The Black Door (20 page)

It had begun to rain slightly, and Ariel watched the tiny droplets fall softly against the window. She loved rainy nights; they could be so sexy, especially when you were cozied up with a warm body. For the first time in a long time, Ariel felt completely relaxed. She leaned her head on Trey’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the rest of the ride.

Within a few minutes, they were pulling up in front of his building. After paying the fare, Trey took off his sports coat, held it over his head, and got out; he then reached inside for Ariel’s hand. He stood over her with his blazer held high, shielding them both from the rain, which had increased from a few drops into a torrential downpour.

Trey was so busy being the attentive gentleman that he didn’t notice Michele’s black BMW parked across the street. She had been calling him all evening, but kept getting his voice mail. Usually he accepted her calls, but tonight he was purposely ignoring her. She became suspicious and decided to drive over to his apartment. Michele hadn’t been sitting there five minutes when a taxi eased in front of Trey’s building. A couple got out, but she couldn’t see their faces, because the man was holding a jacket over their heads as they rushed quickly toward the door.

“Gene, no visitors tonight,” Trey instructed the doorman, before they stepped onto the elevator.

Gene nodded. He knew that meant if Trey had any unexpected guests, he was to say that Mr. Curtis was out for the evening.

Neither one spoke on the ride up to his apartment, as if words would ruin the magic between them. Even though their only communication since seeing each other at the restaurant had been nonverbal, they both spoke the same language—the language of lust. They stood hand in hand until the elevator stopped.

Trey led Ariel down the hallway to his apartment, and she willingly followed like a helpless puppy. He released her hand long enough to unlock the door. Once the door was open, he swept her into his arms and gallantly carried her inside. Not missing a step, he kicked the door shut with one foot and kept walking. He carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her across the bed.

The room was dark, with only the faint light from the street streaming through the slits of the blinds. Ariel couldn’t see his face, but she saw the shadows of his movements as he pulled the mock turtleneck over his head. She heard him unzip his trousers, and heard the buckle of his belt hit the floor. Her eyes were glued to him as he stood there in his snug boxer-briefs. In anticipation of what was to come, her heart was beating as loudly as the rain that was pounding the window sills.

Trey wanted to take his time. He knew that this would be their final rendezvous, and he wanted to relish every second. He eased onto the bed, lay on his side, and pulled Ariel close to him. She curled up into a semi-fetal position, and her body molded into his. For the first time since meeting her, Trey stroked her dark raven tresses, and they felt silky smooth. He moved her hair to one side and softly kissed the nape of her neck.

Chills tickled Ariel’s spine the instant he kissed her erogenous zone, and she shivered. That was the sweet spot that very few knew about—not even Preston—and his soft lips on the back of her neck made the crotch of her pantyhose moist with desire.

Trey ran his hands underneath her skirt, slowly rolled her nylons down to her ankles, and removed them along with her pumps. He leaned up on one elbow and helped her wiggle out of her skirt. Once she was naked from the bottom down, he pulled on the waist-band of his underwear and slid them off in one smooth motion. Trey cradled her back into his arms, and began to rock back and forth; with each move, his penis grew an inch, until he was fully erect. Trey spread her legs and eased his hard dick into her wet vagina.

Ariel arched her back and her butt jutted out a little farther so that there were no empty spaces between them. She closed her eyes and swayed to his rhythm. They seemed to move in sync with the sound of the rain, and the sensation was extremely erotic.

AS TREY AND
Ariel were upstairs making tender love, Michele was downstairs making a scene. She had finally gotten out of her car and decided to go inside.

“Hi, Gene,” she said to the doorman with a forced smile. “Is Trey in?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Richards. He’s out for the evening.” Gene was familiar with Michele from seeing her with Trey on numerous occasions, but his loyalty lay with the tenant.

“That’s okay. I’ll just wait for him,” she said, taking off her rain-drenched trench and walking over to one of the leather sofas in the waiting area.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Richards, but I think it best that you come back tomorrow,” he suggested strongly.

Michele spun around on her heels. “Excuse me?” She shot him a menacing look that read,
Don’t fuck with me.

“I’m sorry—”

She cut him off. “Yeah, I know you’re sorry. But you’re going to really be sorry if you don’t leave me the hell alone and let me wait!” she shouted.

An elderly couple walking through the lobby stopped and stared at Michele as she waved her hands in the air and stomped her foot in protest.

Gene had purposely pushed Michele’s buttons so that she would cause a commotion, giving him justification for putting her out. Over the years, he had seen his share of irate wannabe girlfriends and knew how to handle them. “Ms. Richards, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said in no uncertain terms.

“You’d better be glad I have an early meeting tomorrow. Otherwise, I’d sit right in this lobby until morning, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it!” she huffed, trying to save face.

Michele threw on her coat and dashed through the rain back to her car. Once inside, she snatched her cell phone from her purse and called Trey again, but after five rings, she was greeted by his voice mail. She was fuming. The way Gene was acting all territorial and protective, she had a sneaking suspicion that he was lying.
Trey’s probably in his apartment at this very moment flicking someone else, and told Gene to keep me out,
she thought.

Well, whomever he was with had won this round, but the fight had just begun. Michele was a woman with stamina, and was prepared to go the distance to keep Trey, no matter who got hurt in the process.

IT HAD
been a week since the cocktail party in honor of the senator, and the wheels of progress were rapidly rolling along. It was just a matter of time before the nomination was official and Preston could already taste the spoils of victory. He knew that he would have to resign his current position on the bench, which he’d gladly do, but would wait until the official nod before stepping down.

Preston and Michele were at the town house working on his relocation agenda. If he won the nomination he would have to move to Washington in the ensuing months for an easier commute, but would keep his New York residence for return trips to the city.

“Bethany, the Realtor in D.C. faxed me these listings,” Michele said, handing Preston a stack of papers.

He carefully scanned through them, separating the possibilities from the impossibilities. Preston was looking for another town house; he loved the layout of the space—roomy yet cozy—it was perfect for entertaining. Once he was ensconced on the Hill, he would host a series of cocktail and dinner parties to establish his position among the in-crowd. “I’m definitely interested in these two.” He held up the listings featuring two redbrick colonial town houses, gave her his choices, and tossed the other listings in the trash. “Call Bethany and schedule a showing.”

“When do you want to see the listings?” Michele asked, but without her usual gusto.

Preston was accustomed to Michele’s spunky personality and had never seen this side of her before. He looked at her face closely and could see tearstains on her cheeks. It was apparent that she had been crying and he wanted to know why “Michele,” he called her name softly “What’s the matter?”

She held her head down, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. “Nothing,” she whispered.

Preston got up and walked around the desk. “Michele, I can see that you’re upset.” He put his hand on her should in a fatherly gesture. “Please tell me what the problem is; maybe I can help,” he offered.

She threw her hands up to her face and began to cry softly. She attempted to speak but was choked up, rendering the words inaudible.

Preston reached over, pulled a few tissues out of the silver holder that was sitting on the corner of his desk, and handed them to her. “Now, now.” He patted her back until her tears stopped and her sniffles subsided. “Well?” he asked, once she had calmed down some.

Michele wiped her eyes and blew her nose with the damp tissue. She cleared her throat and said, “It’s Trey.”

“Trey?” Preston asked, surprised to hear his son’s name come out of her mouth. The last time he had seen them together at the cocktail party, they appeared to be very much a couple. But now thinking back on that night, he remembered that Trey seemed preoccupied, as if something heavy was weighing on his mind.

“I think he’s having an affair,” she blurted out.

Oh, is that all?
Preston wanted to say. Trey was young, handsome, and
single.
And if he was anything like his old man—who in his youth before he married had a string of woman a mile long— had more than one pillow to lay his head on. Michele may be his main girl, but they were not married, and Trey had no legal obligations of fidelity to honor as far as she was concerned. “What makes you think he’s having an affair?” Preston asked instead, playing the concerned boss and father figure.

“Because I’ve been calling since yesterday evening
and
all morning, and I keep getting his voice mail, and . . . !” She hesitated a second before confessing. “Last night I went over to his apartment but he wasn’t there. I wanted to wait in the lobby until Trey came home, but the doorman wouldn’t let me. He was quite nasty about making me leave.”

“I’m sure he’s just busy with work. Besides, do you think it was a good idea to show up unannounced?” he asked, giving her a “you know better” look.

Michele bristled. “I’m his girlfriend and should be welcomed
anytime
I show up, announced or
unannounced}.
“

“Don’t get all riled up. All I’m saying is that there’s probably a legitimate reason why he’s not picking up his phone. I’m sure you’re making something out of nothing,” he said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said hesitantly, willing to give Trey the benefit of the doubt.

Preston could sense that she was still uneasy with Trey’s behavior, so he said, “If you want me to, I’ll have a talk with him.”

Michele instantly perked up. “Would you?” she asked, hoping that Preston would chastise Trey like a naughty child and make him act right.

“Sure no problem,” Preston lied in an effort to squash the conversation so they could get back to the business at hand. He had no intention of browbeating his son about his relationship with Michele. Trey was a grown man and what he did in his personal life was his business.

The phone rang just in the nick of time. Preston was eager to get back to work; he had wasted too much time already on Michele’s nonissue.

Michele cleared her throat and answered his desk phone. “Good afternoon, Judge Hendricks’s office, Michele speaking. How may I assist you?” she asked in her most professional voice.

“Hello, Michele, how are you?”

She recognized the voice immediately. “Oh, hello, Senator Oglesby, I’m fine, and yourself?”

“Fine, thank you. Is Preston available?”

“Of course, hold on please.” She handed Preston the phone and walked out of his office to give him some privacy.

“Robert,” Preston greeted him cheerfully, “how are things going?”

“Well, that’s why I am calling. The investigation is under way and some questions have been raised about your son,” he said point-blank, wasting no time getting right to the point.

“Trey?” Preston found himself asking twice in one afternoon.

“The investigators are having a hard time finding out the exact nature of his business. He told me at dinner that he was into equity and real estate investments, but we can’t seem to locate the brokerage firm or realty office that he’s associated with. Do you know the name of company that he works for?”

Preston had been so self-absorbed lately that he hadn’t followed up with Trey regarding which brokerage firm he had signed on with, or if he was making real estate deals on his own or with a realty company. For all he knew, Trey was working independently

“Senator,” he said, in business mode, reverting back to Robert’s professional title, “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” He chuckled nervously

The senator detected Preston’s uncertainty “How sure are you? Listen.” He lowered his voice slightly “Preston, this isn’t the time for doubts. I suggest that you find out exactly what your son is doing professionally.”

“I’ll have a talk with him today, Senator,” Preston said, trying to appease the senator.

“Good. Have him give you all the necessary details of his employment; how long he’s been with the company, address and phone number, his exact title, his direct report’s name, etcetera. The sooner we can address the questions regarding Trey’s professional background, the better. Rest assured the investigators won’t stop digging until they uncover everything about everyone within your inner circle. The whole point of this preliminary investigation is to try and do damage control if necessary.”

When Preston heard the words
damage control,
his heart skipped a beat. It never occurred to him that Trey could be involved in anything unsavory that might jeopardize his chances of sitting on the Supreme Court. He quickly ended his conversation with the senator, put on his suit jacket, and headed over to Trey’s apartment for some much-needed answers.