Winning Appeal (8 page)

Beth

Louis brought the car around, and we got into the backseat. Mark rested a hand on my leg, and traced a path much like the one I had traced at O’Malley’s. I swear that if Louis didn’t work for my father, I would have put the divider up and suggested some limo sex for real. I was dying to at least make out but I had known Louis since I was a kid. It would be like making out in front of my uncle. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of traffic and we were back in the city in no time. Louis dropped us off, and Mark and I went up to my apartment.

He waited for me in the living room while I went into change. I decided to be daring. I found a light, loose cotton mini dress and I slipped it over my head without a scrap on underneath. I found a decently comfortable pair of strappy heels, and with some moisturizer on my legs, and a dab of Jour d’Hermès, on my pulse points I was done.

I did toss some undies in an overnight bag along with some comfy clothes, make-up and necessary toiletries, and I made sure to take my pill. When I came back into the room Mark was examining a painting on my wall. He turned around and his eyes went to my legs.

“That’s one of mine,” I said, wondering what he thought of the explosion of color.

“I know I recognize it,” he said, surprising me. I was about to ask him how when I was distracted. “You look great,” he said letting his gaze travel lazily back up to my eyes, and walking over to kiss me softly on the lips.

“Thanks.” I smiled thinking about how he would react when he found out I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my dress. He took my hand and we left.

When we got to the parking garage, he led me to his car and deactivated the alarm. I confess, I paused to ogle for a moment. That was one hot car.

“This is a classic Karmann Ghia,” I said, lightly running my hand over the hood. “The Karmann Ghia is like the coolest car ever made, and it’s in beautiful condition. What is this, a 1970?” He didn’t reply so I looked up. He was staring at me with a funny look on his face.

“1971,” he answered, still looking at me strangely.

“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering if he was suddenly feeling ill or something.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m great. I’m just… Let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were back at his place. I knew he had recently moved, but I hadn’t realized that he had moved into a renovated warehouse in the hip Northern Liberties neighborhood. I was immediately in love with his place. It had bare brick walls and hardwood floors. There was a circular wrought iron staircase leading to a loft overlooking the living room, a modern kitchen underneath the loft was done in black and chrome and the fireplace was made of dark wood.

It was what was hanging over the fireplace that made freeze in my tracks. It was one of my paintings. I had been lucky enough to get a place in a few local gallery showings. This one had been shown a couple of months ago. Like the one in my apartment, it was an abstract explosion of color, but this had words incorporated into the design “art” “music” “live” “breathe” “desire” and “experience.”

“You bought my painting,” I said spinning around and smiling with delight.

“Yeah, bold color is good.” He smiled.

“Bright color is good too,” I said smiling back and feeling my cheeks heat up. I saw him breathe in deeply, and he walked over to me and gently ran his knuckles along my jaw.

“You know, hardly anybody blushes anymore. You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss me, and my lips parted in anticipation, and then my phone rang.

“I had better see who it is,” I said puzzled at who would be calling me. I grabbed my purse and took my phone out. I didn’t recognize the number and there was no name.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be down in a minute.” He headed for the staircase.

“Hello?”

“Beth, somebody is following me!”

“Caitlin? Is that you? How did you get my number?”

“Beth! I’m serious! There’s somebody following me.”

“Go to the police.”

“I can’t. Look, I want to tell you the whole story.”

“Okay, fine. Come into the office on Monday. In the meanwhile, if you won’t go to the police, go stay with a friend.”

“I don’t have a friend,” she answered.

“What? You… really? Well, go to your place and lock the doors and don’t let anyone in. You’re probably just imagining things, but you should be safe that way. You live in a secure building don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Caitlin… if you need to…” Oh God, don’t do it Beth!

“Oh shit! Are you with Mike? I’m sorry Beth.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, it will be okay. I’m almost at my place now. I’ll ask the doorman to tell me if anyone weird is hanging around.”

“Okay, come in Monday, but you had better tell me everything.” I paused. “And be careful.”

“Thanks Beth. You’re nice.” With that she hung up. Was she serious, or was she trying to play on my sympathy? Okay, Beth, Mark is upstairs getting ready to get sexy with you. Don’t stand here worrying about whether Caitlin has friends.

As if on cue, Mark came back down the stairs wearing a pair of loose fitting black lounge pants and nothing else. His muscles were hard and defined, but not bulky. He had a sprinkling of hair on his chest, a six-pack and sweet baby Jesus he had that V.

“Did I hear you say that was Caitlin calling you? What did she want?” he asked, walking over to his sound system. He bent down to look for something. My God his ass was magnificent.

“Huh? Oh, uh, she thinks someone’s following her.”

“You’re kidding. Did you tell her to go the cops?” He found his iPod and placed it on the speakers. I recognized Jace Everett’s
Bad Things
and I smiled. He turned and faced me.

“Yeah, I did. Uh, she said she couldn’t. Then I told her to go to a friend’s place, and she said she didn’t have any. Mark, do you think…”

“I don’t know, and I have to confess, I have other things on my mind at the moment. I’m going to be initiating foreplay now, Beth. So I’m going to need you to turn your cell phone off. You’ll be busy for quite a while.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I reached into my bag and shut off my phone. He came over and put his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. The moment our bodies made contact, I felt his arousal grow. And grow. And grow. Oh my. He wanted me, and he was going to have me. And I was going to have that in me. Oh my. We started to move to the music and then he leaned down and kissed my neck sending a thrill down my spine. I ran my hands over the hard muscles of his back and his hands slid lower to cup my bottom.

“Are you wearing anything under here?” he mumbled against my neck. The vibration tickled.

“No,” I answered, whispering in his ear and pausing to gently bite his lobe. His breathing got heavier and he reached lower and slid his palms up the backs of my thighs, pushing my dress higher and higher. When he got to my bare bottom he groaned, squeezed and pulled my hips against him even tighter. Our mouths found each others and our tongues twisted, rubbing together deliciously. His hands were roaming over my bare body under my dress and mine were tucked down into the back of his pants, kneading that magnificent ass. I wasn’t the only one who had gone commando incidentally.

There we were, making out, exploring each other’s bodies and still swaying to the music. It felt powerfully erotic. We made it through the rest of that song, and also
I’m on Fire
by Bruce Springsteen. I definitely saw a theme here. Near the end of the song he broke our kiss and sang in my ear and it did me in. I was too feverish, lightheaded and turned on to keep dancing.

“Mark,” was all I could manage.

“Beth,” he said in strained voice and pulled back to look at me. His eyes were hazy and he was breathing hard and fast. “I would love to carry you off to my bed but…” He glanced at the narrow circular stairway. “Considering our history.”

“It’s okay,” I said kicking off my heels. My voice was so heavy with desire that I barely recognized it. My skin was tingling from head to toe, and in some places, throbbing and aching. I couldn’t remember ever having been this turned on before.

“You go first in case you fall. And so I can look up your dress,” he teased. I smiled and headed for the stairs, climbing as carefully as I could. By the grace of God we both made it safely to the top. I’ll note that he quickly stepped away from the top of staircase.

The music carried upstairs through a sound system. I began to realize that Mark really loved music, which probably explained the Gibson Les Paul standing in the corner. I wasn’t surprised to see it; it fit his personality and besides, I had noticed the calluses on his fingertips. I was an artist and he was a musician. How perfect was that? I heard the opening notes to Chris Isaak’s
Wicked Game
and when he turned to face me I almost swooned. That song would melt me for the rest of my life.

I looked him deeply in the eyes, and then I reached down and took hold of the edge of my dress, lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. Like many women, there were things I would have changed about my body, but the way he looked at me made me feel absolutely flawless.

“So now you know,” I said throatily, and pointed to my hip.

“Picasso.” He smiled. “And your belly ring. So many fun things to discover.”

After he had taken his time to look me over, his eyes traveled back up to mine and he pushed his pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He stood still and let me take a good long look too. I didn’t even try to be delicate or tactful; I stared openly. He was like a work of art… but better.

“What are you thinking?” he asked in a low, thick, velvety voice.

“That if you were a statue you would need a really big fig leaf,” I answered truthfully and after a beat he burst out laughing. I looked up and smiled. “You asked.”

“God, you’re… I mean you’re so… Beth is good,” he said finally.

“Mark is good too,” I answered and he went to the bedside table and took out a condom packet. Then he paused and seemed to reconsider. Reaching back into the drawer he took out the whole box. That was promising.

“Will you share my bed with me tonight Beth?” he asked walking over to me and pulling me into his arms. There are some sensations in life that are just unparalleled, a soothing hot bath at the end of a long day, a soft cozy bed on a cold winter night… Mark’s warm bare skin pressed up against mine fell into that category. In fact, it was better. It was truly heavenly.

“I’ll share your bed with you any night,” I answered wrapping my arms around him. He kissed me again and we resumed our intimate exploration, his tongue caressing mine, while his hands gently stroked my breasts. As we moved to the music, he guided me over to the edge of the bed and urged me to sit down on the edge. Then he knelt down in front of me and looking into my eyes, he began to slowly run his fingers up and down my inner thighs, mirroring how I had touched him the other night.

“Does this feel as good to you as it did to me?” he asked. His voice sounded so deep and seductive that my insides liquefied.

“It feels incredible,” I answered breathily and he smiled the naughty smile.

Gently nudging my legs apart further, he leaned in and brushed his tongue up against my nipple. I breathed in sharply and he scraped me with his teeth and then covered me with feathery little licks and kisses. The hair stood up on my arms and I got goose bumps, as my nipples, impossibly, became even more rigid. I was starting to pant when he moved to the other side and did the same thing again.

“You like that,” he mumbled against my tingling skin.

“Yes.” I gasped. I was starting to tremble.

“Lie back.”

I didn’t think twice. Although I was becoming increasingly lightheaded, I was also conscience of so many things, the soft comforter beneath me, the intoxicating music, my tummy tightening in anticipation… and him. I was so very aware of him, standing above me. He looked so big and predatory, but in a really good way, and I swear that I could almost smell the lust in the room.

He braced himself over me and went back to work on my breasts, lightly licking, biting, and gently sucking until I was moaning. Then he slowly moved down and sucked at my belly ring, sending waves of sensation throughout my body, and I moaned louder. “Do know what it does to me when you make those sounds, Beth?” he asked in a silky voice.

“Mmm.” That was the only answer I could offer at that moment. My brain was too busy processing all of the stimulation to handle things like speech.

“Your Picasso is more beautiful than the original,” he said tracing my tattoo with his tongue as I sighed with pleasure. He moved lower and the stubble on his chin brushed against my inner thighs making me tremble. “And you’re blonde everywhere.” I felt him smile against my sensitive skin just before his tongue started licking a trail to the Promised Land.

“Ahhh,” I responded, still limited to single letter sounds. Then I felt his hot tongue part me and begin stroking my pussy, and that inspired a whole word, “Yes!”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, quoting my earlier comments. I clutched onto his head, just in case he was planning to ever leave.