SECRET Revealed (12 page)

“You’re right, Jesse, we don’t have to fuck, because
I
decide whether we fuck or not. And
I
get to have the kind of sex
I
want. And what I
don’t
want is to just lie there and let someone fuck me the way I did with my ex-fucking-husband, waiting for it to be over!”

I was breathless. I turned to face Jesse and saw his expression registering shock but also awe.

“That’s what you feel this was?”

“No!”
I screamed. They were different men, Scott and Jesse, but this feeling was familiar. “No, it’s not the same. But you
are
being a dick.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jesse looked up at me. “This might be inappropriate,” he whispered, “but you are very sexy when you’re like this, Cassie.”

Jesse reached for me like I was a cornered animal that might bite. He tugged loose the T-shirt I was holding, dropping it to the floor. Then he pulled me by my jeans, securing his hands on the top button, popping each one open, a warm smile spreading across his mouth. His cock was so hard it was like it had heard nothing of what was just said.

“I think you need to make amends to me,” I whispered.

“How about I start by kissing your pussy. Would that make it better?”

“Maybe,” I said, my hands going to my breasts. This man! One minute I wanted to slap him hard, the next I wanted to fuck him harder.

“Tell me what
you
want me to do. Use your words, Cassie, the ones I taught you,” he said, placing my foot on the bed next to his thigh, splaying me before him. He wet his lips.

“I want you to lick me, Jesse,” I said, my fingers in his hair.

“You want me to suck your clit?”

His eyes were dancing with mischief. He liked me like this, bratty and transgressive.

“Tell me what else you want me to do, Cassie.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, climbing towards him. “I want your cock in my
cunt
.”

“Yesss, that’s it,” he said, collapsing back, taking me with him.

I remembered the way Angela had wielded her power over Mark that time in the Mansion, when I was behind mirrored glass watching them. I channeled her now, mimicking her movements, the fierce way she tore into him. I shoved Jesse down on the bed, ignoring his erection, to take my own pleasure from his mouth, his darting tongue finding my grooves, his smooth fingers exploring my body, every curve and crevice, his tongue lashing back and forth over my clit, my whole body now over him, writhing with desire. He knew me so well, knew how fast to go, how slow. He knew how close to bring me to orgasm before spinning me around and throwing me down on the bed so he could enter me quickly, his hips grinding me.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Cassie,” he murmured, his arms ropy and ridged, his stomach muscles tensing with every feverish thrust.

As he fucked me, arousal flooded my core, until I had no choice but to come, on command, on
his
command.

“That’s right, Cassie, I got you … come for me, baby, come now …”

He was scorching, his eyes burning into me. I flung my arms up in surrender. Eyes open, I came so hard, so searingly, I felt something akin to disbelief—disbelief that he could do this to me, to my body, that he could make me come like this, my spasms gripping his cock so hard he nearly emptied into me. At the last second he tugged out with a moan and spilled onto my heaving stomach, in hot, helpless spurts.

“Holy shit,” he said, collapsing atop me.

I held his sweaty head between my breasts. After a few seconds of gasping, still in a state of astonishment, Jesse fell off me, sliding comically to the floor in a weak pile, both of us laughing at the mess we had made of each other.

“Holy shit,” he said.

I was about to reply,
I know, that was amazing
, but he was already up and sprinting to the bathroom to shower.

“Sorry, Cass. I almost fucking forgot! I have a thing at nine.”

“Oh,” I said, getting up to gather my belongings. “What do you have to do at nine? Another girl? Haha.”

“I’m helping out tonight. With S.E.C.R.E.T.”

“Oh,” I said. “I was kidding.”

My entire center dropped out as I took in what this meant. Solange. He was “helping out” with the new candidate. He was going to have sex with Solange. Oh, this did not feel good at all. Fuck, fuck,
fuck
.

“Relax,” Jesse yelled from the washroom, reading my mind. He shut off the taps. “I’m not the main attraction.”

What did that mean?
A few seconds later, he brought his naked, dripping body back to the bedroom. He hurriedly plucked his jeans off the floor and threw them on commando-style.

“Can you drive me to the French Quarter, Cass? That’s where it’s happening. You can take my truck home. I’ll cab it after.”

“I’m not going to
drive
you to your fantasy! We just fucked!”

And there it was, my Jealous Girlfriend Voice.

“Whoa! Calm down, Cassie. I would
not
have sex with you
and
a S.E.C.R.E.T. candidate on the same day. I’m not that much of a tacky fucking asshole. Tonight’s just a quick walk-on role. I’m just facilitating. Like I said, I’m not the main attraction.”

I was afraid to open my mouth.

“I knew this was too complicated,” he said. “Maybe we need to stick to being buddies.”

“No. It’s okay. I’m cool,” I said, shrugging on my T-shirt. My stomach grumbled so loudly we both noticed.

“You need food. That’s why you’re cranky,” he said. “If I dress in the truck we’ll have time for a quick bite. Come. Please?”

He was offering a truce and I wanted to prove I could handle this, both of us being in S.E.C.R.E.T., both of us
enjoying each other sexually without having to get all possessive about it. I shook off my own doubts and negativity and took the keys he dangled in front of me.

I drove into the French Quarter while he slapped on what looked like some kind of security guard costume.

“Well, I guess I know what your role is going to be,” I said.

“Ha,” he said, adjusting the belt. “Even if I were the main fantasy man, I doubt she’d accept the Step. I look like a fucking dork.”

After I parked near Jackson Square, we walked over to a loud line of food trucks and each ordered a couple of creole-style rotis. We found seats in front of Stanley’s. I told myself we would be okay. We had just had an off night.

“The fantasy’s going to happen here? It’s pretty crowded,” I said, prompting him.

“That’s part of it. Being in public. Crowds,” he said, thoughtfully looking around and chomping his food.

He wasn’t giving me much. “Huh. I had one of those. A public sex fantasy.”

“How did it go?”

“It happened at Halo. At the bar. While the band was playing.”

“Oooh. Details please.”

I felt a surge of pride. I would have spilled the story then and there, but
shit-fuck
I spotted none other than Solange Faraday making her hurried way through the crowds towards the old military museum at the end of the square.

“Jesse,” I hissed, using my body to block Solange’s view of him. “We have to go.
Now
.”

I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him low, his face in front of mine.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s her.
Solange
.” I pointed over my shoulder. “She shouldn’t see you.”

He lowered his chin, shrinking lower. My back to her, I lifted Jesse to his feet and we sidestepped from St. Ann to Chartres, where we opened our gait and walked briskly to where the truck was parked on Royal.

“That was close,” he said, leaning against his door to catch his breath.

“Far too close.”

“So
that’s
her? That’s Solange? Well, well …” he said.

“You’ve never seen her on the news?”

He gave me a look that reminded me he wasn’t much for current events.

I had to admit my heart hurt at his enthusiasm. Even in just a coat and boots, she looked spectacular. Women like her were always more beautiful because of their lack of awareness of their looks. Add to that the knowledge that the man sitting next to me would have mind-blowing sex with her, if not tonight, then soon, and I felt woozy. What had I gotten myself into? If it was just sex with Jesse, why was I feeling so unsettled? And if that’s all that Jesse and I had, what was the big deal?

“Okay, baby. I gotta go. It’s showtime.”

“What’s the scenario?” I asked.

“You know the rules, Cass. There’s no fuck-and-tell in S.E.C.R.E.T.
If it’s not your fantasy, it’s none of your business
. At least the guys honor that. You could probably wait, if you want. I could meet you at Coop’s. This won’t take long.”

“Oh really? Poor Solange,” I said, with no small amount of snark. “I’ll just walk home. I’m not in the mood for waiting.”

“Hey,” he said, pressing me back against his truck. “You know what S.E.C.R.E.T. is, right?” He bracketed me with his arms. “You might have stuff coming up, too, that I don’t get to know about or have a say in.”

This was true—if I were actually training recruits. Right now I was just helping facilitate fantasies, but Jesse didn’t need to know that. Part of me wanted him to think my involvement was more sexual than it actually was.

I smiled, pulling myself together. “I can’t stay. I’ll call you later,” I said, handing him his keys.

He gave me one last probing look and walked away in an exaggerated Charlie Chan wobble because he knew I’d have my eyes on him until he rounded the corner and was out of sight.

If sharing him with S.E.C.R.E.T. was the price of dating him, I had to seriously consider whether I could afford to pay it.

I
followed the instructions on my Step Three card exactly:
Only wear what’s in this box and nothing else. Head to Jackson Square just before 9 p.m. Walk in a clockwise direction around the perimeter of the fence. Then, at 9, enter the museum by the south door. It will be open
.

In the box was a beautiful trench coat, a gray tweed hat with a shallow brim, black stiletto boots … and garters and stockings. Nothing else.

This is what I’m supposed to wear? In the middle of winter?

I was not really the obedient type. But this Step was all about trust, so I followed instructions. I wore the clothing as I was told, showed up at the square when I was supposed to, a little early even, walking the perimeter, fists shoved deep in the pockets.
Calm down. No one can tell you’re naked underneath this coat
.

Between my nerves, the drone of the idling food trucks and the smells emanating from them, my stomach began to rebel. I pulled the belt of the trench coat tighter, my senses on high alert. The French Quarter was packed, the night
balmy for Boxing Day. I suspected the fantasy in store for me was going to be a real challenge. I knew when I wrote
to transgress
in my fantasy folder, the Committee would understand I meant doing something naughty in public
—but not getting caught
, I wrote, an important clarification. This Step was about going to that edge, about trusting I’d be taken care of, that I’d get away with it without any repercussions on the rest of my life.

I checked my watch. It was time. I slid through the gap in the steel gate surrounding the museum grounds. No lights were on in the old Spanish fortress, which had once been a courthouse, then a prison, and was now a military museum. I had yet to bring Gus here, despite his obsession with soldiers and history, mostly because I generally avoided the French Quarter. Too many tourists, and frankly, parking was a bitch.

I tested the first door but it was locked. So was the next one. The last one finally yielded. I stepped into the dark, expansive marble lobby. The only things I could see through the windows were shadows of the pedestrians still moving around the square outside.

“Solange.”

I leapt out of my skin.

“Jesus!”

I turned towards a very tall man standing in a dark corner, his shoulders wide, his eyes and nose shadowed by the brim of his fedora. I could see the firm line of his full mouth offering a cocked smile.

“My apologies,” he said, a little too loudly for my liking. “But before you come any closer, tell me, do you accept the Step?”

Holy hell. A British accent
. Plus he sounded altogether too relaxed. I looked around the dim lobby nervously.
What if we’re caught in here?

Trust. Doitdoitdoit
.

“Are we alone?” I whispered, my heart sounding louder to me than my own voice.

“I think so,” he said, his tone bemused. He put his hands in his pockets and stepped out of the shadows towards me, confirming that he was, indeed, a very fine black man, one from across the pond.

“You
think
so? You don’t sound very convinced.”

“Do you accept the Step, my darling?” he asked again, with not an iota of concern. And that
accent
.

I looked around the lobby again. Even if someone saw, what could they say? That Solange Faraday entered the museum in the French Quarter after hours? So what? That a handsome man encircled my small wrist with his expansive grip? Who cares? He could easily be my boyfriend. Maybe he worked here and had forgotten something in his office?