The Black Door (2 page)

“Well, my dear, you’ve called the right person. Do I have the perfect solution for you!” she squealed gleefully, “You have to use my escort service; they have some of best and brightest, not to mention some of the finest, men in the city.”

“Escort service?” Ariel asked, shocked. She knew that Meri lived on the edge, but didn’t expect that she’d be involved with a seedy escort service.

“Don’t sound so shocked. It’s extremely classy, totally above-board
and
legal. I use them all the time,” she confessed.

Ariel leaned her elbows on the desk and listened intently. “So tell me, exactly how does this work?” She had only heard rumors about this type of service and was intrigued to find out how they actually operated.

“Well, my dear, it’s really simple. You call the private number and tell them the type of event you’re attending and what type of man you need to complete your evening. Give your credit card information and the details of the pickup location,” she said, rattling off the details as if she were giving her the ingredients for a casserole.

“Meri, you say this so casually, as if I’m shopping for a new pair of shoes, or a purse.”

“In a sense, you
are
just shopping for another accessory. Except this accessory comes with fringe benefits!” She laughed.

“When you said aboveboard, I assumed you meant sex wasn’t a part of the arrangement. I’m just looking for an escort, not a mating stud,” Ariel said, making it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to get involved in some kind of sordid affair.

“This is a strictly platonic service, but if you need a little maintenance, I have the connection for that too,” Meri said slyly.

Ariel didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was that she needed a tune-up in a big way. That was probably why she’d been so antsy lately. The last time she and Preston had had sex, it was purely uneventful. He just rolled on top of her in the middle of the night, slipped in his penis, half-humped a few times, and then rolled off and went back to sleep. She missed the passion that they once shared, but knew Preston was preoccupied. Besides, sex wasn’t everything, she kept telling herself. “Are you sure this is a reliable service?” she asked skeptically.

“Remember the man I was with at the Whitney Biannual?”

“You mean the Richard Gere lookalike in the tailored Armani suit?”

“That’s the one. Well, he wasn’t a shipping magnate from New Zealand like I previously said. He was an escort,” she said proudly.

“Shut up!!”
Ariel was stunned. The man she met at the Whitney Museum was poised, well spoken, and a complete gentleman. If he was the definition of an escort, then she was sold, no more questions. “Okay, what’s the number?” she asked, reaching for a pen and a piece of paper.

Meri spouted off the telephone number from memory. “Trust me, you won’t be the only woman in the room with a date for hire. As a matter of fact, I’m bringing one of my old standbys. And as usual, I’ll craft an impressive persona for him, and nobody will be the wiser. I suggest you do the same.”

Ariel felt a little uneasy, and began to question her decision, “Meri, are you sure this is totally safe? And what if someone asks why I’m there with another man, instead of Preston?”

“Yes it’s totally safe. And if anybody asks about Preston just tell them that he’s out of town on business; which is true, but then add a little white lie, and tell them that your date is an old family friend. The term ‘family friend’ always sounds more appropriate, or should I say platonic, than an old friend from school. Trust me, darling, you have nothing to worry about. Look, I’ve got to run, my lunch date is here, but I’ll see you at the benefit,” she said, hanging up the phone.

With Meri’s reassurance, she felt a little more at ease. Settling into her decision to employ the escort service, Ariel decided to use her middle name for a little anonymity. She jotted down a believable background for her “date,” along with a list of attributes: smart, well versed, attractive, well dressed, and most of all, discreet. She underscored the word
discreet
twice, because the last thing she needed was for Preston or the partners to find out that she was using a male escort for the evening.

WARM SCENTED
bath bubbles caressed Ariel’s body as she submerged herself deep in her Jacuzzi tub. She took a sip from the wine goblet that sat on the marble edge of the tub, leaned back on the headrest, closed her eyes, and let the jets ease her aching muscles. The water felt so relaxing; she could feel a week’s worth of anxiety leave her body as she let her mind drift from the details of her daily life into the realms of fantasy. The Cabernet and soft music playing in the background were making her horny. What she wanted more than anything else at the moment was to get fucked, but with Preston away on a business trip that wasn’t an option, so she slipped her middle finger between her legs and found the tiny bit of flesh that held so much pleasure. She slowly stroked her clitoris with one hand while massaging her nipples with the other. Ariel soon brought herself to a satisfying climax, finished bathing, and stepped out of the tub. She wrapped her body in a terry-cloth towel and padded into the bedroom.

Laid out on the bed was a black YSL gown with a plunging neckline, matching scarf, and sexy fishtail hem. Ariel let the towel drop to the floor, walked over to the dresser, picked up a jar of creamy moisturizer, and began conditioning her skin. As she smoothed the cream over her chest, she looked in the mirror and had to admit that she had an amazing rack. Though her breasts were large, they were not the least bit saggy; her erect nipples were the size of thumbnails and seemed to be made for sucking. She did a little wiggle and watched as her titties bounced up and down. Preston loved it when she danced for him. He would watch from the bed with his tongue hanging out of his mouth as she pranced naked around the room and danced to a slow hypnotic groove. She made a mental note to perform for him once he got back from Washington; it was high time they brought the sizzle back to their relationship, because she couldn’t go much longer without having sex. Though she had no problem bringing herself to a pleasurable climax, there was nothing like the heat from a man’s body between her legs.

Ariel walked back to the bed and put on a strapless bra to harness her lethal arsenal, but it only enhanced her cleavage. After dressing, she looked into the mirror and noticed that the neckline revealed too much of the rose tattoo on her left breast.

She had gotten the tattoo while in college when it seemed like such a cool thing to do, when everyone on campus was getting either tattoos or navel rings. Now she regretted the positioning of the rose, because it limited the type of necklines she could wear. In the corporate world, it was anything but cool to expose such a personal statement, which was why she wore buttoned-up blouses and turtlenecks most of the time. But in private, most of her lovers were drawn to the lifelike flower, and loved to touch and kiss the surreal petals.

She readjusted the dress so the rose was covered, but the neckline was still too deep. Unlike her business suits, Ariel didn’t have any conservative evening gowns. Usually she attended black-tie functions with Preston, and he liked to show her off (like most men who paraded their women around like trophies). She would just have to wrap the gown’s matching scarf around her neck to conceal the tattoo and her cleavage. She then sat at the vanity and expertly applied her makeup, and spritzed her wrists and neck with her favorite scent, ENJOY.

Once she was powered and primped, she made her way downstairs to the waiting Towncar. She had decided to tell the escort service that she would pick up her “date” in front of The W Hotel on Lexington Avenue, which was just around the corner from the Waldorf. Even though Meri gave the service high marks, Ariel was still a little skeptical. She didn’t want him to meet her at her apartment building just in case he was some nut job who stalked women for sport. She’d recently heard on the news that a delivery guy from a grocery service was arrested for stalking his female customers. But on the other hand, she didn’t want him to meet her at the hotel, because it would be obvious that they had not come together, and that was the whole point in hiring an escort in the first place.

As the car cruised down Lexington toward The W, she began to fidget with nervous energy. She had never even gone out on a blind date before, so meeting a stranger for a night on the town was beyond her comprehension. She suddenly thought about canceling the date and going solo. She took out her cell to call the escort service, but it was too late. The car eased to a stop in front of The W Hotel, and standing near the entrance was the finest man that she had ever laid eyes on. He was at least six four and cocoa brown, with a shaved head and a manicured goatee that framed his chiseled features perfectly. Even through his tailored tuxedo, Ariel could see that he was well toned and had broad quarterback shoulders.

He casually strolled over to the car and mouthed, “Renée?” using her middle name, which she had given the service.

Ariel cautiously rolled down the window halfway and asked, “Mason Anthony?” The escort service had provided his name, and she wanted to make sure that he was the right person before she opened the door.

Beaming a wide smile with two rows of perfectly straight white teeth, he responded, “The one and only.”

Ariel unlocked the door and let in her date. The intoxicating scent of his cologne filled the backseat of the car, tantalizing her sensory memory the moment he got in. If she was correct he was wea ring Issey Miyaki, a sexy hypnotic cologne, which she loved, that Preston wore in the beginning of their relationship but had stopped wearing long ago. She took a deep whiff on the sly for a cheap thrill. Ariel’s eyes fluttered, but she quickly snapped out of her reverie and went over the script with him, so he could play out his role without any glitches.

“It’s common knowledge that I’m dating someone else, but at the moment he happens to be out of town; that’s why I needed an escort for the evening,” she said, feeling the need to explain her situation so he wouldn’t think that she was some desperate chick looking for love. “I’m going to introduce you as a friend of the family, who happens to be in town for a conference, and—”

He interrupted, “What type of conference?”

“Hmm.” She hadn’t given that little detail much thought. “A medical conference. The medical profession should be safe, since most of the people in the room will be legal types.”

He chuckled slightly. “Actually, that’s perfect.”

“And why is that?” she asked, looking confused.

“Because I’m a third-year medical student at Columbia, so that won’t be a stretch,” he said confidently.

Ariel gave him a look of disbelief, as if she was having a hard time swallowing his story. He looked more like a model than a med student. “And I suppose you’re working as an escort to pay for school?” she asked skeptically.

“I know it sounds like a cliche, but it’s true. I don’t want to be saddled with a ton of student loans once I finish school, and the service pays me a nice salary for a few hours of work.” Actually, the service only paid him a minimum wage, but some of the more generous clients made up the difference with a hefty tip at the end of an enjoyable evening.

Ariel winced at the mention of money. She had shelled out a cool five hundred dollars for the pleasure of his company. Though she could more than afford the fee, the thought of paying for a date made her cringe. “Glad I could contribute to your education,” she said with a sarcastic edge. “Anyway, just remember that you’re a friend of the family who happens to be a doctor from Chicago,” she reminded him again.

He could sense that she was uneasy and put his hand lightly on her knee. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget. I’m a professional, remember?” He winked.

Ariel felt a jolt of electricity surge through her body at his touch; she imagined his hand roaming up her thigh, only stopping once he found her pleasure point. Her heart began to beat a little faster at the delicious thought. “Get a grip,” she told herself. Though he looked good enough to eat, he was a platonic escort, not a gigolo lover.

The limousine rounded the corner onto Park Avenue and filed in line behind at least a dozen other black Towncars that were headed for the same destination. Ariel clutched her bejeweled Judith Lieber evening bag as the driver parked in front of the gold-toned ornate entrance to the landmark Waldorf-Astoria hotel.

Mason opened the door and reached inside for Ariel’s hand to help her out of the car. Once inside, he held her by the elbow, like a perfect gentleman, as they made their way up the grand staircase toward the party The elegant ballroom was abuzz with a healthy majority of New York’s philanthropic community dressed in their finest. The men wore the customary penguin suits, sans tails, while the women were draped in ice and donning one-of-a-kind designer originals from Valentino, Krizia, and even vintage Coco Chanel.

Meri made her way through the throng of people with her date in tow. “Darling, there you are. I was beginning to think that you changed your mind,” she said.

Ariel air-kissed her friend on the cheek. “We were caught in traffic.” Ariel noticed Meri eyeing Mason and decided to rehearse the spiel on her friend before going cold turkey. “Meri, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Mason Anthony, a friend of the family,” she said with a straight face.

Meri extended her hand as if she expected him to kiss it. “Nice to meet you, Doctor.” She winked, and then turned to her date. “And may I introduce my dear friend Jean-Marie Baptize, from Paris,” she said, referring to the handsome European standing close by her side.

“Bonjour,” he greeted them in a heavy accent.

Ariel wondered if he was actually from France, or a dial-a-date. There was no doubt that he was from a foreign country, or was he? Reflecting on the conversation she had had with Meri earlier in the week, she assumed not. “Nice to meet you.”

“Let’s find our seats,” Meri said, leading the way through the crowd.

En route to their table, Ariel ran smack-dab into Bob, one of the managing partners from the office. “Wow . . .” His eyes drifted from her face directly to her plunging neckline. “You look amazing.”

Her colleagues were accustomed to seeing her all buttoned-up and straitlaced. Suddenly she felt self-conscious, and she was sure that he could see the outline of the rose tattoo. “Hello, Bob,” she said, readjusting the scarf around her neck.

Though the scarf covered most of her cleavage, Bob still seemed to be mesmerized by her ample breasts, and he licked his bottom lip as if he could taste the forbidden fruit. “I’m so glad you could make it out tonight.” He grinned.

I just bet you are,
she thought. “Bob, you know Mrs. Meri Renick, a good friend of mine and last year’s chairwoman,” she said, redirecting the conversation.

He snapped out of his lust-induced trance. “Meri, it’s so nice to see you again. How have you been?”

“Fine, thank you. How’s your wife?” she asked, reminding him that he was a married man and shouldn’t be ogling her best friend.

“She’s fine.” He quickly glanced around the room, making sure his wife hadn’t caught his wandering eye. He turned back to Ariel and looked at Mason. “And where’s Preston?” he asked.

“He’s in Washington on business.” Sensing that Bob was waiting for an introduction, she said, “May I introduce Dr. Anthony, a friend of the family. He’s in town for a medical conference and lucky for me, he agreed to fill in for Preston.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mason said, shaking Bob’s hand.

Bob shook his hand in return, then said, “Well we better be seated before the presentation starts.”

In a sense, Ariel was glad that Bob had been overwhelmed by her breasts, because his preoccupation kept him from asking a million and one questions about her date. They found their table and settled in for a long evening of cocktails, dinner, and mundane speeches on the importance of giving back to the community.

Three hours and four bottles of wine later, they were as giddy as a couple of kids on prom night. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Meri asked, giggling, once the last speaker stepped down from the podium.

Ariel glanced at her date and thought that the evening had gone quite well. No one had suspected the truth, and if they did, they didn’t let on. It made her wonder how many other women in the room had hired an escort for the evening. “Painless.” She smiled.

“Let’s go over to the Four Seasons for a nightcap,” Meri suggested.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ve had a long week and I’m bushed,” Ariel said, declining the offer. Then, as if on cue, Mason got up and slid back her chair.

Meri clung to her date’s arm. “Come on, darling, I have a chilled bottle of Cristal at my penthouse and we can cap the night off in private,” she said suggestively.

“As you wish,
mon chéri,”
Jean Marie replied in his thick French accent, kissing the back of Meri’s hand.

Ariel’s earlier assumption was correct. Mr. Frenchman was indeed on the clock, and knowing Meri, he would be working overtime tonight. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ariel said, before turning to leave.

The limousine driver had timed their departure perfectly, and was pulling up in front of the hotel the moment they stepped through the revolving doors.