Love, Lies and Shattered Hearts

by Carol May

  Coming to a stop at the almost exact spot we left mere minutes before, we find Blaine standing beside the plane. I can’t decide if he is mad. Blaine holds his hand up to prevent Tom from getting out. Opening the back of the limo, Blaine sits down. Turning to face me with a stormy but confused look he asks, “Where were you going? Why did you leave me?”

  Sitting here both confused and embarrassed, I manage to say, “You got out and went into the plane. I thought you were going to Orlando.”

  The hard lines on his face quickly disappear as he laughs just a little. Shaking his head saying, “No. I went into the plane to talk to the pilot and assure him, he would be paid for the flight even though we were not going to Orlando."

  Forming an o with my mouth, I ask, "So this isn't your plane?"

  "No Charli, it isn't my plane. Believe it or not, I do not own a plane. My corporation owns one but when I fly personally, I tend to rent one. I am sorry for not explaining. I was just a little shocked to hear that you don’t fly. I couldn’t very well just drive off without giving instructions.”

  Nodding in agreement, “I guess that is true. I was just so shocked that you got out. I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Turning his body toward me, “Nothing to forgive. We both made a mistake. Perhaps the greatest one was assuming we would go to Orlando. I never thought about discussing our destination with you. Are you up for another attempt at dinner and dancing?”

  Smiling, I answer “Yes.”

  After giving Tom directions to a place on South Beach, we sit quietly. This time it is different between us. It seems to be a little strained. Pulling up in front of a small restaurant that is just off Ocean Drive, I am almost tempted to go home and chalk this off to another failed attempt to get to know Blaine. That’s when I give into that little inner voice of mine that reminds me that I do look really good, that this is a great dress and that I should stay. With a little smile, I decide to see where this night takes me. Sliding over to the door, I reach up for his hand. I feel the sparks. Heck yes, I am staying.

  We are seated at a table for two, off to the side but it is my guess this is one of the best tables for an intimate conversation. After we order, Blaine asks, “Charli, why don’t you fly?”

  I knew this question was coming. I am prepared. I thought about this on the drive here and decided to answer but not with the normal reason I give of not liking it. Taking a deep breath, I look into those eyes and say, “I am the sole survivor of a plane crash that left me a widow and without parents.” There I said it. Not really leaving any room for questions.

  Sitting there, Blaine looks as if he has been kicked in the stomach when he winces. “ Oh my Lord. Obviously, I didn’t know about the accident or that you don’t fly. Damn! My people should have known that when they did their check on you. I am sorry. I would never have put you through that if I had known. Forgive me.”

  “Blaine, there is nothing to forgive. How could you have known? It isn’t exactly something I share with everyone I meet. Besides my name was different back then.”

  I see in his eyes and on his face what I always see when I share that very personal information. He is only one of two men that I have ever told. The other was a chocolate eyed devil that I am trying to move past. Looking directly into Blaine's eyes, I calmly say, "Don't be sorry for me. It was a very long time ago. I am in no way the same person that fastened herself into that airplane. As a matter of fact, that is the reason my name is now Charli. My birth name was Charlotte. She was young and naive. She believed her husband was the head of the household. He dominated her in more than one way. If he hadn't been that way she would never have agreed to take that flight." Managing a small smile, the words continue to spew from me. "Let me be completely honest. He wasn't just domineering he was abusive. I never knew which person would walk through the door. It would be easy to blame alcohol but he didn't actually drink that much. Sure, he would have a drink every now and then but alcohol wasn't the reason." Pausing only to catch my breath I continue, "Back then, I thought if I just made things perfect then he wouldn't hit me. I would work really hard to be the perfect wife. We were basically newlyweds. Tyler was a few years older than me. He had graduated and was working for a tech company. I was still taking classes and working part time. Every day, I would rush back to our little apartment to make sure it was neat and tidy. Sometimes, it would be weeks in between his episodes. As I said, I never knew what would set him off but when it happened it was bad. Thank goodness we didn't live really close to my family. My brothers would have killed him if they had ever known. They don't know to this day that Tyler Jensen was abusive."

  Closing his eyes as he picks up his drink, Blaine grasps the glass so tightly that I am afraid it might crumble under the pressure. Opening his eyes, just as he raises the tumbler to his lips, our eyes lock. The air between us seems to be thick with a tension I can't describe. Finally, returning the glass to the table, he speaks with a tenderness that I would never have imagined could come from hm. "My God Charli, I am so sorry. I hope you will forgive me for putting you through the earlier episode. Never would I have planed the trip up to Thirsty had I known. You must believe that. May I ask you a question?"

  Smiling gently, I respond with, "Yes you may but before you do let me add that there was really no way you could have known. Oh, you could have found out about the crash but not the abuse. He never broke a bone or hit my face. So very few people knew. My partner, Lana knew. She hated him."

  "Why did you stay with him? Better yet, why in the world would you keep the bastard's name?"

  Attempting to lighten the depressing mood we are now in I flash him a quick smile and answer, "I stayed with him because I believed once you are married you didn't divorce. I was young barley twenty when we married, I really didn't know any better. I didn't want anyone to know that I couldn't please my husband. That was what I thought. Actually, that was what he would hurl at me when he was having one of his episodes. As for keeping his name, I did that and still do to protect my brothers. They would question why I didn't want to be a Jensen anymore. If I had been honest, they would have punished themselves. Felt guilty that they didn't know. Once I was healed, they would never have let me out of their sight. I know them. They would have felt as if they needed to makeup for not protecting me." With a shrug of my shoulders I continue, "I couldn't put them through any more. I almost died. Our parents did die. In a way I felt as if I killed them. It took me a very long time to understand that they made the choice to get on that plane with us. I still have some guilty feelings about it especially on the anniversary. What good would it do for them to ever find out what Tyler was actually like?"

  With a nod Blaine leans across the table takes my hand and pulls it up to his lips giving a brief sweet kiss he says, "I hope to hell they know how special their sister is."

  Struggling to further lighten the mood I wink and say, "Oh, I don't let them forget. I actually remind them every opportunity I get. By the way you ask two questions not one so by my estimation you owe me a question."

  Smiling he responds, "By all means ask away but be forewarned I will be honest. You might want to think about the question you ask."

  "Okay, I consider I have been warned." Tapping the table, taking my own sweet time I smile as I ask the question, "I know this is very forward of me but in an attempt to lighten the mood here goes."

  Interrupting me, Blaine responds with, "Now I am intrigued. Continue on Darlin."

  "What color underwear do you have on?"

  Laughing deeply his reply is honest. "What makes you think I have any on?"

  Shaking my head, I respond, "Oh no, that's a question. Not allowed."

  Taking a long sip from his glass, his facial expression is unreadable. After a few seconds he breaks into a huge grin as he finally speaks. "Black. To be exact they are a Swiss cotton boxer brief."

  Flashing a smile that I hope matches his own, I respond with "Nice. Very nice. So you are definitely a man in black."
<
br />   The remainder of our meal is spent in conversation. We talk about our favorite foods as well as foods we dislike. I found it interesting that both of us find escargot disgusting. Just as we were wrapping up our meal, he excuses himself to take a call. I find that refreshing, for lack of a better word. He actually walks away from the table explaining it is the Vice President of his company. Sitting here, I have the opportunity to actually take in the beauty of the room. The old world charm was not at all what I expected when we pulled up to the front of the building.

  Returning to the table Blaine stands beside me rather than sitting down he asks, "My sexy lady are you ready to dance the night away?” Before I can respond, Blaine takes my hand guiding me across the room. Up a set of stairs I had not noticed before. We exit through a paneled door that leads into a long corridor. Walking the length of it, we stop in front of yet another door. Opening it, I am completely surprised as we step onto the upper deck of an ultra chic nightclub. It is as if the vibration from the music is consuming me. Positioning me in front of him, Blaine leans in to speak into my ear, "let’s dance." We begin to move to the music for a few minutes.

  Moving in front of me, we move across through the crowd on what I realize is a transparent floor, I suddenly am self-conscious of the dress I have on. Not so much the dress but if I can see those below me then surely they can see me. To my great surprise, a big man actually a very big man stops us. Big boy leans into Blaine saying something in his ear. With the pulse of the music, I have no idea how they can possibly hear each other but they seem to have a bit of a conversation. This gives me the opportunity to look at Blaine from behind. I must admit that I am having no difficulties taking in his back side. My eyes travel across his broad shoulders, down those muscular arms stopping on his behind. He puts one of his hands in his pant’s pocket which gives me a perfect view. I usually don’t ogle men but mercy me! Feeling a moist spot developing on my panties, I press my legs together. If I get this worked up just looking at him then I am in trouble, big trouble. At least I hope it is big. With just a small giggle, I ask myself what in the world is wrong with me? I don’t giggle like some silly young girl or think about things like the size of a man’s penis but I just did. I haven’t really had anything to drink, so I can’t blame it on alcohol.

  Turning around, Blaine leans down to me directing me to follow him. As if I wasn't going to anyway! As he takes my hand, I take a quick glance at his, it is big. I can’t see his feet but I have always heard big hands, big feet, big dick. I have absolutely no doubt that everything of his his big. Crap, what am I doing? I never talk about anyone this way. I never actually think of anyone this way. We stop in front of a wall. Pulling on his hand, I get his attention and he leans down close enough to hear me.

  “I do not claim to know anything about architecture but isn’t there suppose to be a door if we are going through a wall?”

  Saying into my ear, “Really? I thought we would teleport into another room.”

  Flashing him my megawatt smile, I reply, “Smartass!”

  Before anything else can be said, our guide steps aside. Blaine leads us into a small room that is obviously some type of private sitting room that features a glass wall overlooking the dance floor on one side of the room and a bar on the other. Strange, I can’t hear any music in here. It must be sound proof. Walking over to the glass wall, I look out onto the dance floor. Tilting my head, I am thinking very hard about the outer surface of the room we are in. I didn’t notice a wall of glass on the other side. I know it was a plain wall, black and gray to be exact. Giving a shrug, I turn away from the glass as I hear, “Mr. Carlton, if I had known you were coming tonight, I would have a space for you. As it is, I only have the outer room here available. I know how you feel about being on the floor. As you can see, we are at capacity tonight. Actually, as you know we reach it every night but for some reason our numbers for safe capacity have been reached earlier than usual. Did you see the line out front? Onda is a huge success.”

  Smiling and nodding his head as this man rambles on, Blaine, finally, holds up a hand to stop him. “No, I didn’t see a line since I entered through The Eatery. This room is fine. I am assuming you will be on the floor and not hold up in the office.”

  With a strange look on his face the man replies, “No, Sir, I will not be in the office for the remainder of the night.” Excusing himself, he turns to exit through the door we just entered. As he opens it, the pounding beat of the music enters the room with such an engulfing force it feels almost as if I have been attacked.

  Moving to the bar, I notice Blaine pick up what appears to be a remote. He pushes a button causing the room’s lighting to match what is on the other side of the glass wall, dark but with a variety of lights moving through the room as if in a wave. Next comes the music, which seems to engulf us but not overpower us. Watching as he removes his suit jacket, he seems completely comfortable in this room. Taking my hand, he pulls me into him and our bodies begin to move. I have no idea how long we dance but I can't remember when my body has ever moved like this on a dance floor. The moves and the connection are such a foreplay I am not sure how much more I can take.

  Leaning into me, he asks if I am thirsty. With a nod of my head, we move to the bar. Blaine, being ever the gentleman, pulls out a dark lush stool for me. Rounding the bar, he looks as if he is at home. At some point the volume of the music has lowered enough for us to have a decent conversation without yelling. I assume he has adjusted it.

  “I thought I would mix something easy, as I don’t want to pull a bartender off the floor. If that is alright with you?”

  Smiling, I nod in agreement.

  “Do you like Hurricanes?”

  “Yes, I do. I like rum which means I like most rum drinks. I am not overly fond of coconut rum though.”

  As Blaine mixes, he begins to tell me the background of the drink. He says, “the story behind the drink says that it was created as a way for New Orleans bar owner, Pat O'Brien to get rid of a huge amount of rum he had been forced to buy. The name came from the hurricane lamp shaped glasses that the first drinks were served in."

  Smiling as Blaine pushes the drink to me, I look up to meet those eyes. I have no doubt every woman that has ever looked into them has felt the need to be lost in them. Sighing internally, I follow him as he walks around the bar, leading us to the intimate seating. After settling in, we turn to face each other as his arm is across the back of the leather loveseat. “What do you think of this place?”

  Taking a sip of my drink, I ponder my actual thoughts about it. Finally, I reply, “it is certainly unique. I believe I used that word to describe the other establishment I visited with you. That seems to be a trend I am experiencing with you. I must admit I like what I have seen of it.”

  Taking a sip of his drink he responds with, “I’m glad you like it. This is one of my newest adventures. You are correct it does house some unique features. That is something I require in all of my venues. I want to push the boundaries.”

  Looking around the room, my response is “I didn’t know this was yours. Then, I take it, The Eatery is yours also. The conversation I heard between you and the man earlier, Ed I believe, makes more sense to me now.”

  “Yes, The Eatery is mine as well. If you remember I said earlier we would visit one of my establishments."

  With a brief nod, I respond, "Yes, I remember. I just wasn't aware you owned any establishments here in Miami."

  Smiling in response to my comment, he says, "Would it surprise you to learn that I own or rather my corporation owns several venues here in Miami as well as throughout the state. I hope you found the food to your liking.”

  As I answer, “Yes, it was delicious,” he leans toward me, tilts my head back leaving his hand under my chin. I am surprised as our lips barely touch. Just as my brain is registering this, I feel an assault of gentle soft kisses all over my face. It almost feels as if he is brushing me with a feather they are so light and gentle. Trying to turn m
y face to meet his lips, he moves his hand to the back of my neck not allowing me to move. Taking advantage of my open mouth as a small moan escapes, Blaine traces my lips with the tip of his tongue. Finally giving me a full mouth kiss but without that sensual tongue of his. I don’t think I have ever been this excited and wet by simply kissing since I was a teenager in the front seat of a car.

  With a smile that can only be described as a mixture of full out sexy with a hint of deviousness pulling back from me he says, “I like a certain degree of uniqueness in everything. That is what first attracted me to you. You stood your ground about things at J. Elliot’s, especially with Clea and believe me that is something few people can do. I knew from that moment on the stairs that we would be together.”

  “Really? You knew that did you?”

  “Yes." Completely changing the subject as if there is nothing remaining to say he asks, "Would like to dance some more?”

  Nodding in agreement, my inner voice is saying, “Dance? Really? Is that what he thinks I want to do after that kiss.”

  The room is suddenly filled with music again. After several minutes of tantalizing movement, Blaine swings me around, where we are both facing the wall of glass, pulling my back to his front. This seems to be a favorite of his. Even though he towers over me, our hot sweaty bodies are moving as one. There is only one description for this dancing, I believe once upon a time it was called dirty dancing. I think, I am going to call it slow torture. Keeping his hands on my hips, it feels as if sparks of fire are shooting out of them reaching every inch of my body.

  I hear in my ear, “Charli, I want you. I believe you want me as well.”

  Not attempting to deny my desire, I turn to face him. Breathlessly, I manage to mumble, “Now. I want you now. Take me here.”

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, Blaine takes me by the back of my thighs lifting me to him. I wrap my legs around him, as he walks us somewhere. It quickly registers we are against what I pray is a two way glass. His mouth takes mine in a passion guided kiss that undoubtedly will leave my lips bruised.