Illicit Liaison (6 page)

The club was housed inside an impressive townhome right in the heart of Rome’s finest neighborhood. They rang the bell and a uniformed butler opened the door.

“May I help you?”

“I need to see Ariana.”

The butler’s eyebrow lifted. “There is nobody here of that name Sir. Have a good day.”

Darien smiled politely. “Ariana is not a person; perhaps that is why.”

The butler paused for a moment then stepped aside, holding the door open for them. A small woman, ancient beyond words, came sweeping down the staircase that was the focal point of the foyer and Lolita had to bite her lisp to keep from laughing. The woman was dressed in period costume, including a tall and heavily powdered wig and face.

Black beauty patches, in odd shapes, rested on her cheeks directly below the bright circles of rouge. Her eyelashes were so long and heavy that it was a wonder the thin, wrinkled old lids could hold them up. The faded blue eyes peering from between those lashes were sharp and engaged however and when the bright red lips parted, they revealed stained and worn teeth.

“Well, what puts you at my door handsome? It has been a long time!”

“You look as lovely as ever, Madame.” Darien bowed over the doll-like hand that was proffered to him and then he kissed the wrinkled, age spotted skin. “I am here for succor and sanctuary.”

“I would have thought you would be here for play, given the beauty at your side.”

Lolita forced a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, as well. Let us move out of this drafty hallway, shall we?”

They followed her down the widening hall to a small airless parlor that was decorated in rose-colored damask and silver brocade. The butler had disappeared but a young woman wearing a green and black striped corselet that bared her lovely breasts, a pair of sheer black panties, garters and stockings whose seams ran perfectly down her milky legs stood near the fireplace.

Madame ordered her to bring tea; the young woman nodded and vanished. Lolita kicked Darien’s shin to divert his attention from her pert little rump as it swung past them. Madame snorted a very unladylike snort when Darien winced and yelped.

“She needs a little discipline.”

Lolita retorted, “He needs some manners.”

Madame cleared her throat, “Sit.” They took the chairs she indicated, “Tell me why you are here.”

“We need sanctuary.”

Her sharp eyes searched his face. “From what?”

Darien leaned forward, “We have pissed off one mobster and his lover, we have to get back to the States to deliver something to another mobster, Interpol knows what ID we are using and we have no way out of the country.”

Lolita shot him a quelling glance but Madame seemed unperturbed. “That sounds like a busy weekend. So you need shelter from mobsters, passports, hm, you always bring excitement into my home, but I would rather have the type you typically bring.”

Lolita wondered exactly what kind of excitement he usually brought was not about to ask. She was not sure she would like the answer very much. Her thoughts were diverted by the scantily clad young woman’s return.

She was pushing a large wheeled table on which sat several serving dishes, cups and plates as well as a silver tea set. She began to lift away the lids on the trays and Lolita’s belly let out a loud and anxious growl at the sight of plump sandwiches and pastries.

Madame waved the young woman out. She gave Darien a roguish grin as she went, swinging her lean hips a little more than necessary and a lot more than Lolita liked. She waited impatiently while Madame poured tea for them and arranged sandwiches and other delicacies on the thin china plates then passed them around.

Lolita bit deeply into a bread generously layered with pate, tiny onions and chopped egg. The tea was hot, strong, and sweet and she drank it gratefully while Madame sipped at her own cup and stared at her heavily ringed hands.

“I think you two should visit the blue rooms tonight.”

Lolita did not know what that meant. Darien apparently did because he said, “Things are not that way between us, Madame.”

“Is she inexperienced?”

Lolita did not like having people talk about her as if she was not there, she snapped out, “Inexperienced at what?”

“She has a little. Only what I’ve managed to teach her so far.”

“I doubt you could teach me anything,” Lolita snarled.

“I do believe you need a nap.” Madame said amiably.

Lolita wanted to argue the point but she was tired and the idea of sleep was one she was not able to turn down. She stuffed a large bite of almond and Brie stuffed pastry into her mouth and gulped down half a cup of tea in one gulp, afraid that she would be sent to bed before she could finish her light but filling meal.

Darien ate hugely as well, wolfing down two Ricotta, mushroom and tomato-stuffed croissants and a raisin scone. Madame waited until they had both slowed down somewhat before she showed them to a room.

They had ditched the briefcase and its contents in various points around the city during the long afternoon. All they had now was what they stood up in, and Lolita wondered whether Darien had managed to retain the ring. She hoped so but he had not mentioned it and given the day’s events, she had little hope of it.

The room had only one bed and she had no intention of it seeing any action other than sleeping. She climbed in still dressed, pulled the sheets over her face and fell soundly asleep.

**

Darien woke up to a lack of warmth in the bed, and the sound of revelry in the distance.

“I think our hostess is having a party.”

Lolita was standing by the window, her face lit by the moonlight. She was so beautiful that Darien’s first reaction was to catch his breath; his second was to try to cover the rapidly rising section of sheet.

“I know you do not trust me.”

“Why would I?” Lolita challenged. “You are a thief, nothing more.”

“You are a thief too, sweetling. Does that make you untrustworthy?”

“Yes,” Lolita said bitterly.

“Why?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yes.” Darien said as he got out of the bed and went to stand beside her. “Being a thief is not enough to make someone a bad person.”

“What if you’re a murderer, too?”

Her face was naked with vulnerability and still softened by sleep. He knew this was a pivotal moment and that if he fucked this up, he would lose her forever, but if he did it right, he may just be able to capture her.

More than anything on the planet, he wanted her.

“There are worse things to be.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah? What do you consider worse than a murderer?”

“The people who make murderers out of young girls are worse.” How had he known? Lolita’s tears spilled over and she bowed her head, unable to look him in the eyes. His finger tilted her chin up and he spoke more quietly than before, “Lolita, I grew up on the streets. I have seen and known people that make us look like upright citizens. I do not believe being a thief makes me—or you—untrustworthy.”

“I did not plan on being a thief.”

“I did,” he laughed. A cheerful little sound that caused her heart to swell and open. “I tried to go straight but the system has little sympathy for reformists, although it loves conformists. Go figure.”

There was a light knock at the door and an even more gorgeous and scantily clad young woman popped her head in the door, “Madame has sent garments for the party. May I bring them in?”

“Is this a brothel?” Lolita asked.

Darien laughed again and the young woman joined in. She was clad in a scanty French Maid outfit obviously not intended for cleaning or other heavy duties. When she turned around her satin panties showed the lower halves of her firm ass and the trim turn of her thighs and calves.

“Please bring them in. We would be honored to attend this evening.”

Lolita waited until she cleared the doorway to hiss, “Why do we want to go to a party?”

“Trust me, you want to go to this party.”

The ‘maid’ came back in, carrying a stack of clothes. She sorted them and Darien wound up with a crimson silk shirt, black leather pants, and boots that had a gorgeous sheen on them. Lolita however, had possession of a stiff red brocade corset, a pair of black silk stockings with heavy back seams, a pair of stilettos also black—and nothing else.

Darien went to shower while Lolita stood there, staring at the small pile of clothing. She looked over at the woman in the maid’s outfit, “Is there… do you need to get the rest of it?”

“Did you need rings?”

“Rings?”

“For your nipples and labia.”

Lolita actually stuttered when she said, “No thank you…uh…”

“Jules,” she supplied.

“Jules. No thank you, Jules. I don’t need nipple rings.”

“Would you like some for your labia, then?”

Lolita could feel her face growing pale. “No. I would like a skirt or ...or…panties…not worn ones…”

Jules laughed at that. “You will find makeup in the bathroom Mademoiselle. Enjoy your night.”

The door shut behind her. Lolita shook her head, gingerly prodded at the corset and stockings. The bathroom door popped open and Darien strolled out, bringing the smell of some masculine soap with him. She turned around to ask him just what the hell kind of party they were going to but the words died on her lips. He was naked but for a towel tied casually around his lean waist, a curl of blonde pubic hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head, peeked above the white towel, making her nipples constrict and harden.

“You should hurry in the shower,” was all he said.

She stared at him, then at the ludicrous getup they had given her to wear and back at his face. Her body hummed with expectancy; suddenly she wanted to wear that outfit, to show him her nakedness, to be in his arms and to feel the press of him against her mound and breasts.

She went into the bathroom and took stock of the luxurious soaps and cosmetics. She selected a jasmine infused bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that had hints of lilies and honeysuckle in its depths. She turned on the water, let it steam up the bathroom, and then climbed in.

She pressed the rag to her dripping center, holding it there. The pressure against her clit felt good, so good that her knees threatened to buckle and she had to force her hand away. She was on fire with desire but she knew that if she took her pleasure now there would be less later in the evening, and she wanted Darien.

She did not trust him…but she wanted him.

She rested her head on the wall of the shower and let the hot water wash over her long and elegant body. Is that all it was, she simply wanted him? She knew that was not so but loving a man like Darien Knight was not just dangerous it was also foolish.

She knew his kind all too well. He was a charmer with a silver tongue who would steal the watch of a woman’s wrist even as he kissed her hand. Could she live with a man like that?

That thought confused her even more. They barely tolerated each other most of the time, how could she even contemplate living under the same roof. She turned the water faucets to cold and stuck her head beneath the icy spray to banish those thoughts but the chilled water did nothing to dampen her passion.

She had no idea of how to get into the corset but Darien did. He unlaced the stays and held it out so that she could step into it. He buttoned the steel busk down the front, each time he clicked one of the tiny little locks into place she gasped. His hands went under the corset, against her flesh as he hooked her into it and she squirmed, trying not to show her feelings but his head was at the junction of her thighs and her scent and the slippery oils that beaded up and fell from her swollen lips gave her away.

He moved behind her. The laces jerked tight, tipping her off-balance until she grabbed the post of the bed and clung to it. The laces pulled again, reducing her waist to a mere wisp, and her breasts rose full high and proud over the top.

She had pulled her hair, back to its natural ash-blonde color, high and tight on her head, leaving just a few tendrils to riot around her face. She had foregone makeup, deciding that a little innocence was needed to offset the outfit. Her wide eyes were clear and her pink lips unpainted. Darien’s pelvis thrust against her bottom as he tied the long laces of the corset, his hardened dick poking into the lower half of her cheeks.

He turned her around to face him. Her uplifted breasts rubbed against the silk of his shirt, exciting her further. “You are going to learn to trust me tonight,” he whispered then captured her mouth with his in a blazing kiss. His hands pressed into her ramrod straight back and his leather pants rubbed against the thin strip of her pubic hair. That kiss of leather was just as erotic and sensual as she had imagined it would be, even more so.

His thigh came up, between her legs and she rubbed against it, grinding along the hard length of his muscle and that supple material but not for long.

Darien pulled away and helped her into her stockings then her shoes. Overcome with shyness she stood at the door as he walked out of it, her hands pressed together below her waist.