The Black Door (12 page)

“Hi, Anna, is Judge Hendricks available?” she asked his secretary.

’Ariel, I haven’t seen you around these parts in a long time. What brings you by?”

“I thought I’d surprise the judge.” She smiled.

The older woman smiled back. “Isn’t that sweet? He just returned from court and doesn’t have anything else on his calendar for the rest of the afternoon, so go right on in. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Ariel lightly tapped on the door, then walked in and flipped the lock behind her. Preston looked up from his legal pad and when he saw Ariel, a huge grin spread across his face.

“Hey, honey, what did I do to deserve this visit?”

She raised her left hand and wiggled her ring linger. “Proposed, that’s what.” Ariel took off her blazer, tossed it in a chair near the door, and sauntered toward him. If this relationship was going to work, Ariel realized that they needed to reignite their sex life. Besides, the sooner she forgot about her tryst at The Black Door and put the entire experience behind her, the better.

“So, Ms. Vaughn, have you come to deliver your answer in person?” He grinned hopefully.

Ariel parked herself on the edge of his oak desk and crossed her long legs so that the split on her skirt exposed her upper thigh. “Yes, I have, Judge,” she answered using her pet name for him.

Based on her body language and glib tone, Preston assumed that Ariel was no longer upset with him, and he couldn’t be happier. If she accepted his proposal, that would be one less item on his plate to worry about. “Well . . .” He ran his hand up and down her exposed thigh. “Don’t keep me in suspense any longer.”

“I’ve given your proposal a lot of thought, and . . . yes, I’ll marry you!” The moment she said it aloud, Ariel knew that her future was meant to be spent with Preston, and not with some no-name gigolo.

Preston stood up, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her close to him. “You’ve made me so happy,” he whispered in her ear, and then kissed her passionately.

Ariel wrapped her arms around his neck and greeted his tongue with hers. She pressed her hips into him, and could feel his penis getting hard. She began grinding into his growing erection.

“Wait,” he stepped back, “we can’t; Anna is still here.”

“Yes, we can.” She moved toward him. “I locked the door. Come on, baby, it’ll be like old times.” Ariel turned around, flipped up her skirt, took off her pantyhose, and leaned over the desk. “Don’t you want me?” she asked over her shoulder.

Preston looked down at her exposed ass and licked his lips. Unable to contain his desire any longer, he unzipped his pants and unleashed his throbbing dick. He spread her cheeks apart and fingered her pussy. She was as wet as a river, and her moistness made him grow an extra inch. Over the past few weeks, Preston had put sex out of his mind, but with Ariel spread-eagled across his desk, all he could think about was fucking her until they both came. He entered her and began to frantically pump back and forth, but before she could get her rhythm, he ejaculated prematurely.

Ariel couldn’t believe that Preston had come so quickly; she didn’t even have time to get into the groove before the groove was over.

“Sorry, honey, it’s been so long since we made love that I just couldn’t control myself,” he said, apologizing for climaxing too soon. He turned her around so that her body was facing him. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t leave you hanging,” he said, kneeling down. Preston spread her lips and began sucking her engorged clit.

She threw her head back and moaned, “Oh, baby, that feels so good.”

As Ariel was on the verge of finding ecstasy, the phone rang. Initially, Preston ignored the insistent ringing, but after the forth ring, he stopped midlick, looked over at his desk, and noticed that a red light was blinking on his phone.

He stood up immediately and wiped her juices from his mouth. “That’s my private line. I’ve got to get that; it might be the senator,” he said, abandoning her needs to attend to his business.

Ariel was livid! Preston had just promised to satisfy her; now he was breaking that promise to satisfy the senator, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times she would be tossed aside for his precious agenda. Still horny, she wanted desperately to cum. Ariel closed her eyes, tuned out Preston’s conversation, and envisioned the only thing that would quickly satisfy her lust: The Black Door.

TREY RETURNED
to the scene of the crime. Well, actually the scene had changed, but the crime was still the same. He was going to his new friend’s apartment for a home-cooked meal, instead of gourmet takeout and
dessert.
She had called earlier in the day and invited him over for dinner. His first inclination was to decline, but Trey still had Meri on the brain, and he needed a serious distraction. Since he had broken cardinal rule number one and fucked a client, he was trying to erase that experience from his memory, but the erotic visions wouldn’t go away; they were etched in his mind and played like a continuous loop.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” she said, opening the door and admiring Trey from his Prada loafers to the top of his closely cropped hair.

He licked his full lips. “And you look good enough to eat.” The last time they were together, she had given him a hair-raising blow job. And tonight he’d return the favor.

“Let’s have dinner first, before
dessert,”
she said, trying to slow down the momentum to prolong their date. She didn’t want an abbreviated evening like before. “Come on in.” She stepped aside, inviting him into her apartment.

As Trey followed her into the living room, he could see her long legs, slim waist, and tight ass through the ultrasheer flowing caftan that she wore. She had a svelte dancer’s body that seemed made for fucking, and he was going to do his best to give her a serious workout tonight.

“Have a seat.” She pointed to an armless, midnight-blue, ultra-suede sofa. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have vodka on the rocks with a twist.”

“Is Belvedere okay?”

He winked. “It’s perfect.”

She handed him a slim Bang
&
Olufsen remote. “Put on some music. I’ll be right back.”

Trey looked around her cozy, contemporarily furnished apartment and saw a wall-mounted stereo system with a stack of CDs on each side. He walked over, thumbed through the music selection, and chose Jill Scott’s new album, as well as the latest from Sade and James Blunt. After he put the CDs in the carousel, he lit the votive candles that were sitting on the mantel. He turned off the bright lamps on the side tables, so that the room was bathed only in candlelight, creating a romantic scene. Once the mood was set, Trey stood in place and grooved to the soft jazz.

Walking into the room carrying their cocktails, she stopped short as she noticed the change. Before she could respond, Trey took the drinks out of her hands, set them on the mantel, and swept her up in a tight embrace.

He could feel the soft mound of her breasts pressing against his chest and the closeness turned him on. Swaying back and forth in a seductive slow dance, Trey nuzzled his nose into her neck, then gently rubbed his hands up and down her lower back, until they stopped and rested on the round of her butt. He pressed his groin into hers as he massaged her cheeks. “Baby, you feel so good,” he whispered in her ear.

“Listen, Trey.” She stopped dancing. “Let’s get one thing clear. I want a relationship,” she blurted out.

He didn’t say a word; just stood there looking shocked. Her announcement came straight with no chaser, and he didn’t know what to say. He had assumed, based on their last visit, that all she wanted was a hard dick and a good fuck.

She continued, “I didn’t plan on going down on you the other night, but you looked so damn sexy in those silk drawstring pants that I couldn’t help myself. But I want you to know that I’m not looking to be your fuck-buddy. I know I told you that I didn’t want a relationship, but I was lying to myself and to you.”

“So what are you looking for?” he asked, taking the bait.

“I’m looking for someone to fall in love with, someone to share my life with,” she said without hesitation.

In all his life, no woman had ever said point-blank what she wanted. Usually they hinted around and waited for him to add two and two together, but of course he chose not to do the math. Trey had drifted in and out of dead-end relationships most of his life and never desired a serious commitment. Looking at her beautiful body, he thought,
Why not?
Besides, the short-lived affair with his Black Door lover was a one-time occurrence with no future. “Baby, I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not ready to stand at the altar just—”

She cut him off. “I’m not asking you to marry me. All I’m saying is that I want more than dinner and a quick fuck. I’ve done the casual sex thing, and quite frankly it doesn’t work for me. I want to spend quality time with you outside of the bedroom. I think we have a lot in common. Besides, we do have mutual acquaintances,” she said, selling him on the idea of them becoming a couple.

Trey reached out and stroked her face. “Spoken like a woman who knows exactly what she wants.”

She stepped closer and hugged him tight. “I do know what I want, and that’s a relationship with you,” she reiterated.

“Okay, let’s take it one day at a time,” he agreed noncommittally.

She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. “Trey, you’ve made me so happy. We’re going to make one hell of a power couple.”

“Let’s start with some power sex,” he suggested, rubbing the small of her back.

“Well. . . I was thinking that we should start over.” She took her arms from around his neck and slightly stepped back.

“What do you mean start over?” He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Since I usually don’t have sex on the first
or
second date, I want to forget about the other night and pretend like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to be the girl who went down on you the instant we hooked up.”

Trey was mystified and squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “What are you talking about? Why would I want to erase what happened? It was fabulous.” He slowly moved his hand from her back around to her crotch. “Now it’s my turn to reciprocate.”

She pulled away. “I’m serious, Trey Let’s get to know each other better before we make love.”

He wouldn’t relent. “Don’t be silly, baby. We’re both consenting adults.” He pressed his hard cock into her, so she could feel his erection. “And, I know you’re not going to let all of this go to waste.”

His dick felt good against her pulsating vagina, and she hungered for him, but she had to stay strong. She wanted to be more than just his late-night booty call, and was trying desperately to backpedal in order to redeem her self-respect. She had always wanted to be a wife and mother, and Trey was husband material. If she played her cards right, and rationed the pussy, they would be engaged before the end of the year. “You have such a healthy appetite, and I promise I’m all the woman you’ll ever need.”

Trey was getting hornier and hornier by the second. “And I need
all
of you right now.”

“Come on. Let’s have dinner first, and then we’ll talk about
dessert,”
she said, trying to pacify him.

Trey couldn’t believe the drastic turn of events. The moment he agreed to a relationship, she began denying him sexual pleasures. Suddenly, he was beginning to doubt his decision. Trey wasn’t used to working this hard to get laid. He was surrounded by gorgeous women on a daily basis, and could have any one of them at his discretion. His first thought was to say
fuck this
and go to the club, but he didn’t. He hated to admit it, but he also wanted more than just a one-night stand. He had devoted the past few years to making The Black Door a success, and now that the business was thriving, it was time for him to devote that same energy into developing a successful personal life. And since his first choice—the woman in the red mask—was off-limits, he was going to give this “relationship” a try—at least for the time being.

MERI WAS
the consummate socialite. Having graced the guest list of lavish soirees around the globe, she was well versed in the art of entertaining, and spared no expense on Ariel and Preston’s black-tie engagement party. Only the best would do for her dear friend. Cases of vintage Dom Perignon were stacked in the pantry, waiting to replenish the chilled bottles already in the fridge. Beluga caviar on toast points, smoked salmon with capers, tuna ceviche, and filet mignon medallions sautéed in garlic and mushrooms and drizzled with black truffle oil were on tonight’s menu, as well as an assortment of mini exotic fruit tarts and chocolate ganache tortes. Johnnie Walker Blue Label and hand-rolled cigars would serve as the perfect accoutrement to cap off the festive evening.

Meri’s penthouse was swarming with an army of uniformed caterers, waiters, and assorted workers scurrying around carrying out their final instructions hours before the main event began. A stickler for detail, she barked out orders like a strict drill sergeant. With clipboard in hand, she marched from room to room checking off completed tasks from her to-do list. Tonight had to be perfect, so she left nothing to chance. She walked into the powder room to make sure that the housekeeper had changed the normally white guest towels to the silver-trimmed black ones. Meri had decided to infuse her stark-white decor with splashes of black to coordinate with tonight’s black-tie affair.

“Perfect,” she commented upon seeing the black towels and a black Diptique candle in place.

Next she strutted into the library to check on the cigar roller that she had flown in from Miami’s Little Havana.

“Hola. Como está?”
she asked, using the little bit of Spanish that she knew.

“Muy bien, gracias.”
He smiled in response.

“Habla inglés?”

“Yes, a little,” he answered, with a thick Cuban accent.

“Good, because that’s about all the Spanish I know.” She walked closer to examine his inventory.

Displayed across a six-foot-long Biedermeier desk was an array of paraphernalia—tobacco leaves, loose tobacco, cutters, elongated matches, and an enormous hand-carved humidor filled with pre-rolled cigars. She lightly fingered each item, gave a nod of approval, and checked off “cigar purveyor” from her list.

“Everything appears to be in order.”

He didn’t say a word, just grinned and nodded his head up and down.

“Once people meander in and begin smoking, I’ll need you to keep the pocket doors shut.” She pointed to the doorway. “I want to try and keep the smoke contained to this room as much as possible. Understand?”

“Sí, sí,
miss.” He nodded again.

“Very well,” she said, and walked out.

The next stop on her reconnaissance mission was the kitchen to check on dinner, but the instant the enticing aroma of sauted mushrooms and garlic tickled her nose, she knew everything was under control.

The last item on the list was for her to take a relaxing bath and get dressed. Meri went into her bedroom suite to bathe and make the transformation from delegator to diva. An hour later she reemerged, donned in a floor-length black jersey gown with deep slits running up each leg. Her ten-thousand-dollar 38-Cs didn’t need a brassiere to create cleavage and fill out the generous neckline; they stood erect on their own. She put on a diamond-and-onyx pendant that rested between the two mounds of mouthwatering flesh. She slipped on a pair of black bejeweled Jimmy Choos, walked over to the mirror, and inspected her reflection.

“You’re one hot babe,” she said, smoothing the thin fabric over her oversized breasts. “Not bad for an old broad.” She winked at herself.

Just as she stepped out of her boudoir, the bell rang. She sauntered over to the foyer and opened the door.

“Wow! You look fabulous,” Ariel exclaimed, taking in Meri’s surgically enhanced body. “A little too fabulous, I might add. Tonight’s supposed to be all about
me,
so why are you trying to upstage moi?” she teased.

“Daarliing, I paid good money to display this body,” she said, striking a pose in the snug-fitting Roberto Cavalli dress. “And besides, you already have a man. I’m still trying to find one.”

“Last time I checked you had more than one.” Ariel laughed and walked inside.

“Touché.” Meri closed the door. “But to be honest, I’m tiring of the boy-toys and ready to settle down with an M-A-N. Besides, if my best friend is getting hitched, I might as well rejoin the club.”

“I don’t believe my ears. Could it be that the infamous Meri Renick is retiring from the game?” Ariel put her hands to her cheeks in mock shock.

“Only if I find Mr. Right. Who knows, he could be here tonight. Since Preston has invited some of his colleagues, I just might snag a husband.”

“Just make sure he’s not already married to someone else,” Ariel said knowingly.

“Don’t worry, my days of being the ‘other woman’ are over. The only husband I want is my own. Anyway, enough about me. Look at you,” she said, taking her friend’s hand and twirling her around to get a 360-degree view.

Ariel wore a pearlized white Ralph Lauren gown with an empire waist and boatneck, which covered her rose tattoo. The dress was conservative at first glance, but the back was extremely sexy with a deep V-shape that started at the shoulders and tapered down into a point, stopping at the small of her back. “Thanks it’s new. Thought I’d wear white tonight, since I won’t be walking down the aisle in the proverbial virginal color.”

“You can wear whatever you want these days, from black to white and every hue in between. Besides, white is a symbol of the purity of your love, not the purity of your vagina,” Meri said boldly.

“That’s true, but I’d feel like such a hypocrite wearing white, especially after my Black Door escapades.” She blushed.

“Speaking of The Black Door, I think you should go back one more time before getting hitched.”

Ariel had a brief flashback of her tryst and exhaled deeply at the memory of her masked lover. “No, I don’t think so. Last time was too intense. It was so hot that I could see myself craving that man on a daily basis,” she confessed.

“Well, just think of it as your bachelorette party, your one last hurrah,” Meri said convincingly.

“Since Preston has been the attentive fiancé lately, and has made me his number-one priority, I don’t need the services of the club anymore,” she responded, trying to convince her friend as well as herself.

Meri raised an eyebrow, as if doubting Ariel’s words. “Spoken like a true bride-to-be. On that note, I think we need a drink.” Meri stopped one of the servers milling about and asked him to bring them a chilled bottle of champagne.

They settled in the living room and toasted before the party began. Meri raised her flute. “To the new Mrs. Hendricks, may you and Preston have a long, healthy, happy life together.”

Ariel clinked her glass with Meri’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Where’s Mrs. Grant? I thought she’d be with you tonight.”

“She wanted to come so badly, but she has a new set of three-year-old twins and didn’t want to leave them with a babysitter. She’s so happy that I’m getting married; you’d swear she was the one engaged,” Ariel mused.

“She just wants the best for you. After all, she’s never had children of her own, and having raised you, I’m sure she considers you her natural daughter.”

“Yes, she does, and I love her like my natural mother. I made her promise that she’d leave those kids long enough to come to the wedding, and she said that’s one event she wouldn’t miss for the world,” Ariel said.

“And she’s not the only one; I myself will definitely have a front-row seat to witness the nuptials,” Meri said, taking a sip of her champagne.

Ariel looked down at her engagement ring. “Wow, this is really happening, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically. “To be honest, I didn’t think Preston would ever propose. His last marriage was a disaster, and I resigned myself to the fact that he probably never wanted to get married again. Sometimes I think he’s going to get spooked and change his mind.”

“Ariel,” Meri said, “stop being paranoid, and accept the fact that Preston loves you and wants you to be his wife,” she said sternly. “Darling, you’ve got to let go of that ‘I’m not worthy’ baggage.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve carried it around so long that it’s hard to put down. But I promise I’m going to make a concerted effort to let go of the past.”

Meri raised her glass. “I’ll most definitely drink to that.”

BY THE TIME
the first guest arrived, the two women had polished off one bottle of Dom, and were onto their second. The bubbly elixir had put them in a festive mood and they were feeling no pain.

“Anna, so good of you to come,” Ariel said, greeting Preston’s longtime secretary and giving her a warm hug.

“I wouldn’t have missed this occasion for anything.” She kissed Ariel on the cheek. “I’ve been hoping for a long time that you and the judge would tie the knot,” she gushed, like an overprotective aunt. “Oh, by the way the judge wanted me to tell you that he’ll be here shortly. He had a last-minute conference call.”

So much for being his number-one priority,
Ariel thought. “Thanks, Anna.”

The party was nearly in full swing with colleagues and close friends mingling, munching on delectable hors d’oeuvres, sipping champagne, and chatting—but still no Preston. Ariel was fuming and could feel the vein protruding in the middle of her forehead. She couldn’t believe his audacity. How could he be late for his own engagement party? She excused herself from a conversation with coworkers, slipped into Meri’s bedroom, and called his cell.

“Where the hell are you?” she asked in a hushed tone, when he picked up, careful not to be overheard by the guests. “I can’t believe you’re late to
our
engagement party. I hope this—”

He cut her off midsentence. “Calm down, honey. I’m downstairs with my son and his date,” Preston said casually, as if his tardiness was a nonissue.

“Well, it’s about time,” she responded.

Ariel rejoined the party and watched Meri work the room. She was chatting up a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, with graying temples, a protruding belly, and tortoiseshell spectacles. He was the polar opposite of her type, which was the young, hard-body GQ model type. “Looks like she found a victim,” Ariel mused.

“Sorry I’m late,” Preston apologized, walking up and giving Ariel a light kiss on the lips. “Look who I bumped into in the lobby?” he said, gesturing to the handsome couple standing beside him.

Ariel exhaled deeply, looked at the pair, and said unenthusiastically, “Hello, Michele.” She wasn’t exactly happy to see Preston’s overtly sexy assistant. She took one look at Michele’s spaghetti-strap slip dress and slightly rolled her eyes. The outfit would have been suitable for a black-tie affair if she had chosen to wear a strapless bra, but in true vamp form, her hard nipples were pressed against the thin silk fabric for all to see.
This girl has no shame,
she thought and rolled her eyes. Disgusted, Ariel turned her attention to the man standing next to Michele. “Hi, I’m Ariel Vaughn.” She extended her hand.

He shook her hand in his. “I know,” said the handsome stranger.

“What?” She looked confused.

“Don’t you remember Preston III?” her fiancé asked.

She gave him a long hard look, and suddenly felt a familiarity that she couldn’t explain. “I haven’t seen you in . . .” She paused trying to think of their last encounter.

“I saw you at the town house a few weeks ago. You were rushing out as I was coming in,” he interjected in a rich baritone voice.

“That was you?” Now she understood why he seemed familiar. “And I was thinking that I hadn’t seen you since your graduation from college. So, what are you doing now?”

Preston affectionately slapped his son on the back. “He’s a businessman.”

“Oh, really? What type of business are you in?” Ariel asked, wanting to know more about her future stepson.

Michele possessively looped her arm through his and beamed proudly. “He’s an investment banker and a real-estate mogul.”

He blushed. “I’m not an investment banker yet. I just passed the Series Seven. And as for real estate, I only own one property,” he said, correcting her.

“Stop being so modest. It’s only a matter of time before you’re a mogul, and I’m going to be right by your side.” She was clinging onto him like an insecure girlfriend afraid of loosing her man to another woman. Then, as if on cue, the man-eater of the evening approached, brandishing two lethal weapons perched high on her chest.

“Weell, heelloo, daarliing,” Meri purred, seductively stretching out each syllable, looking directly at Preston’s handsome son and ignoring everyone else. She extended the back of her hand in his direction as if she expected him to fall down on one knee and kiss it. “I’m Meri Renick, the hostess of this fabulous soiree.” She beamed.

Preston III slowly scanned her from head to toe, and back again, took her hand in his, held it for a few seconds, and then asked with a questioning look on his face, “You’re Meri Renick?”

“The one and only.” She smiled proudly.