The Sunday Arrangement (16 page)

After
an hour or so of comparing quality and resolution and searching for additional
gadgetry, I found the perfect camera. It had an extra-long battery life, high
pixilation, and the best part was it came with a tripod. That way we could see
everything, every minute detail of his entire body on top of mine as we had
mind-blowing sex, thrust after glorious thrust. I bought it with the specifications
that it needed to be gift wrapped with a card that read:

Mr.
Maverick,

I’m
greatly looking forward to our evening together.

Let’s
“Play.”

I grinned at my clever
pun. I also specified that the package needed to arrive promptly on Sunday
morning, not a day before or after. It cost extra for the personalized delivery
from the company, but that wasn’t a problem. I would have paid hundreds more. A
giddy feeling shot through me. Waiting for next week was going to be even
harder now.

 I moved my computer
from my lap and stretched my arms once again. Ruffling my curly hair, I took out
the bobby pins I’d forgotten to remove last night and glanced at my bedside
clock. It was almost noon, and I still hadn’t gotten out of bed. Thankful for a
day off, I felt incredibly lazy. Pierce micromanaged this project so much that
the little work I had to do could wait. And just as I’d already spent the
morning, I felt like straying from my usual behavior. My mind began to wander
to the almost consistent thought I’d had the last few days though I would admit
that to no one. Pierce was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I finally
felt as though I had dipped my feet in the ocean everyone raved about. It was
cold and brisk, but it was also electrifying and addictive.

I could feel myself
grow aroused at the memories of being with him. They played in a repetitive
loop in my mind. I knew every movement, every detail. Each of them was captivating
and erotic in their own way. Suddenly, I began to feel warm. The mere memories
of Pierce aroused me more than the presence of any other man ever had. I pulled
off my pink tank top and licked two fingers. My tongue was hot and wet. I pinched
my nipple and then rubbed it, mimicking the motion Pierce had so effectively
done the night before. A small shock of pleasure ran through me as my fingers
continued to massage my breast. My right hand travelled down my stomach, as if it
had a mind of its own. I pushed my hand underneath the waistband of my black shorts
and then underneath my panties. My curious fingers met my pussy in a wave of
adrenaline. This was so unlike me, but I didn’t want to stop. It was too hot,
too good to quit now.

Images of Pierce and
his beautiful, naked body swarmed in my mind, mixing and matching to form a new
exotic fantasy:
We were in a scenic town in Greece. We were on the private
beach of a small island we’d rented where we could be away from prying eyes. We
relaxed on towels, soaking in the rays of sunshine in the nude. It was the
first time I had been naked in an area that could be public, besides my own
backyard. Pierce had talked to me into it.

 My fingers traveled to
just above my clit and rubbed it slowly, teasingly.

I was lying on my
stomach, my ass in the open air. He was on his stomach next to me. At first we discussed
trivial things: the gyro we had eaten at lunch, the thick accents of the men
who sold us their row boat, the incredibly tan skin of the people of Greece. But
then he grew quiet. He looked at me with heat in his eyes, and I felt beautiful.
I asked him if he could rub tanning oil on me. Massaging the warm oil into my
shoulders, his sensual touch aroused me. He took his time, using his thumbs and
the heels of his hands to knead deeply into my muscles. His touch was the
perfect amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft—as he gradually moved
down to my lower back. His hands moved over my butt, and his fingers lightly
hovered over my pussy. I moaned, begging him to rub me there.

My fingers travelled
past my clit to my opening, which was ready for attention.

His hands grasped my
right thigh, and he used all his fingers to relax the tight muscles. My skin
tingled from his ministrations. He did the left thigh next, before moving down
to my calves and feet. My entire backside felt relaxed as he had me turn onto
my back.

I pushed my fingers
into the opening and arched my back slightly. The end of my palm brushed
against my clit.

He did not go
straight for my breasts, like I was anticipating. Instead he started by lightly
massaging oil into my neck and the tops of my shoulders. He moved down my arms
and massaged my hands. Having finished my shoulders and arms, he poured a bit
of oil on the center of my collar bone and allowed it to run down the center of
my breasts to my stomach where it ran off the side and tickled. A finger came
down and ran through the trail of liquid, spreading it in a thin line across my
stomach. He did that again, but this time followed the underside of my breasts.
Closer and closer he got to my hard nipple. I held my breath while I watched
him, anticipating his touch. Finally, his hand came up to massage the oil into
my breast. His fingers toyed with my sensitive nipples, which responded to his
gentle squeezes.

The pleasure within
me grew more intense. I pumped my fingers in and out, wishing all the while
that I could reach the spot within me that would make me overflow with pleasure.

When he pulled away,
I moaned at the loss of him. He reached behind him and got an extra towel from
the bag and wiped the excess oil off his hands. He positioned his hand over my
pussy. He cupped it, and pushed his fingers inside me. His fingers curled in my
vagina, and he pushed upward. He knew just how to find that spot in me that
would make it all come to a head.

The pleasure built
quickly as I maneuvered in and out of my responsive pussy. I tossed in my bed
as a small orgasm took hold of me. “Oh, Pierce,” I softly mumbled. Even when he
wasn’t present, he still turned me on.

~*~*~*~

Later that day, I
decided that I couldn’t put my dad off any longer. Unfortunately, I needed to
see what, if anything, he wanted. The phone rang only twice before he picked
up.

“Hi, Lauren. Glad you
finally got around to returning my phone call.”

“Sorry, it’s been a
busy day,” I lied. “Besides you didn’t leave a voice mail, so I didn’t think
this would be urgent.”

“You know I can’t
stand that damn recorder device contraption.”

I resisted the urge
to cringe, thinking of my recent purchase for Sunday’s adventure. I wondered
what my father would think of my new video camera. “Okay then, Dad. What’s up?”

“I wanted to get a
sense of how you and Pierce are getting along on this project.”

“As in how are we working
together or how far along are we in the project?” I asked hesitantly.

“Both.”

I took a deep breath.
Was he asking more than he let on?

“What’s the name of
the casino again?” he asked before I could respond.

“Fantasy. Pierce chose
it last week. I sent you an e-mail about it.”

“I saw. I saw,” he
said defensively. “It must’ve slipped my mind. Seems like an odd name for a fancy
building where people are going just to gamble.”

“Fantasy is more than
gambling, Dad. Haven’t you read any of my updates? It really does go well with
the theme we want for this project,” I said, restraining myself from adding,
and
for Sunday evenings
. “Besides, the investors loved it.”

“So what do you mean
by ‘Pierce chose it’?” he asked. “Are you letting him boss you around?”

“I thought the name
was clever and unique, so I agreed to it. Frankly, anything I’ve disagreed with
him on isn’t worth the retribution he gives. I’m letting him mostly take the
reins on this one, since he cares way more about its success than I do.”

My father huffed on
the other end of the line. “Lauren, I told you this is
our
project! The
Mavericks are just a publicity stunt. You cannot allow Pierce to take control
of this casino and ruin it.”

“What? You told me to
listen to him and be obliging.”

“I told you to listen
to him but watch him like a hawk. We can’t afford to allow Peter and his snotty
son to pull a fast one on us.” His tone was worrisome and gruff.

“Tell me something,
Dad. Why would you agree to do business, especially a project that we suspect
will take two or three years, with a man you can’t trust?”

“I told you! How many
times do I need to explain myself?” he shouted. “Our families need the good
publicity.”

I rolled my eyes,
thankful he couldn’t see my reaction. “No one’s buying that, especially not
Toby and me.”

“Just trust me, okay?
We need this much more than you kids realize.”

My father was almost
always as rude as hell, but he never sounded worried. I could hear the strain
in his voice. Part of me wanted to yell at him; the other part wanted to wring
his thick neck. Working with your enemies was generally never a good idea, no
matter how much the newspapers loved it.

“You’ve just never
been so worried about publicity before . . . at least not enough to be
proactive in preventing it,” I prompted.

“Lauren,” he said
after a few moments, “I need you to start watching Pierce. Peter has been
extremely evasive over the recent developments with the casino, and now you’re
telling me that Pierce is calling all the shots up there. I’m worried they’re
somehow going to pull a fast one on us.”

“Wait, what?” I
asked. “Why do you think that?”

“It’s a gut feeling,
kid. A very bad gut feeling.”

I clutched the phone
closer to my face. Unsure exactly what I was hearing, my mind started spinning
like the blades of a helicopter about to lose control. I replayed scene after
scene of working with Pierce, trying to trace any signs of betrayal. “How am I
supposed to spy on him, Dad? I’m not exactly capable of doing—”

“Start taking back
the project like the workaholic I raised you to be. Make sure he’s not doing
anything shady. Snoop around if you have to. Look for anything—and I mean
anything—suspicious.”
 I shook my head, willing this conversation to stop. First Dad wanted me to be
Mrs. Cleaver, kind and passive about this project’s creation, and now he wanted
me to turn into James Bond, private eye? It was too much to absorb in that
moment.

“Expect more calls
from me. I’ll want to check in with you about Pierce’s whereabouts. Make sure
anything you want to communicate to me is said over the phone, not in an e-mail
. . . just in case.”

“Uh, okay. If you’re
this skeptical about the Mavericks’ intentions, shouldn’t we just back out
while we still can?”

“We can’t, Lauren.
Terminating the project with the Mavericks isn’t an option.”

Something about his
tone made me worry. He sounded so desperate, so unsure. My father was many
things, but when it came to running his business, he never questioned anything.
He plowed through and almost always succeeded in his endeavors. But now, he was
clearly doubting himself. He sounded so timid, like a mouse caught in a trap
with no chance of breaking free.

“Call me if you need
me,” he said. “Bye.”

I tossed the phone on
my bed and sighed in exasperation. Confusion and paranoia started to race
within my chest. I hurriedly paced back and forth in my room as questions
bombarded my disturbed mind. Was Dad right? Were Pierce and his father really
playing us? Was it already too late to save the company? I replayed the last
two weeks over and over again, wondering if I’d missed anything that Pierce had
done. I scolded myself for losing sight of the one thing I prided myself in—my
work. If I had a better handle on the details of this project, maybe now I’d
know what was going on and why Dad was so suspicious. On the other hand, Pierce
was so ambitious. He seemed the natural leader of this project, though I
realized now that it was a mistake to hand over the reins so easily. Still I
couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of Pierce sabotaging the casino. Why
would he jeopardize his first real project?

No matter how many details,
large or small, I thought about, no matter how many questions I left
unanswered—there was one glaring detail that overshadowed them all. It was as
unavoidable as my next breath: Was Pierce Maverick screwing me on Sunday nights
to eventually screw over Hart Corp?

We were scouting an upscale
eatery at a local high-end casino for our research. The best in the city needed
to be a mere shadow of what we were planning for Fantasy. No aspect of any
other casino would be able to compare. It would have to be spectacular. That
is, of course, if Pierce wasn’t going to completely turn the tables on Hart
Corp. And me.

“This is decent food,
all right. But it’s not nearly what I would expect from a four-star restaurant,”
Pierce said cynically to the older waiter.

The waiter’s furrowed
brow and wide eyes said he was trying to hide his shock. I doubted he had ever
received a complaint about the quality of the cuisine, at least not with the
current head chef on staff.