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The Gala II
Richard stared after the woman as she left. The pretty young teenager with a nice enough ass to stare at — he’d thought. She couldn’t be too bright. After all, there had been dollar signs in her father’s eyes at the mere proposition of being CEO. Bradley had known all about Christopher’s scheme to boost their profits. The hasty plan to pin it all on Vincent couldn’t even shake the fool. Of course, Bradley had no idea that he was plan B. Richard couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. He’d like them both to go to prison equally, if only for his own entertainment. Was he really so awful for that? Or was he simply more in tune with his desires than the average joe? He was a bigger man for not denying himself of his own thoughts; more in control by not having to fight himself for it. Or was it the other way around? Suddenly, he was confused. His phone couldn’t have rung at a more convenient time.
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To Blue, the party was a more official symbolism of her doom than the gala had been. Richard had proudly dragged her to the head of the table to give his speech; her waist in one hand, a microphone in the other. This time, she didn’t look nearly as terrified standing by his side. She’d come to tolerate Richard, rather reluctantly, yet still. When she looked up at him with a smile as he re-introduced his fiancé, she took pride in the fact she could have been dealt far worse. Richard had become a friend. Respected her desire to be alone when she felt so. Allowed her to choose the film. Made sure she had the breakfast she wanted. Believed her obviously lie of a diet when she rejected a glass of wine. Seemed rather proud, himself, to have Blue by his side.He kept it brief. She could respect that. Announced that Christopher had officially relinquished his shares, despite the fact their solicitors were still liaising. This time, Blue didn’t hope t
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Stood up on all fours, Vincent couldn’t help but admire the woman. She complimented the suite quite nicely, brunette mane framed by the chocolate bar headboard almost as high as the ceiling, a hickory brown wood. Bare skin the same pale cream as the walls, floor, and curtains. The insides of her thighs as ivory as the bedsheets. Lashes as black as the light fixtures. Staring at her petals, core open, reddened and swollen, he knew he’d have to check out early. He’d booked the hotel because he couldn’t bear to stay in the apartment that served no purpose other than to remind him what he couldn’t have. Now, the woman had sullied the Ritz-Carlton. He’d have to rebook in the morning; move as far across town as it took to expel the image of the woman who haunted his every waking and sleeping moment. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he rubbed the tip of his desire along her as he’d imagined in detail. Shuddered at her warmth. Relished in h
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It took a great deal of effort to pry herself from Vincent’s side when she awoke to her silent alarm at quarter-to-four. Their naked skin had fused together to the point she’d feared they’d been glued while trying to separate. His cologne had seeped through her skin to the bone, so much so that she feared she would never get the smell of him off her. But she had, third lather in.She’d been staring at the wall for quite some time, soaped shampoo running down her spine with the pelting shower stream, her arms hugged around her chest, yet she didn’t yelp as her ex-husband took her shoulders in his hands. He spun the woman to him. Smiled gently. Lamented the fact she no longer reeked of his sex. Took the sides of her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Slowly.Blue hoped quietly he’d think her eyes half swollen shut were from fatigue rather than her silent tears. Playing house with the man in his hotel room filled her with nothing
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