by Cat Porter
But Adri and I weren’t in any rush. We enjoyed an aimless stroll, her arm through mine, as we ambled down the South Bank of London, the ornate lampposts dotting the tree-lined riverside walkway our companions.
“You’ve been to London before?” she asked.
“Twice before. On family vacation, and another time when I was in college. I liked it very much. Beautiful city.”
“It is. A great combination of the very modern and the very historical. I like the energy here, it’s unique. I’ve never been to Chicago.”
“I look forward to showing it to you.”
“Me too.” She reached up and kissed my lips.
I held her chin. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together. I want to give you the world, Adriana.”
She squeezed my arm and pressed in closer to me.
“What would you like to do tonight? Where should we eat?” I asked her.
“Actually, I don’t want to share you. I think I’d like to cook dinner at home tonight. Is that terribly boring of me?”
“Sounds perfect.”
We got into a black cab which took us to her tony Mayfair neighborhood. All the townhouses looked alike along with rows of similar luxury SUVs parked up and down the streets. We went to a fancy butcher boutique and she chose beef filets.
“We need to make mashed potatoes with that,” I said. “The real thing, not from a box.”
“The horror,” she said on a dramatic shudder as I held the shop door open for her and she passed through.
Back at her incredible apartment that was filled with bold contemporary art and delicate antique furniture, colorful rugs, and heavy damask curtains, we set up shop in the magnificent black and white kitchen. She marinated the thick slices of organic Black Angus beef in crushed peppercorns, olive oil and wine, while I peeled the potatoes, cut them up and added them to a pot of salted boiling water along with a couple of garlic cloves. She’d lined up Irish butter, Jersey cream, and English mustard for me on the marble counter which stood waiting for my mash mastery. She created a salad out of mixed greens and thin slices of parmesan.
“Having dinner parties is a way of life here in London,” she said as she set down plates on the enormous marble island in the center of the kitchen. “It’s become theatre, rather competitive theatre at that. Everyone gets caught up in outdoing each other, making the biggest splash. They get obsessive about the prestige and the glamour of it. I went to a dinner once where the entire meal was made from truffles.”
“The entire meal?”
“Yes. The starters, the salads, the main course. The dessert. All of it. The novelty wore off quickly for me, and I couldn’t eat after the second course. ”
I made a face. “Jesus, that must have cost a fortune.”
“It was crazy. In fact, she’d hired a truffle agent—”
“A truffle agent?”
“There is such a thing for London’s elite—an agent for every delight you can possibly think of. This one’s quite famous, all word of mouth. She buys the truffles directly from sources in Italy and brings them here to sell herself.”
“She does well, this agent?”
“Extremely well. With private clients only, mind you, not restaurants. There are agents for smoked hams and sausages, different cheeses. Oh—then there was one who sells trout and salmon that’s smoked while the smoker—who is also a jazz pianist—plays. He claims the music affects the tenderness and the flavor of the fish.”
We both burst out into laughter.
“It’s true, I tell you!” she said. “I’ve eaten it myself.”
“And how was it?”
“It sang in my mouth, darling.”
I kissed her, nipping at her lips. “My mouth is going to make you sing tonight, Lovely.” She kissed me. “The obsessive pursuit of the finest pleasures,” I murmured.
“Hmm.”
I made the mashed potatoes, she plated the beef. I poured the wine, we ate.
We got the plates into the dishwasher, the cutlery. I said, “There’s something I need to tell you about my work, how things have changed for me.”
She wiped her hands on a towel. “All right.”
I lifted her up onto the kitchen counter and stood between her legs, my hands on her thighs. “I’m out of the business in Chicago. Luca and Alessio’s brother, Emilio is running it now.”
“Emilio? Really?”
“Really. Luca and Emilio made the transition of power…definitive.”
“I’m sure they did.”
“It was a good deal for me and very good for them, this foothold in America. And I like having the Alibertis on my side.”
“And your boss, your father?”
“No more,” I said evenly.
She held my gaze, steely. Understanding. Accepting. “I see.”
“If Luca or Emilio need my opinion on anything, my insights into the local players, they ask me, I answer,” I said. “But that’s as far as that goes. Luca sold me the business that I always ran for Guardino and it’s all mine now. An escort service.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and settled into a knowing smirk. “You must like this business if you’ve bought it for yourself?”
“I’ve made a good living off the obsessive pursuit of illicit pleasure. I have a friend from business school who I run it with, and for years we’ve wanted to expand, upgrade, take it to another level, but we were unable to. Now that it’s mine, I plan on doing that. Like this truffle agent.”
“How do you mean?”
“There’s a whole secret underworld out there of desires desperate to be fulfilled.”
“From wild mushrooms to sex, it would seem.”
“And more. I want to offer something unique that I know people want, people who can afford to indulge, but aren’t sure how to get it or how to get enough of it.”
“People who are more than willing to pay for this unique. And you would be the agent?”
“Yes. Consensual sexual entertainment in a private, exclusive setting.”
“Like what we saw on Evgeny Berezin’s boat?”
“No. That was a gaudy circus. I’m interested in creating an experience.”
“An experience,” she murmured. “Which includes a high-class escort service?”
“That would be one part of it, yes. Women and men who are not only attractive but well-dressed, educated, can hold a conversation and listen—to accompany a client on a vacation, a business trip, any kind of social event. A companion tailored to your tastes and interests.”
“Not just a fuck,” she said.
“That’s right. Everybody’s busy multitasking now, mobile phones are everywhere, gaming, online gambling, porn. People are forgetting how to touch, how to feel, connect.”
“But their bodies haven’t. Their bodies crave,” she said, her cheeks reddening.
I brushed my thumb along her lip. My baby had hungered and craved and didn’t know how to reconnect until me. My inner caveman roared.
“The spirit craves too,” she said.
“It does.” I kissed the side of her face.
“And what’s the other part?”
“A private club, but not at one location. Members from all over the world, small numbers, keeping it exclusive, a surprise even. We have special parties on private properties, leased yachts all over the Mediterranean. Luxury all the way. Alessio told me about this new friend of his whose family owns their own island. That got me thinking, and it pulled together all these ideas I’ve been having for a while now.”
“That island this Sheik owns is in the Ionian Sea, part of a chain of a few tiny islets. It’s quite impressive what he’s created. The original owners had been trying to sell it for years, the taxes—” she made a face “—you can imagine. He built this incredible mansion there. It’s well guarded, supremely private. Naturally, you can only get there by boat. He arrives with his yacht, it makes the national news.”
“To rent a place like that for a wee
k, ten days…” I said.
“Maybe Alessio could talk to him about renting or even sponsoring an event. The Sheik has two wives, but he has four sons and two bachelor brothers who are all notorious players. They and their circle might very well be interested in such a club.”
“Let’s get Alessio in on this.”
“That would be smart. He lives that lifestyle of riding the taboo, and he’s able to combine this underground aesthetic with luxury cachet.”
“You played a huge role in creating that.”
“I did.” She smiled. “And it’s what you need. What happens at this club over the weeklong stay?”
“Organized activities either with the escorts or members’ own partners to experiment with, reconnect, to swing. We provide something for every taste and desire: straight, gay, menage, orgy, bondage, whatever the hell it is, it’s on the menu.”
“Maybe a different menu or theme for every occasion,” she said. “Really special, very extravagant. A compelling experience. And how often? Two sessions a year? And at extremely different locations. Create that buzz and they will feel they must be a part of it.”
My insides tightened like a drum. “You like this?”
“You said, ‘We’ and I like that.”
I cupped her chin. “You like the illicit too, baby.”
“I like it with you.” Her tongue flared across her lip and my breath snagged in my throat. “Your excitement is infectious. Now, would you only want experienced people as members or novices as well? A mix?”
“A mix. You’d want to make this good for first timers. That’s key. They may react anxiously. They’ll need time to warm up to the reality, and then they’ll get into it. I’ve seen it in Chicago, especially with the celebrities or politicians. Once they feel comfortable that their privacy is ensured and they have one good experience, they take off. They keep coming back, they spend, they get comfortable, they stretch their wings. Knowing they can afford this sort of thing is a high for them.”
“The unique factor of the setting will make them feel they need more, that there’s always another level for them to experience, something other.”
I grinned. “Exactly.”
“I say a big initiation fee plus a yearly membership fee. Every member signs a contract ensuring privacy, making them feel safe to express themselves freely and to enjoy without fear of exposure. They’ll play by the rules as there would be too much for them to lose personally and professionally. A bond of secrecy wrapped up in privilege.” She picked up her wine glass and polished off the last of it. “Rather delicious.”
“I see this as a medium not only for entertainment, but exploration, learning, discovery. We could have a tantric sex guru come and show couples the light. Sexual massage.”
“Shibari.” She cocked an eyebrow, hooking her feet around my legs, pulling me closer.
“Shibari, huh?”
“I found it on the internet.”
“You’d want to keep it small, a tight group in the beginning,” she continued. “Members could nominate other potential members, but they’d have to pass our approval. You could even do some sort of initiation, a purely hedonistic little ritual to seal the pact.” Her eyes literally sparkled.
“Which would go to emphasize that this is a shared, special experience for the very few.”
“Ooh, we should have Alessio design some sort of charm or necklace as a sign of membership for the ritual.”
“Great idea. A tactile logo.”
“Would you need to hire just the right women and men to play the roles, satisfy certain interests?”
“That’s where Tricia will come in.”
“Tricia?”
“My madame in Chicago. She keeps track of sexual trends and shifts in fads and fetishes.”
“Now there’s a job.” She nodded. “Then there’s branding, pricing, scheduling, coordinating, communications…”
A rush tipped my system. “Work with me.”
“I’m already your sex slave,” popped out of her mouth.
“And I’m yours,” I breathed, standing perfectly still.
A flash of hunger, dark desire crossed her features. My skin heated as my body remembered her initial tentativeness, her embracing my rough, her willingness to go farther every time, to submit, to take control. That hunger inside me that yearned for Adri flared painfully.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body into mine. “So you’re saying I should leave my job here for this sinful, indecent adventure?” A smile dawned on her lips.
“You wanted to break out, didn’t you? You’ve worked in shipping, in oil, real estate, fundraisers. You’re multilingual, you’re an amazing special events planner, your instincts for publicity and PR are spot on. You’re able to juggle a thousand details all at once, and all the right details, and make snap decisions in a crisis. There’s a huge market to be tapped, and you know the players we’d like to target, you’re a part of their world. More than that, you would be amazing at this, you would shine.”
She let out a small laugh. “Shine?”
“Oh, so fucking bright.”
“Your belief in me has always meant a lot, Turo, from the very beginning. It helped me see things differently, see myself differently. You never coddled me or let me hide. You dared me, teased me. Thank you.”
“I’ve always believed in you, Adri.” I brushed my lips with hers, a hand around her pulsing throat. “We should talk to Alessio about this tomorrow.”
“He gives good face and attitude.” She let out a laugh. “Always an asset. I think he’ll really like this idea.”
“It’s the next level,” I said. “I have plenty of clients in America who’d be interested in an experience like this. An alternate vacation from their hectic schedules. An adventure.”
“Our adventure.” She caressed the side of my face and a low moan escaped my throat. “So you wouldn’t mind living like a gypsy in the Mediterranean for half the year, maybe more?”
“If it’s with you, nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She kissed me.
I nipped her bottom lip. “I like brainstorming with you.”
“We came up with so many good ideas,” she said. “We should write them down so we can review them tomorrow. See if they hold up in the light of day—”
“No writing—fucking.” I brushed the side of her neck with my lips. “Let’s fuck on it tonight, see how we feel in the morning.”
She laughed as I scooped her up off the counter and brought her into the living room and down to the floor. I wanted her naked, on my cock, and covered in my cum on that antique silk Persian rug.
I put the suede pouch in her hands.
“What’s this?” Adri sat up from the floor.
“Early birthday present. I can’t wait. I want you to have it now.”
“Turo,” she murmured, grinning as she opened the small pouch. Turning it over, the necklace fell into her open palm. She studied the midnight blue cord entwined with another of slate blue. Little brass cubes and balls, crystal beads along with tassels and charms—stars, starfish, an abstract sun, a máti evil eye charm trimmed in gold.
Our beach. Our sky. Our Andros.
“I’d gotten it for you in Andros, that last morning. But in the rush of everything going on, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you. Then I felt the moment for it had passed, that it was better not to give it to you. I found it in my suitcase once things calmed down in Chicago and I’ve kept it in my pocket ever since. Everywhere I go.”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere. Along with the stone from Vitáli.” I took the necklace from her and put it over her head, smoothed it over the tops of her breasts and kissed it, kissed her warm skin. “This is where it belongs.”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Perfect.”
“You’re perf—”
She kissed me, a slow kiss, gentle, and led me to her room where she threw back the covers and pulled me into her bed
. Moonlight gleamed through the open shutters, casting a silvery sheen on her body. I traced a delicate circle over her skin, down her middle. Her scar was no longer a distraught wound that she cut at as her pent up emotions dictated. She’d finally let it heal. I kissed the whitened scar and she let out a sigh. The mad Bacchanal had finished, the frenzy was over, yet I remained possessed and mesmerized by my lovely girl, my Adriana, and I knew I always would be.
She held me, and I laid my head down on her chest, a hand cupping a breast, her heart beating with mine. This was accomplishment, this was real ecstasy, deep joy. Peace. This was where I belonged.
Mykonos
59
Turo
We called Alessio and told him about our private club idea and he loved it. So much so, that he wanted to be a full partner.
“Count me in,” he said, the excitement obvious in his voice. Adri had him on speakerphone.
“Wonderful. We’ll see you in Mykonos in three weeks for Elektra’s concert and that’s where we’ll start to suss out potential members. That whole weekend on the island will be ideal for that. We’ll see who might be interested, how they respond, and we’ll be able to put together our first list of desirable members and work from there,” said Adri.
“When are you going to Rashid’s island?” I asked him.
“A week or so before the concert.”
“Perfect,” said Adri. “We need that island for the first club event, Alessio. Talk to Rashid and set up a meeting. Turo and I will stop there on our way to Mykonos.”
“Si, Si, contessa. You be ready to dazzle.”
“I will.”
“I’ll call you. Ciao,” said Alessio. Adri shut down her phone.
I contacted Tricia and told her the club idea.
“I want you to be my full partner in the Chicago operation,” I said. “The upgrade you’ve implemented is working out beautifully and I want it to continue. Hire more support staff because I need you as manager of operations on this club. Come to Mykonos for this concert party, meet Adri and Alessio, and we can all discuss concepts, details, test theories, and you can get the lay of the land and get some sun.”