A Man After Midnight (6 page)

Chapter Eight

The taxi dropped them in front of a tall skyscraper, a building of glass and steel that must sparkle in the sunlight.  Caroline cranked her head back to look all the way up.

“Perversions is here?” she asked doubtfully.

“What were you expecting?” 

“Someplace really seedy, like in a subbasement where the only way to get to it was to tell someone the password and then descend down into an elevator that had a red strobe light.”

“You have a vivid imagination,” Wren replied.  “I hope reality isn’t boring for you.”

He placed a hand in the small of her back and escorted her to the doors.  To get in, Wren slid a plastic key card through the security lock.  Once inside, they were greeted by a security guard.

“Good evening, Mr. Calder,” he greeted.

“Hello, Charles.”

The security guard nodded at them and held open for them the inner doors. Wren nodded his thanks.  They entered an elegant reception area that could belong in any type of business and Wren led her to a bank of elevators.

“Does Charles know why we’re here?” she asked, feeling slightly horrified that someone knew their destination.

“I don’t know,” Wren admitted.  “I don’t know if Charles knows each business in this building.  Does it matter?”

“Well, I guess it shouldn’t,” she said.  “But there can’t be too many reasons why people would come here at night.  Feels slightly taboo.”

“There you go, then. Seedy disguised in elegance.”

She grinned.

They traveled up to the top floor, and once again Wren used his card to allow them access.  When the elevator opened, they faced a normal-looking hallway, where a large mirror showed their reflection and a table sat underneath it with a beautiful bouquet of red roses opened in bloom.  The sweet fragrance lined the corridor and followed them as Wren escorted her to the only door.

He knocked and it was opened by a tall, beautiful black man, dressed impeccably in tails and white gloves.  The foyer they entered boasted a white marble floor and a circular glass table that displayed more roses, their deep red a splash of color to the rather arid feel of the decor.  White paneling lined the walls and curved around where the den offered lush leather couches and chairs of stark white leather.  A staircase led to an enclosed second floor where a door barricaded any hint of what lay upstairs.  There were no other people around.

“Good evening, Mister Calder,” the man said in a deep baritone voice.  “Are you here for participation or pleasure?”
“Pleasure, James, thank you,” Wren answered.

“Very good, sir. Right this way.” 

“What does
participation or pleasure
mean?”  Caroline whispered.

“You can be the object of desire rather than the voyeur, if you wish.  Do you wish?”

“No,” she replied quickly.  “I’m not into someone watching me.”

“Are you into watching someone else?”

“Porn?”

“That’s such a derogatory word.”

“Yet somehow accurate.  Am I right?”

“You’ll see.”   

James led them past the den, down a hallway to a small room as austere as the foyer. Caroline eyed the room, which held a chaise lounge and leather recliner, a table that offered various forms of hors d'oeuvres, and several decanters of alcohol.  Cut crystal glasses, lined next to delicate China plates.  The utensils were silver polished to a bright shine.  No expense had been spared, so it seemed.

A large window faced opposite the door, but curtains blocked the view out. As James shut the door behind them, the lights instantly dimmed. 

“Have a seat, make yourself comfortable,” Wren said, gesturing.  He walked over and poured himself a brandy before settling in the leather recliner. 

“I don’t understand,” she said as she sat on the chaise.  “Is this Perversions?”

“There are many different levels of Perversions actually,” he replied, offering her a drink.  “It’s made for you to feel comfortable.”

She absently took the drink, looking at the amber alcohol.  “Comfortable, huh?”  Her heart hammered almost out of control, making her slightly light-headed.  “The window?”

“We will be able to see them, but they won’t be able to see us.”

“And what will we be watching?  Someone being whipped?”

“Maybe,” Wren answered.  “One never knows what’s behind the curtain until we open it up.”

Caroline diverted her shocked gaze to the window.  “So right now, something is happening on the other side of the glass?”

“Open it and find out.”

She licked her lips and then rose, replacing the tumbler of liquor back on the table.  As the reality of Perversions started to sink in, her fingers trembled a little as she reached for the pull and slowly slid the curtain aside.

She wasn’t quite sure what she expected.  An orgy maybe, perhaps several people tied down, being spanked or flogged, wearing enough leather to populate a herd of cows.  Instead, she saw a man and a woman, kissing, fondling each other, both naked and moving to music Caroline herself could not hear.

“If you turn up the volume you’ll be able to hear them,” Wren said. 

Caroline looked at the wall and saw a small button.  She turned it and instantly, the soft strains of music piped in.  A beautiful, lyrical song serenaded the dancers.  They moved as one, flowing together, using the melody to guide them.  It was a type of graceful ballet, only their feet did not move.  Instead, their arms and hands became the platform of beauty, twirling around each other like a snake charmed by a flute.  The man picked up the tiny woman and settled her onto his thick cock, and again, their rhythm matched the piece of music.  Up and down he moved her, like she was floating on water.  After a few minutes he changed her position, and she rode him reverse cowboy, the entire time her hands dancing through the air. 

Her position shifted every few minutes, but her partner would execute the move gracefully, until Caroline decided that what she watched wasn’t a live sex show but really a beautiful interpretation of art.  Her breath caught in her throat each time the man would move his lover into another stance, the harmonious fitting of the pair beyond exquisite. 

Caroline grew hot, a fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead.  Her nipples hardened into little pebbles.  She felt liquid heat pooling between her thighs.  She waited with anticipation for the dancing couple to climax, silently urging them onward to that pinnacle of absolute pleasure.

She could see the man start to fall apart, but only by subtle hints.  The tightening of his lips, the grip he had on his lover’s hips starting to whiten, and his cock swelling with each thrust.  And just as Caroline was positive he was about to come, the light went out and the music stopped.

Caroline blinked.  “Hey!  Come back!”  She looked at Wren, who watched her with narrowed eyes.  “Bring them back.”

“I can’t do that.  The show is timed,” Wren explained quietly.

Caroline turned back to the dark window, her hands clenched by her sides, tension heavy through her shoulders.  “That’s not fair,” she muttered.

Wren stood and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them.  “It’s not supposed to be fair.  We picked pleasure, not participation.”

“That was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, letting her head fall forward as he rubbed.

“Do you still call it porn?”

She shook her head.

“
You’re
the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling, causing her stomach to tighten in wicked response.  She bent over slightly, bringing her rear into direct contact with the hard bulge between his legs.  She wiggled her hips, working his cock deeper between her ass cheeks.

“I want you,” she moaned. 

In response, Wren lifted her under her arms and picked her up, sitting her ass on the table.  He spread her knees wide, her dress hiking up high on her thighs.  Caroline’s eyes widened as he pulled aside her thong to expose her.  Kneeling down, he blew across her slit and the cool air hit her heat like a hammer hitting a nail.  She moaned again and fell back as Wren lowered his face and made a feast of her.

As his middle finger pushed in, his lips trapped her clit.  He bit gently, tugging a little, and then sucking so hard she almost leapt off the table.  He alternated with licking, using his tongue to settle her for a moment before sucking her clit once more into his warm mouth.

Over and over he repeated the process, each time bringing her to the edge of orgasm and then backing off.  Teasing her.  Tormenting her until she begged for release.  Then suddenly he was gone, leaving her bereft and aching.  She pushed up on her elbows to look at him, her eyes unfocused and her lower lip red from her teeth biting it.  

“What do you want, Caroline?”  He asked her, and her only consolation was the fact that his voice had gone husky from his own arousal.  She could smell the musky bite of their sex in the air.

“I want you,” she replied, almost pleading.  “Isn’t that why you chose pleasure? For me to experience––”

“I chose pleasure for us.  But we’ve more rooms to explore.”

She huffed.  “I want you
now
.”

He cocked his head.  “Why did you come here with me?”

For a moment she didn’t know how to answer him. “I don’t understand.  I came here to be with you.  I thought…”

Her words trailed off.  Confusion swirled through her. 

Wren cupped her face tenderly. “Who is Caroline?”

She frowned.  “I feel like I’ve fallen into some type of time warp.”

“It’s an easy question.  Who. Is. Caroline.”

“I’m … I’m a store manager.”

“Interesting that you would say that, but that’s not what I meant.”  He tapped her chest, over her heart.  “Deep down, who are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean!”  Anger swirled through her.  “If you’re asking what do I want in life, I guess I want what everyone else does.  Security.  Enough money to live comfortably…”

“That’s basic survival, Caroline.  That’s not living.”

She blinked.  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“In general, or just to me?”

Her shoulders drooped a little from the interrogation.  One moment she’d been having pleasure, and the next the bottom had fallen away, leaving her frustratingly bewildered. “What do you want from me, Wren?”

“I want the Caroline I know is dying to come out,” he said.  “I can see such life in your eyes, but you repress yourself so much it’s slowly dimming.”   

She pulled away from him.  “Repress?  I think I’ve been anything but repressed around you.”

He shook his head.  “I don’t mean sexually.”

“Sex is all I have, Wren.  Anything else hurts too much.”

“You can’t stay numb forever, Caroline.  It’s not healthy.”

All the memories and pain that Greg had instilled in her came rushing to the surface, and it took all her strength to tamp them down again.  Tears pricked her eyes.  Suddenly, the promising evening had turned sour and all she wanted to do was run.  She turned on her heel and marched to the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to leave.”

“Wait.” A hand came down on her arm, halting her.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pushed.” 

“No,” she whispered.  “You shouldn’t have.  You have no right.”

He sighed.  “You’re right.”

She turned and their gazes clashed.  “This
is
a vacation fling, isn’t it?”

Silence stretched between them.  Wren never broke his gaze as she waited for his answer.  “Sure.  A fling.  I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

“You can stay if you like.”

“I wanted to share this with you, Caroline.  Maybe next time.”

She didn’t have the heart to point out the obvious.  There wouldn’t be a next time.

Chapter Nine

It was past midnight and Caroline couldn’t sleep.

She lay in bed, alone, listening to Aldy’s delicate little snores, recounting her actions at Perversions.  It had been wicked.  Delicious.  Wren had made her feel secure and not embarrassed at all that she had gotten aroused by watching two people fuck in front of her.

Then his questions had started.  She might be willing to share her body, but her heart was another matter altogether.  Thankfully, he seemed to have understood and dropped the subject, but Caroline couldn’t help but think that somehow she had lost her chance at the intimacy they seemed to have formed.  Truth be told, it was a little heartbreaking.

True to his word, what they had together was nothing but a fling.  Great sex––and nothing more.  Once they had gotten to his room, they had been frenzied.  Clothes scattered as urgency took over.  They had come together in a flurry of heated kisses and heavy petting.  And though it had been wild and satisfying, a small part of her realized it hadn’t been as fulfilling as earlier encounters. Wren had passed out in sleep right after, and Caroline had taken the opportunity to leave.  To go back to her room she shared with Aldy and shower.  And although her body was bone tired, her mind couldn’t find rest.

She and Greg had been high school sweethearts.  When he had told her he had a desire to move to Los Angeles to pursue his love of acting, she had supported his dream.  And after they had married, she had done any job she could find to pay the bills while he went on audition after audition.  And though it had been a constant struggle to stay afloat financially, she had been secure in the knowledge that she at least had love. 

But over the course of their marriage, Greg had changed in a way that she didn’t quite recognize.  He made friends with people she couldn’t identify with, talked about things she had no knowledge of, and stayed out longer and longer.

Through it all, Caroline hadn’t said one thing to him.  She had let him be who he had become.  She had taken the side road instead of walking beside him, bottling up the outrage and resentment that had been born from dead love.  Hating him, and then hating herself for not caring more.  And she had told herself when the divorce had been finalized that she would change, that she would become the woman who would make Greg grovel at her feet and beg for forgiveness. 

But all she’d managed to do was retreat inside a shell to protect herself from being hurt again in the future. 

New York City had become a game changer.  Wren Calder wasn’t someone she’d been prepared for, and his words echoed deep in her soul. 
Numb
.  Yes, it was an apt description. Caroline realized that instead of living, she
had
been merely surviving.  Being numb meant she wouldn’t be hurt.  She wouldn’t have to care.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to feel again.  
Caroline sighed and rubbed her temples.  Thoughts of Greg always brought a headache. She ignored the little voice in her head whispering that perhaps it was too late already to return to her comfortable cocoon.  The numbness was starting to fade.