The Devil's Playthings (4 page)

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. He only nodded. She knew at least that he wasn’t deaf. Everything tasted so good she was full and still wanted more.

W
hen the dinner was over she knew he would disappear again, and she would head off to bed. She searched the room for a clock, but couldn’t find one. So she sat silently, head down, hands wringing the napkin, waiting for a signal from him.

“Would you like to join me in the salon? We can listen to music,” he finally spoke.
And what a voice he had; soft and quiet yet rich and melodious.
H
e was definitely not American. The a
ccent was lyrical, almost
like he was
singing
.

She saw before she felt the goose bumps on her arms, and her breath caught as she looked up at him. He stood, and he appeared bigger than she’d thought, perhaps because she sat
staring up at him
. And then he held his hand out to her, and she took it. His skin was pleasantly soft, and warm,
his
fingernails
well-manicured
. He looked, for lack of a better word,
classy
.

She trie
d hard to walk in the shoes and
she went very slowly. Thankfully he didn’t try to rush her, and when
they entered the salon, he led
her to a rich burgundy colored leather seat. She sat on the very edge, knees together due to the length of the skirt.

He stood in front of a desk, and picked up a remote. From nowhere music filled the room
;
a
soft jazz
sounding melody.
H
e walked toward a low serving table that
held several crystal decanters. A bottle of champagne chilled in
a silvery bucket, with two crystal glasses sitting beside it.

The salon looked like a mixture of a library and a music room, with shelves lined with books beside shelves lined with CDs and even vinyl records. A huge hearth was the center of the room, with a large fireplace inside. It looked big enough for her to stand in if she wanted to. She couldn’t see any walls that weren’t covered in shelves, but the chairs were rich leather and the tables were dark wood. There were no lamps that she could see in the room, only several candelabras on each table, providing muted
soft
light.

He popped the bottle of champagne, and she smiled with a blush and watched as he poured the bubbly liquid into the glasses. He carried one to her, and then tasted the other. He nodded then sat in one of the leather chairs beside hers. She sipped it as he did. It was very good, like the wine, but a taste she would have to grow accustomed to; if she got the chance.

“I like that you don’t chatter incessantly,” he finally said after several quiet moments.

She couldn’t think of a stranger compliment, but she blushed and nodded, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said and sipped his drink. She did as well, and he filled her glass again. She began to feel a little light headed; probably a combination of the alcohol, the candlelight, and his presence. He was as intoxicating as the wine.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked.

Her eyes grew wide, and then flew to the shoes she already hated. He laughed, and without even a thought kneeled in front of her and expertly removed them. When he looked up at her, from that position, goose bumps covered her entire body.

She remembered just then she had not put on any of the lacy underwear in her drawers, and she was sure her nipples must be poking through the thin silk of her dress. His fingers lingered on the soles of her feet, and she actually shivered.

Then he stood, and held out his hand to her again. “I’ve never danced before,” she warned him.

“Just do what you did throughout dinner,” he countered. “Do what I do.”

She blushed again
because he had been able to read her mind and comprehend that she was mimicking his actions. W
hen she stood he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her body into his. Another sound of pleasure escaped
her
, and she blushed even
brighter
. “I’m sorry,” she had to say.

“No, I like those noises,” he said smoothly, and began to sway with her to the slow jazz rhythm. He took one of her hands and placed it on his shoulder, then the other and held it gently in his. She smiled shyly, and stared at eye level, which happened to be his chest.

After several moments, he parted from her to remove his jacket and lay it neatly on the arm of his chair. Then he took her in his arms again, and she felt another rush of blood, but this one flooded her ears and nearly drowned out the music.

She could smell his scent, a dark woodsy, musky smell that pulled her closer. Her nose nearly touched the soft cloth of his shirt. His hand
s
trailed up her back,
up to find her
bare neck. Then they were in her hair, gently feeling the soft curls.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what he wanted. She wasn’t even sure of what she wanted. But she knew whatever he did she couldn’t say no. He leaned forward to gently rub his cheek against the top of her head.

“Would you like another glass of wine,” he purred. Or was it a growl? She couldn’t tell.

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Would you like anything else?” His voice alone sent shivers down her spine. But at that moment he pulled her closer to his body. He stopped pretending to dance with her, and just held her. His lips brushed against her hair, then down her cheek. He
bent over to rub his soft skin
against her
s
.

“Ahhh…” she sighed. And then his lips found that most sensitive spot on her neck between her shoulder and her ear. He breathed in as he kissed her gently, then breathed out into her ear.

This time it was more than a shiver. Her whole body quivered, down her back to her knees. And then he pulled the top half of his body away from her, so he
could look down at her. His dark black eyes glittered through slanted eyelids
. And he searched her eyes, without asking aloud.

“I don’t know,” she answered him anyway. Every physical response to him was so strong, but there was one thought in her mind that she couldn’t shake. She was afraid of him. He was polite, restrained, and very civil. He appeared the perfect gentleman. She didn’t know why she hesitated. She wasn’t a virgin, she wasn’t delicate.

He only nodded his answer, and continued their dance. She wouldn’t say the spell was broken, because she felt the physical pull just as strong. But not looking into his eyes, she could at least breathe.

They danced for nearly an hour. He continued to hold her, but not as close. And his hands moved from her hair to her waist.

“Would you like to go back to your bedroo
m?” He asked her gently. Your
bedroom, he said. It gave her a sense of secu
rity, and she smiled weakly
. She nodded slightly.

He released her gently, and bent to pick up her shoes. Then he handed them to her, and took her other hand to escort her to her room. She climbed the stairs barefoot, with his hand on her elbow.

H
e left her at her door, with a kiss on her forehead. He turned and sauntered down the hall. She opened her door and noticed that Rosa had been there, turned down the bed for her, and placed a soft pink silk nightgown, like the white one she’d worn the night before, on top.

She undressed quickly, didn’t even pull the pins out of her hair, and threw on the nightgown, then climbed into the bed. Perhaps she had one too many glasses of wine, but as soon as her head hit the pillow she was asleep.

The next morning she awoke again in the white bed, the canopy closed. She’d almost thought it was all a dream
;
and she’d wake up in a grimy alley. But no, she awoke in the beautiful room, in the beautiful apartment. She placed her feet in the fluffy white slippers again, and again she smelled food.

She opened the door to creep down to the dining room, but Rosa was on the other side. Emma didn’t know if it was coincidence, or if the young woman actually waited on her. Either way, Rosa smiled and shook her head.

“You should wear a robe, at least, in the house. There are men on the staff,” she chided, and took her back into the bedroom.

“It’s okay, I’ll get dressed,” Emma said, defeated, and Rosa fo
und a smart pair of khaki pants
and a white and navy striped polo shirt. This time she remembered underwear, and disappeared into the bathroom.

She dressed quickly and brushed her teeth, then asked Rosa to help her remove the pins from her hair. She found a scrunchy, and pulled her still curly hair into a pony tail. She looked like a spoiled rich girl going for her tennis lesson. Rosa held a pair of backless tennis shoes, and she slid her feet into them in a hurry.

Rosa escorted her down to the dining room, and she sat at the right of the head of the table again. And she waited for Mast
er, again. T
oday he appeared in a dark navy suit, with a red tie. He looked like a politician. She wondered what he did for a living, and then she tried to contain a smile when she realized she didn’t even know his name.

Today he glanced at her, and bent down to kiss her forehead before he seated himself at the table. Rosa opened the door
to the kitchen, and the young me
n brought out a platter full of waffles, and bowls of fruit sauce and whipped cream.

She tried hard to contain her excitement. She always loved waffles, especially served like this. But she couldn’t contain her wide smile, and he smiled back. They didn’t exchange polite conversation, and she didn’t mind. She helped herself to a waffle, and put all the different fruit sauces on top, then a liberal helping of whipped cream.

And when she finished that one, she had another and two glasses of milk. She was full and so happy when her plate was empty. She would have to swim again to w
ork off all the calories. S
he waited patiently while he finished eating his first waffle.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” He said as he pushed his chair back and prepared to leave her again.

“Everything,” she said with a giggle.

“Is there anything more specific?” He said with a smile, in that wonderful voice.

“How about your name, for a start,” she shrugged, and then met h
is eyes. They were black and sparkling, like onyx
.

“My name is hard to pronounce in your language,” he purred. “But you may call me Luc.”

“Luc,” she repeated, to test it on her tongue. “Is that French?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “but I am not.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared again, leaving her alone. Then Rosa appeared, as if beckoned. Well, not totally alone, she thought to herself.

She returned to her bedroom and undressed again, finding another bikini in the drawer. This one was an ocean blue, and she put it on quickly. She covered herself with an oversized shirt in the same color, and slipped back into the tennis shoes.

She spent the day by the pool again, swimming and relaxing. And the same as yesterday, Rosa
brought her a light lunch. W
hen the day started to fade, Rosa
escorted her back into the apartment
, where Emma showered and Rosa helped her dress for dinner.

That evening she wore a soft, faded denim skirt and a sky blue bohemian top, with her long blond hair flowin
g down her back in waves. H
e entered wearing wor
n jeans and a white polo. I
t complimented his
light tan
skin perfectly. Again, she bowed her head and smiled as he entered the room. And again he kissed the top of her head, and took the seat at the head of the table.