The Sunday Arrangement (13 page)

“That’s actually
really cool. We saw one at a club a few days ago.” I licked my lips, recalling
the sexual story of the Little Mermaid and her erotic merman.

“Still. The guy is a little
too sure of himself and thinks this project is no-holds-barred.”

I bit my lip and
stared at the black-and-white tiled tabletop. “I’m sorry if he was mean.”

“He’s not mean. He’s
unrealistic and a bit condescending. But it’s not like I can’t handle it,
Lauren. He isn’t the first douche bag I’ve worked on a project with.”

“Oh, right. There’s always
Dad.”

Toby, once again, traced
his fingers over his imaginary beard. “Pierce doesn’t hold a candle to Dad, and
you know it.”

“Well, I’m sorry for
whatever he said to you in your meeting.”

“Why are you
apologizing for him?”

I swallowed. Had I
gone too far? Was Toby suspicious now? “I don’t know. It’s your first day
working with us. He should have eased you into his grandiose plans better
instead of raking you over the hot coals.”

“Sis, I’ll be fine.
Don’t worry about me. I’ve got thick skin. It’s you I worry about. I mean, how
do you put up with that guy every day?”

I think about having
sex with him.
What could I say? It worked
.
“It’s not easy. The scary thing is I’m
starting to get used to it. In a weird way, it’s inspiring. He wants this
casino to be the best thing Vegas has ever seen, and I find myself buying into
it and wanting the same.”

Toby shook his head.
“I honestly can’t figure out Dad’s motive behind this. We’re already one of the
richest families in the country, and our issues with the tabloids aren’t that
bad . . . or at least, they’re not anymore.”

“For you, they
aren’t. You chose to branch away from the family business and since there was
no bad blood because of it, the muckrakers didn’t find you very interesting.” I
fiddled with the fork on the table. “Pick up a gossip magazine the next time
you go to the store. You’d be surprised what you’ll find. Journalists, and I use
that term loosely, for some ridiculous reason care about the multi-millionaires
in New York especially if they have a beef between them. The Mavericks and the
Harts are perfect bait.”

“I guess you’re
right. I know Margret gets bombarded every once in a while when she’s out with
the baby.”

I shrugged. “It’s
just part of our lifestyle now. That’s why I like to hole myself up.”

“You’re a hermit
tried and true.”

“It’s part of the
reason I haven’t dated in so long,” I said, really laying it on thick. “You
remember what happened with the professor.”

“How could I forget?”

“All I’m saying is I
understand, from a publicity standpoint, why Dad would think bringing our families
together in a business venture would benefit the company. But that’s the only
thing I remotely understand from this . . .”

He raised his beer as
though to salute me. “Whatever you say, baby sis.” He took a long pull from his
Shiner Bock. “But about you not dating anyone . . . I think we need to fix
that, huh? Mom’s been hounding me with questions about when I think you’ll settle
down and give her more grandchildren.”

I sipped on my mojito
before answering. “That’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. I don’t
plan on dating for a while, and I sure as hell haven’t met anyone I would want
to spend the rest of my life with.”
Only someone I wouldn’t mind banging for
the rest of my existence . . .

“What about the young
and charming, Pierce Maverick? Not looking for arrogant and overbearing?” he
jested.

 Even the mention of
his name made my heart beat rapidly. Overbearing on the mattress, I could
handle. Overbearing off the mattress? Not so much. Sunday was only two days
away. “In his dreams maybe, but not in mine.” We laughed and went back to the
show and nursing our drinks. It had been a long day.

The rest of the week
passed in a blur of e-mails, calls, and plans with my brother. Pierce rarely
left my mind, but thanks to Toby’s companionship, I was somehow able to muddle
through the next two days. I was thankful for his presence—we had holed up in
my penthouse condo to work after receiving lengthy instructions from Pierce.
Feigning annoyance with the Maverick man, I pretended to gladly welcome a
change of scenery from the cramped conference rooms Pierce kept renting out. It
was partly true. Seeing April and Pierce working so closely together—her
flirtatious giggles, his obvious attraction to her—made my stomach curl. Every
moment, I wanted it to be Sunday.

On Saturday
afternoon, Toby flew back to New York to start building a 3D model of the
casino, promising to return soon. The design would take him quite some time to
finalize. I was sad to see him leave; I knew my concentration would suffer once
again though I couldn’t deny the eagerness that coursed through my veins. I was
ready to spend the day in bed with a man who, against all odds, I was insanely
attracted to.

When Sunday morning finally
arrived, I awoke in a pool of sweat. My dreams had been twisted and dark. Pierce
had been an unforgiving tyrant in the bedroom, merciless in his ravenous sexual
appetite. In my dream, he brought whips, chains, and blindfolds to my bed—none of
which I had ever used in sexual intimacy before. He was heartless in his use of
erotic weapons against my sensitive body, including the weapon he girded
between his legs. I struggled to match his intensity and was even a little
scared of him.

I hadn’t realized how
anxious I was to discover the fantasy that Pierce had concocted. Eager, sure.
But what if his fantasy was something that completely blindsided me, leaving me
terrified and motionless as I had been in my dream? Taking deep breaths, I
gathered the plush, white comforter and hurled it to the other side of the bed.
Whatever it was, I needed to get up to discover what sexual exploits we would conquer
today. Silently I prayed that the Maverick maniac would remain a figment of my
imagination and that only the kind, sexually explorative Pierce from last week
would be here today.

The intercom in my
apartment buzzed. I quickly walked across my living room and answered groggily.
“Yes?”

“Ms. Hart, this is
the front desk. You have a package in the lobby. Is now a convenient time to
have it delivered?” a woman’s voice said.

I could feel heat
rise in my chest, and I was thankful the woman couldn’t see me. Pierce hadn’t
forgotten about me after all. April hadn’t completely thrown him off course with
her big, obnoxious breasts and her gorgeous face. Against all odds, he still
wanted me.

“Yes, yes. Please
come up as soon as possible,” I said hurriedly. Immediately I knew I sounded
too eager, but I didn’t care. This lady wasn’t Pierce, and I didn’t need to put
on any airs with her.

“Of course, Ms. Hart.
Right away.”

My heart sped up as I
waited to hear the ding of the elevator. I hurried to the bathroom to put on my
black silk robe as I suspected it was against the apartment’s policy to greet
employees naked. Finally, I heard the buzzer.

“Hi there,” I said,
opening the door.

A young man stood there,
clad in a blue bellboy outfit. I supposed the condo owners wanted their elite tenants
to feel the luxury of hotel service. “You received a package this morning. Are
you Lauren Hart?”

“Last time I checked.”

He gave me a nervous
smile and fumbled as he handed over a long, rectangle-shaped box that was
lavender in color with a thick dark blue ribbon tied around it. Under the
ribbon was a note. I picked it up and read it.

Ms.
Hart,

Wear
this tonight.

Pierce had left it
unsigned. Good. I smiled. That didn’t sound too complicated.

“Thank you for
bringing this all the way up here.” The young boy’s face flushed crimson as he
watched me put the card back. I had a feeling he’d stolen a look at the note;
he seemed like the nosy type. As he walked back toward the elevator, he turned to
look one last time over his shoulder. I smiled, and once again he blushed
brightly. Yes, he’d read the note—I was certain of it.

I wanted to tear the
box open as soon as the bellboy left. Question marks pelted my mind: Had he
bought me some dicey lingerie? Was it a costume? Would I even look good in it? I
crossed the room and sat on the couch, opening the box like a child eager to unwrap
a birthday surprise. Moving the elegant white tissue aside, I saw it. A French
maid uniform. It was lacy and small, essentially a sexy bustier with a
detachable thong and garter straps. It had gorgeous princess seams that were
laced up with satin ribbon. It even had a tiny silk apron. The costume was the
most elegant, erotic garment I had ever worn for a man. I glanced at the small tag;
it was my size down to the cup. How had he figured that out?

A small, black hat
and a feather duster were also in the box. I bit my lip, imagining how the rest
of the day would play out. A French maid was a bit cliché for a fantasy, but I
didn’t mind. I was thankful he was easing me into this Sunday arrangement so
gracefully. He wanted fantasy sex, and I was going to play the most sensual
maid I could.

“Bonjour Monsieur
Maverick,” I whispered to myself. This was going to be fun.

~*~*~*~

“Are you alone?” I
paced my living room, talking into my blue tooth. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

Kat hesitated before
answering the question. “Yes, why? Wait . . . let me guess. You want to have
hot, kinky lesbian phone sex?”

I laughed. “As
tempting as that is, no. I have a secret that I need to share or I’ll explode.
You have to promise not to utter a word about it to anyone.”

She sighed. “We’ve
always kept each other’s secrets. I’m not going to start sharing them now.”

“I know. I know.” I
took a deep breath.

“What are you doing
with Pierce now?” she asked before I had a chance to tell her.

“God, am I that
obvious?”

“You sound nervous. I
just assumed—that’s all.”

I swallowed. “I guess
I am a little nervous about sleeping with him again.”

“Sleeping as in
sleeping with him in the same bed?”

“I hope you’re
joking.”

“Kind of. Do y’all
canoodle after you’ve done the deed? Or are you all business?” she asked.

I sprawled out on my
bed, no longer caring if my curls held up. Pierce was sure to mess them up soon.
“You act like this has happened a lot.”

“So just the one
time, huh? That was a whole week ago.”

“I know. I know,” I
said again. “We actually have this arrangement. . . . You see, we’re going to
play out a fantasy every Sunday.”

Kat whistled a low
cat call. “Damn, Lo. That sounds ridiculously fun. I’m jealous he gets to do
that with you.”

I fiddled with the
lace of the bustier. Ever since I’d known her, Kat had joked about hooking up
with me. She had also meant it in good, clean fun, I know, but part of me
always wondered if there was a little bit of truth in her subtle jests. Maybe
she really did want to sleep with me. Maybe she really was jealous of Pierce.

“So are you going to
tell me what you two are doing tonight, or do I have to guess?” she prompted.

I walked to the
bathroom and looked at myself for the millionth time in the mirror. Even I had
to admit, the French maid costume was incredibly sexy. I grabbed my breast with
my free hand and willed it to appear fuller and perkier. “This time is his
turn. He has me dressing up as a French maid. Not sure why he chose a maid, but
this is quite the contraption. Took me ten minutes to put on these goddamn
garter straps.”

“Nice,” Kat said,
elongating the word.

“I don’t see what men
like about them anyway . . .”

“Oh, I don’t think
that’s just a male thing.”

I chuckled. “Good to
know.”

“So what do you mean
it’s his turn?” she asked. “Send me a picture of your outfit so I can see how
fabulous you look.”

“Yeah, every week we’re
taking turns playing out one of our sexual fantasies. This morning he sent me
the outfit, so I’m guessing he wants me to act like his sexy maid.”

“Wow . . . and you
like that sort of thing?”

I quickly snapped a
seductive picture, pursing my red lips, and sent it to her. “Well, I personally
wouldn’t have chosen a maid for myself. It’s a little stereotypical, don’t you
think? But I’m not against role-playing.”

“Got the picture.
Damn, girl! That is one tiny costume. It really does give you some cleavage!”

“You think so?” I
asked, once again fiddling with my breasts in the restraining lacey cup. “That’s
what I was most concerned about. Do you think it’s too much? God knows these
babies don’t need any help in the cleavage department.”

“Trust me. You don’t
need to be worried. They’re perfect,” she said. “And find out where he got your
little outfit. I want one for myself.”