Larger Than Lyfe (15 page)

The next morning, Keshari was up before Mars, doing what she did best, running her company from their hotel suite in the Caribbean. She had faxes spread across the desk and living room cocktail table. She had the phone on speaker and her attorney was telling her which pages needed to be signed and faxed back to him right away.

Mars came into the room in black pajama pants and a black wifebeater, sleep still hovering around his eyes. He sat on the corner of the desk where Keshari was working and smiled down at her.

“You know, my intention for bringing you here was to take you AWAY from business…”

“David,” Keshari said quickly, “I’ve got to go. Keep me posted. Keep the fax and e-mail pipelines open and we’ll speak again in the morning.”

Breakfast arrived and was set up on their private porch. Keshari sipped her Blue Mountain coffee and savored the fresh, tropical fruit and Jamaican turnovers filled with chicken and spices while Mars laid out all of the colorful brochures that the hotel had provided and talked about some of the places that the hotel had recommended and that his secretary’s research had turned up and were noteworthy of the two of them checking out.

Dressed casually in shorts, tennis shoes and designer sunglasses, Keshari and Mars headed out to explore the island. The day was sunny and warm. The landscape was lush and tropical, outlined by white sand and azure blue waters lapping at the shores. The entire setting was idyllic and it was understandable why couples flew to the islands year after year to ignite or reignite a love connection.

Keshari and Mars went shopping in the open-air marketplace and bought a host of intricately handcrafted items and Caribbean artwork, souvenir T-shirts for friends, reggae and dancehall music CDs, incense, and scented candles. They went to one of the upscale, duty-free jewelers in the area and Keshari purchased a Ceylon sapphire-and-diamond bracelet and a Cartier watch, a shopping spree that quickly totaled $100,000. She even convinced Mars to accept the gift of a Piaget tank watch with a beautiful crocodile wristband that she pointed out to him and he fell in love with. He put up q
uite a struggle before finally and reluctantly conceding to accept the very expensive gift.

“You have excellent taste, but I can’t accept this. This is too much. This is way-y-y too much.”

Keshari waved off his protests and had the jeweler run the charge.

“So is what you went and planned for our SECOND date,” Keshari promptly reminded him, “but I’ve gone along with it all without too much argument, so I don’t expect to hear any argument from you where my gift is concerned.”

They had dinner that evening at 3 Dives Restaurant and Cliff Bar on Negril’s renowned and spectacular cliffside. They dined on lobster tails and callaloo and sampled several of the Caribbean-style alcoholic beverages. They animatedly discussed a couple of the publishing rights cases that Mars was managing at ASCAP and they talked about the current state of the music industry, especially hip-hop. They both agreed that music was an art form and that they both were strong proponents of free expression and strong opponents to censorship.

“But a level of responsibility must be assumed in the creation of any art form,” Keshari expressed. “The greatest, noblest mission of the art form, of creative expression, is to ENLIGHTEN, to EDUCATE. It is not merely an artist’s emotional release onto some medium. All of the greatest artists have the desire to change the world in some way with their art…and hip-hop has lost its way in that regard.”

The two vibed on a level that was simply phenomenal. They talked more about themselves, their “likes” and “dislikes,” and relationships. Mars was so humorous and he made Keshari laugh. Keshari was so tremendously intelligent and it rendered Mars absolutely in awe of her. They continued to build on the amazing rapport that had been established while they communicated long distance over the two weeks that Mars had been on the East Coast on business and they both worked valiantly to keep the intensifying sexual attraction between the two of them at bay…at least for the time being.

Later that night, both of them dressed in all black, Keshari sporting a tiny, sexy creation designed especially for her by Donatella Versace herself, a stretch limousine delivered them to the hottest nightclub on the island, The Jungle, where none other than dancehall reggae superstar Beenie Man was the DJ. Mars was absolutely intoxicated by the way that Keshari moved on the dance floor. He had no idea that she was such a good dancer. Keshari smiled and teased him relentlessly as she moved and he tried to keep up with her. She had hundreds of male eyes riveted to her amazing body a
s she danced. They bogled and butterflied to pumping dancehall rhythms until the wee hours of the morning.

They got back to their hotel suite and it was clear that Keshari was functioning on a contact high she’d acquired from the pungent cloud of ganja smoke that had circulated throughout the club that night. The rum-laced drinks they’d had were probably not helping matters much either. Her guard was way down; she’d done away with her typical, no-nonsense persona and began working what appeared to Mars to be a slow seduction.

Keshari opened the French doors that led out onto their private porch. The porch stepped directly down to the man-made river that outlined all of the hotel’s River Suites. The warm, salty, night breeze filtered into the room. The moonlight was the dark room’s only illumination. Keshari lit Blue Nile-scented candles along the window ledge, on the bedside tables, and in the doorway leading out onto the private porch. The candles sent a warm, golden glow around the room and over the walls and filled the air with their hypnotic fragrance.

“I’m gonna let you get some sleep,” Mars said, kissing her on the forehead. “I had fun tonight.”

“No,” Keshari said, taking his hand, “don’t go. Come on. Dance with me some more.”

Bob Marley’s “Is This Love” played on the bedroom’s stereo system. The entire vibe in the room was surreal and Mars felt sure that he would soon be shaken awake from the obvious dream that he was having just as it was getting to the good part. Keshari kicked off her four-inch Versace heels as Mars pulled her in close and they “slow wined,” their bodies in perfect groove with one another.

“I want you to know that, in my entire life, no one has ever done anything for me as special as all this…this trip…our second date,” Keshari said softly. “This means a lot to me. I needed it… more than you know.”

“You deserve it,” Mars said, “and I promise you that there’s more to come.”

“My business can’t stomach you kidnapping me again. As much as I’m loving every moment of this trip, no more surprises like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mars responded. “I’ll make every effort to give you more notice the next time I want to take you away and have you all to myself.”

Keshari laid her head against Mars’s chest comfortably and they continued to slow dance by candlelight. Mars savored the feel of Keshari’s skin against his fingertips. The scent of her Bvlgari perfume was now engraved in his memory. Then their lips met.

Keshari’s body melted into Mars’s as her fingers found their way underneath his silk T-shirt, gently caressing the bare skin of his back. Mars felt tense and almost frustrated with yearning for her as his manhood threatened to break the zipper of his expensive, Italian trousers.

“Are you sure you’re ready for what you’re starting?”

“I think I can handle it,” Keshari whispered, kissing his neck.

That was all the invitation that Mars required. He slowly un-zipped her strapless dress and let it fall to the floor and Keshari undressed him. Mars savored every single centimeter of Keshari’s body with his kisses and caresses…her neck, the small of her back, her beautiful, voluptuous breasts, her navel, her luscious, brown thighs. Every place that Keshari’s soft fingertips touched on Mars’s body sent an electrical charge through him. She squeezed his perfect apple of an ass and almost brought him to climax.

Keshari arched her back and called out Mars’s name when he let his tongue explore downtown. They made love on the huge bed with the moonlight and candlelight softly illuminating their naked bodies. Mars was a skillful and attentive lover. He entered Keshari with slow, deep thrusts as she wrapped her legs hungrily around him, craving the very essence of him.

“You’re gonna make me fall in love with you,” Mars whispered in her ear as he came.

He held her tight and kissed her face and wouldn’t let go. It was so intense, probably the most satisfying erotic experience that Keshari had ever had. Mars’s sole objective seemed to be to want to satisfy her.

When their lovemaking drew to a close, Keshari nestled spoon fashion in the safe and warm nook that Mars’s body created and Mars nestled his face in the Bvlgari fragrance that emanated from Keshari’s hair.

“I could very easily fall in love with you, too,” she whispered as she fell asleep in his arms.

K
eshari and Mars arrived back in Los Angeles to a media avalanche covering their new romance—“
Larger Than Lyfe Entertainment CEO Ditches Nationwide Talent Search for Caribbean Tryst with ASCAP General Counsel,
” “
Romance in the Air: Most Powerful Woman in the Music Industry Meets Chief of Legal Services at ASCAP
,” and “
ASCAP’s General Counsel Wins the Heart of One of America’s Most Beautiful and Powerful Women.
” Paparazzi photos seemed to be plastered everywhere from the tabloids to television, showing Keshari and Mars exiting their limousine at Los Angeles International Airport, holding ha
nds and sharing a smile as they rushed to catch their flight to Negril. Other photos exposed the two of them on a private stretch of beach outside their hotel in Negril, locked in a passionate kiss. Still other photos revealed Keshari in her tiny, ultra-sexy, Versace dress, being escorted from a limousine into The Jungle nightclub by “her new paramour,” Mars Buchanan.

Keshari was positively livid. She could absolutely not understand why her personal life, her love life would be of such immense interest to complete strangers…to the public…like she was some actress, an Angelina Jolie o
r somebody, leading a drama-filled life that was just meant for the tabloids. She called David Weisberg, her attorney, to find out what could be done to put an end to the very frustrating situation. She knew that some journalist would eventually get too over-zealous in his reporting and try to reveal
more about her than her love life, just as they’d done when she’d first come into the industry.

“It’s entertainment and you’re in the entertainment industry.” David laughed. “Coverage of whatever pieces of a celebrity’s personal life that media can get their hands on and that they believe may prove profitable to them is par for the course. You know that.”

“I’m not an entertainer!” Keshari snapped. “I’m a fucking record executive.”

“You’re an exceptionally beautiful record executive…and sole owner of a very successful record label. Add the air of mystery that has surrounded you from the very beginning, particularly with the organized crime rumors, and the public has been clamoring for a detailed story on you for years,” David said. “After a three-day trip to Jamaica, you’ve become a small cash windfall for quite a few tabloid writers and paparazzi, and I’m afraid that, for now, you’re gonna have to take the ride. They have not violated your privacy in any way that is a real violation of law.”