2404
Surrender Court
Since this was the first of what I imagined would be numerous romantic evenings in our temporary business/love affair; I dressed the part. An aqua cocktail dress which flared freely around the hips accentuated my flat tummy and framed my bosom for optimal viewing. Nothing extravagant mind you, but sufficiently formal to set the tone, yet playfully suggestive. And even though it was a bit tight in places, I didn't expect to keep it on for very long.
Given the new circumstances, I was a bit unsure about my arrival time. If I was Mark's realtor, I would get to the house fifteen minutes early, turn all the lights on and generally get the place ready to sell. But if I was his lover, I'd be several minutes late... a lady never waits for the gentleman. I compromised and planned to arrive exactly at 7:00 pm.
It was no coincidence that the property I chose was one of the higher end homes on my list. It was on a ten-acre wooded lot with no neighbors in sight. A well-stocked bar ensured we wouldn't get thirsty. The master bedroom sported a four-poster king sized bed with a secluded hot tub just outside. An enormous bathroom included a multi-headed shower... perfect for soap and sex events. The second floor had a large media room with comfortable couches and throw pillows, just in case we needed a place for post coital snuggling while watching a romantic movie. Best of all, the owners were out of town for a few days. Spending the night was definitely an option.
I arrived five minutes before seven. The 'hard charging realtor' taking precedence over the 'woman on a date' I told myself. But it had been six months since I broke off my engagement. Six months since I'd been with a man... in the proper sense. Perhaps my slightly early arrival was inspired more by anticipation of physical instead of professional fulfillment.
A white SUV with out of state tags was parked at the end of the quarter mile tree lined driveway. Mark's rental was a blue Ford. The realtor lock box was still secured to the front door, but I heard music coming from inside the house and smelled the hint of smoke.
Great. A burglar. What better way to screw up a romantic evening than inviting the Sherriff and Fire Departments to the party?
A smart girl would have immediately got back in her car and driven away as she called 911. The slightly lustful optimist snuck around to the back yard -- not an easy trick in two-inch heels -- to see if there might be another explanation.
"Shit. I'm overdressed"
, I thought when I spied Mark in shorts and a T-shirt.
Not wanting to look overly paranoid, I made my way back to the front door, opened it the proper way, and walked into the vaulted entry. The house smelled of freshly baked bread with another enticing scent mixed in. Classical music played softly through built-in speakers as I stopped briefly by the dining room. Two place settings of fine china were separated by a center piece of red roses and white candles. A tossed salad sat on the kitchen counter. The sliding glass doors which led to the patio were wide open. Mark's back was to me as he cooked meat on the grill.
Nice ass
.
Oh God. I hope I didn't say that out loud.
He didn't respond. Good. But I'd have to watch myself. Didn't want to seem too eager.
"You've got a different car," I said.
"Great. You're just in time. Help yourself to a drink. And bring me one of those imported beers while you're at it."
Not quite the response I was expecting. No comment on my dress or how absolutely amazing I looked in it. In fact, he didn't even turn to see me. But there were nearly twelve hours until dawn. Hours I was sure we would use to our mutual advantage.
I poured his beer into a frosted mug and opened what had to be a hundred-dollar bottle of wine for me.
"Whatever you're cooking smells divine." I handed him the beer, brushing his arm with my breast in the process, and then held up my wine glass for a toast. "To a profitable and pleasurable relationship."
I sipped my wine. He took a healthy chug of his beer and then let his eyes wander over my body.
"My, my Miss Moorehead. You do clean up good."
If you only knew.
I helped him put dinner on the table and then, just before we sat down, he excused himself, went upstairs and returned wearing a suit.
"Sorry to make you wait. I didn't want to cheapen this evening by being underdressed for dinner."
Oh my god he looked good. Like he just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot on his way to his private jet.
"I opened another bottle," he said as he refilled my wine glass. "This should go better with the aged beef."
Screw the wine. Screw the aged beef. Let's clear off the table, get naked and do it right here in the dining room.
"Why did you change rental cars?" I asked, hoping the subject would take my mind off sex long enough to finish eating.
"Security. I never use the same rental car or agency for more than two days."
"You sure are worried about that stuff. Should I be concerned?"
"Probably not. Some of my competitors have been known to get nasty at times. But they usually don't take it out on my associates and most of their reprisals are financial."
"Interesting wording Mr. Seiman.
'Probably not...'
'...usually don't...'
'Most of their reprisals...'
"All that makes me think there have been cases where those around you have gotten hurt. Are you sure we're just selling real estate?"
"Not to worry. Stay close to me. Do what I say, and you'll come out of this a very wealthy and satisfied woman."
"So, you are more than a real estate broker?"
"We are all more than we seem."
"Hey. If you don't want to tell me, just say so."
"I thought I just did."
"Okay mystery man. If you won't tell me who you are, can you at least tell me how you got into this place today? It was supposed to be locked up tight with an armed security system. Yet when I showed up, you looked like you owned it."
"Could I interest you in some dessert? Perhaps some Crème Brule with a cherry topping?"
Since he refused to answer my questions, we continued dinner in relative silence. Mark was an excellent cook, far better than me. But his house keeping skills left something to be desired. When dinner was done, the used pots and pans remained on the kitchen counter and the dirty dishes never left the dining room table. I got the feeling he was used to other people cleaning up his messes.
Bypassing the cluttered kitchen, he took my hand and led me upstairs. "I wonder if you might join me in one of my favorite evening activities."
Oh yes. Please. Anywhere and any way you want. Missionary on the bed. Doggie style in the kitchen. Underwater in the hot tub. Or all three, followed by a dirty swim in the pool.
"What did you have in mind?"
"First things first. Now that the formal part of the evening is over, let's search the closets and see if we can find something more comfortable to wear."
