Betrayal (17 page)

“Hello? Ariel, are you there?”

Ariel was deep in thought and didn’t realize that her praying had created dead air between them. “Oh, yes, honey. I’m here. So, Judge Hendricks, or should I say Justice Hendricks,” she said, addressing him by his formal title, which was also her pet name for him, “what have you been up to since I’ve been gone?”

Preston’s mind instantly flashed back to À Votre Service, and the delicious blow job he had had. A flourish of guilt washed over him; he felt so bad that he started to confess his dirty little secret. He quickly weighed the pros and cons of telling Ariel the truth. On the one hand, if he told her, she would no doubt be devastated, but on the other hand, he would relieve his constant guilt. “I have something to tell you—”

“Hold on, honey. Someone’s calling,” she said, cutting him off, and answering the other line.

“That was Meri,” she said, returning to the line a few minutes later. “I told her I was on the phone with you, but she kept blabbing. You know how Meri is. Now what did you want to tell me?” she asked, getting back to their conversation.

“That I miss you terribly.” While Ariel had him on hold, Preston changed his mind. A confession, though it would ease his troubled mind, would destroy his wife, and he loved her too much to devastate her.

“Aw, honey, I miss you too.”

“Really? What do you miss?” he asked, dropping his voice in a deeper register. Thinking about À Votre Service had gotten him heated up. He wanted to get laid, but since going back to the restaurant wasn’t an option, he thought the next best thing was phone sex with his wife.

Ariel smiled. She knew that tone in Preston’s voice meant he was feeling naughty. “Well … let’s see … I miss your strong arms around me when we’re lying in bed.”

“And …”

“And I miss how your dick feels against my butt when you start to get hard.”

“And …”

“And I miss how it feels when you put it inside of me.”

“Hmm,” he moaned. “You’re always so wet, when I’m inside of you. Are you wet now?”

Ariel had also gotten heated up, and talking dirty to her husband had made her moist. “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to play with your clit, until you come. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” She put her hands underneath the covers, closed her eyes, and began kneading her pleasure point. “Ohh, I wish you were here. It feels s-o-o-o good.”

Preston was stroking his pole, and the sound of his wife’s voice was making him harder. He increased the pace. “Yeah, my dick feels good too. Let’s come together. Are you almost there?”

“Yes-s-s,” she sang, with her head now laid back on the pillows.

“Come on, honey, stroke that clit. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Cum for me. Ohh, I’m almost there,” he said, pulling his dick harder and harder.

“Oh, yeah, I’m there. I’m there.”

“Me too. Ugggghhh,” he moaned as he came.

There was only heavy breathing on the line, as they each recovered from their respective orgasms.

“That was great,” Preston said. He had relieved his sexual tension,
and was ready to go to sleep—like the average man. “Honey, I’m going to turn in now. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

Ariel was exhausted too, and didn’t protest. “Okay, good night.”

The next morning she felt refreshed and energized. As she was drinking her second cup of coffee, and reading the business section of the
Times
, the phone rang.

“Good morning,” she said, knowing it was probably Preston.

“Good morning yourself, how did you sleep?”

“Like a woman who had had some great phone sex,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, it was great, wasn’t it?” Preston’s career had overshadowed his sex life for so long that it felt good to finally be able to please himself and his wife. “Listen, the reason why I’m calling this morning is to see if you can come home for a day or two.”

“I don’t know. This case is pretty intense. What’s going on?”

“The president elect is having a cocktail party, and I’d love to walk in with my beautiful wife on my arm,” he said, looking at the invitation.

“When is it? Maybe I could catch the train, come down for the evening, and return the next day.”

“Oh, that would be great! The party is tomorrow evening.”

That was the day before the trial, and she had a debriefing meeting with the client. “Honey, I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it tomorrow since it’s the day before the trial.”

“I understand,” he said, sounding like a boy who was told that Christmas had been canceled.

“I knew you would; that’s what I like about being in the same business as you. We both know how grueling this profession can be.” The minute those words left her lips, she realized how hypocritical she sounded. She was anything but understanding when Preston was seeking the nomination for the Supreme Court. On those days when he blew her off to rush to Washington for an impromptu meeting with Senator Oglesby, she was livid. And when he had to take the senator’s calls, and would be on the phone for hours, she wanted to put a hit out on the senator. He was only trying to help Preston se
cure the nomination, but she viewed his constant presence as an unwelcome intrusion. It was Preston’s preoccupation with his career that drove her to the Black Door and her eventual affair with Trey. Now that the tables had turned, and she was busy with work, she couldn’t help but wonder if Preston was seeking love elsewhere, like she had done. Out of the clear blue she asked, “So, have you been going out?” Even though Ariel knew that if Preston was cheating he’d never confess. What man would? But she had to ask anyway; thinking that she’d be able to detect a change in his voice, if he were lying.

Preston thought the question odd, but answered anyway. “No, honey. Where would I go without you anyway?” he said, with no hesitation.

“Good,” she said, with a grin in her voice. After their phone sex session last night, she knew that he was telling the truth. “Well, you have my permission to go to the party and have fun, but not too much fun.”

“Thanks for allowing me the privilege of going to the president elect’s party.” He chuckled. “Okay, gotta run. Love you.”

“I love you too.” Ariel hung up and went back to reading the morning paper.

UNBEKNOWNST TO PRESTON
, Michele had been lurking outside of his door. Luckily, she had come to work early and overheard his entire conversation. She knew about the party weeks ago and was dying to go. The presidential election had been such a heated competition, with a narrow win for the candidate, that everyone was dying for a chance to meet the new president up close and personal. The cocktail party had been written up in all the society columns as the place to be, and Michele was going to use Ariel’s absence to her advantage.

She tapped lightly on his door, and heard him say, “Come in.”

“Good morning, Preston. I’m going to make a pot of coffee, just wanted to know if you’d like a cup?” she asked, walking into the office.

He looked up at her. Michele was dressed in a navy pinstripe skirt suit, with a white oxford shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon,
and she was wearing her glasses again. Preston thought that after his talk regarding her wardrobe had worn off, she would go back to wearing her skintight clothes, but she didn’t. As a matter of fact, her outfits seemed to get more conservative. It was almost like he was working with an entirely different person; even her demeanor had changed. It was as if she had matured from a college coed into a professional woman. Not that she wasn’t professional before, but now she seemed more seasoned, and he liked the transformation. “I’d love a cup. Thanks. Also, can you file these papers?”

She walked to his desk to take the stack from him, and saw the invitation to the party. “I certainly hope you’re not going to toss that invitation in the trash.”

“Of course not; I plan on going. As a matter of fact, I’d planned on going with Ariel, but she can’t make it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure you don’t want to go alone, since most people will be with their spouses, assistants, or significant others,” she said, throwing in the word
assistant
and hoping that it would make a subliminal impact.

“No, I really didn’t want to go alone, but at the same time, this is one cocktail party that shouldn’t be missed,” he said.

Damn, didn’t he hear me say “assistant”?
Michele wanted to lay another land mine, but she had to tread lightly and not appear desperate. “I talked to Senator Oglesby’s assistant and she’s going with him, since his wife is out of town.”

Preston put his thumb and forefinger on his chin. “Really? Is that right?” he asked.

She watched his face closely, and could tell that he was considering the idea. She held her breath, and was on pins and needles, hoping that he took the bait. “Yes, that’s right.” She nodded her head.

“Well …” he looked at her. “If the senator is taking his assistant, I might as well take mine. That is, if you’re free tomorrow night.” Months ago, Preston would have never dreamed of taking Michele anywhere for fear that she would embarrass him with one of her overtly sexy dresses. But now that she had toned down her image, he didn’t have to worry about her wearing something inappropriate.

“Yes, I’m free,” she said calmly, even though inside she was screaming with joy. “I’ve done research on the president elect’s camp, and will be able to assist you with the names of people who were not in the limelight during the campaign,” she offered as to why he should take her, just in case he suddenly had a change of heart.

“Oh, that would be great! I’m familiar with most of the people, but sometimes my memory takes a holiday.” He grinned.

“Don’t worry, I got your back.” She smiled. “I’ll bring my clothes for the evening so that we can leave directly from here.”

“Excellent idea. Thanks, Michele. I really appreciate you going with me. I didn’t want to go alone; now I won’t have to. With you filling out the blanks in my memory, if need be, it’ll be like we’re working,” he said, justifying her presence. Now that they had defined her role, he had a viable answer as to why his assistant was there, and felt completely comfortable with the decision.

“Not a problem. Let me go in the kitchen and start the coffee.”

“Okay.”

In the confines of the kitchen Michele mouthed,
“I got my first date with Preston! Move over, Ariel, I’m taking your man like you took mine!”

IT HAD
been a few days, and Trey couldn’t believe that Michele was still ignoring his calls. Whenever he called—day or night—her cell phone would ring several times, and then go into voice mail. She obviously saw his number pop up on the screen and chose not to answer. He was getting extremely frustrated, and a little paranoid. It wasn’t like Michele to dismiss him like that.
What if she’s told my dad everything?
he thought. Normally she relished every second speaking with him. He had her dick-whipped from day one, and she was firmly under his spell, or so he thought. Something had changed, and he couldn’t help wonder if someone else had her hypnotized. Under normal circumstances, he would have loved it if Michele had moved on and was someone else’s burden, but since they were partners in a cover-up scheme, he needed her commitment now more than ever. He dialed her number for the tenth time that day.

“Hello, Trey,” Michele answered in a deadpan tone.

Trey was elated, and paid no attention to her attitude. He couldn’t believe that she had finally picked up. “Hey, baby! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you and I keep getting your voice mail. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?” she said, sounding drier than before.

“Because every time I call, I get your voice mail, which is so unlike you. Have you been sick or something?” he asked, still wanting to know why she was ignoring his calls.

“No, I haven’t been sick. I’ve been busy. I’m sure you know about being
busy,”
she said, putting emphasis on the word. “You’ve sent my calls to voice mail so many times that I’ve lost count.” Even though Trey couldn’t see Michele, she was rolling her neck and pursing her lips, as if she were telling him off to his face.

Trey’s mouth dropped. Michele had never spoken so harshly to him before, and he didn’t know what to say. “Well, I’m not busy this weekend. Why don’t you come to New York, and we can spend some much-needed quality time together,” he said, almost pleadingly.

Any other time Michele would have jumped at the chance to see Trey. Last year he was the love of her life, but life had taken a different turn, and now she had another agenda that didn’t include him.

“Can’t. Busy,” she said, cut-and-dried and without supplying further explanation.

“Well, why don’t I come down there instead?” Trey was desperate to talk to Michele to persuade her to keep her mouth shut. He didn’t want her telling his dad anything. He had to tell Preston, man-to-man, what happened. Look him in the eyes and ask for his forgiveness.

“Can’t. Busy,” she said again. “Look, Trey, I’m going to an important event this evening and need to get ready. Good-bye.”

Before he could say anything else, she had slammed the phone in his ear. She dismissed him so fast that he didn’t have time to recover. Trey slumped back in his chair, and tried to think of another strategy, but kept coming up blank.
I need to talk to Ariel. Maybe she can help me find another way to see Michele
. The phone was still in his hand, so he just pressed the receiver button, and dialed Ariel’s cell, but it went straight to voice mail.
“Damn it!”
he shouted, and slammed the phone back in its cradle.