It barely took ten minutes as I bustled through the crowd of party-goers in my smoky living space. By the time, I arrived at my private gallery, Pierre was standing in front of the entrance with the friend’s phone in hand.
“Damn.” I grabbed it from him. “Tito broke a record this time.”
A frown spread over Pierre’s face.
“What?”
“The stealing of her friend’s phone, is a bit, over the line for courtship, don’t you think so?”
“This isn’t a courtship. It’s my usual thing, I’ve always enjoyed the hunt. You know that.”
“This doesn’t feel like one of your usual hunts.”
I leaned my head to the side. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You seem a bit. . .”
“Just say it.”
“Obsessed.”
“Thank you, Pierre.” I took the phone from him. “I’ll contact you when I need you.”
“Wolf—”
“I have everything under control. She’s just another chick I’m trying to see naked, nothing more.”
“You’ve never spent this much time on any women.”
“Red is harder to get to than most.”
“Perhaps, that’s what makes the chase more enticing to you, or maybe it’s that you both have a shared interest in graffiti art.”
“Neither. It’s her boobs.”
Pierre gave me a knowing look. “Okay, Wolf. I hope this works out for you.”
“It will. Oh yeah, and do one more thing for me.”
“Yes?”
“Go back to the table that they were at. Red should be there. Escort her to the gallery.”
“Would she come with me again?”
“She will. Trust me.”
“O-kay, sir.”
As Pierre walked off, I undid the lock screen with a thumb swipe and spotted two missed calls from the same number, one I knew to be Red’s digits. I’d paid a lot of money to discover her number.
Pierre might be right. I have spent more time and money than usual on one woman. Why?
In that moment, Red called the phone. It buzzed in my hand. Excitement hit me, then disappointment as I realized that she wasn’t calling me, she’s been dialing her friend.
I pressed ignore and then typed in a text.
Me: Hey, we’re in the gallery. Ask Pierre to show you how to get here.
Red: Pierre, huh?
I grimaced.
Did I say something wrong?
Me: What?
Red: You said Pierre as if you were on a first name basis with him.
Me: Oh. He’s nice.
Red: Nice as in panty-wetting nice? Or nice as in cuddly puppy?
How wet are your panties, Red?
Me: Cuddly puppy.
Hurrying into the gallery, I decided to take a risk, and type something else.
Me: How did the commission go?
Red: Don’t know. I was really high. I probably imagined all the sexual attraction in the air.
Damn you. Then why did you run off?
Me: You like him?
Red: Who cares? I’ve no time for men. I’m still on my three year pause. No penis until fame and fortune.
My cock twitched in my pants. She’d been sex-free for three years? That type of woman would be nice to have in my bed, one who’d saved herself for something more. Granted it wasn’t for marriage or God, but something I truly believed in, art.
After I taste you, you’ll be happy that you waited so long. I’ll give you three years’ worth of anything that your body needs.
Chapter 6
The Big Bad Wolf
Red
For the second time that day, I followed Pierre on a set of stairs. This time we went down instead of up. The stairs were also done differently, no décor of any type, just plain white walls and dusty steps.
“So your boss is the Wolf?” I asked.
I’d meant it as a joke, but Pierre stopped climbing the stairs and stared back at me in shock. “He. . .he told you that? He told you his name?”
“Wow. That’s really good acting. Does he pay you for that?”
“Excuse me?”
“Does Mr. Furry Wolf pay you to pretend he’s different animals so that he can get women in bed?”
“That’s a tricky question.” He adjusted his collar as if it was ruffled. “It’s clear that he’s lied about some things, but. . .he is the famous artist, Wolf. I’m just. . .thoroughly shocked that after all of these years, he’s come out to you, someone he’s. . .”
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “He’s been interested in for a while.”
“Interested?”
“Very interested.”
“For a while?” I eyed him. “We’ve only met today.”
“He’s been intrigued by you for some time.”
“What are you saying?”
Pierre seemed to look off beyond me. “I can’t believe he told you his street name.”
“Oh come on.”
Pierre maintained that straight face. “You really don’t believe him?”
“I don’t believe him or you.” I walked past Pierre. “So where’s this gallery? I’m ready to meet up with my friends.”
“He is the Wolf,” Pierre said behind me.
“Yeah. Yeah.” I got to the top, opened the door, and headed down the only way one could go.
“Mrs. Red? Hold on, please.”
I stopped and turned his way. “What?”
“You cannot tell this to anyone. His identity must be kept secret. I’ll need you to sign paperwork before you go.” He toyed with that collar some more. “In fact, I’ll rush some papers up to you within a few minutes.”