A Good Scandal

Her laughter was like a beacon, drawing him closer. Holding its own above the droll-like chatter and clinking wine glasses. Charley spied her across the room, fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass as if nothing had happened, as though she was just another patron. He followed her movements; a tilt of the head, smiling as one of his waiters poured a generous amount of red wine into her companion's glass. When he first met her, she told him her name was Simone. Since then he often wondered if that had been true. He hadn't seen her in more than a year and after so much time passed, he wondered if they would ever meet again. Now there she was, steps away, sat across the table from one of the biggest tabloid magnets in the city. Funny, he hadn't taken her for the type. But circumstances had a way of changing one's opinion on matters of lust. In his eyes, she was still that sexy, mysterious stranger that entered his bar on a sexually charged night. That was what he knew about her. The rest, he didn't know at all.

The chatter and busy atmosphere of the Wine Bar went almost unnoticeable to anyone who caught a glimpse of her. It wasn't that she was exceptionally gorgeous—but she was alluring with an earthy skin tone, bright features and stunning curves that oozed seduction. He watched, unable to look away as she parted her full lips, bringing them to the rim of her wine glass. Inside, his need churned. He made up his mind. Starting toward their table, he intended to greet her and see where the night led, but halfway there he was intercepted by one of his longtime patrons. Damn.

****

"How long ago was it that we met?" Simone asked. She was on her third glass of wine, and Jeffrey was giving her that look she knew all too well.

"Good question. One best reserved for a time when we're not on our second bottle of Shiraz," he replied. "But oh well, let's see...I guess, eight years, more or less. You were working on the Stratham book for Taylor and Good." He said, taking another sip of wine before placing his glass back on the table.

"How could I ever forget that? It was my first big assignment as a published author for hire."

"You were well on your way!" Jeffrey proclaimed.

Simone noticed his eyes following her as she toyed with the stem of her wine glass. He liked to watch and though there was never a need to admit it aloud, she delighted in the power she held over him. It brought her back in time to the day they met. She had been commissioned as a ghost writer for a B-list celebrity's biography but her subject was proving more difficult than she had anticipated. During one of her worst days on the project, she had asked for a meeting with her publisher, hoping to break her contract with as little damage to her reputation as possible. Jeffrey, a close friend of her publisher, happened to be visiting with his own book idea. Although she hadn't asked for it or even welcomed it, he'd offered up the rights to his biography—a much sought after project by half the writers in the city—now exclusively hers.

"And for double the money," she heard him say.

She smiled, as memories of the past made way for the present. She glanced across the table, studying his chameleon eyes as they curiously traveled over her face. His intentions were clear and on another night Simone might have indulged such attention. But not this time. Tonight she had other plans.

"Now I have a question for you..." he started.

"And what would that be?" She asked.

"What's with the guy over there? He's been staring at you all night."

"Oh him? Nothing. We fucked." She took another sip of her wine. "It was before you." She didn't know if it was a heady mixture of the wine or the anticipation of what was to come, but her thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at all, and the words, naughty and otherwise were rolling off her tongue like music notes.

Jeffrey grinned, and it was all she could do to keep from directing him to the bathroom for a quick swat on the bottom. Instead, she brought one high-heeled foot to bear between his open legs. A hazy expression crossed his face as he cleared his throat. Simone absorbed the moment. Like primal pheromones in the air, she was addicted to the game. When Jeffrey closed his legs, capturing her foot between his thighs, she chided him and herself. It was too early to give him hope. Contrary to their roles, Simone respected and cherished their relationship. With Jeffrey she never had to hide who she was. But there were rules. Their nighttime dalliances were indecent-she didn't deny that. But the trust between them would not be trampled. She tempered his enthusiasm with a furrow of her brow.

"All in due time," she replied.

He pouted, his lips as pretty as a woman's.

"I wish I knew what you had in mind."

Simone looked away, masking the joy she derived from Jeffrey's impatience. She stole another glance at the handsome man dressed in black drinking her in from across the room. Her gaze traveled from his head to his designer shoes, taking in his style and attire; a hybrid of typical urban yuppie and modern hipster. She dropped her attention to his hands, how they clamped down on the back of a dining chair as he greeted a more than eager group of young females. Amused by his hustle, her mind drifted on a memory. Recalling how those hands looked bound behind his back moments before he climaxed. The binds left a mark. One she was sure remained embedded within him long after their brief encounter ended.

Simone contemplated her latest game. Although she was long over converting the vanilla, there was something sexy, hungry and willing about him; an aura ready to be mangled and tamed for her viewing pleasure. Turning back to Jeffrey, she thought now is the time to fess up. She began to speak when their waiter returned to the table with another bottle of wine and two fresh glasses.

"Pardon me...I have a beautiful Shiraz from Barossa Valley. Compliments of the owner. It has a wonderfully rich plum flavor with a smoky hint of chocolate." He placed the glasses in front of them on the table and then gracefully leaned over to pour the wine. Simone caught a preview of what else he had to offer, as his well-defined arms extended from his rolled-up shirt sleeves. Jeffrey brought the rim of his glass to his nose and inhaled.

"Not bad," he said. "Tell the owner, gratzie." The waiter flashed Simone a smile; one that walked a line between charming and suggestive. Jeffrey caught the exchange. "But I've had better," he added.

"It has a diverse flavor—an acquired taste that for some takes longer to appreciate." The waiter tried to disguise it behind a charming smile, but Simone saw the way his eyes lit up at his one-upping. She was impressed, no one dared to challenge Jeffrey. Well, no one but her. By the stunned look on Jeffrey's face, he was surprised as well. The waiter plucked their old glasses from the table, and then made his way back across the room. Simone couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the owner had in store for them.

"Have your eyes set on a new boy toy?" Jeffrey teased.

"Since when have you known me to be the boy toy type? My tastes lean toward men and even with them, I'm not so sure anymore." The comment felled Jeffrey's excitement. Aww his jealousy is cute. She reached across the table to stroke his hand. "You're always the exception, my love. Besides..." she caught a glance of the man staring at her from across the room—the owner of the wine bar. "I thought we'd try something new tonight. Something tastier."

She turned back to Jeffrey who had followed her gaze and sat upright in his seat like an obedient puppy anticipating a treat. He waited, arching a brow; his keen features alight with curiosity as he took another sip of the wine he had dismissed moments before.

"Do tell," he said, finishing off what remained in his glass. "I'm always up for a good scandal."

***

Under the table, the heat from Simone's high heel lingered between Jeffrey's legs. He sought her eyes. The desire behind them burned like lanterns. When she turned away, toward the man at the far end of the room, recognition took hold. Jealousy; a caged beast, broke loose inside him whenever he imagined her with another man. He knew it was wrong. They were friends after all. On and off lovers with darker appetites at best. It wasn't his place to interfere. But his wants sometime outweighed his judgment. Simone turned back to him, the passion in her eyes now morphed into something darker, wicked. It excited him to see that look, even if it wasn't for him. Simone's way. She had staked her claim. To others not in the know, her actions might seem cruel. But for him...he couldn't help coming back for more.

He put on a brave face, although a building fire threatened to spread in his trousers. Simone's high heel brushed his foot under the table as her smokey gaze settled in his direction. Disarming, as she was, he knew better. All the passion from before directed itself elsewhere. He cleared his throat.

"What?" Simone asked him.

"I see something stirring behind those mischievous brown eyes," he said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh. Something."

"Uh huh," he mouthed against the rim of his glass and chuckled.

"Play nice," she chastised, reaching across the table and stroking the back of his hand with her red fingernails. "Tonight is special."

Jeffrey sipped the last of his wine, anxious to have another if only to settle his nerves. He shared intimacies with other women in the past. Ladies that tamed Saudi oil barrens and brought shrewd politicians to their knees. He even indulged in some naughty scenes with a few of them. But what he shared with Simone was different. She brought the world to heel. Helen of Troy revisited. He lived to please her. To anticipate her desires. And tonight was no different. He knew what she wanted. His name was Charley, and per Simone, he owned the wine bar. From the moment they arrived, Jeffrey had felt the energy between them. The way Charley stared at her all night, and how she stole peeks at him from time to time. Simone was never good at keeping secrets from in-not when it came to her wants and needs. She was an open book. Selfish in her desires, even if she didn't mean to be. Her flirtations were a tease. A way to keep him on his toes. Deliciously cruel.

Now he patiently watched as the lover boy made his way over to their table, his dark eyes a dead aim on Simone. He settled in. Prepared for whatever was to unfold.

Simone's way.