Seduction (10 page)

“
ROY, THANKS
for coming over straight from the airport,” Sage said, shaking his hand and inviting the architect into his office.

After their last conversation, when Roy informed Sage that the building couldn't accommodate four full-sized studios, Sage was extremely curt and practically hung up in the man's face. Once he calmed down, Sage realized that hiring another architectural firm wasn't the answer—Roy Snyderman was the best—so he swallowed his attitude and called Roy in for a meeting.

“You're welcome,” he said, shaking Sage's hand in return. “I've figured out a solution to the problem,” Roy said, sitting at the mini conference table opposite Sage's desk and unrolling a set of floor plans.

“That's good to hear. Let's see what you have,” Sage said, pulling up a chair.

“We were able to work around the two structural pillars without compromising the roof. So instead of two sets, we're able to build three,” he said, pointing to the outline of the proposed sets.

Sage leaned in and looked at the drawings; though it wasn't the original plan for the soundstage, he was pleased with the new drawings. He had the resources to scrap the plans and start from scratch, but he wanted to stay on schedule. Though his father was retired, Sage knew that his old man kept abreast of what was happening with the business, and he didn't want to give his father any cause for concern. “Since this is a new layout, are we going to have to get these plans approved by the city?”

“If you approve of this layout, then I'll call in a few favors and have them rushed through. Since we're not adding onto the square footage of the building, it shouldn't be a problem.”

“I definitely approve. Thanks so much for all of your help; I really appreciate it. I apologize for blowing up last time, but this studio is my baby, and I want it to be perfect,” Sage said sincerely. His mother had always taught him that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, and she was right.

“I totally understand.” Roy began rerolling the drawings. “I'll have the originals messengered down to City Hall. We shouldn't be more than a week behind schedule, which isn't bad at all,” he said, looking at Sage for his reaction.

“A week I can live with.” Sage smiled. “Do you have time for a drink? I feel like celebrating.”

“Sure, I know this great martini bar on Sixty-eighth between Lex and Park.”

“Great, let me call for my driver,” Sage said, reaching for the phone.

“Don't bother. My car is already downstairs, and I'll drop you off afterward,” Roy offered.

“Sounds good.” Sage put on his suit jacket that was hanging behind the door, straightened his tie, and they headed out of the office.

The R Lounge was located in the basement of a brownstone building. With only a small bronze plaque with the name etched on it, the bar was easy to miss.

“How did you find this place? It's so unassuming, I would have walked right past without noticing it existed.”

“I own the building and the bar. I purposely designed the space to be inconspicuous. I wanted a spot where I could feel comfortable being myself, and have great drinks in a relaxing environment,” Roy said, opening the door to the lounge.

From the look of the residential exterior, Sage expected the bar to look like a cozy living room with sofas and a fireplace, but the interior was sleek. A long chrome bar expanded the length of the room, and was illuminated from underneath with indigo lights. Instead of down-filled couches, black leather cubes served as additional seating, opposite the bar stools. The wall facing the bar was mirrored, giving the narrow space depth. Hypnotic groove music played in the background, as hip-looking patrons sipped martinis and chatted among one another. Roy waved to a few people as they made their way to the bar.

“Hey there, Roy, long time, no see,” the bartender said.

“I've been out of the country, but I'm back now and ready for one of your concoctions. What are you shaking up tonight?”

Stan was one of the best mixologists in the city and made daily drink specials from unique ingredients. “A Velvet Cane, made with 10 Cane Rum and Moët White Star poured over a raw sugar cube. You want to try one?”

“Make it two,” Sage said. As he waited for Stan to mix their drinks, he checked out the scene. Beautiful women of varying shapes and sizes sat together talking, while the men—who were equally as attractive—looked on from afar. As Sage was glancing around, he noticed a gorgeous redhead with a Rene Russo face and a killer Pamela Anderson body walk into the bar. She was short, but was packaged nicely. The tight, multicolored wrap dress she wore hugged every curve of her body, and the deep V-neckline showcased her double Ds.

Since Roy seemed to know quite a few people in the place, Sage whispered, “Who is that?”

“Trouble.” He smirked.

She walked between Sage and Roy, ran her hand up Roy's arm, and said, “Hey, Baby, you're looking exceptionally good this evening. I haven't seen you around in a while, where have you been?”

Roy was in his mid-forties, but looked every bit of thirty-five. He worked out regularly resulting in a taut midsection, firm shoulders, and buns of steel. He had a perpetual tan that highlighted his hazel eyes. Roy's style was impeccable. With his London office within walking distance of Bond Street and Savile Row, he had his suits tailor-made. His casual clothes came from Canali, Pellini, and Lanvin, and were in muted tones of tan, gray, and black. “Hey, Babe.” He kissed her on the lips. “I've been in London.”

“I'm glad you're back,” she said, moving her body closer to his and returning his kiss.

It was obvious these two were more than friends. Sage only knew Roy on a professional basis, and didn't know if he was in a committed relationship or not. Seeing them in a lip lock made Sage feel like an unwanted third wheel. “Well, it looks like you guys want to be alone,” he said, finishing his drink. “Roy, call me once the plans are approved,” he said, and started to walk away.

“Wait a minute.” She touched Sage's arm. “Who said we want to be alone?”

“I don't want to intrude.” He put his empty glass on the bar.

“It's no intrusion, is it, Roy?” She looked up at him for validation.

“Definitely not.” He turned to the bartender and ordered another round. “Sage, this is Lena,” he said, finally making an introduction.

She turned her body toward Sage, extended her hand, and looked him up and down. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled.

He glanced down and couldn't help but stare into her cleavage. The low-cut dress barely covered her enlarged breasts, and he could see the top of her pink areolas. “Nice to meet you too,” he said, darting his eyes from her breasts to her face.

Lena noticed Sage practically drooling at her titties, and smiled slyly. “Just so you know, they're real.” She turned to Roy. “Aren't they, Baby?”

“Oh, yeah. One hundred percent.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in front of him so that her ass was against his groin.

Sage watched as she discreetly began grinding into Roy's cock. They were making him horny, and he decided to go home and call Missy for some phone boning. “It was nice meeting you, Lena, but I really have to go.”

“We're leaving too.” She grabbed Roy's hand. “And you're coming with us.” She reached out for Sage's hand. Standing between the two handsome men, and holding each one by the hand, Lena smiled. “Now this is what I call a dynamic duo.” Lena turned to the bartender. “Stan, cancel that round.”

Sage was curious as to where they were headed, but decided to go with the flow and not ruin the mood with too many questions.

Lena dropped both of their hands and led the way through the lounge and out the door with Roy and Sage following closely behind. Outside, she turned right and walked up a flight of steps to the first floor of the brownstone. She unlocked the door and stood to the side, inviting them into the apartment.

Lena shut the door, walked over to the mantel, and lit a few votive candles. Sage looked around the room, which was sparsely furnished with a love seat and end table near the huge bay window and a few unopened boxes wedged in one corner. There were no pictures on the walls, and the hardwood floors were bare. From the looks of the apartment, he assumed that she'd recently moved in.

After lighting the candles, Lena turned on the stereo and a soft, sexy French ballet began to play. She sauntered into the middle of the living room—which without much furniture looked like a dance floor—and began a slow striptease to the music. She unwrapped the tie around her waist that held her wrap dress together, causing the fabric to flow open, exposing her naked body.

Sage watched as she swayed to the music and her overripe boobs swung from side to side. Unlike surgically enhanced breasts that barely moved, hers were jiggling all over the place. His mouth began to salivate at the thought of sucking on her nipples, and he licked his lips.

She let the dress drop to the floor and danced over to Roy, who was also licking his lips. “Let's show your friend how I like my tits sucked.”

He didn't say a word, just got on his knees and pulled her toward him, so that her nipples were directly on his lips. He stuck out his tongue and trailed the outline of her areola, before sucking her right nipple, and then the left.

Sage's dick was rising into an erection as he watched Roy feast from titty to titty. He unbuckled his belt, slipped his hand into his pants, and began stroking himself while watching his own private porn show.

Lena looked over and saw him masturbating. “Come over here, Baby, and let me taste you.”

Sage took off his pants and walked over with his erection in hand. He stood on the side of Lena. She turned her head, leaned down, took his dick in her mouth, and began sucking him off. “Oh, yeah, that feels so good,” he said, closing his eyes.

“You like it, Baby?” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah, don't stop,” he said with his eyes still closed and on the verge of cumming. She was sucking him so good that he was ready to explode. Sage opened his eyes, so he could see his cum shoot down her throat, and froze.

“What's wrong, Baby? Isn't Roy sucking you good enough?” Lena asked.

Sage stared in shock. He had been in some freaky situations before, and it was rare that anything rendered him speechless, but for the moment he was at a loss for words. He had no idea that Roy was into men. Sage could usually spot a man on the DL, because there was something in their eyes that gave away their dirty little secret, but Sage had never seen that look of lust in Roy's eyes, until now. Roy was looking up at him for his reaction, while he deep-throated him. Roy had gone from sucking Lena's tits to sucking Sage's cock.

“He's doing better than good,” Sage said, finally finding his voice. He smiled slyly, and rammed his dick farther down Roy's throat.

It was common knowledge that Sage was a metrosexual, but very few knew that he was bisexual as well. Sage didn't consider himself on the DL, because he always pitched and never received, so as far as he was concerned, he wasn't gay, he was just freaky and if a man wanted to suck his dick, he had no objections as long as he wasn't expected to return the favor.

Lena played with her pussy as she watched Sage cum in Roy's mouth. She was the ultimate fag-hag, and got off on seeing men-on-men action. “Now that you got your rocks off,” she said to Sage, “it's my turn. Come on, Roy, give me some of that cock of yours.”

Roy loved pleasing both men and women, and could easily flip from one to the other without hesitation. After sucking Sage off, his dick was aching for some release of its own, so he ripped off his clothes and eased Lena down on the floor. He spread her legs open and eased in between them. He slipped his dick inside of her wet opening and began humping and grinding.

While they were in the throes of ecstasy, Sage put his pants back on and tipped out the door, leaving them alone to handle their business. His dick was satisfied; now all he wanted to do was go home, take a nice long bath, have a bite to eat, and relive his unexpected ménage à trois.

IT HAD
been two days since his debut on
Page Six
, and Mason still hadn't seen or heard from Terra. Now that he knew her first and last name, he Googled her in the hopes of getting her phone number and address, but no personal information appeared after he entered her name. He should have known that someone of her stature would have their most private information blocked from the general public. He was desperate to know more about her, so he read every article that had ever been printed about the young heiress. He learned that she was an only child and the sole heir to the Benson Tobacco fortune, a fortune worth well over a billion dollars. There weren't many photos, but there were some pictures of her at charity functions, and photographs of herself and her parents at their beach-front estate in the Hamptons. He even found some of her as a child taking riding lessons, but no photos of her linked romantically with anyone. Most heiresses of her stature dated shipping tycoons and partied with A-list movie stars, but the only mention of a love connection was her friendship with Sage Hirschfield. One article suggested that they might be more than just friends, and had pictures of them dining at the Spice Market. Mason looked closely at the snapshot, and had to admit that they did look chummy sitting together at a cozy booth. He remembered her calling Sage, the first day he met her, and didn't know if they were involved. If they were, it couldn't be too serious since she fucked him for hours on end the other night. He didn't care if Terra was involved with Sage; all he cared about was finding her, and this time he wouldn't let go. He'd even gone back to Pravda on the off chance that she would be sitting at the bar sipping a cocktail, but of course she wasn't there.

Terra didn't have his cell or home number, so he didn't expect a call, but she knew where he lived and could have easily dropped a note off with the doorman. He staked out Borders after his morning run, hoping to find Ms. Benson, but she was nowhere in sight. Short of hiring a private investigator to find his anchor, Mason didn't know what to do, so he went home to get ready for work.

“How was your run, Mr. Anthony?” Frank, the doorman, asked.

“It was good. Got to keep the heart rate up so I can stay forever young.” He grinned.

“I started working out myself.” Frank patted his fat belly. “Gotta get this stomach down.” He reached underneath the desk, took out a pink letter-sized envelope, and handed it to Mason. “This came for you while you were out jogging.”

Mason looked at the script and didn't recognize the handwriting. He turned the envelope over, but there wasn't a return address on the back, only his name written in black ink on the front. “Did this come by messenger service?” he asked, since there was no postmark or any other discerning marks.

“No, a beautiful young lady dropped it off about five minutes after you left.”

Mason knew instantly that it was from Terra. “Did she say anything?” he asked eagerly, thirsty for any information about his dream girl.

“She just said to give you the envelope the minute you walked through the door. She thanked me, and then left.” Frank whistled softly. “What a looker! You sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Yeah, she's a beautiful lady.” Mason smiled proudly, like she was already his woman. He then raced through the lobby and upstairs so he could read his love letter in private. He couldn't wait to see what Terra had to say. It was probably an invitation to join her for dinner
and
dessert. Earlier he was thinking that she could have dropped her information off with the doorman, and as luck would have it, she did.

The second he stepped inside the apartment and closed the door, he put the envelope up to his nose and sniffed, hoping to smell the intoxicating perfume that tickled his nose the other night, but the scent was fresh and flowery, unlike hers. He ripped open the seal nonetheless, took out the note, and read it:

Mason reread the note again. He couldn't believe his eyes. This was the last person he wanted to hear from. He didn't even look at the number, just ripped the card to pieces, balled up the note, and tossed them both in the trash. He had no intention of reconnecting with the past. He'd spent years distancing himself from unsavory memories, and had done a good job, until now. His college days were far behind him, and he planned to keep it that way.