Inferno Anthology (139 page)

“You’re incorrigible. I don’t even know how to answer you back. I think we’ll just continue on with our tour.” She walks past me to head out of the room and lightly punches me on the bicep.

“Hey!” I say in protest even though I barely felt a thing. A stern look in her eyes lets me know she’s on to me. I can’t pull any punches past the woman.

Our tour continues, and we enter the next room. She doesn’t even have to tell me it’s her bedroom because it has Kathryn written everywhere I look. A beautiful, mahogany poster bed centers the room. The posts have to be more than six feet tall. Grand and quite the statement.

“This is my room. Just remember clothing isn’t optional in here.” She’s such a killer of my wet dreams.

“So is this where all the Tantra action occurs?” I place my hand on one of the bedposts and give it a little shake, checking for stability. It doesn’t budge. Quality.

“You don’t know shit about tantric sex, do you?” She knows the answer already, I’m sure, but likely wants to hear it from me first.

“Clueless. I’ve heard bits and pieces about it. I know your definition, though, ‘Sex as an art form.’”

“For the record, nothing Tantra happens in my bedroom. This room is associated with sleeping, and nothing about Tantra makes one want to sleep.” She has a dreamy, lost-in-pleasure appearance. It’s an unfamiliar expression on her face to me. I wonder if this is how she looks when she practices Tantra. I hope to God I find out. At this point I’m willing to sign up for anything.

“I’ll show you where the Tantra action does occur. Follow me.” This room I have to see. But funny thing, I’ve never left a woman’s bedroom without having fucked her in it first. Sadly, another first for me where Kathryn’s concerned.

We pass back by my room. The room where I’ll likely be lying awake most of the night thinking about her sleeping a few feet away. Once past it, she stops in front of a doublewide door. Two brass handles mark the center where they meet.

“Welcome to my office.” Her eyes have a glint of mischief as she twists on of the brass handles and waits for me to enter the room.

What greets me looks like anything but an office. I know my face shows the shock of what I’m seeing. I feel as if I've been transported to an ancient desert king's tent. The type used for housing a harem. It’s from another world. Another time.

The walls are covered with silken-like tapestries in dark, rich tones. Gold threading glimmers throughout. Pillows lie scattered across the room with a large one situated in the middle. It looks more like a soft pallet. Beneath the pillows, the floor is covered with oriental-style rugs. They are dark, too, and flow into the wall coverings. The floor and walls harmonize to a point where there is hardly a distinction between the two.

The silk-covered walls circle around the room. Their dark hues blending to create a sultry illusion, and no corners showing gives the space a tent-like feeling. Even the ceiling has fabric draped, hanging above me in waves. I can almost feel the sand of the desert under my feet.

“Where’s Aladdin?” I ask her sarcastically before my mind has time to think. Stupid me. Kathryn’s face turns red, and her angry eyes peer at me. I think she’s about ready to unleash on my ass.

“Aladdin?” she spouts at me. Her voice tight and controlled but her eyes are anything but as she shakes her head and huffs. I’ve really ticked her off this time. Insulted her most likely. “I knew I shouldn’t have shown you this room. You’re making fun of it at my expense.”

“Kathryn, please. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” I’m groveling and might even fall to my knees in supplication to gain her forgiveness. Me, Adam Kingsley. When I sneeze the markets react. Alerts are sent out to Wall Street. But this woman’s feelings make me buckle. I’m amazed at myself and perplexed by her. No one has ever had this kind of power over me.

She crosses her arms over her ample breast and looks at me speculatively. “I guess it was to be expected. You don’t really have a frame of reference for Tantra and what it entails to practice it. And you do have asshole tendencies, too.”

What can I say to that? After twenty-four hours she has me totally pegged. No escaping from her now.

But one thing is for certain, I’m beyond curious now and would gladly become her eager pupil. Time to repair the damage.

“It was a horrible choice of words. But I do feel like I’m back in time. It feels like I’ve just ridden across the desert on my camel to find this oasis. It’s uniquely beautiful.” I want to add, just like you, as I try to get back in her good graces. I never meant to hurt her or belittle what she practices, and truly the room is beautiful, captivating even.

A loud buzzing sound radiates throughout her apartment. Uncharacteristically, I jump at the sound. Between getting lost in my thoughts with her and Simon’s actions tonight, I’m slightly on edge.

“That’s my doorman calling up.” I sense the same startled feeling from her that I felt. We are both a little unnerved. “Let me see what he wants. Tour over for you, Mister.”

She shuts the door behind us as we leave the room. I wanted to explore it more, but I’ll settle for another time. Maybe I’ll sneak in after she’s asleep, God knows I’m not getting any tonight. That unfortunately applies to sex, too.

In her main hallway, Kathryn picks up a phone’s receiver to communicate with her doorman. I can’t hear what he’s saying to her but I can tell from her expression she’s surprised. I immediately begin to worry. What if Simon is here? It seems impossible but I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.

“What is it, Kathryn?” Impatient, I press her for details.

“Hold on, Carl.” She removes the receiver from her ear and gives me the “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. “Kingsley, calm down. It’s just a client of mine. I forgot about an appointment I had for tonight. You showing up unannounced at my apartment this afternoon. The commotion surrounding Simon. It slipped my mind.”

“Appointment?” Something tells me I’m not going to like where this may be going. I know her business is called The Spiritual Touch, and I can just imagine what kind of sessions make up her so-called appointments. My hands form into fists at the thought of her and another man in the harem tent.

“Yes, an appointment. He’s a client I’ve been working with for a couple of months.” Her eyes have a conciliatory look to them as if she’s trying to gain my favor. “I feel bad I forgot and don’t want to cancel. Are you okay with him coming up here? It will only be for about forty-five minutes, tops.”

I want to tell her, fuck no, I’m not okay with this arrangement, but I partially understand where she’s coming from. I’m a businessman and have to respect her business, even if the thought of her working with a client behind closed doors drives me crazy.

“Forty-five minutes, right?” She nods. “I can survive for that long, I guess.”

But I know it’s a lie. I’m as jealous as hell because I want to be the man spending time with her intimately. I have to ask her what this will entail. She’s likely to blow up at me, but I have to know the truth.

“What happens with your clients? Will your appointment also include having sex?” If looks could kill, I’d be buried and rotting away right now. Livid might be a great way to describe the look on her face.

“Oh my God. You are simply unbelievable. I’m not some high dollar call girl. I teach tantric sex. T.E.A.C.H. Capisce?” Yes, she’s as mad as hell. She’s a firecracker that exploded right in front of me with her eyes throwing daggers at me.

“Well, then, tell me what goes on. I have no idea what you do in that office of yours.” I move toward her. We’re about a foot apart. The intensity I feel between us stirs. I have to blink quickly to break our connection or I’m likely to pull her to me and attack her lips again.

“To get you to shut the hell up, I’ll tell you what will be going on. But I need to give my doorman permission to let my client come up here first. You will behave.”

I sigh and know that I’ll comply with what she wants. “I’ll behave.” I cross my heart with my right hand, and like a child cross my left hand’s fingers behind by back.

“All right, Carl. Give me five minutes before you let Mr. James come up the elevator.” Kathryn turns her shoulder away from me and speaks low into the phone. “No, everything’s all right.”

I have no idea what her doorman asked of her, but I bet it has to do with the conversation he overheard while she was speaking with me.

After she places the phone’s receiver back in its holder, she spins around to face me. And boy, oh boy, she’s as pissed as hell.

Kathryn moves closer to me and I want to cower from her approach. Her eyes reflect an angry fervor, and I’m wondering if this will be her worst berating of me yet.

She’s steaming mad with eyes trained on me. The passion she’s showing makes her sexy as hell. I can’t look away from her beautiful face as she stands in front of me. What a sight to behold. All fire and no ice.

“For starters. I am a certified Tantra instructor. Secondly, no one takes their clothes off when I’m teaching. It’s a lesson, not the actual act. My hope is they will learn from me and then try it out on their partner when they’re home.” She points a finger in a scolding manner as she gives me the details of her Tantra instruction.

“My client tonight is a young man around your age. He’s been with his girlfriend for about two years, and there are certain issues between them. That’s where I’m needed, and that’s all the information I’m sharing. I’ve likely said too much as it is.” She stands before me with her hands on her hips as she concludes her little speech.

Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She told me what I wanted to know. Nobody will be taking their clothes off in her harem tent. I’m not sure exactly what they will be doing, but for my own physical safety, I didn’t push her further.

Kathryn starts straightening the already perfectly placed pillows on the couch. Picking them up to punch and fluff them before replacing them on the couch. She blows a stray hair out of her eyes as she mutters under her breath; I make out a few choice words. Mostly calling me an asshole repeatedly. I back off a little and give her some space.

I wonder where she wants me to be when this man comes up for his sex training. I’d like to be in the room videotaping the session or taking notes, to be honest. However, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.

“Um, where do you want me to hang out while your doing, um, what you do?” I try to ask in a helpful tone. I don’t want to hide away in another part of her apartment; I need to check this guy out.

“Just stay in the living room area, I guess. Use the time to catch up on emails or make calls. I don’t know, but just don’t watch TV. The sound really travels around the apartment, and I can’t have distractions during my sessions.” She picks a couple books up off the side table by the couch and walks over to me. “Here, read these. They will explain a little bit about Tantra. And don’t just look at the pictures. Really read them. Okay?”

“Okay.” A look of satisfaction crosses her face as I willingly take the books from her hand. Truthfully, I’m anxious to learn about Tantra, because I’m at a total loss. It also can't hurt to learn about what's important to her, what she believes in enough to teach others. A better understanding of this would get me closer to her mind, and to this beautiful woman who's seized my attention from the start.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Her question is saccharine sweet. The smile that spreads across her flawless face tells me that pleasantries are back, and I’m relieved.

“Yes, please. A glass of water would be great.” My throat’s parched. It’s probably all the sexual frustration I’ve been experiencing with her and the tension surrounding Simon. My body feels like it’s run a marathon tonight. Kathryn leaves the room and goes down the hallway toward the kitchen.

I nervously pace her living room with her books in my hands. Waiting for her trainee to show up at the door is complete torture. I want to grab hold of her newly straightened pillows on the couch and start punching them, too. A raging bout would be the only thing to relieve the anxiety I feel for this man intruding on our time together.

But I have to be honest with myself; I have no claims on her. We’ve held hands. I kissed her, twice. And unbelievably, she’s graciously letting me stay as her guest knowing a gun-wielding maniac is after me.

I have no right to demand this man stays away. But one thing’s for sure. He better be ugly as sin with horrible body odor and nose hair, or I’m going to go nuts at the thought of her behind closed doors with him.

Kathryn returns from the kitchen with a tall glass of ice water for me. I take it from her hands with a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” I say sincerely. Her doorbell chimes the second after I speak. We stand still and look at each other, our eyes silently saying, “This is it.”

Her “appointment” has arrived. My stomach feels tight and cramped, even my palms are starting to sweat. Such a rare thing, but I don’t like the thought of meeting this guy at all.

“Excuse me, Kingsley. My client is here.” I swear there is a touch of nervousness in her voice. “Please make yourself at home.”

Kathryn stands at the door for a second or two before opening it. Almost like she’s bracing herself. I find this behavior very interesting and it helps confirm I’m not the only one feeling uncomfortable with this situation. She turns the knob and I prepare for the man of the hour, or the next forty-five minutes, to enter.

When this man, Eric, steps over her threshold, well, I don’t like what I see one fucking bit. The guy is a tall, athletically built young man, maybe around twenty-four. His hair is a sun-bleached blond, and I bet it’s as fake as a porn star’s boobs.

He looks as if he drove in straight from the Hamptons in his shiny BMW convertible. Preppy, reeking of old money, and model-handsome if I had to describe him.

Fuckity fuck. I don’t like this guy one damn bit.

After he’s inside the foyer, he greets Kathryn with a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. It’s not one of those feigned New York City embraces. It’s a real one, and the fact that she responds in kind to him makes me dislike him even more.