Seduction (13 page)

MASON HAD
gone uptown to meet with Trey at the Black Door to talk to him about adding a Poet Sanctuary at the downtown location, where members could recite poems. Only this poetry would have a distinctive edge, almost like the “Vagina Monologues.” Mason's vision was for the members to describe their kinkiest sexual experiences in a limerick, while a jazz trio played softly in the background. Trey loved the idea, and before Mason left, they had fleshed out the entire layout. The new chamber would have a round, rotating stage in the middle of the room, and coliseum-style seating, so that no views were obstructed. The room would also have surround-sound speakers throughout, so that the titillating words would reverberate off the walls. Basically, the space would resemble a concert hall, only on a much smaller scale. The meeting had gone extremely well, and Mason was glad that Trey was on-board with his idea. Some bosses could be territorial about their businesses, and only made changes when the initial idea was theirs, but Trey wasn't like that. He embraced new concepts and made Mason feel like part owner instead of just an employee. When Mason left the meeting, he was on cloud nine, and didn't think his night could get any better, but the best was yet to come.

Whoever said that timing was everything could not have coined a more accurate statement in this case. As soon as Mason's taxi pulled up in front of BD2, he spotted Terra taking off a mask outside of the club. Had the taxi arrived a few minutes sooner, she would have seen him coming into the club, and aside from telling her he was a server—which would have dispelled his real estate lie—there was no other way to explain his presence since the Black Door was exclusively for women. And if he'd arrived a few minutes later, he would have missed her altogether. Yes, timing was everything.

He sat there for a few seconds and watched as she walked down the street. Mason was shocked. The last person he expected to see coming out of the Black Door was Ms. Terra Benson. Even though the club's membership list included some of the city's most influential women, she didn't seem like the type who would enjoy the activities that the club offered. She was so proper and refined on the outside, but then again, she did 69 him like a pro at his apartment. Obviously she had a dual personality, and he was intrigued now more than ever to get to know her better.

Once she was a quarter of the way down the block, he got out of the cab and followed her. He didn't know where she was going, nor did he care. All he cared about was finally getting the chance to spend more time with her. He watched her go into Hotel Gansevoort and waited outside a few minutes before going in, so it wouldn't look as if he had been stalking her.

Mason stood on the fringes of the lobby bar and watched Terra settle in and order a drink. He waited until she was sipping comfortably and walked back out to the reservation desk.

“Hi, do you have any suites available tonight?” he asked the reservation clerk.

She typed the date into her computer system, read the screen, and then said, “I'm sorry, sir, all of our suites are booked this evening, but I do have a grand deluxe room available with a city view and a step-out balcony.”

“That sounds great. I'll take it,” he told her. Mason was hoping that he and Terra would end the evening in each other's arms. He knew it was a stretch. He hadn't seen her since that night in his apartment, but he was desperate and was willing to try just about anything to make love to her again. He gave the clerk his credit card, signed for the room, and returned to the bar area.

Terra was sitting with her back to the door and didn't see him when he came into the lounge. “We've got to stop meeting like this.” He smiled as he approached her.

She looked up and was surprised to see Mason. Though she had vowed that their one-night stand was a onetime deal, she was glad to see his face nonetheless. With his cocoa brown skin, smooth bald head, sable eyes, and full lips, he was pleasing to the eyes. He had a face and tall muscular body that resembled Richard T. Jones, the handsome actor from
Judging Amy
. “Are you stalking me?” She smiled back.

If you only knew,
he thought. “I was going to ask you the same thing. It seems as if we have the same tastes in lounges,” he said, looking at the empty seat next to her.

Terra noticed him staring at the vacant seat. Her mind was telling her not to invite him to sit down, but her heart was saying,
Girl, don't let that man get away.
Terra's mind was racing double time, weighing the pros and cons of having a drink with Mason. On the negative side, if she let him buy her a drink, he would probably think that that was an invitation for a repeat performance of their last tango, but their last tango was HOT, so a repeat performance was also a plus. Terra was still horny from the Black Door, and thought that a little innocent flirtation would take the edge off. “Would you care to sit down?” she said, giving in to the pros.

“I'd love to,” he said, and motioned the waitress over. “Can we have a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Grand Dame, please?”

Once the waitress was gone, Terra's tone changed. “You and your bottle service. That's what got me in trouble last time,” she said curtly, thinking that he was trying to get her tipsy again.

Mason smiled slyly. “What trouble?”

She looked at him skeptically. “Didn't you see ‘Page Six'?”

“Oh, you mean the picture of us coming out of Pravda,” he said lightheartedly, as if he hadn't suffered any repercussions from that picture.

“That's the one. Well, just so you know, I plan to walk out of here sober and solo, and not end up in your apartment or in the newspaper,” she said, looking him dead in the eyes.

Mason threw his palms in the air, as if surrendering. “Okay, Ms. Benson, whatever you say.”

Terra had totally forgotten that the paper mentioned her full name and family legacy. Now he knew that she wasn't just a typical broke wannabe actress; she was a wannabe actress with considerable assets. Her first thought was that he was after her for the money, but then she realized that he'd pursued her before he knew she was Terra Benson, so his interest in her was genuine, and that made her relax a little and get off of the defensive. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just that I don't want you to get the wrong impression. Contrary to my actions, I'm not into one-night stands, even though I did enjoy myself.” She quickly averted her eyes to the floor, as if she were embarrassed, and then looked back into his eyes. “But I can't afford to get drunk and fall into bed with strangers. If it's all right with you, I'd like to erase the past and start fresh.”

Starting fresh was more than all right with Mason, because he wanted to forget the morning after, when she disappeared on him. “Sounds good to me. And just so you know, I didn't think you were the one-night stand type of girl anyway. You're much too classy for that,” he said, and then thought,
And what's a classy woman like you doing at the Black Door?
He wanted to ask her that question straight out, but didn't want to tip his hand, since he wasn't supposed to know she'd been there in the first place.

“Well, I wouldn't say all that.” She blushed.

The waitress brought over the champagne, popped the cork, poured them each a glass, placed the bottle in an ice-filled champagne bucket, put it in the middle of the table, and then left.

“So, are you flying solo tonight? Where's your friend…what was her name?” He paused for a second trying to think.

“Lexington, but everyone calls her Lexi. Actually, we were together earlier, but…” Terra stopped midsentence, and contemplated whether or not to tell Mason about the Black Door. Well, it wasn't like they were complete strangers; he had eaten her out in the backseat of a taxi. “…we decided to go our separate ways,” she said, finishing her sentence. “You won't believe where we were earlier,” she said, almost in a whisper, deciding to tell him after all.

“Where?” he asked, even though he knew what she was about to say.

“This club called the Black Door.”

“Is it a dance club?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Not exactly,” she said, with the corners of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. She moved a little closer to him and whispered, “It's an erotic club exclusively for women.”

He put his index finger and thumb to his chin and rubbed his goatee. “Really? Tell me more.”

“Well, I don't know a lot about the club because it's for members only and I'm not a member. Tonight was my first time there.”

“How did you get in if it's for members only?” He wanted to know. Now he was more than curious, because there was no way she should have been allowed to enter if she wasn't a member.

“Lexi's a member, and she borrowed her friend's mask and password so that I could check out the club.”

Mason made a mental note to revamp the entrance security, since clearly there was a loophole with the current system. “So, what did you think about the club?”

“It was hot, actually a little too hot for me. I guess I'm more of a private person, and making love with a bunch of strangers watching isn't my thing.” No sooner had Terra made the statement than she thought back to Mason eating her out in the taxi, and how she got off on the driver hearing them. She felt like a hypocrite, and didn't know how to clarify that comment, so she picked up her flute and took a huge gulp.

“So…you're not into PDAs,” he said, looking at her like he couldn't believe what she had just said.

“Okay, you got me. Public displays of affection are fine, especially in the backseat of a taxi,” she mused.

He also thought back to that erotic cab ride and said, “Yes, they are.”

She finished her champagne and put the flute down. “Look, Mason, it was great running into you tonight, but I'm not going down that road again. What happened between us was a onetime thing, and it can't happen anymore. I've got too much on my plate to get involved with you,” she said point-blank, and got up to leave.

“Wait a minute.” He reached out for her hand. “Can't I at least have your cell number, so we can go out for coffee sometime?” he asked.

Terra thought about it for a split second, but remembered her stalled seduction plan, and that she needed to concentrate on winning Sage over, instead of focusing on Mason. “No, I don't think that'll be a good idea. Let's leave things the way they are. Take care of yourself,” she said, and walked out before he had a chance to plead his case.

Mason was shocked, for the second time that evening. He hadn't seen that coming. A few minutes ago they were talking and drinking champagne, and he thought for sure that he'd have the opportunity to win her over, but she shot down his hopes like a clay pigeon. He poured more champagne into his flute, and proceeded to drown his sorrows. Mason polished off the first bottle and ordered a second one. As he was sipping his bubbly and licking his wounds, he heard a voice from behind.

“You won't believe it, but there are at least twenty photographers outside.”

He turned around, and there was Terra looking panicky.

“I was getting ready to leave, and before I could step a foot outside, one of them saw me through the glass door, and they all started calling my name. I don't know how they knew I was here,” she said, pacing back and forth.

“Calm down. It's going to be all right,” he said, touching the side of her arm. “Why don't you sit down and have another glass of Veuve, while we figure out what to do?” Mason was totally elated that she was trapped. He didn't particularly care for the paparazzi because they were always sticking their lenses where they didn't belong, but at the moment he was loving them, since they were the reason Terra was back and acting like a damsel in distress.

“I know I shouldn't be freaked out, but I don't want my picture in the paper again. Once they get a taste of someone's private life, it's like their need to pry is insatiable, and they keep coming back for more and more until your every move is documented. Frankly, I don't want to live underneath a microscope, with the whole world in my business. My personal life is just that—personal!” she fumed.

Mason could see that she was getting madder by the second, and he needed to calm her down quickly, before she stormed out and gave the photographers a piece of her mind. “I might have the perfect solution,” he said, getting her attention.

“What? Anything you can think of would be greatly appreciated,” she said, sounding desperate.

“I have a room upstairs. A friend of mine manages the hotel and gives me a great deal anytime I want to stay downtown. And since I've been drinking tonight, I didn't feel like fighting the masses for a taxi back uptown,” he lied. He certainly wasn't going to admit that he'd booked the room in the hopes of fucking her all night.

At first Terra looked at him with disbelief, but she was between a brick and a boulder. She could take her chances with the paparazzi, and wind up in every tabloid from here to Iceland, or she could go with Mason and spare herself another embarrassing close up. “Okay, I'll go upstairs with you, but only until they leave and then I can go home in peace,” she said, laying down her terms.