December Rain (31 page)

“Did that mask come from the shop?” Quinn asks.

She smiles before loosening
her belt and takes notice of the other people starting to filter into the loft. There are a few couples in very formal attire, alluring cleavage everywhere, and another odd couple in some sort of leather fetish wear. The sexual energy in the room is intense and contagious. Monica opens her coat and allows the waitress to peel it from her shoulders. Her fingers slowly trace the entire length of her arms.

Holy shit!
Quinn’s eyes flare when he sees her. His jaw clinches scanning her head to toe, knowing he isn’t the only one looking at her divine curves. He whispers, “I’ve never been more turned on in my life. I can’t breathe.”

She looks into his eyes framed through her mask, and sees shades of blue fluttering with his pulse and his breathing is heavy and intense.

“Exquisite,” the waitress says. She hands the coat to the young man.

“Absolutely,” he says.

Quinn’s fingers thread hers as both servers disappear. A charismatic gentlemen with silver hair and a tuxedo smiles as they enter the main loft space. The room has twenty foot ceilings flanked with huge rough timbered beams. There’s one plastered wall painted a deep sage while the rest is a rough red brick, including one with six enormous arched factory windows. The city’s lights flicker through the obscure glass. Huge wrought iron chandeliers are turned down to give the room a sensual glow, while the flicker of a massive fireplace adds movement to the soft music. There are sculptural pieces and huge paintings of erotic naked bodies watching the room.

The most prominent feature though is a young waitress with beautiful long legs bent over a dark wooden table, facing away from the doors. She’s frozen there, looking straight towards the fire, exposing a lace g-string that doesn’t contain her swollen pink lips.

“Welcome,” says the gray haired gentleman. “I’m the Harem Coordinator. I’m here to make sure you are both extremely satisfied.” Monica tries not to giggle at his title or the way he accentuated his last word. “As you’re aware there are rules during the dinner party, however, after...” He trails off as he drinks in Monica’s eyes. “After dessert, you are both very welcome to hang around.”

Quinn clears his throat and says, “Thank you.”

Monica wants to interrupt but restrains herself.
I don’t know the rules. Does Quinn know the rules?

The man continues. “You may only touch from the waist up unless otherwise specified privately. There is only one exception to this rule and that’s this lovely statue here to greet you. In museums we are told we cannot touch the art, but tonight, here, you may touch this one select masterpiece.”

Monica looks at Quinn and then glances around the room.
It’s still early. Not too many people yet.
The Coordinator nods again to encourage them to touch. Quinn motions for her to make the first move so she gently grazes the back of the woman’s thigh with her fingernails.
Those stockings might make this tickle a little.
She continues her nails upwards to the band of lace clipped along the edge. There are only a few more inches above her stockings to her billowing folds.
Her skin looks soft.
The Coordinator again nods.

“I’ve never touched a woman like this,” she says to Quinn.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

The smile on her face is as good as her nod. Quinn’s fingers graze the back of Monica’s stockings in the same manner sending chills into her own lace cavities. She fidgets, trying to breathe normal. His fingers continue moving upward urging her hand to do the same.

Her skin is soft and cool. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Quinn waits for her move before navigating further.
I’m sure he doesn’t mean I can touch her however I want right? Going further has gotta be crossing the line. This is probably a test
. The Coordinator gives another nod so she lets her middle finger slide under the string and circle the woman’s lips delicately.

Quinn moves closer to shield himself and does the same to Monica.
Oh,
y
ou really like this. She’s so wet already. Fuck this is way too hot for dinner.
As he moves gently her mouth opens to let out a gentle pant.

Monica bites her lip before sinking into the woman’s warm wetness.
So naughty and so good.
The woman’s breathing deepens with a swirl movement, but Quinn uses more pressure and intensity, making it difficult for her to concentrate. Monica pulls out slowly and takes his mouth, no longer concerned for her lipstick or poise.

“Ahem,” a voice interrupts.

Monica is bright red as they break into juvenile giggles. “Sorry. We got carried away,” Quinn says wiping the red onto his hand.

The man in the white chef’s coat says, “I’m very pleased you have. I just wanted to introduce myself before things get hectic for our meal. I’m Chef Hedlund. This is my event.”

“Wow, it’s a pleasure,” Quinn says shaking his hand.
That’s probably a wet hand. Not really sanitary. Nice move.
“I’m Quinn Matthews and this is my girlfriend Monica.”

“Quinn Matthews the painter? 111 Minna Gallery?”

“Yes. That’s me.” He smiles, surprised.

“It’s a small city. I heard the opening was exciting, but missed it. I did get there to see your work though. I love it! Really.” The chef starts looking around the loft searching for someone. “Diane,” he calls.

A woman standing near the large roaring fireplace turns and smiles. She’s wearing a long golden dress of Roman style, but it’s hard to see her face as she advances through the shadows. When she comes into focus Quinn and Monica recognize the shoulder length bob of silvery soft hair, so mesmerizing and unmistakable.

“This is my lovely wife Diane,” the chef says.

“Yes Richard, we’ve met,” she says turning to him. “Earlier today.” She looks at Monica in the bustier. “You wear it perfectly dear. Absolutely beautiful, delicious.”

There’s an uncomfortable gaff from Monica before she smiles and starts to fidget.
Did he know who she was?
She looks at Quinn.

“The person who told me about your dinners also recommended your shop... so I guess I should have put things together,” he says to Diane.

Monica’s glares at him.
Who told you about this place? Who are you talking about lingerie and sexy dinners with? What the fuck is going on? I know it can’t be Rick.
Monica’s discomfort is apparent to all.

“I have to check on the appetizers and get them out. I hope we can speak more later. I’d love for you two to stick around after dessert.” The chef reaches to shake Quinn’s hand again and leans forward to kiss Monica’s. “Bon appetit.”

Why does everyone want us here after dessert? We’re not on the menu. This is crazy.
Monica looks back at Diane who’s eying Quinn and his sharp suit. She nods in agreement with her husband and winks again as she moves toward the Harem Coordinator. It’s clear they’re an open family of sorts as Diane seems overly familiar with many of the staff.

“I was only told that this was some of the best food I’d ever taste in this city and a lot of fun,” Quinn says before she can even ask. “That’s a huge thing to say to someone. San Francisco is so known for food-”

“By who?”

“By everyone. People come here to eat and shop.”

“No. Who told you about this?”

“Oh, someone Rick introduced me to at the Minna show. Probably the same person that told the chef to come see my show. It is a small town.” He wraps his arms around from behind and whispers, “Do you remember our trip to the Ghetty?”

“Of course.” She remembers Venus and the burgundy room where he asked to paint her. “I asked what you’d do with that marble statue of the Roman warrior, and you said you’d try to warm his cold skin.” She smiles and nods. “Even when we we’re only joking you say the most intriguing things. You surprise me every day and that is what I love about you.”

“Hello,” a waitress says seductively. “Dates stuffed with goat cheese?” The blonde with very large breasts holds a silver tray and napkins as they each take one.

Before taking a bite, a tall man with jet black hair approaches with two glasses of wine. He says, “Your pairing for tonight’s appetizers, a Monthuys Brut Reserve of France.”

Once his hands are free he moves behind the waitress and lingers at her neck as if he’s going to kiss her. It’s clear that she likes it as goosebumps spread across her bosom when he reaches around to undo her top button. The tension between them doesn’t feel rehearsed or fake. Quinn and Monica watch very still as he reaches into her cleavage just far enough to glide his finger along the edge of her bra. He stops abruptly and disappears as quickly as he arrived.

“Okay,” Monica says. They share an odd smile trying the dates with groans of pleasure and find the wine is a wonderful added kick.

There’s a long table under the windows covered in red satin where a short brunette is crawling to her side. A group is gathering quickly although it’s not clear what she’s doing. When they get closer they can see her rolling a stocking to her ankle. She finds a comfortable position before a large black waiter approaches with cucumber salmon caviar. He scoops tiny spoonfuls in a row along the length of her thigh, starting as high as possible and working just past the knee. He then is the first to bend and take a little mound with his lips.

A couple near the same age as Monica and Quinn’s are giggling and messing with each other nearby. The woman keeps looking at Monica as her date keeps trying to convince her to try the caviar.

“I don’t like caviar,” Monica says to Quinn.

“It’s usually too salty for me, but cucumber and salmon sounds very unusual.”

“Have some,” she says.

He leans into her ear. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

It’s gonna bother her, but I am intrigued.
He lowers to the thigh and suckles the eggs from the woman’s pale skin. To add to Monica’s sting, he takes a long slow lick after it’s gone. Monica feels her stomach twist, but keeps restraint. This test of her jealousy is nothing compared to seeing him with Vanessa just a few months ago.

The servers continue to swirl around offering temptations to the guests and Monica notices the giggling couple stay close. She smiles at the woman who looks uncomfortable, but takes the initiative to leave her date and approach.

“Hi. Do you work here?”

The mask.
Monica smiles, amused. “No. The mask was a gift so-”

“It’s amazing,” she says cutting her off. “Sorry. I just kinda wish I had one too. I’m a little nervous about all this.”

“Understandable. It’s probably helping me more than I know. It was a gift too beautiful to not wear.”

“It is beautiful. So much detail. I’m so glad I could come see it closer.”

Her words are very sincere and honest.
Wonder if she’s a teacher? Grocery clerk? Something really safe.
Quinn interrupts her thoughts when he walks away from them.

“I keep getting told this is a sensory experience, not necessarily a sexual one,” Monica says.

“I know. Oh my god! That’s almost word for word what I’ve been told.”

“How did you hear about this?”

“My husband is a sous chef at a restaurant where a few of the waiters here work. Everyone in the restaurant biz in this town knows the club exists even if they haven’t been. He’s been trying to get me here for over a year.”

“Really? Wow. That’s a long time. You finally gave in.”

“Yeah. This is so not my scene. It makes me wonder if Derrick, oh... I’m Tracy by the way,” she pauses.

“Oh, Monica.” They both laugh at skipping the introductions.

“Anyway, what was I saying?”

“Derrick?”

“Oh yeah, Derrick, my husband,” she points towards Derrick who’s being fed a stuffed tomato by a tall lanky red headed waitress. Tracy’s face goes pale and she again loses her thoughts.

“Tracy? Are you okay?” Monica asks.

She looks back at Monica like she’s just seen a car wreck. “Yeah. I just wonder if maybe he would be in this scene if it weren’t for me refusing all the time.”

Monica glances over her shoulder and sees Derrick now looking for his wife with a tomato appetizer in his hands, clearly for her. “Maybe he just wants to experience something new with you. I know marriage, it gets monotonous.”

Tracy looks at Monica’s finger void of a ring. “This is just all very outside the box I was raised in, you know, outta my comfort zone”

“Most of us don’t think this is a normal night out to dinner.”

Quinn returns from his exploration of the bustling room with a black satin mask and hands it to Tracy. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

“Seriously? I can wear this?” Tracey looks like she’s just hit a jackpot.

“Yes. The Harem Coordinator had an extra one. If you can give it back to him at the end of the night, he’d appreciate it.”

“Oh my god! You are so sweet!” She hints for introduction.

“Quinn. I’m so sorry Tracy,” Monica says, “This is Quinn. Quinn this is Tracy and her husband Derrick...” Derrick’s just approaching with the stuffed tomato.