The way her breasts had risen out of the plunging neckline of that dress, all pillowy cream and seduction. How sweet and slick she’d felt when I’d stroked her. How eager she’d been, so turned on by the slightest touch. She made all the other women I knew seem boring.
And I knew some extremely not-boring women. Thursday night at a black tie fundraiser for something-or-other, one of them approached me in a classic Chinese silk dress, the slit hitting high up her thigh, her 5-inch heels suggesting at the least an openness to kink. She knew how to flirt, touching my chest when she didn’t need to, licking her lips to draw my attention to them.
I’d sipped my drink and nodded, letting her do it but not feeling tempted in the least. She’d finally moved on in something of a huff. And she wasn’t the only one to try to capture my attention and time. I could almost picture Caroline rolling her eyes at my arrogance, but the truth was what it was. Women wanted a piece of me.
Usually, I was more than happy to enjoy their company. I had an insatiable appetite and a well-deserved reputation for always delivering. No woman left my bed—or couch or table or rug in front of the fireplace—unsatisfied. Unable to walk right, perhaps, but she’d have a big smile on her face.
I didn’t even usually mind passing time with the women I knew through school and family, the Ivy League degree-wielding, power-broker types who sought me out for my pedigree and the all-access pass I provided to even the most elite upper crust circles. I was a baron for Christ’s sake. My family owned tapestries woven in the 16th century depicting my forefathers victorious in the hunt. Women dug it. I couldn’t blame them.
Some might think arranged marriages were a thing of the past, but they just didn’t know the right people. That classic analysis of assets and acquisitions, surveying each and every potential match with an eye toward material advantage? That still went on big time with the people I knew, and I was at the top of more than one young woman’s list of Most Desirable Matches. They’d been prepared to be a powerful businessman’s wife from the day they were born, even before if you counted the marriages secured by their mothers before them. With all the right accomplishments and associations, clubs and degrees, they’d been ferried around by nannies to tennis, dance, French, horseback riding and piano lessons since the time they could walk.
“You’ll have to join us this weekend,” one of them suggested to me later that night at yet another event. “We’re starting the season early this year.”
“I’ll consider it.” I thanked her, already bored with the Hamptons before I’d even been. I’d logged a lot of time there over the years. I had my own place, of course, in East Hampton, and as many of my associates summered there I was usually a regular on the circuit.
But I wasn’t feeling it just then. I wanted to go somewhere more off the beaten path. Somewhere Caroline might enjoy, and where I could enjoy her without hopping on the endless social carousel. She’d mentioned wanting to go to Paris. Maybe I could steal her away for a week? I had business in London and Germany, then I could fly from there to Hong Kong. Maybe she’d like to join me for that as well?
Another socialite took off in yet another huff. I didn’t care. I turned to my phone and sent Caroline a text.
Me: Still thinking of how you called out my name last night.
I smiled, imagining her blushing as she read it. She was so much fun to tease. I’d see her again in three days. Three days too long.
§
Friday my younger sister Gigi called. I wasn’t used to hearing from her. She was eight years younger than me, only six years old when I’d essentially moved out to attend boarding school. She’d graduated from college last year, but she still lived down near the venerable Southern institution she’d attended. Known for its preppiness and old money families, I liked the thought of her safely and securely tucked in there still among her sorority sisters and little college functions.
“I’m moving to New York!” she informed me.
“Are you sure?” I couldn’t help but feel fatherly concern. It was a big city and Gigi still struck me as blissfully naive.
“I’ve got an internship lined up!” She told me about the home décor magazine she’d be working for, sounding enthused as she always did. Gigi enjoyed life.
“Good for you.” I liked that she’d arranged the internship on her own, without asking for my help. I would have helped her, of course, but it showed initiative on her part. Still, she needed help figuring out where to live.
“Some more advance notice would have helped,” I grumbled, but I knew I could find something for her. Money and connections like mine would get her set up nicely in an Upper East Side doorman building, not far from where both our Gram and I had places, too.
“I love you, Colt!” she sang out. Always so much more free with her affection than the rest of us, she was such a bright spark in our family. “I hope I get to see more of you when we live in the same city.”
“I’d like that.” I always liked being around Gigi. Her enthusiasm for life was infectious.
“And what about a girlfriend, Colt? Do you have one? Gram and I were talking about how nice it would be if you settled down.”
“Shouldn’t this be me asking you about your love life?” I interrupted. “I’m your older brother.”
“But you’re the one who’s thirty,” she reminded me.
After we said our good-byes, I swiveled my chair around to look out the window. New York hummed and buzzed with life all around me. I’d turned thirty last month, with the requisite bash of course, and I hadn’t thought much of it. I was in the prime of my life and the world was my oyster. It wasn’t as if I was having a mid-life crisis.
And I certainly wasn’t going to settle down because my younger sister and grandmother thought it was a good idea. Besides, they should already be in matchmaking heaven with my brother, Ash, recently married and my youngest brother, Heath, engaged. My half-brother, Declan, was married, too, and he’d even started a family with two little boys. That should take the heat off of me.
But, funny, when Gigi mentioned settling down it didn’t chafe as much as it usually did. I didn’t exactly see myself as the old comfortable married type, relaxing in my recliner with a potbelly, looking over at the same woman day-in, day-out. But with the right woman, maybe it wouldn’t feel so constraining? Someone like Caroline?
Whom I’d known for all of one week, I reminded myself, trying to turn my attention to the next task at hand. The strange, constant pull I felt toward Caroline had to simply be due to novelty. I’d never met anyone like her. That was the cause of my fixation. I just needed some more time with her and I’d likely get her out of my system. A lot more time with her. Because I’d never met anyone as responsive and delightful and sweet and shy and so fucking hot she could cause a nuclear meltdown.
I liked how she tried to fight her attraction to me. I liked even more when she gave in, that sweet surrender. None of the rehearsed, practiced moves of the women I knew, with Caroline it felt like she was discovering her arousal more than advertising it. She wasn’t trying to entice, she was trying to resist, and to me that was like waving a red flag in front of a goddamned bull.
That night, I declined an invitation to attend a private late-night party. An experienced dom would be breaking in a new sub, all for the viewing pleasure of a select few. It would be hot, I had no doubt, watching a woman get turned on, deeply aroused through an exploration of the taboo. Her pussy on display, spread open, growing wet with desire as her master played with her. Knowing she got off being watched, too, that was potent. And there were sure to be women in attendance becoming as aroused and ready as the men. Standing next to a woman, both watching a scene, scenting her sweet, musky arousal, then taking her into a private room to explore how much she enjoyed taking her punishment. It usually got me hard just thinking about it.
But that night, after attending the typical networking function or two, by midnight I found myself back in my penthouse alone. When I closed my ey
es, I pictured Caroline in that dress. The deep V, her demure necklace nestled in between the mounds of her breasts. I needed to lick, taste her creamy skin, suck on those nipples I’d felt stiffen under my fingertips. I wanted to play with her for hours.
Caroline.
Two days left.
She had no idea what kind of a storm was coming for her.
§
I had business in Silicon Valley or I would have flown directly to Redwood Bay. I couldn’t ever remember feeling this impatient to see a woman. Sure back when I’d been a teenager I’d gotten worked up over girls. But that wasn’t this. That was the rush of the first, the first time you got to this or that base, the first time you had sex.
Funny how Caroline felt like a first. It didn’t make any sense, but there it was.
Monday mid-afternoon I had a meeting to listen to them present their proposal for an eco-resort, friendly to the endangered lichen. Attendees were myself, plus her, plus all of the environmental yahoos making up her entourage.
She wasn’t wearing that red dress when I walked into the conference room. A shame. But then I also felt possessive of her in that dress. I didn’t want just anyone to see her in it. I wanted her to wear it for me and me alone later on, then unwrap her like a longed-for present.
“Welcome!” The environmental activists gave me a warmer welcome today than last week. No one had chained themselves to anything this time around. I’d just have to tie up Caroline myself later.
“Hey.” She looked so shy when she saw me, her voice quiet, but a smile playing on her full lips. She didn’t look like she’d been up since four a.m. I remembered she’d told me that was her daily schedule, but she looked bright-eyed and excited to see me.
I thought I said hello, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t want to say hello. I wanted her in my arms to show her hello. But first we had to get through this meeting.
Slides and more slides. The hippies had really gotten into it. They wanted this, that and the other thing. I nodded, all the while watching Caroline. She fidgeted quite a bit. Maybe she was itching the same way I was.
They were talking about some lavish eco-resort in Fiji. I’d heard of it, but never been. By all accounts it was over-the-top, with oceanfront villas offering complete privacy, some only accessible by boat. A complete impossibility for the rugged, foggy Pacific Northwest coastline and so entirely irrelevant. But they were right. That resort in Fiji was a wonderful place.
It wasn’t until Caroline stood up and talked through some slides that I got the idea. A wickedly wonderful idea. An idea that I knew the second I had it I had to make it happen.
“What do you think?” she asked breathlessly as she sat back down next to me. I caught her scent as she moved, light with a hint of strawberries and honey.
“We have to go check it out,” I agreed, suppressing all but the slightest glint of mischief in my eye.
“What?” She’d clearly not expected me to say anything of the sort.
“You and I. We’ll have to fly to that resort in Fiji. That’s the only way to be sure. Then I can have my team start drawing up plans.”