Consequences Shannon Ch 02

Almost a year later and Shannon is returning home after a fruitless search for Stan. This is the conclusion to Consequences-Shannon & The Promise.

Edited by LadyCibelle with my thanks.

Consequences-Shannon: The Promise -- Part two

I looked out the window of the plane as we looped out over Lake Michigan before making our final approach into Chicago O'Hare. It had been a long flight and I was just happy to see the end of my travel in sight. The week I spent in Frankfort, followed by three days in Brussels, four days in Amsterdam, back to Essen before flying to Frankfort again and then home had been fun at first, then less so as the days passed until finally all I wanted was to be home in my bed. Traveling was fun for a short time but nothing but work after that.

The trip had been part business, part pleasure. The business part was more than enough to offset the expense of spending sixteen days in Europe since I was compensated for my travel. Two weddings, both in old castles that had been rented out, one ceremony dealing with some kind of title given out, and one graduation ceremony: all for very well-to-do individuals. The rest of the time was spent haunting the art galleries looking for any trace of Stan: plenty of Mallards on display with high price tags but no hint of Stan. It had been almost ten months since he left and I was becoming nervous. No word, no calls, no letters, nothing. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing. If he was doing commission work, no one else would know of it.

When we landed, I found my car and headed back toward the home I shared with my husband Stan. Since he left I had been working almost twelve hours a day just to keep myself busy so as not to go crazy. I worried for the first six months, not believing he would continue to not contact me but after hearing nothing, I finally believed he would keep his word. After all wasn't that part of this? His word? My word? My word meant nothing as I had proved to him with my affair. His word had always been his bond and he was known as a man who kept his promises. He did, I didn't!

I unpacked, scanned the log to see who had called and with no call from Stan, I let it go till later. I fixed myself a small meal, drank two cups of coffee and tried to decide what to do with the time difference. It was after seven when we landed but it was well past midnight according to my body. I finally gave up and went to bed. Tomorrow was soon enough to begin to fit back into my limited world.

My first call was to April Woodard, my new agent. Marty was history and had been since that day ten months ago when Stan left. I assumed that Stan had fired him as well so I never even called him to see if he knew where Stan was. I was desperate, but not that desperate. Marty could die and eat shit for all I cared. Not that he was fully at fault but one of us should have been more responsible. I wasn't, so that left him for me to blame. Why the hell not! I knew my part all too well. Let him suffer like I was! But I knew there was no chance of that. He was probably living the life with some young piece on his arm.

This was getting me nowhere but it had been my habit lately to let my mind wander into areas it shouldn't. I was counting to ten to get myself back into control when April answered.

We talked about my trip and the jobs I completed, then she told me of a job she wanted me to take. It was a showing of a collection of sculptures owned by someone with connections in the collector's world. It was a strange request since these showings were usually private. That was because a lot of the works were obtained either illegally or by dealings with some very shady characters. Either way, ownership was hard to prove. I asked her more about it but she had limited details. She gave me a contact number and a name: James Bergendorf. I didn't know it. She also gave me the quoted price and I almost dropped the phone.

"What did you say? Twenty grand for a photo session? Who the hell is this guy?"

"All I know is that he's richer than God and he asked for you by name. Knows your work, mentioned several of your better ones and told me to have you call."

"You checked him out? He's legit?"

"Yes to all."

"OK, I'll call and set up a meet. I'll get back to you, and thanks April. Good job."

I stared at the contact number for some time before finally calling. I decided 'what the hell.' All I did was work so I might as well make money at it. Not that I needed it. When Stan left, we had almost $400,000 in the bank and over $50,000 in checking alone. Stan's paintings were still selling at the gallery and Janet deposited money almost weekly into our account. I had spent almost nothing the last ten months and made a whole lot more. I guess we were well-to-do. So what?

I finally dialed the number, waited through three, then four, five rings before someone answered.

"Yes? This is the Bergendorf residence. Who may I say is calling?"

"This is Shannon Mallard calling. I was given this number by my agent. I believe a Mr. Bergendorf placed the initial call."

"Of course Mrs. Mallard. Please hold for Mr. Bergendorf."

I heard the phone being laid down on a hard surface than the clicks of someone walking away. Must be a servant or butler or something like that. Meant money. Lots of money. I was wondering why someone would ask for me by name and throw a lot of money into the deal even before talking with me. Well, some people had more money than brains.

"Hello Mrs. Mallard. This is Charles Bergendorf. I'm glad you got back to me. I'd like to hire you for a showing I'm having in two weeks. It will be something that should be right up your alley. Could we schedule a time to meet and discuss it?"

Well OK. Sounds reasonable. I could meet then listen to the details and then make up my mind. Maybe someone who knew either me or Stanley or our works at least recommend me.

"That would be fine. Where would you like to meet?"

"Why don't you come here? That way you could examine the setting while we talk about the contract. I'll have a car come for you, say today at six?"

I hung up after agreeing to meet him but in the back of my mind was a small hint of doubt. This whole thing seemed strange to me but April had done her research and found this guy to be the real thing. I shrugged and went back to my work, letting tonight take care of itself. I worked straight through the afternoon and wrapped up with just enough time to get ready for the car. As I changed into jeans and t-shirt with sneakers I tried to remember if I had ever had a car sent for me. That answer was definitely no.

Right at six, a limo pulled up in front of my place and I went out where a suited driver waited with the door already open. I slid in, he closed the door and ten seconds later we were on our way. I tried to keep track of where we went but I soon lost all track of distance. I just settled back and waited. Twenty minutes later, we entered what seemed to be an exclusive suburb of western Chicago and pulled into the driveway of one of the large mansions that lined this street. The limo drove around to the back and pulled up under a covered portico. The driver hustled around and let me out, then led me up a short flight of steps and into what appeared to be the kitchen. I guess I was going to be treated as one of the help.

As I prepared to wait to be sent for, I was led to one of the chairs surrounding a very large table. I noticed a man already sitting there and wondered if he were the major domo, the one to get me ready to meet the great man. He rose as I sat down and than sat opposite me. I looked him over and was pleasantly surprised to see he was a handsome man, about my age with coal black hair, piercing green eyes, a strong jaw with a dimple in the center of his chin. He appeared to be tall and very lean with wide shoulders and a flat stomach. A man obviously who kept himself in trim. He gave off a slight aura of danger and intrigue. I admit I was fascinated with him but remembered that he was the help. Best to wait to see 'the man'.

He was watching me as I evaluated him. He bore it well, a slight smile on his face. As I was about to ask him when we could get started, he stood. "Welcome Mrs. Mallard. I'm Charles Bergendorf. I'm very glad to meet you in person."

"You're Mr. Bergendorf? I expected someone more. . . . "

"Older perhaps? More stodgy and weathered?"

I laughed at being caught out. "Yes, I guess. Please accept my apology and it's nice to meet you as well."

We introduced ourselves and talked together for the next ten minutes. I was fascinated with him and found myself listening and responding to his words, while a part of me was appreciating the package they came in. He was a very attractive man!

He finally rose to lead me around the mansion, starting with the library and then the second floor room where he intended to arrange the displays. He showed me the lighting, the area to be used for display and where the walkways would be, and in general the layout of the final setup. I took my measurements, recorded the light intensity at several locations and did most of what I needed. It took about a half hour and he watched while I did my job. I was very aware of him there in the background but I kept my mind on the job at hand.

When I was done, he led me back downstairs to what I assumed was the drawing room, or the room where guests were taken. He had me sit while he rang a bell sitting on one of the tables. When someone came in, he spoke to her, then joined me as she left. He took a chair next to mine and asked me my opinion of the room and the job he wanted me to do. We spoke of timing, intentions and general items and I got the idea of what he expected. I told him I could do it without problem. He seemed pleased.

Just then, the young woman reentered the room with a tray with glasses and a decanter. She placed it on a small table, then turned and left without a word. He rose, poured two fingers in each glass, added two ice cubes, and handed one to me.

"Scotch. One of my favorite blends. Please try one with me."

Scotch was one of my weaknesses. I loved scotch but drank it rarely. This looked marvelous: beautiful color, good cling and a wonderful aroma. I swirled it, watched the play of light as it flowed then sipped. Fantastic! I raised my glass to my host.

"Absolutely wonderful. Thank you. Scotch is one of my favorites as well. I rarely have any this good."

"You're every welcome. I'm glad to find a kindred spirit. Have a second, please."

I did, beginning to feel the warmth in my center and relaxed. We spoke of personal things then and I found him to be single, divorced for the past five years, with a son in college. He inherited his money but had built on the family fortune rather than diminishing it. He seemed to be involved in trading arts and valuables for a living. Thus the show.

Time passed so quickly and it was time for me to leave. He called for the car and then walked me back to the kitchen area. As we walked, I noticed his hand on my arm, on the small of my back, on my shoulder. He kept his hand on me as we stood waiting, and I found his touch to be gentle and warm. I enjoyed it almost too much. I was disappointed when the car came and the door opened. He walked me to the car and the driver left us alone.

"I enjoyed your company tonight Shannon. I may call you Shannon? And please call me Charles."

"Of course you may Charles. And I enjoyed it as well. Thank you for thinking of me for this assignment."

"You are the best and that's what I want." He paused for a moment then, "Would you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Here at the house? I have a marvelous chef who would be delighted to plan a meal for us. Please join me Shannon?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to check my schedule. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Don't call. If you call, it will be to tell me you can't come. I'll expect you unless you call."

"Fine. If I can make it, I won't call."

"Perfect. I'll send the car for you at seven. Dress casually please. It'll be just the two of us." I slid in, my heart beating a little too fast. He closed the door and we left.

Later at home, I cursed myself for not just saying no. I had no business considering his invitation. This was a job, nothing more. But I kept seeing his face, feeling his touch and I couldn't get his voice out of my head. He was so damn handsome, so charming, and I was so much alone. What could it hurt, an evening out with a man who was all the things that Stan was. I missed him so much but I needed company. I finally decided to go and just enjoy the evening. Just a pleasant evening with a fascinating man. Nothing more. In bed that night, I found myself getting wet just thinking about him. I used my fingers to get rid of the tingle, alternating who I imagined between my legs; first Stan and then Charles. I finally fell asleep, smiling.

The following day seemed to drag so slowly. I was thinking about Charles and dinner and more of that scotch. I reminded myself that I was still a married woman and that Stan was my husband and that I loved him so much. For awhile that was enough to bring me back to earth and calm my jitters. With Stan, I needed nothing more. But by late afternoon, I remembered that Stan wasn't here and Charles was.

As I dressed, I found myself thinking of both men. Stan was older, heavier, not as well toned as Charles, but he was also intelligent, smooth, loving and wise. Charles was younger, more buff, intelligent, and smooth. I didn't know enough to go any further but Charles definitely had possibilities. Not for anything but friendship and entertainment. Nothing more. I would make sure it stayed that way. Stan was coming home in just a few weeks. I had to remember that.

In a repeat of last night, the driver escorted me up the steps and into the kitchen where Charles, dressed in slacks, an open collar shirt and a light jacket, escorted me the rest of the way to a small private dining room. He seated me and then sat down opposite as the first course was served. We ate, shared a bottle of a red wine, talking and enjoying each other's company before moving to a small sitting room where Charles poured us both a scotch. I was pleased when he did so, looking forward to more of that delicious blend he introduced me to the night before. As he poured, I noticed again how attractive he was: the tight body, the wide shoulders, the coal black hair worn long, almost to his shoulders. He brought two tumblers back and handed one to me as he sat beside me.

"You look very beautiful tonight Shannon. But then you are a beautiful woman. That's one of the things that attracted me."

"Thank you Charles, but that has nothing to do with my ability as a photographer."

"But it does affect my choices. I want the beauty of my collection to come through and what better way than to have it photographed by a beautiful woman?"

"Charles, are you flirting with me?"

"Yes. And I would love to get to know you better, more intimately."

In the back of my mind, a voice was screaming at me to get up, move away and leave. I listened, but the voice had little effect on me. His closeness, the smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand on my bare skin, all combined to suppress that voice. I knew that I wanted this man to touch me, to hold me, to make love to me. It had been so long without Stan and I was hurting. The love I had for Stan was complete but my passions needed some outlet. I needed Stan but he wasn't here. Charles was.

"I don't know Charles. You know I'm married."

"Where is your husband? Is he here? I think not. I know he left you almost a year ago and he has not returned. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, but he promised he would return after a year. I have to wait. He'll keep his promise, I know he will. He's a man of his word."

"But you are alone now, and I am here. It's just you and I and no one around to see. You want me now and no one would know. Just you and I. His word will not answer that need I see inside you. I can fill that need. And only you and I will know."

I felt his hand on my bare shoulder and the touch was almost electric. His voice was almost hypnotic and the words he spoke were true. I was alone and I needed more than the promise Stan left me with. And if I fell, no one would know. No one but me.

When Charles rose and held out his hand, I hesitated only a second before reaching out. He pulled me to my feet and led me down a hallway into a bedroom with a large circular bed, complete with a light pink silk comforter. I saw it only for a second before my eyes were drawn to Charles who stood in front of me. He reached around to the zipper at the back of the short dress I wore and before I could react, had my dress pooled around my feet. I looked down, my mind not catching up with the events happening to me. As I looked, I felt my bra fall to join the dress. When I looked up again, Charles was removing his shirt and slacks. I watched as if I had no will of my own. I was fascinated by the fingers that deftly unbuttoned his shirt and then his belt and fastening. Like my dress, his slacks fell down to the floor. I reached toward him to help him with the shirt. I let my hands remain behind touching the soft skin of his shoulders and chest. He pulled me back with him and I stepped from the pooled dress to follow.

He sat down on the bed and motioned me to turn around, facing away from him. I did as he directed and then I felt hands on my hips as he pulled me onto his lap. I sat, feeling the hard shaft of his erection rest between my legs and the cheeks of my buttocks. His hands moved around to cup my breasts and I let out one long sigh. It had been so long! So very long! As I began to feel moisture between my legs, one of those wonderful hands, so strong and so talented, dropped to feel the heat there. I wiggled in the delightful sensation and began to move my hips when I felt his fingers enter me. I was lost! I had no will left! I came!

It was so sudden that the shudder that wracked my body was so strong Charles had to wrap his arms around my waist and hold me as my climax ran its course. I collapsed into his arms and this time he lifted me from the floor and laid me down on my back on the bed. I was limp but the feelings of lust had returned. I looked up at him leaning over me, his eyes glazed with want, and I lifted my arms, beckoning him to me. He came to me, his body lowering between my legs as he held himself up with his forearms against the bed on either side of me. I reached down between our bodies to feel his erection. It was hard and long and full and ready. I placed the swollen head between the lips of my sex and guided him inside me. He lowered his hips then to drive himself into me.

From then on it was just his body and mine, joined together in a haze of lust and wonton sexual frenzy. Charles brought me to the peak over and over before letting me drop into that pit of pleasure. I was drowning in a sea of unspeakable delight which went on for hours and hours. I came with abandon, two, three, uncounted times. I felt his fluids draining between my legs and down between the cheeks of my ass. I was saturated with his sex and still wanted more. It continued through the night until we both collapsed in exhaustion. We slept.

The following morning, Charles woke me and we showered together, once more joining our bodies in pleasure. This time was more relaxed and more pleasure than pure lust. It was enjoyable nevertheless. We dressed and then went in for breakfast.

Over eggs and bacon and ham and pineapple slices with syrup we talked as lovers do and I was disappointed when Charles told me the car was here to take me home. He promised to call as did I. He walked me to the car and stood there, watching as we drove away. I leaned back into the softness of the cushioned seats and dreamed of last night. I was still lost in the pleasure of it all when we reached my home. The home I once shared with Stan and hoped to do again.