by Candy Caine
“Well, what is?”
“How those babies of yours look.”
“Huh?”
“How you look topless.”
“Wha-at?”
“Didn’t you notice the other waitresses?”
“No. I didn’t see any.”
The thought of working half-naked didn’t exactly thrill me.
“So are you going to show me those puppies or not?” he asked eagerly.
A shouting match ensued in my head between the little voice of caution and the bigger one that championed reality. I needed the job and was worried that finding another might not be easy, so I slowly opened my blouse. I could hear his breathing from where I stood and watched his small, pink tongue lewdly lick his top lip.
“Come on,” he panted, “I ain’t got all day.”
I didn’t relish the fact that, as I opened my bra and freed my breasts, he was practically drooling. You’d think he’d be used to it by now.
“Beautiful knockers,” he said, making me feel more like an object than a woman. I was more than ready to slap him had he touched me. Lucky for both of us, he didn’t.
Ten minutes later, after a great deal of embarrassment, I was out there taking my first order. The other girls were nice and tried to make me feel comfortable. Mary Jo, a woman with bright red hair piled high on her head, took me under her wing. “You get used to it in no time. Men just act like men, if you know what I mean.”
The customers weren’t allowed to touch the waitresses. We had a couple of guys hanging around who used the customers who didn’t follow the rules like basketballs, bouncing them outside so fast, they never knew what hit them. I soon learned that most of the patrons were basically decent, and the tips were pretty darn good. I would be able to afford the rent on an apartment sooner than I’d expected. I didn’t pretend this job filled my life’s ambition, but it was a stop along the way, so for now it was just fine.
* * *
Four months later, I was working the 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift. The week had been very busy because of several conventions being held at nearby hotels. Though our dump of a restaurant was off the strip, we never had to advertise. Most of our patrons learned about us through word of mouth.
My shift was nearly over when two well-dressed men sat down in my section. One was attractive, in his late forties with brown hair going gray at the sides. He had a well-maintained suntan, which set off his light blue eyes. The other man, a light-skinned African American, was younger and bigger. His broad shoulders strained the seams of his jacket. He was pure eye candy, with the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen on a man. I figured he was the older man’s bodyguard.
I brought over two menus, and the older man told me they’d start with two coffees. I noticed that he wore an expensive-looking watch and a diamond pinky ring. Everything about him seemed to shout money. However, a well-dressed, apparently rich guy didn’t always translate into a big tipper, something I’d learned quickly. He did most of the talking, while the younger man merely nodded. Both men ordered the deluxe breakfast, consisting of orange juice, an oversize stack of pancakes, sausage, toast and coffee, which I refilled often.
As I freshened their cups for the second time, the older guy asked me my name. One thing about serving tables topless, you had no place to pin a nametag.
“Kayla.”
“That’s a beautiful name. Don’t you agree, Morgan?”
The younger man smiled at me and said, “It’s a perfect name for her.”
I smiled back and asked if there was anything else I could get them.
The older man caught me off guard with his next question. “Do you have a husband or boyfriend at home, sweetheart?”
I shook my head, surprised at myself for revealing the truth. Normally I didn’t give out any personal information.
“Then perhaps you’ll have dinner with me sometime.”
“I don’t date men I don’t know.”
He tapped his head with his forefinger. “How forgetful of me. Where are my manners? I’m Deacon Masters and this is my assistant, Morgan Grant.”
“You don’t expect me to go out with you now just because I know your name, do you?”
“Why not?”
“How do I know it’s your real name?”
“She’s got me there, Morgan. Any suggestions?”
The younger man leaned over and whispered something into his boss’s ear.
A man sitting in a booth waved at me. “Excuse me,” I said. “I have to take something to another table. I’ll be right back.”
Mary Jo caught me as I walked into the kitchen. “Who are those hotties?”
“The older guy wants to take me to dinner.”
“You go, girlfriend!”
“But I don’t know him. He could be a crazy, for all I know.”
“So you don’t see him again.”
“I won’t—especially if I’m dead.”
“You watch too much CSI, girl. Go out and have a good time.”
When I returned to Deacon’s table, he handed me a business card. A quick glance told me he was an importer of fine wines.
“What you can’t tell from the card is that I travel a great deal and make lots of money, which I enjoy spending on beautiful women. All I’m asking for is a date, but if we click, I can give you your heart’s desires.”
I processed what Deacon Masters had just told me. It would seem he was offering me the chance of a lifetime. Unless he was a serial murderer, why wouldn’t any woman want to date such a charming man? And like Mary Jo said, I didn’t have to see him again. What did I have to lose? Besides, I had absolutely nothing else going for me, and waiting on tables topless was not a lifelong career.
“I’d love to have dinner with you, Deacon.”
He smiled. “Tomorrow night at nine?”
“Fine.” I wrote down the address of the place where I was staying.
“Morgan will pick you up. Wear something nice.”
I left them the check. When I returned, I found a $50 tip waiting. How hard could it be to fall in love with a guy like Deacon Masters?
Morgan Grant picked me up the next night in a shiny black limo. He smiled and told me I looked nice, but I soon learned he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. “You’ve been with Deacon long?”
“Four years.”
“He a good boss?”
“He gives orders, and I follow them. When he’s happy, I’m happy.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“Are you writing a book?”
I shook my head. “Just making idle conversation.”
“While we’re idling along here, let me ask you a question.”
“What?”
“What possessed you to take a job as a topless waitress?”
“It pays the rent.”
I found myself studying the man. He had the most gorgeous eyes, the kind in which a woman could lose herself. Tonight he was wearing a knit shirt under his sports jacket, and from what I could tell, he was well put together. I realized I shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. He wasn’t the one with the money.
Deacon was waiting for me at the restaurant and rose as the maître d’ brought me to his table. “You look beautiful tonight, Kayla,” he said, pouring a glass of champagne for me.
We talked and drank over a leisurely meal. I enjoyed listening to his stories about all the places he’d been. The man was utterly charming and obviously knew how to treat a woman. But the night was only just beginning.
After dinner, Deacon hailed a cab and took me dancing at a swanky lounge off the Strip. He had given Morgan the evening off, so we were totally on our own. A live band was playing smooth jazz when we entered and were taken to a table up front. We ordered drinks and talked some before Deacon took my hand in his. “Let’s dance. I want to make the other men in the place jealous when they see me with you.”
I was wearing a simple red knit dress and had swept up my hair. If he thought I looked
fine, that was okay with me. I glided into his outstretched arms, and he held me close. We were so close that I could feel his growing erection pressing against me. By this time, I was ready. The combination of the drinks and the closeness to such an attractive male was explosive. All I needed was a stray spark.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Kayla?” he asked when we eventually sat down again.
“Yes, very much so,” I replied, meaning every syllable of every word.
“This is only the beginning.”
“Is it?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
I looked at the handsome man across the small table. I liked the vibes he was giving off. Still, I wondered if there was a catch. With men…there always seemed to be a catch.
As if he were reading my mind, he said, “There’s no pressure. No strings attached. You simply want to be with me or you don’t.”
How do you say no to such a charming man, one who’s promising you the moon and has the means to provide it?
I smiled and said, “I guess this is an offer I can’t refuse.”
Looking into my eyes, Deacon brought my hand to his lips and kissed the palm, sending a wave of small shocks down to my toes. We left shortly afterwards for a nightcap at his suite. I realized that by going there, I was committing myself, but hey, he seemed to be a terrific guy.
His suite at the hotel was unbelievable. Having money certainly had its rewards—like not having to worry about paying the rent and utilities.
“You like?”
“Nice place, but where do you call home?”
“I have places in San Francisco, New York, Paris, Barbados and Canada.”
“Which is your favorite?” I asked, trying not to show how impressed I was.
“That’s a tough one. San Francisco, I guess. Have you ever been there?”
I shook my head. “Only a few places in Arizona and Vegas.”
“Well, babe, fasten your seat belt because you’re gonna travel.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was beginning to feel like I’d ventured into a fairy tale and been turned into a princess. There might not be any bells going off, but I thought I could learn to love him.
“There’s only one problem, though,” he said with a serious look on his face.
Uh-oh, here it comes, I thought. “What’s that?”
“You’re going to have to give up your day job.”
I began to laugh, and he joined me. When the laughter died down, he looked into my eyes and drew me close. His lips on mine started my juices flowing. The guy certainly knew how to kiss. The kisses became more passionate as he reached around and unzipped my dress. I got up and let it fall to the floor before I stepped out of it.
“Come here,” he said.
I rejoined him on the couch. He gently kissed the swells of each of my breasts as he agilely reached around and unhooked my bra.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I first saw you,” Deacon said, tonguing one nipple and then the other. After teasing them enough to elicit a quiet moan from me, he slowly began to plant gentle kisses down my body as he slipped my panties down and off.
My skin prickled from the heat of his touch. He took a moment to photograph me with his eyes, taking a mental picture of my body. His gaze was unhurried and seductive, sending sparks of desire shooting through me.
He covered my mouth hungrily and probed its inner recesses, staking his claim before moving on to my neck. This drove me wild, and I arched my back, wanting him to touch me. He seem to hear my thoughts and slipped his mouth down to my breasts, whipping his tongue around each nipple before suckling each newly formed, pebbled peak. I moaned at this point, feeling that unmistakable tugging at my core. After pleasuring my breasts, he moved further down my now quivering body and lingered at my belly button, where he tongued-fucked it so erotically I nearly fell off the sofa. A strong current of desire shot through me.
Continuing his journey down my body, he parted my legs and lifted them. His tongue laved my lips and toyed with my clit. My oven was now stoked, and I had to be soaking the expensive piece of furniture. I threaded my fingers through his hair and pushed him harder into me. He made love to my pussy with his tongue and lips. Each time his tongue swirled around my clit, I’d edge a little closer to exploding. Arching my back, I gyrated my body against his mouth. Squeezing his hands, which covered my breasts, I indicated that I wanted him to pinch my nipples. Electrical sparks arced through me like lightning bolts, and I came in a blaze of white-hot pleasure.
Deacon smiled and kissed my mouth. Then he stood up and opened his slacks. I watched as he stepped out of them. The bulge in his black silk briefs was inviting. He slipped them off, and his thick cock pointed at me with desire. I opened my legs, and quickly he positioned himself between them, then sheathed his cock in my pussy, which was already slick with my own love juices. Fervently kissing first my neck and then my mouth, Deacon pumped in and out of me maniacally. Pleasure rose within me with each thrust of his shaft. I lifted my legs over his shoulders, giving him more access. He thrust deeper and harder. He crushed my mouth with his as he moved faster. I felt another orgasm building quickly. Grabbing one of my breasts, he grunted and then let loose.
That pushed me over the edge, and I started to spasm, each wave washing over me with intense pleasure. Surprisingly, this orgasm was nearly as intense as the first one. A moment later, I lay gasping as the throbbing ebbed. Then he kissed me gently. “You’re everything I imagined you’d be.”
Then without another word, Deacon scooped me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. The bed was already undone, and he laid me down on the silk sheets. They were cool to the touch. I reached for the blanket to cover myself, but he stopped me.
“Don’t. I want to look at your beautiful body.”
The way he looked at me didn’t make me feel cheap or uncomfortable, just beautiful as he’d said. He got off the bed, went to a small wet bar in the corner of the room and poured wine into two glasses. I found myself appraising his body. For a man his age, he was certainly fit. His stomach was flat and firm, his shoulders muscled. He brought the wine back to the bed and sat down next to me.
As we sipped the wine, he gently stroked my thigh. “I hope you’ll want to remain here with me and let me make you happy.”
I’d given this subject a great deal of thought already. Of course, I knew nothing was forever, but I liked the man. I hated to make rash decisions, though.
“You seem to be a terrific guy, but I really don’t know you—and you don’t know me. Can we take this a little more slowly?”
“I’m too old to date. However, I do have a compromise. Stay here on a temporary basis. If you’re not happy, say, in a month, you can go home. Is that okay?”
Even though it was a little too soon, it did seem fair. Besides, it was only a month, right? What’s a month out of an entire life?
I nodded my agreement. He took the glass from me and put it next to his on the night table. Then he reached for me. I melted into his arms as he began to make tender love to me. His gentle touch began to arouse me all over again. I didn’t think it was possible, but it was.
The man seemed to know all the right buttons to press. After one last orgasm, I fell contentedly asleep in his strong arms. My last thought was how easy it would be to fall in love with Deacon Masters.
I had an uneasy feeling that going off with a man I hardly knew made me no better than the mother I’d left behind. It wasn’t something I normally saw myself doing, but I convinced myself before I could get cold feet that I was doing the best thing for me at the time. In a way, it was because Deacon treated me right. It was easy to fall in love with him. It wasn’t an earth-shattering kind of love, but it was a comfortable one, with undeniably good sex. Looking back, any kid from the wrong side of the tracks would have done the same.
Two days later, Morgan took me shopping for warm clothes. Deacon was taking me to Whistler, British Columbia, where he owned a chale
t. I was so excited! I was going to see real snow for the first time in my life. Unfortunately, the trip was canceled as he had to go away for a few days on business. Not wanting me to be alone, he had Morgan stay with me. Having Morgan serve as my babysitter soon began to happen more often than I would have liked. I didn’t think Morgan wanted to be stuck babysitting me, either.
In the beginning, it was the excitement of traveling to places I’d never been that attracted me to Deacon. Of course, he sweetened the relationship by giving me expensive things I could never have afforded even in my wildest dreams. But eventually, my feelings for him grew. As I said, they weren’t earth-shattering, but I did love him. Though he treated me well, he also sometimes frightened me. I discovered there was a less attractive side to him. He didn’t like to be crossed and could be a ruthless adversary in business. Knowing there was just a small stretch from the professional to his personal life wasn’t very comforting. I often wondered what he would do if I disagreed with him over some issue. Luckily, it never came to anything like that.
Despite how I felt for Deacon, as time passed, I found myself thinking more and more about Morgan. I couldn’t understand why I was so attracted to him. True, we were always thrown together, but I had been attracted to him from the first moment our eyes met. Though he was handsome and reminded me of a graceful black panther when he moved, he worked for Deacon and could never afford to give me what Deacon did. Yet, I still desired him and fantasized about him.
I loved to watch his muscles ripple when he moved and longed to run my hand lazily over them. More than that, I wanted to taste those sexy lips of his and twist my fingers in his hair. I reasoned it was all because he was like forbidden fruit, and the more I fought my feelings, the more attracted to him I became. All I needed was for Deacon to find out. He’d be furious and probably skin me alive. Perhaps things might have been easier had I not been human and left alone with Morgan so much.
* * *
Deacon was going to Paris on a business trip. I’d wanted to go along and told him so. I just knew I’d love Paris. I’d always heard that there was no other place on earth as romantic.
“Sorry, babe. I’m only going to be there a day or so to complete a deal.”