Dreamboat (6 page)

“Tom,” she gasped. “Tom . . . I'm . . . you're . . . oh . . . oh . . .” She writhed from side to side, certain that she was going to be overcome by an orgasm at any moment, but he stopped, knowing that he had brought her to the edge. Rising up on his knees, he stared down at her before lowering himself atop her. Crissy threw her arms around his shoulders, relishing the feel of his powerful masculinity against her soft and yielding flesh.

He entered her slowly, watching her face as he did so, taking pleasure
from the gasps of delight that escaped her lips. When he was entirely inside her, he stopped momentarily, and she savored him there, engulfing her with his manhood before he began to slowly move, in and out, in and out, until they were moving together in a rhythmic dance that gained speed as their desire mounted. Crissy cried out as wave after wave of exquisite contractions engulfed her in ecstacy. Tom, driven to new heights of passion by her orgasm, could control himself no longer. In a final plunge, he entered her to the hilt of his cock, his body tensing, before he emitted a lusty cry and burst forth inside her, his body trembling as his juices gushed in a torrent of lust.

He lay atop her then, his arms hugging her to him tightly. They were silent as they caught their breath, but he planted kisses on her lips and cheeks, her nose and eyes. He rolled to his side, holding her to him, careful to stay inside her. His hands slowly began to stroke her, tenderly, and when he could speak, he whispered, “That was wonderful, Crissy.
You
are wonderful.” He sighed with contentment and hugged her again, possessively, unwilling to let her go, she thought.

“I . . . I've never felt anything like this before,” Crissy said. “It's never been this . . . good . . . this . . . exciting.” She meant what she said. Although she'd had boyfriends in the past and had made love with a couple of them, the lovemaking hadn't been satisfying, let alone passionate. For a long time, she had avoided sex because her earlier experiences had been terrible.

He kissed her sweetly and hugged her closer.

As she lay in his arms, Crissy reveled in the golden afterglow of their lovemaking. She had never felt as sated, as fulfilled, as she did now.

Tom propped his head up, resting it on the palm of his hand, and stared at her face. His expression was difficult for Crissy to read, but she saw what she thought was a mixture of happiness and some degree of curiosity, as if perhaps he was wondering who she was and where she came from, beyond what he already knew.

“What are you thinking about?” she finally asked him, when he continued to openly study her.

“What an exceptionally beautiful, sensitive, and sexy lady you are,” he replied, smiling.

She laughed. “Think so, huh?”

He nodded. “I know so,” he said. “You're . . . different somehow. Special. And I like that. I like it a lot.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, intrigued by what he'd said. “How am I different? And special?” She wondered if it was merely because she was part Asian, but she didn't think that was what he had meant. That had hardly entered the conversation tonight, and it didn't seem of any particular importance to him.

He shrugged. “I'm not really sure,” he confessed, “but part of it is that you're so unlike a lot of the women I go out with and work around. You haven't asked me what I do for a living, for one thing. You know, sniffing around like most women, trying to see how much I've got to offer in the money department. You haven't tried to impress me either. Dropping names of local bigwigs you know or have met. That sort of thing. That's really rare.”

Crissy laughed softly. “Maybe that's because I don't know any.”

“Oh, everybody's met
somebody
, if you know what I mean. You know, like they've been to a cocktail party where the governor was. Or the senate majority leader. Or some visiting celebrity.”

Crissy laughed again. “Maybe I should've told you who my rich clients are.” She paused. “What a joke that would be.” She looked at him. “I'm afraid I would disappoint you in that category. I'm just a simple person trying to make a living, and I guess I'm not particularly drawn to the powers that be in Albany.”

“You mean that politicians and lobbyists and their wives don't fascinate you to death?” he said with a laugh.

“I've met quite a few of them, the wives I mean, but they aren't usually my most interesting customers. Sometimes, but not often. I guess I'm attracted to people who are a little bit . . . different.”

“Am I different?” he asked.

“You're certainly different from most of the men I've gone out with,” she said.

“How?”

“You seem more . . . caring. More . . . sensitive.” She looked at him. “And you're a real gentleman. A dying breed, I think.”

“Do you think I'm good-looking?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” she said. “You know that. You're extremely handsome.”

“And am I sexy to you?”

She laughed. “Very, very sexy.”

He leaned close and kissed her. “I'm glad you think so,” he said softly.
He began stroking her back lightly and running his hands over her rounded buttocks, kissing her all the while. Crissy brushed a hand down his powerful arm, then up to his shoulder and down his back, amazed anew by his hard, defined musculature. She mewled when she felt his flaccid penis begin to grow within her, and clung to him tightly. He began making love to her again, even more slowly this time, and they reveled in every moment of their time together, every movement of their bodies as they explored. And afterward, she was left with a sense of completeness.

They talked into the wee hours, cuddled and giggled, periodically raided the refrigerator, and grew to know the geography of each other's bodies. When dawn's first light began to seep through the windows, he knew about the little mole on her thigh, and she could describe the scar near his knee, where he'd had a torn ligament repaired. Their bodies spent, their minds still dazzled but exhausted, they finally slept, entwined together on the bed, their scents mingling in a perfume of carnal bliss.

Sometime around ten o'clock, Crissy awoke and saw him quietly dressing. She didn't stir but watched him in silence. When he was nearly finished, she sat up in bed. He turned to her and put a finger to his mouth, shushing her before she could speak. He leaned down and kissed her chastely on the forehead, then silently slipped a card in her hand. He straightened up and made a pillow of his hands, laying his head against it. Then, without a word, he turned and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Crissy looked down at the card. It was made of a heavy cream vellum and was expensively engraved, not embossed.
THOMAS H
.
GENTRY
III,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
, it said, then gave his office address, telephone and fax numbers, and email address. Crissy pressed the thick card to her lips, kissing it. She could detect his scent on it, and held it there against her lips for a long time, loath to relinquish this, the only physical reminder of himself he'd left behind.

She could hardly wait until he called, to hear that deep, sonorous voice of his. Maybe she would even hear from him later today, after he'd had some sleep. If not today, then he would call tomorrow, she was certain. She looked down at the card again. If for some reason he didn't have time or couldn't get to a phone this weekend—she remembered that he was having his house painted—she would call the business number on the card on Monday morning. Then she wondered if that was a wise move. She'd met him in a club after all. What if he was just playing her? What if he'd
just wanted to get his rocks off and that was that? She doubted that many people found true love in a club. She would have to wait and see, but she had really enjoyed tonight. Monday now seemed an aeon away, as if time itself had been altered by the transformation in her life last night. She finally drifted off to sleep again, the card still in her hand, and slept deeply, peacefully, and full of hope for the future, even as she had doubts about his intentions.

Chapter Three

“I
've never seen you shoot out of a place as fast as you did last night,” Jenny said with a laugh. “How was it?”

“Heaven,” Crissy said, brushing hair out of her eyes. The telephone's persistent ring had woken her, but she still wasn't fully alert. “That's the only word for it, Jen. Absolute
heaven
.”

“Ooooooh,” Jenny squealed. “I'm so glad, Cris. He's got to be the hottest man in town, and I mean that.”

“Do you really think so?” Crissy said. She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, where she got her bathrobe. Slipping into it, she went to the kitchenette. She had to have some coffee.

“Oh, please,” Jenny said. “Everybody knows that. He's drop-dead handsome, built like a god, and rich as the devil. And he knows everybody who's anybody.”

“Well, I don't know about all the rest,” Crissy said, “but I know he's good-looking and he has a great bod. I mean, I knew that he was a big shot on the social scene and all but—”

“Cris, hon,” Jenny said, “you don't know the half of it. Everybody, and I mean
everybody,
is after him.” She paused, and Crissy could hear her taking a puff of a cigarette. “So tell me,” she went on, “it was really that good? He's a real stud, huh?”

“Jen!” Crissy laughed. “You've got a one-track mind.” She ground the coffee beans and poured them into the filter, then switched on the pot.

“You bet I do,” Jenny replied. “Now tell me: What was it like? What's ‘heaven'? Jenny needs to know.”

“Oh, well . . .” Crissy began. “It's . . . it's hard to describe, but we
talked a lot. He wanted to know all about me. It was like he was really interested, you know? And he was a real gentleman. He didn't come on too strong like some kind of Neanderthal. He took it slow and easy, and . . . Oh, Jenny, it was the best night of my life, I swear.”

“Oooooh!” Jenny squealed again. “I'm so happy. He must be some fuck. Has he got a big dick?”

“Jen!” Crissy cried. She couldn't help but laugh. “That's none of your business. Besides, this was much more than that. I mean, it wasn't just the sex. It was . . . everything. Everything I had only imagined before, except I never imagined anything could be this great.”

“Jeez,” Jenny said, “it sounds like you've been bitten by the love bug.”

“Well, I can't wait till he calls,” Crissy replied.

There was an ominous pause, then she said, “So he's going to call you? This wasn't just a one-night stand?”

“Oh, no,” Crissy said quickly. “It wasn't like that at all.”

“Je-
sus,
” Jenny exclaimed. “I always heard he was a love 'em and leave 'em type. Nobody's ever been able to pin him down, you know?”

Crissy felt mild alarm bells go off in her mind, but she ignored them, remembering the blissful night she'd had. “I don't know if I pinned him down,” she said, “but I think last night was definitely the start of something . . . maybe something big.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” Jenny said.

“Yes,” Crissy replied. “I couldn't be more serious.” The coffee was finally done, and she poured a mugful, then stirred in some skim milk and a packet of Sweet'N Low. “How was your night?” she asked. “Did you and Jim Golden do anything?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jenny said dismissively. “Old reliable, that's Jim. You can count on him for a five-minute fuck.”

“Jen!” Crissy laughed, almost sputtering coffee. “I don't believe you said that.”

“Jim's idea of foreplay is to tell you you're hot, grope your tits, squeeze your ass, then hammer away at you like there's no tomorrow. You can practically set your watch by him. Five minutes max. A big grunt when he shoots. Then he rolls off, puts his clothes on, and leaves.”

“Oh, my God,” Crissy said. “Sounds like high school.”

“That's the way most of them are,” Jenny said. “They never develop beyond that stage. You should know that.”

“I guess you're right, but I haven't had as much experience as you have,” Crissy said with a laugh.

“Not many women have,” Jenny said, shrieking laughter again. “And I intend to have a lot more. In the meantime, I've got to go take a long soak in the Jacuzzi and then slowly start getting ready for tonight.”

“Already?” Crissy said. Looking at her alarm clock, she could hardly believe it was after three o'clock in the afternoon.

“You know how long it takes me to get ready.”

“Who you going out with?”

“I've got a date with David Klein.”

“Who's he?”

“He's this really cute guy I met last night,” Jenny said, “and he asked me out to dinner tonight.”

“I don't think I've ever met him,” Crissy said.

“He's new in town. Some kind of lobbyist,” Jenny said, “but he's not as old and dull as most of them.”

“Well, have a good time,” Crissy said.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing,” Crissy replied. “I've got appointments back to back all day tomorrow, so I'm going to try to go to bed early. I told Rosy I thought I was coming down with something, then called today's appointments and changed them so I wouldn't have to go in. But I'm glad I did: I'd be a zombie if I'd had to go in to work today.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it, right?”

“You bet it was,” Crissy said. “Now I just can't wait till the next time.”

“Ooooh, I think I smell love in the air,” Jenny said. “Anyway, I'd better run. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Have fun tonight,” Crissy said.

“Hon, I always have fun,” Jenny replied. “Even if it's five-minute Jimmy.” She laughed. “And I just know you're going to have more fun with Tom.”

“I can hardly wait,” Crissy said.

“I bet you won't have to wait long.”

“I hope not,” Crissy replied. “Anyway, I'll see you later.”

Crissy pushed the
OFF
button on the remote and took a sip of her coffee. She suddenly realized that she meant what she'd said to Jenny: She
hoped she didn't have to wait long to see Tom again. She wished that he was here right now, curled up on the bed next to her. Just the thought of his body and his gentle touch stirred something deep down inside her, and she felt the heat of desire course through her body.
Oh, my God,
she thought.
He can't call soon enough.

Tuesday at ten o'clock Crissy arrived at the shop and barely acknowledged the greetings and waves from her co-workers and customers. Despair enveloped her in a cloud of such pain, she felt like a wounded animal. She had waited for the ring of the telephone on Saturday, but no one had called. Sunday, after work, she'd checked her machine, but there wasn't a message from him. She told herself that Tom had gone someplace for the rest of the weekend, remembering that he was having his place painted. Then, Sunday night—in the wee hours of Monday morning, actually—she'd awakened and realized that, astonishingly, he didn't have her telephone numbers, not at home or work or her cell. She hadn't given them to him, nor had she told him the name of the beauty salon where she worked.
He probably doesn't even remember my last name,
she'd thought. She had clutched the bedcovers to her breasts and laughed aloud, relieved that there was a simple explanation for his silence since he'd left her apartment Saturday morning.

Monday morning, as soon as nine o'clock rolled around, she'd called his office. She held her breath as the telephone rang, and had to force herself to speak when a secretary said, “Good morning, Gentry and Gentry.”

“Hi, I'd like to speak to Mr. Gentry, please,” Crissy said.

“Mr. Gentry the second or third?” came the reply.

“Oh,” Crissy said with a nervous laugh. “Tom Gentry the third.”

“Whom may I say is calling?”

He's there!
she thought excitedly. “Crissy . . . Crissy Fitzgerald,” she said. “He'll know who it is.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Crissy held onto the phone as if it were a lifeline. She could feel her heart racing anxiously and could hardly wait for the sound of his voice.

She heard a click, then, “Mr. Gentry's in a meeting.”

Crissy's heart sank. She couldn't help but wonder if he was actually in a meeting or if he was avoiding her. “I . . . I . . . could I leave my number, please?” she stuttered.

“Certainly,” the secretary replied.

Crissy gave the woman all of her numbers, cell, home, and shop, and told her the name of the beauty salon after repeating her own name twice. “Thank you very much,” she finally said.

“You're welcome,” the secretary said and hung up.

She had already dressed for work and was ready to leave, but she'd sat by the telephone waiting for him to call back until, finally, she had to rush to get to the beauty salon on time. She'd made certain her cell phone was turned on, and anxiously waited at work for a return call. When her cell rang—twice—she'd almost dropped it in her excitement to answer his call, but it had been Jenny the first time and her mother the second. She'd quickly gotten them off the line and promised to talk to them later in the evening. As five o'clock approached, Tom still hadn't called, and she couldn't stop herself from trying his office again, even though she thought it was bad form to seem so anxious to speak to him. The same woman had answered the phone and, after putting her on hold, had given her the same response: Mr. Gentry was in a meeting.

Disheartened, Crissy had rushed home from work and waited. And waited. To no avail. The telephone did not ring. This morning she had repeated Monday's routine, and had received the same response yet again: Mr. Gentry was in a meeting. Mr. Gentry, it seemed, was always in a meeting. At this point she told herself that there was no doubt whatsoever but that Tom Gentry was deliberately avoiding her. He'd had her numbers all day Monday, Monday night, and Tuesday morning, but he hadn't called or taken her calls. She finally admitted to herself what she'd known all along: If he really wanted to talk to her, he would have called.

This morning, on her way to work, Crissy had begun to weep, quietly at first, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She'd driven only a few blocks before she began wailing uncontrollably, tears blinding her to the extent that she had to pull the car over until she got a grip on herself. She'd felt like a fool before, but nothing compared to this. She'd been certain that the exciting connection she'd felt with Tom was mutual, but now there was no question that he hadn't shared the feeling. Tom Gentry's gentlemanly act, she decided, his tenderness and gentleness, and his apparent interest in her had all been part of an elaborate scheme to get her into bed. That and nothing more.

She worked quietly, merely going through the motions, forcing herself to respond to her customers and co-workers in as cheerful a manner as she could muster, but it was all she could do to keep in check the flood of tears
that continuously threatened to burst forth. The mere thought of his touch, of his kiss, of his powerful body sent her spiraling down into an abyss of lonely despair.

As she showered off the detritus of the day, Beatrice's words came back to her. Maybe Beatrice was right, she thought. Maybe just the thing she needed to get Tom Gentry out of her mind was to get out of Albany. At least for awhile. She could see about one of the long cruises that Beatrice had told her about.
I've got enough money,
she thought.
I've been saving for something like this for a long time. Yes,
she decided,
I'll get away from Albany and try to forget all about the rotten Mr. Tom Gentry.

By the time she was finished showering, she resolved that she would go to a travel agent this week and begin to explore the possibilities available to her. The sooner the better, she thought. She dried off and put on a bathrobe, tying it at the waist, then dried her hair. When she was finished in the bathroom, she flipped off the light and started for the bed.

There was a knock on her door, and Crissy stood frozen, staring at it for a moment. No one ever came by without calling first, and she wondered who it could be. She went toward the door and called out in a low voice, “Who is it?”

“You are at the top of my shit list,” a female voice said from the other side of the closed door, “and I mean that.”

Crissy couldn't help but smile, then laughed as she opened the door. “Jenny,” she cried, throwing her arms around her. “I'm so glad to see you.”

Jenny hesitated before returning her hug and kissing her cheek. “I shouldn't even be speaking to you,” she said.

“I know,” Crissy said. “I've behaved very badly.”

“Deplorably,” she said. “Well, aren't you going to ask me in, or are we going to stand out here in the hallway?”