“Oh…oohh…” A finger slid into me, followed by another. Her mouth closed over the little orb of my clit, teeth gently biting. “Oh…my fucking God!” I tumbled into the bliss that waited, shuddering from hundreds of mini contractions that pulsed around her fingers. I pushed her face away; any hint of pressure was too much now. Those long fingers withdrew, leaving a path of moisture. I stayed immobile for several minutes, listening to the exotic melody of a saxophone. I felt around the bed for Elizabeth, but I encountered nothing but air. Confused, I lifted the blindfold away from my face. I was alone. That’s weird.
I remembered the hidden camera and snatched the robe off the floor, tossing it over me. I took my clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, washing up and getting dressed quickly.
I guess it’s over then. That was...bizarre.
The housekeeper was waiting for me outside the bedroom. “Would you like something to eat or drink, Ms. Fox?”
“Uh, no. I’m…fine.” I followed her down the hallway to the staircase. “Where is Mr. Gordon?”
“He’s left.”
Yeah? No, kidding.
The limousine waited for me in the driveway, and, as I got in, I glanced up at the house, wondering if the last hour had really happened, or was it a dream?
Chapter Four
I would never admit it openly, but I had enjoyed my encounter with the mysterious billionaire and his lesbian nymph. I had envisioned some sort of BDSM torture chamber equipped with chains, whips, and a muscled Dom dressed in leather, but, thankfully, that had not happened. My fears had been for naught. The strange sexual episode was a distant memory, as I threw myself into work, interviewing nurses, hiring contractors, and double-checking the permits for the clinic.
Something strange was happing, though. Whenever I had a free moment, I found myself on my laptop, searching the Web for images and information on Mr. James Gordon. I bookmarked several pages regarding his company’s successful breast cancer drug, Demetril. There had been a surge of media coverage when the medication had first hit the market, resulting in several news conferences. Whenever I had a free moment, I watched YouTube clips, mesmerized by the man in the tailored suit, with the handsome and charming smile. His speeches were articulate, but far too short.
By the following week, I’d memorized the names of Mr. Gordon’s top management team, including the board of directors and his publicist. Why this would concern me was a mystery. I had scored a coup by discovering that he had indeed been married, but divorced several years ago. She was a New York socialite. She had recently remarried and given an interview to Town & Country Magazine, briefly mentioning her ex-husband and his breast cancer drug. She was an icy blonde, thin as a rail, and now happily married to an Indian industrialist. Her idea of a good time was designing swanky horse stables for her collection of Arabians. Amenities included air-conditioning and a hydromassage pool for the animals. Give me a break.
As the day drew near for my next “meeting” with Mr. Gordon, I became increasingly anxious and excited about the prospect of seeing him again. Would I always be blindfolded? Would I only have sex with other women? A thousand questions raced through my mind, and I was so distracted, that I forgot a lunch date with a friend. I called June and apologized profusely. I had received the confirmation text in the afternoon regarding the time I would be picked up, and I raced home from work, hurrying to take a shower and get ready. Shortly after seven, I grabbed my purse and headed for the elevator.
The chauffer was not the same as before, but the location in Lake Bluff was. The house looked eerie in the dark, the trees nearly overpowering. There were lights on in the driveway, and several windows were illuminated. I stepped from the vehicle, as a rush of tingles bounced around in my tummy. The kindly housekeeper waited by the front door.
“Good evening, Ms. Fox.”
“Thanks. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Margaret.”
A modest chandelier illuminated the entranceway. The house was utterly quiet, just as before. I followed Margaret up the curving staircase to the second floor. We were heading for the bedroom, and with each passing step, my anticipation grew. What a difference tonight was! The first meeting had been the icebreaker, and, now that I knew what to expect, I could relax and let go of my fear.
She opened the door. “Mr. Gordon will be with you shortly.”
“Thanks.”
The robe was folded on the bed. I undressed quickly and put it on, heedless of the hidden camera. It was thrilling knowing that I was being watched doing such mundane things. In the bathroom, I used the facilities, and then stared at myself in the mirror while washing my hands. I had fussed with my makeup earlier, carefully applying mascara and eyeliner. I wiped away a few dark flakes that had fallen to my cheeks. My hands trembled slightly. The adrenaline coursing through me had raised my blood pressure, no doubt. When I returned to the bedroom, I wasn’t alone. Mr. Gordon was waiting for me. This time he wore a pair of jeans and a gray silk shirt.
“It’s good to see you again, Ms. Fox.”
“T-thanks.” Awkward! How many times had he watched that video? Did I even want to know? What did I look like? Could you see cellulite? Did I look as sexy as I had felt? “Hum…can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” He smiled slightly.
“Will the…um…encounters always be the same?”
“No.”
“They won’t?” That was slightly worrying.
“I like variety, Ms. Fox.”
“Oh. Are the images grainy?”
“The equipment I use is professional grade.”
My spirits plummeted. “Oh, great.” I suddenly felt self-conscious.
“Are you worried about what you look like?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait here.” He strode from the room, the smell of his citrusy-woodsy cologne lingering pleasantly. Within a minute, the door opened, and he returned carrying a laptop. “This is what you want to see, isn’t it?”
He pressed a button and an image appeared of a blindfolded woman on a bed. I don’t know what was more shocking, the sight of my breasts, full and contoured, and looking far sexier than I ever imagined, or the woman kissing my neck, her hands touching me, caressing my skin.
“Oh…wow.”
The laptop suddenly snapped shut. “You’ve nothing to worry about.” His look was veiled. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”