for her self-described mansion, the numbers had astounded her. Now she knew more about the market, and also what a generally solid investment a home could be. “A good place to put your money,” the financial planner that Chaz referred her to had explained. Delicia agreed. If anything happened to her, her children wouldn’t be homeless.
“Shall we go back inside, take a look at the guest bedrooms and the master suite?”
They walked into the home, passed the state-of-the-art kitchen and dining room where Delicia had already envisioned Thanksgiving dinner being served, and climbed the staircase to the second floor. They looked at two nice-sized bedrooms and a hall bathroom before walking to the master suite on the opposite end. The realtor opened the door and then stepped back to let Delicia enter.
“This is beautiful,” Delicia said as she looked around. The first thing she noticed about the room was its size. The living room of her current abode could fit inside this space, with room to spare. Plenty of sunshine streamed in from three large windows while a cozy sitting area with built-in shelves anchored the other side of the room. But the jewel of the room, the master bath, is what Delicia would later say sealed the deal for her. Sea green and icy-blue glass squares were the back-splash to the oversized Jacuzzi that took up one corner of the large room. On the other side was a shower stall and next to it, a vanity complete with marble bench and makeup lights. A walk-in closet and dressing room was just beyond the vanity, and the toilet area was separate. Unexpectedly, tears welled up in Delicia’s eyes. “It’s really beautiful,” she repeated, her voice hushed and reverent.
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