Odalisque (7 page)

“You say she will understand. You won’t tell her what I said?”

“I will simply tell her that you have struck her from your list. It won’t seem cruel to her. It’s a fact of life here. Each visitor considers several women on average, but only ever takes one. Now, if you will forgive me, I have another engagement. Perhaps you will return to your room for some refreshment and rest. Tonight will most likely be a late night.”

Kai found himself in his room moments later, feeling irate and admonished, for all Bastien’s polite gloss. He knew he ought to go through emails again and check in with his business manager, but he was too agitated to do any good communicating. He considered--just for a moment--packing his bags and walking out the door. He decided to take a nap instead. There were still four more girls he’d earmarked as interesting that he hadn’t even met. At the very least, he owed them a look, the same consideration he’d given Constance.

But he found he couldn’t sleep at all, imagining her face when Bastien told her she wasn’t coming to the “party” after all.

Constance cycled between elation and panic.

When she’d first met Mr. Chandler the evening before, she’d found him attractive, yes. Way attractive. His eyes were so soulful, and his face so expressive when he spoke. She imagined he had a beautiful voice, and she was jealous of the other girls who got to hear it. But she was the only girl who had gotten to
feel
Kai Chandler. His body was quite an instrument. He’d made her senses sing.

He was tall, about six two or six three, with a commanding physical presence. Of course, he was a rich, successful person like all the men who visited here. He’d probably banked on that raw charisma to get ahead in his career. He was muscular, solidly built, with bronze burnished skin and beautiful exotic features. Full lips, an interesting nose, a strong jaw, and wavy black hair pushed back from his face.

It was his eyes, though, that were a revelation. Being deaf, she looked at eyes for meaning as much as lips, and his eyes were deep emotional pools. Intelligent and observant. You expected rich men to be self-involved and narcissistic, but no. Not Kai Chandler.

She’d wanted to converse with him and learn more about him as much as she wanted him to fuck her. She’d gotten the latter finally in the S & M room, a nice rough domineering fuck, tempered by surprisingly gentle caresses. Even though she’d already worked out and showered since then, she still remembered the feel of his girth and hardness. She still remembered the sensation of his cock stretching her, sliding into her while his fingers gripped her waist.

To be perfectly honest, Constance wasn’t here at Maison Odalisque for the sexual perks. She liked them, sure, but ultimately she was here to make a lot of money and gain independence--financial, emotional, and otherwise. That was mission number one, a goal that had driven her for the last ten years, since she’d packed her bags at age fifteen and left home. The sexual side of what she did…that was a means to an end. Usually.

But Kai had made her forget her ulterior motives for a few magic moments and just revel in the sex. The seduction, the thrill. Powerful and intense lust, and Kai’s infinite ability to hurt her or arouse her. He had wanted her, truly wanted her. She’d seen it in his amber brown eyes that seemed to hide nothing. If
he
was what she had to endure to make the money she needed, it was a pretty good trade in her view.

But Constance was still nervous. It was obvious from the way he’d interacted with her that Bastien hadn’t told him yet she was deaf. She’d always considered the quietness of her communication would lend itself perfectly to this lifestyle, but the two men who’d been taken with her so far had withdrawn their interest when they learned she couldn’t hear. She was thankful for that now. She hadn’t felt anything with either of them like the connection she’d felt with Kai Chandler.

So maybe it was all meant to be. Bastien often spoke of seeking that special chemistry, being attuned to finding your other “sexual half.” He prided himself on pairing his clients with the most compatible odalisques, and Constance had come to realize he truly had a knack for it. In the last year, Bastien proudly pointed out, only one odalisque had been returned to the Maison for “issues.” Constance knew Bastien had brought her and Kai together because he sensed promise there. What if...
What if...

What would it be like to be his odalisque? To live in service to him, to his needs and his powerful sensuality? She could make money and yet receive even more. His dominance and sexual skill.

Constance sensed Bastien in her room then, although she wasn’t facing the door. The vibration of movement, an infinitesimal inkling of sound. As soon as she turned to him, the nerves downgraded to disappointment. His face said it all.

“Constance, love. Just rest tonight. There’s no need for you to come to dinner with Mr. Chandler.”

She watched his lips form the words, disbelieving. Devastated. Translation: He doesn’t want you. He changed his mind. Bastien came to sit beside her, already dressed for dinner. She wanted him to go. She wanted to cry in private, but he handed her the notebook they used to communicate.

She wrote,
You told him.

“Yes. It was time to let him know.”

He wanted me, didn’t he? Before you told him.

Bastien looked down at her words, his face reflecting his own disappointment. “I think so.”

But not enough
, she wrote bitterly. She put down the pen to wipe away a tear. She hated that she was crying. She hadn’t cried the other times. To be honest, she’d felt anger the first time, relief the second. But this time she felt rejected. It hurt. Bastien tilted her face up so she could see what he was saying.

“There now. I told him you wouldn’t get upset. You know this is all part of the process. You need to find the right man. Not just the man you want the most.”

She frowned and flipped the pen around in her fingers. Then she wrote,
Why would a man like him need an odalisque anyway? He’s so hot. He can’t find it without paying for it?

Bastien laughed and she laughed too, spewing tears and snot. He handed her a tissue and held her while she cried for a while. She was careful not to get any tears on his dinner jacket. Not only because it was undoubtedly an expensive jacket, but because she didn’t want Kai to know she’d cried over him. It was pointless in the end. Maybe all of this was pointless. She took up her pen again, bit the end of it, then wrote,
Do you only keep me here out of kindness? Because if there’s no place in the world for a deaf odalisque, I’ll go.

Bastien shook his head, his face darkening. “Of course you’re free to go at any time, but no, I don’t keep you here out of kindness. I keep you here because I believe you’ll make a spectacular odalisque for some fortunate gentleman. But let me turn the questioning back on you. Are you here because you think you’re not capable of doing anything else with your life?”

Constance thought a moment before she scrawled her reply.
No. I’m here because scribbling poetry and masturbating doesn’t pay the bills.

Bastien laughed again. “Ah, yes. Your poetry. It’s true that very few poetesses make five hundred thousand a year. As for your masturbatrix qualities, these will undoubtedly stand you in good stead.”

They chuckled together, and Constance felt grateful for Bastien’s unwavering support. All of them sort of idolized Bastien, although he rarely used them sexually. He was father, best friend, and bodyguard all rolled into one. He would always look out for her. So what if Kai didn’t want her? Constance would get over it. At the very least, she’d gotten some very arousing memories out of the whole debacle. She looked into Bastien’s eyes and mustered up a smile.

He seemed relieved. “You’ll be okay,
ma chère
?”

She nodded and wrote,
Thank you for everything. I know you only want what’s best for me, and I appreciate that.
She paused, and then added,
May I serve you? Please?

Bastien studied her with his trademark assessing gaze. “Are you offering in some attempt to move past Mr. Chandler? Or because you truly wish to serve me?”

She thought a moment.
I always wish to serve you,
she wrote
. But maybe I’m a little lonely at the moment. And sad.

He ruffled her hair, brushing it back over her shoulder. “You know what I say about emotion. It can be a danger in this lifestyle. I want you, but I think it would be better to let you work through this sadness in some other way than with your lips around my cock. Rest a while, and set your mind to things. Perhaps later you might visit the grotto for a swim. That always cheers you up.”

After one last hug, he stood and went to the door, then winked back at her. “Save those cocksucking skills for next week. We’ve got a pretty high profile head of state coming in.”

*** *** ***

Kai brooded during dinner. The lights were low and the whole production was faultlessly elegant, as elegant as possible when half the guests were in evening jackets and half the guests were nude. The other men were cordial and easygoing. Over a light repast and wine, they politely questioned Kai on his travels, his philanthropies, and his experiences with his tech company. To his relief, none of the guests showed up in weird masks or costumes. The women were lovely, all four of them. Madeline, Camille, Gwyneth, and...oh...the other one. He couldn’t recall her name.

He also couldn’t get over the feeling that one woman was missing.

After dinner and another round of drinks, they retired to an adjoining room. The only light came from a fire burning in the large fireplace. Exquisite champagne flowed from bottles stashed in various locations. The men began to shed their clothes and the women took up alluring stances around the room. Lounging on a couch, leaning back against a pile of pillows. One of them--Camille?--cleared the long low coffee table and lay right on top. Bastien seemed to engineer all of it like some perverse concierge. He led Kai over to Gwyneth, who deftly helped him undress. Kai’s clothes disappeared, he knew not where.

A couple of the men sat on the couch, speaking loudly in French as women knelt before them and started sucking them off. It was erotic, deviant. It was like something out of a French porn film. God, if only Jessamine could see this.

Gwyneth was having her way with Kai, drawing his growing erection to its fullest degree in order to sheathe him. Meanwhile, Camille was masturbating on the table, legs spread wide, head thrown back in carefree pleasure. It wasn’t long before the other two men descended on her, stroking and encouraging her. There was no contempt or belittlement, no gangbang vibe to the proceedings. It was sensual and beautiful, not ugly. Kai gave credit to Bastien for that.

Kai finally relaxed and gave himself up to Gwyneth’s skilled ministrations. She licked and toyed with his cock--yes, with every bit as much skill as Constance. But she wasn’t Constance. She was thinner, blonde rather than brunette, and much more flirtatious. She teased and chatted and cooed. She smiled more than Constance and almost obsessively batted her eyes. Kai looked around the room rather than at her, pretending Gwyneth’s mouth was that of another woman he preferred.

What if it was Constance on the table being used? Would he have cared? His mind shied away from thinking about it. One of the men was now fucking Camille enthusiastically, while the other buried himself in her throat. A third man was milling around, fresh from his own blowjob, squeezing Camille’s tits. The other two girls were double teaming the other gentleman, their faces buried in his crotch. The lucky libertine drew his legs up with a desultory smile at Kai. One of the girls--what the hell was her name?--took the opportunity to shove her face into his taint. Kai’s cock throbbed in Gwyneth’s mouth. Kai wanted that, exactly that. He stopped Gwyneth with a hand on her head. “Come here.”

He led her to the sofa where the other man was finishing up. Soon three tongues and three mouths were licking, sucking, lapping. His balls, his cock, his taint, the crease of his thighs and the muscles that ran up in a ‘v’ on either side. He couldn’t remember any of the odalisques’ names now, only thinking of them as Big Boobs, Soft Hair, and Full Lips. God, they were all beautiful, all of them, but none of them intrigued him like Constance. Maybe that was for the best. He hadn’t come here looking for intrigue or the dire emotional connection Bastien had warned him about.

No. He’d come looking for sexual relief, depravity without guilt. He stopped the girls with a grunt and grabbed the one in the middle, pressing her back against the floor. He had to be inside one of them, any one of them. He’d fuck this one, it would be fine.

He entered her without preliminaries, finding her copiously wet. He drove her against the floor with his thrusts, drove deep and slow inside her, enjoying the warmth of her cunt. This one had brown hair like Constance, only straighter and softer. She sighed against his ear. Across the room he heard the other men egging on Camille, heard groans and moans and a feminine wail of pleasure peaking.

It sounded fake.

Constance.
Constance...

The coos and sighs of the girl he was fucking sounded fake too. He emptied himself inside her, not caring about his partner’s pleasure for the first time in his life. There were four other men in the room, not including Bastien. One of them could bring her off. His heart wasn’t in it.

He pulled away from her, leaned back against the couch and peeled the condom off his dick. The rush of his orgasm dissipated, leaving him feeling empty and more than a little dirty. He watched the other participants fucking, banging, laughing and feeling each other up. One of the girls was going down on another one and doing a respectable job of it. He observed the scene with almost clinical detachment, the same way he viewed porn at his house.

His orgiastic impulses had fled with his climax. He looked around for his clothes and found them draped over a stand in the corner. The girls sent him a few glances while he dressed.
Yes, you’re lovely. Not for me though. For someone else.