Chapter Fourteen

Gillian woke at dawn with an agitated pulsing between her thighs. That leftover unspent sexual energy was cawing at her like a tough old crow. She tried rolling over, but she couldn’t sleep until her hand was in her crotch, feeling the lush wet folds of anxious skin that needed their relief. She thought of nothing but the men in the second floor room, pummeling her pushed out behind. She’d done some pretty raunchy things in her life, but none as frightening and blissful and exciting as this gangbang. In less than two minutes she was creaming all over her hand, rocking on the fingers stuffed in her cunt. If only there had been a man’s face pressed to her pubis at the moment of explosion, but she would just have to wait.

The thought of that missing male presence brought the picture of Mike Bellamy to the forefront of her thoughts. Oddly, the scoundrel seemed to have lodged himself side by side with her thoughts of the club, the two diverse erotic turn-ons playing equally mesmerizing roles in her fantasy. This was not good, and perhaps even dangerous. Not that Mike would pose a problem, but the threats from the club were grim. No, she’d have to give him up for good—tell him some nonsense about keeping pleasure out of business. It was the only way she would be able to survive.

***

“How about lunch?”

Gillian looked up at her office door seeing the jauntily happy face of Mike Bellamy appear.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She’d been utterly professional for three days with her newest client, hoping that he’d get the subtle message that she wanted to keep their relationship strictly business. Perhaps she needed to be more direct.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said.

“No you weren’t,” she disagreed. It was hard not to be amiable with the man. Just keep it light, she thought, but remain at a distance. Maybe a little lunch wouldn’t hurt. There was the firm to think of, and this could simply be another business meeting.

“I’m that bad a liar?” he asked playfully.

“Yes, you are. I am swamped with work; what did you have in mind?”

“Bistro across the street. They’ll have us in and out in a half hour.”

She sighed. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What? You and me, because of the court stuff?”

“I thought we’d been over this.”

“Had we?” He wasn’t remembering. Maybe she really hadn’t made her point. He’d screwed her twice, and certainly there were no promises.

“Maybe not,” she said.

She grabbed her purse, as her crotch instantly took a dangerous, engaging jolt. This was wrong and she knew it. It would be perfectly fitting to receive another message from the club any minute, but so far the floor at her feet and her desk looked clear of low landing cream-colored envelopes.

The bistro was packed and that was good—even though Mike chose a table in the corner as far from the other patrons as they could get. That worried her. She ate a bowl of soup, Mike a corned beef on rye while he washed it down with a German beer.

“You busy tonight?” he asked.

“No,” she started, “I mean yes.” She must sound stupid.

“Which is it?” he asked.

“I’m busy, very busy, and you have to understand that at least until this case is wrapped up, I’d rather not do this social thing with you. We need to keep our distance. If I haven’t stated that clearly already, then well …. now’s the time.”

“I see.” He seemed unconcerned. There was his hand on her thigh underneath the table, being not at all coy about moving under her skirt.

“Don’t you listen?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed.

“I think the distance thing is ridiculous,” he said.

“But the woman is saying no.”

“Is she really? You’re not stopping me.”

“You know I could hate you, but you’re so damned charming.” Why was he doing this to her?

“You find me charming? How sweet.” His hand was deep in her crotch. Finding her tuft of pubic hair, he pulled it with a sudden jerk.

“Ouch!” she whispered.

“Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Not really, but this is pretty shocking in a public place.”

“I know. It turns you on.”

She sighed exasperated, while wondering how she was going to end this lunch graciously. Mike’s playful fingers pressed their way more adamantly toward the center of her vagina and she found herself opening her thighs to accommodate his move. This was all too familiar. She half expected to smell that mysterious fragrance of her club master M, but that was noticeably absent. Nonetheless, the sensations rippling through her were astounding. Could she cum again in a public place, staring into the eyes of this impossible man?

“Please, you have to stop,” she whispered.

“Why would I do that when we’re both enjoying ourselves?”

“How about I just give you a blow job in the men’s restroom?”

“Oh, I like this better.”

“Really?”

She was gone, her body too enlivened to ignore the sensations burning so beautifully. She couldn’t struggle against them any longer. Falling under his spell, there was little way she’d wrest herself from this until Mike Bellamy had his way.

“You ever cum in public?” he asked.

“I take the fifth on that, but you can keep going,” she found herself saying.

He moved closer, scooting his chair beside her, driving several fingers in her snatch.

“Ah, yes,” the almost inaudible cry escaped her lips. The cum was building fast. Finally deciding not to fight it anymore, she wiggled against his hand, at last feeling a fluid orgasmic swell rise and fall and then wash away. Her whole body burst as he drew his fingers from her, and then settled into lovely warmth she couldn’t help but communicate to her client.

“We have to stop this,” she murmured.

“Why? Are there some commitments I don’t know about? Who are we hurting? I promise I’ll keep it light.”

“You’ll promise me, never again, Mike Bellamy. I can’t seem to say no to you and that’s not good.”

“You’re not used to surrendering to men, are you?”

“No, no, not at all.” She was suddenly flustered and a little dazed. “I’ll see you at our conference tomorrow,” she stammered, “now I have to go.” Not letting his protests get to her this time, she quickly excused herself and fled to her office.

There was a cream-colored envelope on her desk when she returned from lunch.

“Who brought this?” she asked her secretary.

Lina shook her head. “I have no idea, I just got back myself.”

Fingers flying to find out her latest instructions, she instantly gulped with nervous anticipation.

“Clear your weekend. A car will come for you at your apartment. Friday at 5:00. You will not return until Sunday night.”