The Black Door (17 page)

“Yes, Michele has been a lifesaver,” Preston said, singing her praises. “She’s going to be a tremendous help going forward.”

“That’s good to know, because my man here”—Robert slapped Preston on the back—”is headed for greatness, and he’s going to need a tight crew on board.”

“I can assure you, Senator, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve got his back.” Suddenly Michele had an idea. “If it’s okay with you, Judge, I’d like to throw a small cocktail party at the town house while the senator and his wife are in town. That way he can see firsthand that you’re surrounded by a tight network of supporters.”

“Michele, that’s an excellent idea,” the senator agreed. “And of course I hope you’re going to be there, Trey. I’d love to pick your brain about real estate in New York. I’m thinking about investing.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Miss what?” a calmer Ariel asked, returning to the table.

“Michele just suggested that we give a cocktail party while Robert and Angelica are in town,” Preston said gleefully He was pleased that the senator had agreed to spend time in his home.

Upon hearing those words, Ariel nearly broke out in another cold sweat. She wanted to scratch Michele’s eyes out for being so damned efficient. Why couldn’t she just keep her big mouth shut? Getting through dinner would be touchy enough; now she would have to see Trey again in the same week. She was trying desperately to steer clear of him, but that was proving impossible. Ariel was clinging to the one shred of hope she had left: her mask had stayed intact and he still didn’t know her true identity. But the question was, how long could she keep up the charade?

LYING AWAKE
with the moonlight streaming through the blinds, Michele perched herself up on one elbow and watched “her man” sleep. This was the only time that she could stare at him without him feeling self-conscious. She loved everything about Trey, from the curve of his lips, to the sexy dimples that pierced his cheeks, to his slightly shaved head. He was so fine, and she was proud to be his woman.

Since the age of three, Michele had lived in the shadow of her younger sister. Two years her junior, Janet was prettier and smarter, and their parents never missed an opportunity to sing Janet’s praises. “Look at my baby, she’s the cutest, most talented girl in the pageant,” her mother would say, as she watched Janet take command of the stage and wow the judges. While Michele was chubby and clumsy, Janet was the polar opposite. Her petite frame and graceful mannerisms made her the perfect contestant for the beauty-pageant circuit. Convinced that Janet was a future Miss America, their mother entered her daughter in as many competitions as possible. She’d drag Michele along as a junior roadie, and Michele would have to carry her sister’s gowns and makeup cases like a little flunky. She resented being treated like Cinderella, but never complained, just waited for the day when she’d grow into her own. As a teenager Michele began to shed her baby fat, and her body transformed from a chunky kid into a voluptuous young woman. Armed with a new figure, she threw out her baggy pants and sweatshirts and replaced them with sexy T-shirts and tight jeans. Though she had finally overcome the fat-girl complex, she still didn’t win over the cute boys, because they were always attracted to her sister the beauty queen. It wasn’t until college that Michele was able to step out of the shadows, and she stepped out in style wearing even more revealing clothes. She used her body to get the attention she never got as a child, and when Trey noticed her titties that day at Preston’s town house, she knew it was just a matter of time before she got him into bed. But she wanted more—she wanted to marry him. He was the son of a future Supreme Court justice, and by marrying him, she would finally trump her sister, who was married to a traveling salesman. She knew that her father respected Preston and would be thrilled if she became his daughter-in-law; then maybe she’d finally become the apple of her dad’s eye.

Michele’s eyes roamed the length of Trey’s nude body and beneath the thin top sheet, she noticed that his dick was growing longer and longer until it was fully erect. She assumed that he was having a dream about making love to her, so she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Is that for me, baby?”

AFTER DINNER
AT Town earlier that night, Trey had planned to put Michele in a taxi and send her home, but she insisted on spending the night at his apartment. She had even brought along a small tote bag in anticipation of going home with him. Since they hadn’t been spending much time together, he reluctantly agreed. Michele could be aggressive at times; when he first met her at his father’s town house, her confidence turned him on, but now it was becoming annoying. She wanted to be with him every waking second of the day, and her constant affection was suffocating. He knew the real reason behind the annoyance was the fact that he wasn’t with the woman he truly desired. For the first time in his life, Trey was falling in love—or was it lust? He knew it was crazy to feel strong emotions for a woman he had never formally met; well, he had actually met her at his father’s engagement party, but for some reason he hadn’t felt a connection then. However, at the club, their chemistry was off the chain—it was cosmic—and he couldn’t deny what he felt. Initially it baffled him as to why she fled after seeing his face, but then he realized that she probably recognized him from the engagement party and was embarrassed because she’d been making love to Preston’s son. The way she ran out of the room, he knew that she wouldn’t return to The Black Door anytime soon. But that was okay. He had her file, which included her name
and
her address. Trey knew that it was totally unprofessional to show up on a client’s doorstep, but their relationship had gone far beyond professional and was now personal. He felt it, and he knew that she did too.

“BABY,” MICHELE WHISPERED
again. “Are you asleep?” She lightly nudged him.

Michele’s words were drowning out his thoughts, but he kept his eyes shut, trying to replace her face with Meri’s. Preferring to stay in a pseudo dream state, he didn’t answer her question, but just remained on his back as if he were comatose. Trey didn’t make a sound, hoping that she would take the hint and leave him alone.

“Well, I know somebody who’s up,” she said, lifting the sheet. Michele reached down and began stroking his dick.

He wanted to yell, “Stop! Get out of my bed! I don’t love you.” But her touch felt too good, and with his testosterone now in high gear, he craved more.

Trying to elicit a response from him, she replaced her hand with her tongue. She seductively traced the rim of his penis’s head, and then trailed her tongue down the shaft. When she got to the end of his erection, she began licking his balls is if they were sugarcoated.

Unable to play possum any longer, he instinctively moved his pelvis up and down in a slow rhythmic motion.

Feeling him come to life, Michele wasted no time going for the gusto. Trey hadn’t made love to her in weeks and she was long overdue. Her hormones were raging and she desired him with every fiber of her being. She threw the sheet back all the way and straddled his naked body. She positioned the opening of her moist pussy on top of his shaft and rocked back and forth until his hard dick slipped inside of her.

The warmth of her wet pussy turned him on even more than her wet mouth, and he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down even harder so that he was deeper inside.

Feeling the full length of his shaft, Michele shouted, “Oooo, baby!!”

Trey stuck three fingers inside of her mouth to muffle her screams, so that she wouldn’t wake his neighbors. He lived in a quiet co-op building, and the last thing he needed was for the board to call him on the carpet for disrupting the peace in the middle of the night.

Michele began sucking on each finger like they were cylindrical lollipops, and the sensation made him want to come, but he didn’t. Instead he rolled her off of him onto her back. In the missionary position he knew that he would have more control over ejaculating; they had just started fucking and he didn’t want to bust a nut so soon.

In an effort to pull him in closer, Michele wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed her thighs tight like a vise locking him in place. She wanted to devour his dick, so that her pussy would be the only one that he craved.

Trey could sense from her aggressiveness that she was trying to dominate the situation and pussy-whip him, but of course he wasn’t going to let that happen. Much to his chagrin, he was already “whipped” by one woman, and that was more than enough.

In an effort to loosen the grip of her legs and gain more leverage, Trey pushed up and arched his back until her legs dropped to the side. He then grabbed her wrists with one hand and pinned them to the bed. Michele raised her legs and tried to wrap them around his back again, but he caught her right leg just under the kneecap and bent it to his chest. His thrusting became more intense, but he still wasn’t penetrating deep enough, so he released her arms and grabbed her by the ankles. He spread her legs high in the air into a wide V and stretched them as far as they would go. Trey began ramming her pussy forcefully to let her know that he was in control. “What’s my name?” he demanded in a harsh voice.

She contorted her face and panted, “T . . . r . . . e . . . y,” barely getting out each letter.

Michele winced with a tinge of pain as his dick hit her cervix; this wasn’t what she expected. She was in love with Trey, and hoped that he felt the same way. She wanted him to convey his feelings by making tender love, not fucking her like some twodollar hooker off the street, “Wait. . . Stop!” she pleaded between breaths.

Trey’s eyes were tightly shut and he didn’t respond; he just kept humping her like a mad dog.

“Trey!”
she yelled, trying to bring him out of his lust-induced trance. When he still didn’t respond, she kicked her legs wildly until he released his grip. She then rolled from underneath him and onto her side. Tears began streaming down her cheeks; she didn’t know why he was treating her so rough, like she was a piece of meat.

Michele’s back was to him, but Trey could hear her sniffling and assumed that she was crying. He suddenly began to feel guilty. He knew that he was manhandling her, but he couldn’t stop himself. Once his dick was inside of her pussy, his animal instincts took over and he just wanted a good fuck; besides, he didn’t love her and it showed. Trying to mend the moment, he touched her back, but she scooted away.

Trey didn’t know what to say, so he snuggled up close and spooned her. He knew that most women loved to spoon; it made them feel loved. He made this grand gesture because he didn’t want to destroy their relationship in one night. He was no fool; he knew that there was no wrath like a woman scorned, and he didn’t want Michele as a vengeful adversary Besides, he didn’t know what was going to happen with Meri, and he knew that a bird in the hand was better than one in the bush.

Though Michele was still upset with Trey, she allowed him to cuddle her. She was conflicted. First he was treating her like a one-night stand, and now he was holding her like a precious doll. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that he had another woman. She thought about asking him point-blank if he was in love with someone else, but she was afraid to hear the truth. Besides, now was not the right time. She knew the best strategy was to do a little research on her own and find out firsthand if he was cheating on her. Michele wasn’t about to lose Trey to another woman. If there was someone else in the picture, she would do whatever it took (and that meant anything) to secure her position as his future wife.

ARIEL’S LIFE
seemed like one of those melodramatic soap operas with the glitzy characters and surreal plot, where in one episode the maid seduces the man of the house, breaks up his marriage, and becomes the new lady of the manor. In another bizarre twist of fate a mother reunites with a daughter she gave up for adoption twenty years ago, only to discover that her long-lost daughter is engaged to her son (the younger woman’s half brother). As far-fetched as these story lines were, they were no comparison to the sequence of events that Ariel was experiencing in real life. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that she had been fucking her future stepson.

Ariel sat slumped over the vanity with her head in her hands. Instead of applying makeup, she sat with her eyes clenched, thinking about the law of averages. What were the odds that she would go to The Black Door in the first place, and then to top it all off, attract the one man on the planet who was totally off-limits? She willfully lifted her head, opened her eyes, looked in the mirror, and searched her beet-red eyes for some kind of understanding as to why this had happened. If only she were the frigid type who didn’t need to be sexually satisfied on a regular basis, then she could have waited until Preston made time for her. But no, she was a horny broad who wasn’t satisfied with just the synthetic plastic of a vibrator; she was the type of woman who needed to feel the hardness of a man’s penis, and not some poor imitation, thrusting inside of her pussy If only she had called one of those 800 numbers and hired a beefy stud for sex or, better yet, she should have propositioned Mason, her escort for the Lancaster benefit, instead of going to The Black Door. Then none of this would be happening.

The telephone rang as she was counting up the useless if-only. Ariel looked at the caller ID and was tempted to let the call go into voice mail. But she knew that he would just call her cell phone, so she reluctantly picked up.

“Hello,” she said dryly.

“Hey, honey.” Preston’s tone was as bubbly as a glass of Dom. “Instead of seven o’clock, can you be at the town house by six-thirty?” he asked anxiously.

Ariel turned around and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was already a quarter to six, and she was nowhere near ready. She sighed. She didn’t want to come within ten feet of the town house or anyplace where Trey was invited.

“Okay, I’ll try,” she said, knowing that there was no way she was going make it downtown in forty-five minutes.

“Great. See you then,” he said, paying no attention to her sullen tone.

I see he’s already riding high,
Ariel thought, once she hung up the phone.

Instead of putting on a slinky cocktail dress, she wanted to put on a pair of flannel pajamas, crawl into bed, and hide underneath the covers until the party was over, but that was totally out of the question. Preston would find her absence inexcusable; he was counting on her for support. If she didn’t show up, that would only raise suspicions, and the last thing she needed was for him to second-guess her fidelity. Ariel did love Preston. He gave her the type of security that she didn’t have growing up; in a sense he was a father figure—which was probably why she was attracted to him in the first place—and the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him.

Ariel rose lazily from the vanity chair and moped into her walk-in closet to find something to wear. She switched on the light, stood back, and looked at the row of cocktail dresses. She stared at the dresses hanging on their padded hangers hoping that one would spark her interest, but nothing jumped out at her. They all seemed dull and boring. She then walked closer to get a better view. She took an emerald-green dress with tiny ruby buttons off of its hanger, placed it against her body, and looked in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door.

“Too Christmassy,” she said to herself.

Next, she reached for a lavender dress with a two-tiered flounce hemline. “Too belle of the ball.” She frowned, looking at the
Gone with the Wind—
inspired gown.

She then removed a slim-fitting, black Gucci dress with a V neckline and held it up to her body The dress was perfect—sexy yet conservative—except for the plunging neckline, which exposed a portion of her tattoo.

“I’ll just wear a scarf to cover this,” she said, running her hand over the detailed rose that was stenciled on her left breast.

Now that she had decided what to wear, Ariel went into the kitchen and made herself a double martini. Though time was of the essence, she didn’t rush. She drank a few sips and exhaled slowly. The cool liquid slipped down her throat and eased her frayed nerves. She polished off the first glass and then poured another before making her way into the bathroom.

She filled the large Jacuzzi tub with warm water and several drops of eucalyptus oil for a relaxing soak. A cold drink and a warm bath were just what she needed to calm herself before facing Trey again. Ariel languished in the tub for over thirty minutes before climbing out.

She took her time dressing and applying makeup. Since she was already late, it didn’t make much sense to rush at this point. And the less time spent at the party, the better. Just before she left the apartment, the house phone rang. She didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because she knew that it was Preston calling to find out what was taking her so long. And sure enough, once the phone stopped ringing, her cell phone rang. She didn’t want to hear his barrage of questions, so she turned the phone off without answering the call.

Ariel decided to drive her black convertible Mercedes CLK instead of taking a taxi. She wanted the feel of the cool evening breeze on her face, to help clear her head of the nagging thoughts of doom. She couldn’t help but envision Preston taking one look at her and Trey and knowing instinctively that they were lovers. She would just have to try and steer clear of Trey so that Preston wouldn’t sense the chemistry between them.

She cruised down Fifth Avenue at a snail’s pace, to the dismay of the taxi drivers who honked impatiently at her slow-moving vehicle. Ariel didn’t increase her speed; she just ignored their incessant horns and menacing stares as they zoomed past her. Though she took her time, she arrived at Preston’s town house sooner than she wanted, and as luck would have it, there was a parking space right in front. She had hoped that she would have to circle the block a few times until she found a parking spot, but not tonight. She parked and sat in the car glancing up at the bay window, trying to see who was inside, but the only thing that she could see through the curtains were shadows moving back and forth.

Ariel switched the lever that automatically raised the convertible top. Once that was secured, she turned off the engine and maneuvered her weary body out of the luxury two-seater.

As she climbed the front steps, her heart began to beat faster and faster with anticipation. She could hear the low hum of various conversations, and couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about her. Ariel knew that it was ludicrous to think that anyone knew her secret, but that didn’t stop her from being overly paranoid.

“Get a grip,” she scolded herself before ringing the doorbell.

Opening the front door, Meri sang out, “Daarliing.”

Ariel’s mouth dropped. The last person she expected to see, let alone open the door, was Meri. Before she could ask her what she was doing at Preston’s cocktail party, Meri said, “Preston has been looking all over for you. What took you so long?”

“Well, here
I
am, but the question is . . . what are
you
doing here?” Ariel asked once she was inside of the foyer.

“Remember the distinguished-looking man with the graying temples and glasses that I met at your engagement party?” Meri asked, and then answered without waiting for a response. “Well, we’ve gone out to dinner a few times since then. He’s a colleague of Preston’s and was on the guest list to this swank shindig and invited me as his date.”

“Oh, I see.” Ariel was glad to see a friendly face and was tempted to tell Meri about her impossible predicament, but she didn’t want to chance Preston’s overhearing the details of the sordid story.

“What’s with the scarf?” Meri asked, looking at the silk scarf wrapped around Ariel’s neck.

“I drove the convertible and was trying to ward off some of the night air,” she explained, instead of saying that she was trying to hide her tattoo. If Ariel had said that she was purposely hiding the red rose, Meri would no doubt ask why, and that would initiate the conversation that she was trying to avoid.

“You can take it off now and show off that rack of yours.” Meri chuckled.

“I’m still a bit chilled. I think I’ll leave it on for a while,” she said, touching the scarf and securing it in place.

“Well, just so you know. . .” She paused. “You look like a mummy all wrapped up like that.”

She could tell that Meri wasn’t gong to drop the subject, so she said, “If you must know, Ms. Nosy, I’m trying to be conservative tonight and not expose my rose.”

“If I had big natural boobs and a beautiful tattoo like yours, I would flaunt them all over the place!”

Ariel rolled her eyes to the ceiling; she wasn’t in the mood for another one of Meri’s self-indulgent conversations. “You do a good job of flaunting your bought boobs, so what’s the difference?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Meri jiggled her titties, and then smoothed her hands over the low-cut dress that enhanced her silicone cleavage.

Preston rushed up to Ariel and asked, “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you nonstop, and your cell phone goes right to voice mail. You should have been here hours ago,” he said in a hushed tone, so as not to cause a scene.

Ariel wasn’t in the mood for explaining so she kept it simple and said, “Sorry I’m late.”

“So am I,” he sighed. “The senator’s wife has been asking for you. She’s in the library chatting with some of the other guests. I think you should go in there right now and apologize for being late,” Preston suggested strongly.

Ariel didn’t like the tone of his voice; he was giving her a direct command as if she worked for him, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit. She wanted to support Preston, not be one of his lackeys.

“I’m going to get a drink first,” she said in an authoritative voice, defying his order.

“There’s sherry in the library,” he said, insinuating that she should make a beeline straight to Angelica.

Ariel knew that this was his night, but she couldn’t stand being bossed around like a worthless peon. She would greet the senator’s wife in her own time,
not
Preston’s. “I don’t want sherry. I want vodka.” She turned to Meri. “Come to the kitchen with me; I’m sure there’s an ice-cold bottle of Belvedere in the freezer.” She turned back to Preston. “I’ll speak to Angelica in a few minutes.”

Preston stood with a scowl painted on his face as he watched Meri and Ariel sashay to the back of the house.

“Well, I guess you told him,” Meri joked, once they were alone in the kitchen.

“It’s not that I don’t want to support Preston. It’s just that I can’t stand it when he gets on his high horse and acts like a pompous jackass.” She snatched open the freezer door and took out a chilled fifth of vodka. “I mean, who the hell does he think he is anyway? He hasn’t even got the nomination, and he’s already acting like an esteemed justice.” Ariel was so upset that the vein in the middle of her forehead began to pulsate and her body temperature increased a couple of degrees. She whipped the scarf off of her neck and tossed it on the back of a chair.

“Darling, you must understand that a man’s career is
always
going to take precedence over his personal relationships. They’re wired differently like that; why do you think the divorce rate is so high in this country?” Meri asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe I should forgo the wedding altogether.”

“Now, now, don’t go getting all emotional.” Meri opened the cabinet above the sink. “Where are the glasses? You need a drink to calm your nerves before you go back into the party and tell Preston that you want a divorce before you even have the wedding,” she said in jest, trying to lighten her friend’s dark mood.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Ariel said dryly. She opened the cabinet above the microwave, took out two shot glasses, and poured them each a shot of vodka.

Meri raised her glass. “Here’s to men. Can’t live with them, and life would be totally boring without them.”

Ariel clicked her tiny glass against Meri’s. “Touché.”

“So this is where the real party is?”

Meri and Ariel both swung around to the sound of the voice, and standing in the doorway was none other than Trey. In her fit of anger, Ariel had completely forgotten about seeing him tonight.

“Well, hello.” Meri smiled broadly and extended her hand to him. “I’m Meri Renick. We met at the engagement party.” She shamelessly batted her eyelashes at him.

Trey took her hand in his and held it for a few seconds as he searched her eyes, looking for the spark in them that he saw at the club, but it wasn’t there. He felt nothing special, so he shook her hand politely. He didn’t know what to make of this; he had been longing to see Meri tonight so that they could talk. He had planned to ask her if she wanted to take their escapades to the next level. He wanted a real relationship with her, not just sex, and hoped that she felt the same. But looking at Meri tonight, he knew that she wasn’t the same woman who had fucked him into a heavenly bliss. Trey released her hand and turned to Ariel. “Hey there.”