"Okay, the red one it is. Thanks for your help, Kwan."
"There's one thing…"
"What's that?"
"You can't get away with that…underwear. You've got all kinds of lines."
By the time Tristan picked me up for dinner my outfit consisted of the red dress, a sleek and seamless black bustier with matching satin thong, thigh high black hose and a pair of Christian Louboutin black pumps whose red soles were perfectly matched to the red of the dress. Kwan insisted I have the matching black clutch as well. "Tristan has a penchant for small details, so you might as well get the whole look right." We found some earrings in the 'costume jewelry' department at Bergdoffs that looked great--big black enamel buttons with a Chinese symbol inlaid in red crystals. The earrings were the only part of the ensemble that I had managed to find a price tag on.
"Holy shit, Kwan, these earrings are $424.00! And they aren't even real!"
"You're right, they're dime store crap, but Tristan will understand. You had to have something to wear in your ears."
"Kwan…?" He gave me a look that said "go on". "You're awfully good at this. Does Tristan pull this Pretty Woman act frequently?"
"Frankly, I've only known him to do it once before…a long time ago."
Elsa. Should I find that a good thing or a bad thing?
"The women Tristan usually dates can afford to dress themselves in style. They're after a lot more than a cocktail dress and a couple grand in shoes." He smiled at the shock on my face as I clutched the shoe bag a little tighter. "Besides, Raina, no one's got better taste than a gay man. If anyone can help a pretty woman look her best, I can--if I want to."
"You're…"
"Yes, I am one tough mutha of a body guard for an alpha guy who hasn't got a gay bone in his body. It works for us. Someday I'll tell you all about how we met but right now, I think you need to start primping." He ushered me into my suite and by the time Tristan rang the bell I looked like I belonged at The Plaza getting ready to have dinner at Le Bernardin with a billionaire.
Ten
I wish I could say I remembered every detail of that meal, every moment of the evening, but I can't.
A man like Tristan takes control of more than a 'situation'. I'd been able to keep my mind occupied during the day with the whole dilemma facing my parents, with the dazzling experience of the great Plaza hotel, with the details of my outfit for the night and shopping with Kwan--but it was only because Tristan wasn't actually with me in the flesh. He had lurked at the fringes of my psyche, ever an influence, orchestrating the movement of my hours. But without his physical presence, I retained a sense of myself that seemed to evaporate once I could see Tristan, smell Tristan and feel the warmth of Tristan's hand on mine.
I couldn't watch him eat without remembering what it was like to kiss that mouth. Or how that mouth felt on my breasts and how much I wanted to feel the pull of those lips on the lips between my thighs.
We sat side by side in a banquette where the tablecloth curtained our laps. He ran his long fingers up to the top of the slit in my dress and teased at the lace on the thigh highs. One elegant finger trailed the line where my legs met my body. I could feel my clit tighten every time he came anywhere within range. My nipples remained pretty much in a constant state of alert when he was near me.
I flipped off a pump and teased the back of his leg with my stocking clad toes. He fiddled with tendrils of my hair at the back of my neck. He kissed my cheek; I touched his hand. There was much 'gazing into' of eyes. To anyone observing us, it was obvious that we were lovers.
There was something completely thrilling about realizing that we were sitting in public and Tristan was claiming me for all to see. It was the same kind of rush I got from his attention at Brian's party. A 'look at me and look who wants me!' kind of buzz. It had me grinning all over on the inside.
I tried to concentrate on the important things Tristan was telling me throughout dinner. As concerned as I was for my parents' safety, you would think it wouldn't have been such an effort. But it was.
I finally had to ask him not to touch me. "Tristan, I can't think about what you're saying when you're stroking my neck like that."
"I'm sorry. I can't keep my hands off of you. Be glad we're in this restaurant or I might never be able to give you a report on what I've accomplished today."
"Please, I need to hear it. Tell me."
He told me that he had hired a crack private investigator to look into exactly who the thugs were who assaulted my father and that he'd found an inside operative in the union who would be able to give him a better picture of exactly what was going on.
"I'll know more in a day or so. But I do think that until we can get to the bottom of it, your parents are better off away from their house."
"You're going to have a hard time convincing Dad that he shouldn't recuperate in his own bed. I know my father."
"And I know that the safety of the woman you love is more important than comfort or habit." He made this statement so solemnly that I knew he was referring to more than just my parents. The lost look in his eyes also betrayed him.
I knew he was thinking about Elsa. It took all my will not to try to steer the conversation toward dangerous ground. I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to things like that.
Thankfully, dessert came and I stuffed my mouth with a delicious tarte tatin instead of my foot.
***
Both of us knew how the night would end. With the exception of our brief conversation about my parents, the whole evening was one long seduction. The food was indescribably good and not nearly as pretentious as I had imagined it would be. Our conversation, while hardly deep, had a new familiarity about it. We talked about safe, unthreatening subjects--tastes in music and books, favorite pastimes, what his work was like, what kind of job I hoped to find when summer was over. We laughed about the Little Theater and heaped praise on the playwright for his brilliant work.
Finally we stood at the door to the suite at the Plaza. My mother was long asleep upstairs in the master bedroom.
Tristan pulled me into his arms and kissed me long and hard. "Are you sure Marjorie is asleep?"
I nodded. "She even said she was going to take something to keep her from waking up in the middle of the night. I'm sure we won't be disturbed." I slid the keycard through the slot. As I pushed the door open, Tristan leaned in from behind me and whispered in my ear.
"That's very good. Because I am so ready to fuck you in a real bed." He pulled me back against him and pressed his already erect cock into the small of my back. He moved my hips with his hands against his body for emphasis.