Love under contract (16 page)

Yes, she knew, but it was much better, it was divine, and actually she hadn’t had enough; she was starved for sex, apparently, that’s what it must be.

Gregor was hungry, but he was too tired to get up. She, on the other hand, showed no trace of fatigue. Where did she learn all that, he wondered. The detective said that she hadn’t had any men. Or perhaps the detective hadn’t done his job thoroughly . . .? Damn it.

He heard the water running in the shower and her humming. Oh, my God, he shouldn’t fall in love with her, then the relationship would become complicated. Love wasn’t in the contract, he thought, and buried his face in the pillow, which smelled of her perfume. He mustn’t fall in love.

He heard her running down the stairs, and started up, half-awake, as she returned and sat down on the bed, naked as she was. She had brought a tray with food. Had she bought all of this or had she said something to his housekeeper when she had her clothes brought over from her apartment?

She smiled and pushed a spoonful of caviar into his mouth and handed him a glass of Champagne. She had brought up warm slices of toast with liver paté and fruit. He sat up. How lovely she was, so naked, erotic. He could find no words. Her hair was slightly curly, damp from the shower, and she smiled like an angel. She pushed the spoon toward him – he felt a little like a Pasha, as she waited on him. He didn’t have anything against it although he hadn’t asked for it, and apparently she found it fun.

As a piece of caviar became stuck in the corner of his mouth, she bent forward and kissed it away, pushed him down, held his arms back and pushed the tray out of the way with her leg.

Gregor couldn’t believe it, was this really the arrogant, cool, little noblewoman, who was lying here in bed with him? “Unfortunately, I couldn’t open the oysters,” she whispered between kisses. It was so good to kiss him, so arousing to feel his muscles. Sex had not been so much fun for a long time, perhaps also because of the long abstinence. She wanted to make him dependent, she wanted to have revenge, she felt a little like Mata Hari – and that aroused her. She moaned, even before he touched her, the nearness of his body, his hips against her genitals, everything turned her on. She pressed herself against him. Her body glowed.

“I believe I’m going to need the oysters soon,” Gregor whispered hoarsely – and turned her around, lifted her up and put her down on the table in the next room.

The cold table top made her wince; she stretched her legs and held him so tightly at the hips with her legs that he almost cried out in pain. Where did this delicate woman get this strength? She let the table fall backwards and he kissed her between her legs, his tongue was in her, she was so moist, that he went mad. His legs trembled. It had been a long time since he had had so much sex.

As he awakened next to her, she was still sleeping, lying on his shoulder, her leg wrapped around his, only half-covered. He ran his hand through his hair, saw the tray with the food on the floor, flanked by two bottles of Champagne. Did they drink both? What time was it? He reached for his watch and saw it was almost noon. Good that it’s Saturday, he thought, relieved. He was never late for business meetings. He was always disciplined, except when it came to her.

He looked at her; she slept so quietly, and he thought about the great amount of money this woman had cost him and he smiled. He regretted not a single cent; last night alone was worth every penny.

It was a beautiful, warm day; the sun shone into the room and he lay there calmly; he didn’t want to disrupt the moment. She opened her eyes and looked at him. It was as if she didn’t know where she was for a moment. Then it occurred to him that she didn’t see well; she saw very little without her glasses or contact lenses. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. He kissed her on the nose. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. She said nothing, as if she were thinking, and then reached for his hand, and drew a fine line on the back of it with her finger. The touch caused a shudder that traveled through his entire body, and he sighed.

“Did we really do it?” she asked, astonished. He laughed. “And how.” She turned to her other side, half sat-up and pulled her long hair back. “And do you regret it?” he asked, grinning.

She looked at him thoughtfully. What should she regret, that she had had sensational sex with him? No, that’s why she was here, and that’s what she had really missed.

My God, he looked incredibly good in the morning, with his uncombed hair and the stubble on his chin. Maybe she could have sex with him again? What time was it?

She smiled and pulled the blanket over her head and crawled under it toward him. Let’s see if she regrets it, or perhaps he, she thought and had to smile, as he reacted to each of her movements – just as she wanted him to . . .

He sighed – well, it was Saturday, after all – and by God, he wouldn’t say no. Would he be able to say no to her ever again?

As she was in the bathroom and Gregor still lay in bed, he felt each muscle, like after a marathon. His mobile phone rang, and he saw the number of his friend, David Goodmann. “Hello, David, he mumbled, sleepily. “Hello, Gregor, I just wanted to check whether you’re still alive or if you had already committed suicide in despair?” Gregor didn’t quite understand. “Pardon?” “Well, that little aristocrat no doubt drove you to despair; she’s such an iceberg . . .” “Oh, I could use one of those at the moment,” Gregor mumbled softly. “I can’t understand you, speak louder!” “My dear David,” Gregor rolled on his stomach, pushed the pillow under his chest, and said quietly, “This woman will definitely bring me to despair, I am really finished.”  David said nothing. He felt sorry for Gregor. “I told you to keep away; such a dumb move; one can’t buy someone with money; that brings only bad luck . . .” It sounded like genuine compassion in his voice. Gregor couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry David, but I have to disappoint you . . . Zara is . . .” What were the right words? . . . “is everything a man has ever dreamed of. Just imagine . . .” He considered how he could really explain it. “A woman that not only looks fantastic, but who wants sex the whole night long, and then brings you food in bed, and wakes you up with more sex . . .” David was quiet. He believed that Gregor was joking; he knew Zara, she was an arrogant iceberg, she wouldn’t wait on any man, whether with food or with sex. “Now really, you’re not serious.” “Yes, I am, and believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. Suddenly she’s another woman and I’ll tell you about the rest on Monday evening at Hudson.” “I can’t wait; at nine o’clock at Hudson.” He hung up. Gregor let the phone fall and stretched. Oh, yes, this is how he wanted to wake up every day and to spend his nights. Then it occurred to him that she had said something about a new job, but his thoughts had been elsewhere. His good mood was shattered at the thought that he might lose her after one night. “Zara!” he shouted loudly. No one answered. Then he heard her. She was singing rap. He had known since Paris that she like that kind of music, but it didn’t fit the picture that he had of her. He smiled – it was strange when she sang, “My mother is fucking the dealer in the house next door, my brother died ‘cause of an overdose . . .”, and that with her French accent and not even in tune. He had an odd feeling – what did this girl know about dealers, whores, or an overdose? An unpleasant feeling came over him and his feelings had never betrayed him. What did he really know about her? Not much, except what the detective had dug up for him.

Zara knew exactly how she would break his heart; she had such a great deal of experience in this regard which he didn’t sense, didn’t know anything about. She was already in the kitchen while he was showering.

She was standing there – in running shorts and a T-shirt, barefoot, hair pulled back into a ponytail, stirring eggs in a glass bowl. He stepped behind her and kissed the nape of her neck.

“Before or after?” she asked and held the glass up.  He had to admit his thoughts were on sex again, although she meant sports, since she was wearing running clothes. He turned her around and kissed her gently. “Since you have so much energy,” he whispered, and reached under her T-shirt to stroke her back.

She had remembered that he had stamina and last night had demonstrated that; and his wish was her command. She pushed the eggs aside, hopped onto the kitchen counter-top, embraced and kissed him – by God, it wasn’t a sacrifice. “First this and then the eggs,” he whispered, and with one swoop, pulled her shorts down.

The eggs landed on the floor unfortunately, as Zara tried to hold on, so she beat more eggs afterward and was glad that she wasn’t the housekeeper who had to clean up the mess.

Gregor watched her prepare the omelette – it was actually much too late to be eating breakfast. She put it on the table in front of him, and with a cup of black coffee sat down across from him.

“You’re not eating anything?” he asked, surprised. She shook her head. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be angry, but I’m a little worried. Do you have an eating disorder?” Her eyes opened wide and Zara put the cup down, furious. “I don’t have any eating disorders!” she said, imitating him emphatically, “I just don’t eat much!” He raised his eyebrows critically; he didn’t quite believe her. “As you say, but I’ve seen enough women who ate as little as you, and they had a problem without a doubt.” During his modeling days he had met many women who had controlled their weight in varying ways.

He couldn’t say exactly how many times they had sex that afternoon, but as he stood in the shower, he felt pretty much finished; he was not, after all, thirty any longer. She appeared to have the energy of a hundred women, even if she hardly ate anything; she ran through Central Park with him and they had hardly returned when . . . sex again. He sighed and leaned against the glass wall. The warm water ran down his body. He closed his eyes and saw her face in front of him.

While he was still working in his study, Zara went to bed. The night had been short and she had to go to Paris tomorrow evening because she had a little secret. Tired, she sank into the soft pillow and pulled the blanket over her naked body. It smelled of his cologne and of sex. Everything was proceeding as she had imagined it; tired and happier than she had ever hoped, she fell asleep.

Gregor found her sleeping. Her hair formed a circle around her face, and he gently stroked her cheek. In her sleep, she pushed his hand away and murmured something. He had to laugh and kissed her on the nose. She woke up and looked into his eyes.

“Are we going out?” she asked and lightly touched his lips with hers, without actually kissing him. She wanted a part of her old life again – and if she played the obedient lover, he would give her all of that and much more. She half-closed her eyes, and between her long dark eyelashes, she saw his face. He was so handsome; no wonder that her mother had been taken with him – and that had already been a number of years ago.

She stroked his hair and pulled him nearer to her. No one had been able to resist her seductive ways, even Gregor. She pulled him closer yet, and with one leg pushed the blanket aside. He was lying on top of her, and she undressed him so quickly and cleverly that he didn’t quite realize how he suddenly came to be lying naked in bed with her. She seemed to think only about sex, to be made only of sex; she knew exactly how she could delay his orgasm, how she could drive him crazy. This woman had the experience of a hundred-year-old love slave.

He screamed her name, but she seemed to have no compassion. She drove him to the edge, and with him, her lust, her demands; he had absolutely no control over her  --  and when he finally lay spent in her arms, he had the feeling that he had run a mega-marathon. He breathed deeply. Where did this girl learn such things?

Zara lay next to him on her stomach and leafed through a French magazine. She noticed that he was looking at her and smiled. “Now we’re entereing Level V,” she said and stroked his washboard stomach with one finger. He didn’t say anything and she bent over him, pulling her tongue in a line along these muscles, down to his navel, and deeper. “Oh, Zara!” he cried out and pulled her up by the arms. “Yes, I’ll go everywhere with you, but I need time out!” Zara grinned. He looked really happy. Yes, she would make him very happy, at least for a time, since the happier he was now, the more unhappy he would be later.

He watched her as she stood among her hundred outfits in the room that she had transformed into her dressing room, clothed only in a thong, and pondered what she should wear. Then she reached for a black lace dress, which revealed more than it concealed, and slipped into it. With one gesture she fastened her hair and pulled her ponytail into position, put on her high heels, grabbed a bag that was hardly bigger than the palm of her hand – and with a smile turned around and said, “ready.” He shook his head. Except for fashion shows, he had never seen anyone get dressed so quickly, and especially not a woman.

There was no question if they would be seated: They were immediately shown to a prime place, and drank a Bellini. The DJ played hip-hop, and Gregor admired the energy of this woman, who, even after the second Martini and the Bellini, showed no reaction, except that her foot was under his pant-leg. He was glad that it was so dark here and that no one saw her. Public sex wasn’t exactly his thing, but apparently Zara found it quite exciting.

Many thoughts buzzed around in his head – was this really the elegant, withholding woman whom he had met, or had she sent a double?

“Come!” she whispered in his ear and reached into his open shirt. “Zara?!”  He didn’t know exactly, and it wasn’t that it didn’t matter to him, but in the meantime he could hardly count how many times they had slept together today. “So, Doctor Levy, you’re not going to be cowardly?” she asked and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go.” She wouldn’t allow any objection, took his hand and pulled him to a small hallway by the emergency exit that led to a storage area. It was completely dark except for a flickering neon light. She pressed him against the black wall, and pulled her thong off in one stroke, put it into her mini-bag, and at the same time continued to kiss him. Her hands were at his pants, she reached under his silken shirt and moaned. Gregor held her tight, for all practical purposes, he had left his power to reason back in the bar. What was he doing here?! He was having sex in a hallway, where someone could come by at any time, where everybody could see him; he was CEO of a major concern; he couldn’t do this . . .?!