A Condo with Two Views (13 page)

Jacked texted me to inform me that Benito
wanted to use our condo to do a showing.
Oh crap. Really? I don’t want that
jerk here without Jack.
I contemplated going for a walk while they looked around
our condo, but that might appear rude or unaccommodating. So I
decided to stay and make myself busy.

When I heard a knock on the door, I
grimaced. Here goes nothing; I might as well get it over
with.
I
really wish Jack was home.

I opened the door, and Benito waited for
me to motion him in before entering our condo. I must admit he was
especially polite and respectful: “I’m really sorry to bother you,
Mrs. Gibb. May I call you Chloe?” he asked.

Then I realized he wasn’t being polite for
my benefit, but rather for that of the two prospective buyers who
accompanied him. I’m sure he wanted to look all unassuming and
courteous for
their
benefit,
not mine. The couple was middle-aged, with the wife appearing to
look a little younger, and were very well dressed. When Benito
called the man ‘Doctor,’ I thought maybe he worked at our UCSF
Medical Centre. Now that would be impressive. As they walked
through the condo, they admired our décor, and in particular, they
mentioned the new Anthony Hopkins painting. That made me smile. I
must remember to tell Jack.

The spectacular views also caught their
attention. The doctor, like Jack, was transfixed by the view from
the living room of Alcatraz. Motioning the couple to our bedroom,
his lovely wife commented on the view of the square from our
bedroom.

As we turned, I panicked.
No!!
The butt plug that I had found
earlier was still on my night stand. I glanced at my three guests.
The couple was discussing the size of the room and were oblivious
to my misdemeanor. Benito meanwhile, looked directly at me with a
glib smirk on his face. I blushed deeply as I shifted where I stood
to block his view of it. When the three of them exited the bedroom,
I stayed behind for a moment in order to hide the plug, just in
case they decided to return for a second look.

I despised Benito even more after
that.
Slime
bucket.
After all, this
was our home. We live here and if I had a butt plug, it was my
business. This was our private world; a world that I did not want
Benito to be a part of.

We toured the rest of the condo, which
included the measurement of closet sizes. I got the feeling this
couple was downsizing, perhaps moving into the city from a larger
home in the suburbs. As I walked them to the door, they politely
thanked me for the intrusion, and I was happy to be left alone
again to continue my day.

When my phone beeped closer to noon, I
assumed it was Jack. To my surprise, it was Lexi, our stripper
friend. Being a late-night dancer, she was probably just waking up.
Today was going to be the first of our dance lessons. Strange as it
might sound, I was a tad nervous. I had taken dance lessons as a
kid, so I wasn’t terrible, but I certainly didn’t know all the
classic stripper moves. I mean, those girls’ bodies were so
flexible. Ordinarily I would never have done something like this,
but I was glad Jack encouraged me. I let myself imagine a future
show where I would be showcasing for my husband, his slutty dancing
stripper wife. Jack would get everything that he paid for. I was
glad she suggested we do it down in her condo.

I had a quick salad and carrot soup, put on
my Lululemon exercise outfit, and off I went. I found her condo and
stood nervously at her door before knocking. Lexi answered greeting
me with a smile and a warm welcome. She immediately put me at
ease.

Her condo was furnished nicely, pretty
blue walls with modern white furniture. Lexi was dressed in tight
exercise shorts and a t-shirt, casual and comfortable. She didn’t
waste much time, after all, we were paying her to do this. Picking
up a remote, the condo was suddenly filled with loud vibrating
music. In the centre of the living room, she had one of those
portable stripper poles. I knew they existed, but it was my first
time seeing one. I was a little shy at first, not wanting to look
like a loser, but she was so reassuring I found myself relaxing. I
was learning to love it. She would describe a move, demonstrate,
and then I would copy her. This was much more difficult than I
thought. A gentle critique would surely follow Lexi’s words of
encouragement, but with her talent and my determination, I was well
on my way to rocking my husband’s world.

I learned the grinding
move
, where I would draw a circle with my hips.
Lexi kept reminding me to keep my back arched and upright as much
as possible, using her hands to pronounce my arch. The key was not
to lean forward. She illustrated that turning around must be done
like clockwork, at a slow speed, so slow that your lover barely
notices. And that arm movements are essential when spinning around.
Gracefully and with precision, this really was an art form.

I had to bite my tongue when Lexi
taught me about the classic ‘slap your ass’ move. I couldn’t help
but think of the number of times Jack had taken his hand to my ass.
With this move, I had to look back over my
shoulder,
coquettishly, then stroke and slap my
bottom.

Of course,
there were also specific lap dance moves. This was where my lesson
turned, shall we say, interesting. Lexi pulled over a dining room
chair and asked me to sit down. At first I thought,
great
,
we were taking a little break. Then I clued in, she was going to
perform a lap dance for me. Lexi took her hands and spread my legs
apart. She said that was how men sat and she gently positioned
herself close to me, nestling onto my inner thighs. While the music
played, she seductively danced for me.

Her song was
over. Now it was my turn to perform my first lap dance, and Lexi
became my male customer. I slowly danced for her as the music and
my libido guided my every move. I pushed my breasts toward Lexi’s
face, or what would be Jack’s face. She showed me how he would be
able to nestle his nose into my cleavage. We were enjoying the
moment, and then, the music suddenly ended, and our lap dance was
over.

Lexi grabbed my
hips and moved me aside as she stood up. We were moving on to the
proper use of a chair. I sat back down on the chair and Lexi
stroked my legs and moved on to various body slides.
She had more to show me, so we decided to
save those for the next week’s lesson when we had more time. I
think I passed my first class, and the teacher liked the
student.

Lexi was a gracious host and politely
offered me an iced tea. I was grateful, dancing was exercise after
all. We engaged in a little light conversation, and I was impressed
with her quick wit and articulate nature. Yes, I liked
her.

Next on my agenda for the day was to meet
my friend Holly for a late lunch. We decided to meet at a
Starbucks, for a tuna wrap and latte. It brought back an old
memory. I remembered the first time Holly and I tried coffee. We
were about eleven years old, and fairly new friends. Coffee was
such an adult thing to drink. We weren’t sure if my parents would
allow us to make some, so we made it while my Mom was taking a nap.
I remember, we searched everywhere on the packaging for
instructions, but there were none. Somehow we figured it out, and
not surprisingly, we found the taste bitter. We added sugar, some
milk and giggled while we drank it. Then, my Mom woke up, and the
first thing she said was ‘I smell coffee. Who made coffee?’ Holly
and I confessed, knowing we were busted. Within a month, Holly was
addicted to caffeine.

We laughed about that story for years, and
in a way, it was a sign of what was to come. We, like most other
teenagers, experimented over the coming years, and then shortly
thereafter, Holly couldn’t do without. There was the first time we
smoked a cigarette. Then the first time we tried weed.

She was also the first girl I ever kissed.
There were no crushy feelings between us. We just felt comfortable
experimenting, therefore did so with each other. She was my BFF. I
was there to give her a hug the night she lost her virginity, and
she was there to give me a hug the night I lost mine. We had a
close friendship right up until I went off to San Francisco State
University, and she enrolled in the City College. Soon, her
addictions started getting the best of her.

“
Do you remember the first time we tried
coffee?” I asked her, when Holly strolled into the Starbucks more
than twenty minutes late.

“Of course,” she responded, “I still put too
much sugar and milk in it, just like then.”

We caught up on each other’s lives. I was
careful not to go on about how wonderful things were with Jack.
When we talked about Holly’s situation, she was more open than
usual. She admitted to still using, but with real conviction
suggested she’d actually started researching rehab facilities. She
just needed to wait for the timing to be right. I’ve heard that one
before.

As we started to say our goodbyes, the
inevitable question came up: “So babe, seeing as you’re rich now in
that fancy condo of yours, could you spare a little extra cash for
me?”

“You know why I won’t do that, Hol.”

“So, you’re gonna send me out there, where I
have to suck some idiot’s dick, so I could sleep on his couch?”

“You had to say it that way, didn’t you?” I
scolded her.

I stood my ground
and refused to give her the money.
Moreover, I convinced her to come spend the night. Maybe seeing
what a normal existence was like would trigger her to finally book
a stay at one of those rehab clinics. I knew Jack wouldn’t mind. He
was easy going, and always supportive of my friends.

We made our way over to the condo, and the
night was lovely. We ate and had some wine. Jack crashed early. I
gave Holly an extra pair of my pajamas and a thick wool blanket.
Strangely, she felt more comfortable sleeping on the couch than the
spare den with the pull-out couch.

The next day, we let her sleep in and
spend the day while Jack and I went off to work. I texted our house
sitter a couple of times, and all seemed well. Until I got home,
that is.

My heart sank the minute I walked into our
condo. Holly was gone; I knew it from the second I walked in. She
was gone, and it was obvious she’d rummaged around before
leaving.
What
could she steal? What could she steal?
Tears were already forming in my eyes when I
looked into our bedroom.
FUCK!!

I wish she had found my jewelry box
instead. But no, she looked in the top drawer of Jack’s nightstand,
and that’s exactly where he kept his watches.
No, no, no, no…

The next hour was a blur. I didn’t dare
call t
he cops. I
wouldn’t, I just couldn’t, do that to Holly – despite everything.
Somehow deep down in my heart, I knew Jack would be okay. He was
more than okay. He was a dream. I apologized, and yet, Jack kept
reassuring me that I had nothing to apologize for, that I had done
nothing wrong. I still felt like shit, but at least Jack said all
the right things. How many men would have been as forgiving and
understanding as my adorable husband was?

Lesson learned: in a moment of weakness,
the allure of a drug can supersede the love of a friend.

Chapter 8. Sadist in the Building

Jack’s View:

Meanwhile,
development work started on the street-level shops and services
planned for the first floor of our building. Benito had designed it
well. The full gym including swimming pool and sauna area were
completed earlier, as he knew those amenities would attract buyers
such as Canace and Shanyn. Now that the building was further along,
and almost eighty percent occupied, he turned his attention to the
commercial side.

The rumour was
we’d be getting a dry cleaner, a florist, possibly a Starbucks or
another specialty coffee shop, and to my surprise, Benito was
opening up a small restaurant named what else but, Benito’s Bistro.
I think this was more a vanity project than a legitimate desire to
make money in the restaurant business. He probably wanted a special
place to hang out with friends, and having your own restaurant near
Ghirardelli Square certainly provided that.

Our postal
service during the interior construction was delivered to a small
temporary mailroom, which was adjacent to the lobby. Usually, it
was my job to get the mail, but today it so happened that both of
us arrived home at the same time, so we both did it. While Chloe
used her key to open and check our slot, I noticed a rather long
package on the side counter where the postal worker left over-sized
deliveries. I immediately recognized the unmistakable brown and
black wrapping. Only one store has wrapping that distinctive. I
hadn’t ordered anything, so I knew it wouldn’t have my name on it.
I glanced at the label: Kurt Wilkins.
Hmm..interesting.

Whoever this
Kurt is, he must have ordered something from a well-known bdsm
online store called ‘Gadgets & Gear’. I knew the store well.
It’s based in Vegas and has an extensive inventory of specialty sex
toys, specializing in fetish gear. I was familiar with the
packaging because I had ordered from the same store myself over the
years. I couldn’t help but think:
we must have a kinkster in the
building.
Judging from the length of the box, it was likely a
crop or whip, but I couldn’t be certain.