Déjà Vu: St. Barts Chapters 13 & 14

Chapter 13

“Don’t,” she said in a sudden surge of panic. “Please, don’t!”

Lennon removed his hands from Alex’s eyes. “What’s the matter? I was just going to surprise you. I set the table for dinner on the patio and have made one of the entrées I’m going to include on the menu.”

“I don’t like not being able to see. I’m slightly claustrophobic.”

Lennon looked puzzled. “But you wrote those books, about bondage and s and m. I thought maybe, that’s what you were into. I haven’t said anything, thinking you’d take the lead. It’s not something I’ve tried.”

“You thought…because of the books. Sorry, I hope you’re not disappointed but I’m not into any of that.”

“Then how do you know so much about it? I could tell by the books you didn’t just read a couple of articles. It felt like you’d experienced it personally. Or maybe you’re just that good of a writer.”

Alex felt the ripple of panic ebb and she slid into Lennon’s lap, taking comfort from his solid form. “When I was in university I had to take some elective courses and one of them was criminology. Our assignment was to follow a case in the courts and write a critique. I got hooked on this case about a dominatrix. I wrangled interviews with the arresting officer and her lawyer and one day she called and offered to meet me. To ‘fill in the blanks’ she said. I was amazed. Madame X, that’s what she called herself, never gave interviews but I guess her lawyer put in a good word. She lived in this side split bungalow in the suburbs. Basketball hoops in the driveway, kids on bikes, that kind of thing.” Her eyes narrowed with memories. “I couldn’t figure how she’d fit in especially since when she answered the door she could have been anybody, the mom at the PTA meeting or the woman at the grocery store. Her real name was Lynn. She was tall and thin and sort of pretty but not the type that craned heads.”

“Not like you,” Lennon said, nuzzling her neck.

Alex waved off the compliment. “She invited me into her house. It was typical suburbs, down to the old VCR in the living room. But then she took me to the basement. I was expecting a pool table not a dungeon. It was outfitted with all types of gear in leather and vinyl. She had one of those racks for pool cues but it held whips and canes and stuff. The rec room was dark, painted blood red with a thick carpet and a giant black leather upholstered bed with handcuffs attached to the four posts.”

Alex remembered how shaken she was by the juxtaposition of this quiet woman in the suburban house and this strange s and m fantasy. “They didn’t seem to mesh, you know? I could see Lynn knew I was having trouble understanding so she offered to change into Madame X. I was just expecting a costume but it’s like her whole persona changed. When she came out of the closet she was in these thigh high boots with this bustier thing that zipped up the front. But it wasn’t just the outfit. She walked taller and spoke in this husky commanding voice. Telling me to sit up straight and not to interrupt. She had on a mask which covered the top half of her face just leaving her red lips bare and I found myself watching those lips as she spoke. Getting a little turned on when she’d lick her lips with her tongue or purse them as she gathered her thoughts.

She showed me the equipment, gave me a tour. I tried on the gag ball for my mouth, but she saw I got panicky and took it off right away. She hooked up one wrist to a padded handcuff. Even swatted my thigh with one of the whips. It stung a little and afterwards it felt warm. The best part was when she stood next to me and started explaining the dom-sub relationship. I could never be either, I’m too wishy-washy, but Lynn helped me understand what was involved. Most of her clients were guys who ran their own companies, really macho types, even a couple of bikers. They had to be in charge on a daily basis so ceding control to someone else, especially to a woman, was a real turn on.”

Alex scanned Lennon’s face to see if he understood.

“You admired her.”

“I still do. She came from one of the Native reserves in Northern Ontario. Her mom was a meth addict and she had to look after her younger sister and brother. Lynn came south to find work but didn’t even have her high school diploma so she ended up on the streets. She decided if she was going to be a prostitute, she’d be a damn good one. She had this determination to be the best at everything. She’d heard about s and m and how much it paid and so she transformed herself into Madame X. She was smart and hardworking and bought her house and made sure her siblings had better choices. Her brother is a mechanic. A really nice guy. Her sister went to beauty school and Lynn helped her open a salon in Toronto. In many ways,” Alex laughed, “it’s the ultimate capitalist success story.”

Lennon stroked her hair, his face thoughtful. “Do you keep in touch?”

“She emailed me the other day. She finally got her law degree.”

“Does that mean she’s giving it up- the s and m and bondage thing?”

“Lynn doesn’t know. She wants to represent other women who are on the street so there may not be much money in her law practice.”

“She sounds like a survivor.” Lennon’s voice was warm with admiration.

Alex kissed him gratefully. “You do understand. I wasn’t sure. I haven’t told anybody about her before.”

“She was the unnamed woman you thanked in the acknowledgements to your first book.”

“I wouldn’t have written it without her help. She walked me through all the s and m stuff so I didn’t sound clueless or condescending. I owe her a lot.”

Lennon studied her, tracing her brow with one slim finger. “I thought that was what you wanted, and I didn’t know how to go about it. After I read the books, I was worried I wouldn’t be wild enough for you.”

“If you got any more wild, I’d be walking funny. I was worried I wasn’t exotic enough for you, what with all the women you must have known on your travels.” Her eyebrows raised waiting for him to respond in kind.

“Bliss has to stop exaggerating my conquests,” he said with a frown. “It wasn’t like that. Not really. I mean, there were women but not a raft of them like she thinks.”

“You were on your own away from home. Teenaged hormones.” Finally, she would get his backstory.

“They were nice women. Away from home as well. We’d hook up and have a night or two and then go our separate ways. I never wanted anything more.” His voice darkened, “Not with them.”

She was caught on guard by his confession. It was the first time either of them had referred to the future or indicated this wasn’t a temporary fling.

They sat together inhaling each other’s scent, realizing their relationship was changing from the casual to something more. When he reached for her greedily she responded in kind. Their lovemaking was different as well, more intimate. As if their bodies were speaking the same language and when they came together, hands entwined, almost as if they were one person.


“Bliss I can’t wear that!”

Her friend had draped a seafoam green silk dress over her baby bump and was eying Alex critically.

“Of course you can. The colour is better with your eyes and colouring than mine and Charlie has commanded us to get all dressed up tonight. Says we have something to celebrate but the bastard won’t tell me what. It’s not our anniversary. I have that date etched permanently between my thighs,” she added lustfully, her turquoise eyes gleaming at some private memory. Bliss shook her curls out of her face and continued. “Besides, by the time I can get back into it, the style will be out of fashion. Oh, and I picked out a pair of earrings for you too.”

Alex shook her head when she spotted the huge diamond chandeliers.

“They were my mom’s but they look great with this dress. Don’t worry, they’re just loaners.” Bliss pressed the hanger and travel jewellery bag into her hands and smiled. “Seven-thirty. Kind of early but I need my beauty sleep. We’ll meet you and Lennon at the restaurant.”

Alex spent the next few hours in a panic, buying shoes, having her hair blown out and even pitifully begging the salon owner to help her with her make-up. She was fortifying herself with a glass or two of wine when Lennon rang the bell.

It was easy to forget the Larsens’ pedigree most of the time when they were hanging out at the villas or having casual meals, but the thought of getting all dressed up and eating at one of the Michelin-starred restaurants on the island slammed home the differences between them, making her feel insecure and insignificant.

Alex carefully lifted the hem of her dress and picked her way across the courtyard tile. The fabric encased her body in seafoam green, wrapping and lifting her breasts, encircling her waist and then falling in graceful folds to the floor. Her right leg peaked out of a slit that ran from her hip to her ankle and her back was bare to almost the cleft of her buttocks. Alex felt like the trespasser in her own body, what with the spray on photo ready foundation, nude lipstick and unfamiliarly heavy earrings. Her brown curls had been lifted up off her neck and twisted in a messy chignon, exposing the vulnerable skin at the nape, highlighting her shoulders and collarbones. She’d just glanced in the mirror and then turned away, uneasy at the stranger in the reflection.

“Sorry I took so long…” she began breathlessly and then stopped at the sight of him. She’d seen Lennon in his board shorts surfing, in his construction gear at the restaurant and frequently wearing nothing at all, but she’d never seen him all dressed up. He was wearing a summer weight black wool suit with severe lines that somehow enhanced the perfect v-shaped line from his shoulders to his waist. The jacket was open and he was wearing a thin, woven, white linen shirt, glossy with starch and a moss green silk tie that perfectly matched his eyes. His blond hair had been slicked back with product, the locks darker and crisper than usual, slightly curling at the collar. His forehead was exposed, making him appear older and more sophisticated. The severe hairstyle brought his bone structure into bas-relief; the cheekbones bisecting his face, the arrow straight line of his nose and that incredible chiselled jaw. There was nothing boyish about his sensuous lips or the look in his eyes when they swept over her. Both stood speechless, drinking in the other’s appearance, so different from their every day life.

Lennon cleared his throat but his voice was still slightly raspy when he asked, “Could you look any more beautiful?”

Alex felt a blush engulf her cheeks and her cleveage and she looked down embarrassed only to feel the tip of his finger gently raising her chin. Wordlessly, he traced the wing of her brow and the outline of her lips, now parted and suddenly parched. “I didn’t want to go tonight,” he said his fingers slipping to her neck, caressing the pulse beating riotously, “I hate bothering to get all dressed up. But seeing you? I’d live in a tux if you want.”

She shyly smiled at his compliments, offering him a glass of wine.

“If you intend to get out of here in the next three weeks, we’d better go now,” he said refusing the hospitality.

After setting the alarm, Alex made her way gingerly to the car, teetering on exceeding high heels. His hand was familiar, those long tapered fingers entwined with hers, steadying, steaming, making her palms sweat. Watching him drive, she noticed his eyes had narrowed, like they did when they were about to make love. The crystal face of a watch glistened on his wrist, something impossibly thin and impossibly expensive.

Alex felt like Cinderella in her borrowed finery and new shoes and wondered if when the clock struck midnight, she’d been returning home bereft of her prince, her carriage now a mere pumpkin. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, almost solemn. Their usual banter at bay. When Lennon helped her out of the Jeep she asked, “Did Charlie tell you what tonight’s all about?”

“I know. And I approve.” And then he made a gesture at his lips, turning the lock and tossing away the key with a grin.

The restaurant was in an old plantation at the other end of the island. Alex had never been this far out before. It was buried deep in lush greenery, the flagstone path illuminated by evenly spaced lanterns. Then the glass and stone building arose as if out of nowhere from a sea of trees and vines, engulfing them in light and enticing aromas.

Charlie and Bliss were waiting. He was in tails, looking so much at home in formal eveningwear Alex guessed the suit was bespoke. It made him look so sophisticated, she was reminded in a flash of his heritage. Of his Grandfather, Bliss’ Godfather, Sir Henry Clover. An Oscar winning actor. A peer. A fixture of stage and screen and high society. She felt as if she was the unpolished understudy shoved onto the stage on opening night of a West End production of a Noel Coward play.

Charlie rose at their arrival, kissing her hand with panache and a naughty grin. Bliss remained seated, her baby bump hidden beneath the tablecloth, but what Alex could see was breathtaking. Her friend, the woman she’d had a sweaty walk with earlier in the day, the pregnant woman who had to disappear into the bushes for a quick, unapologetic pee, had been transformed into a goddess. Bliss was wearing black. It was an extremely low cut silk dress that exposed the swell of her pregnancy ripened breasts and set off her colouring. Her freckles had been disguised by the lightest of make-up that only added to her incandescent glow. Her hair was half up and half down, the curls around her face held back by jewelled combs then tumbling down her back almost to her waist in a swirl of gold and red and amber. Her turquoise eyes were sparkling, almost as shiny as the matching earrings and necklace nestled against her glowing skin. Alex thought she looked like the sexiest woman on the planet, and judging by the erection nudging the front of Charlie’s trousers, he agreed.

There was already a bottle of champagne chilled so Alex settled her skirts in her chair and lifted a flute for sip. It was so dry against her tongue it was as if it evaporated in her mouth, leaving just the whisper of flavour behind.

“I’ve ordered for the table,” said Bliss daring her brother to complain with one big sisterly glance. “I know the chef. You do not want to be seduced into trying his pasta. Wretched! We used to do better when we were kids,” she said to Lennon.

“I used to do better. Your pasta is still merely passable,” he answered.

The sibling squabbling put Alex at ease and soon she was joining in the conversation, joking with Bliss about when she startled the manicurist at the spa by speaking fluent Vietnamese and discussing the movie adaptation of her novels with Charlie. He’d convinced her to submit his name as a possible director and now they were waiting for the studio’s response.

The conversation ebbed and flowed, interrupted by various dishes. The servers took longer to describe the various courses than it took to eat the delicious morsels. Oysters from the south coast of somewhere with horseradish from somewhere else. Lavender infused biscuits with foie gras and candied apples. Sesame encrusted pigeon legs served with tiny pickled beets, gleaming like rubies on their nest of wild greens.

Even though she was sticking with tap water, Bliss had ordered the wine to go with every course, so Alex was tipsy by the time their entrees arrived. Pork three ways- the belly skin crispy under its teriyaki glaze, a loin pounded and rolled and stuffed with fruit and a tiny, perfect pork spare rib dripping with a spicy sauce. Alex surreptitiously hoovered up her food. Only propriety prevented her from licking the plate.
Bliss and Lennon were less impressed, saying one dish was over seasoned, another overly ambitious. Alex was never more aware of her unsophisticated palate than when Lennon laughed at the choice of salt the chef had chosen for the carrot purée. Charlie was less an intimidating diner, sampling everything and pronouncing Bliss could do better, as if that was enough said.

All through the meal, Alex was aware of Lennon’s touch. Tracing her earlobe as she nibbled delicately on her appetizer. Clutching her thigh through the main course, his hand heating the silk of her dress so much so Alex knew the label must read ‘non-flammable material’. He would intersperse comments with secret, intimate smiles, his eyes dancing.

When Charlie and Bliss huddled over the cheese cart, he leant into her hair, whispering, “I want you so much I could come right now before they serve the Iziadabale.” He smiled at her confusion. “Sheep’s milk cheese from Spain. Difficult to get outside of the country. It’s a hard cheese. They often smoke it, and it’s acidic but terrific. Sorry,” he grinned. “You don’t want to hear about cheese. You want to hear about how I want to taste you. Did you know Alex, that you taste slightly acidic? I love that tang against my tongue when I’m between your thighs.” She ducked her head to cover her blush from Bliss and Charlie as Lennon chuckled at her embarrassment.

They were arguing about dessert- Bliss wanted chocolate, Alex said she would explode if she ate another bite, Charlie didn’t care and Lennon was lobbying for a mango flan, when two women stopped by their table. They were both effortlessly beautiful, clothes hanger thin, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes. Their hair and make-up perfect. The kind of women Alex could never imagine worrying about a zit or stretch marks.

“I told Jennifer it was you,” said the one with the glossy auburn hair that tumbled over her shoulders, accenting a kilometre of cleveage. Alex thought if she bent over just a little bit more to say hello there’d be some nipple.

“Ingrid! How lovely. And Jennifer.” Bliss’s facial expressions belied the welcoming words. Her smile was tight, her eyes angry. Bliss made the introductions. “We went to the same lycée, the same French language school together. Ages ago in California.”

Ingrid’s brown eyes danced when she saw Bliss’ baby bump. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant! Is this the father?” as if unaware of the implied insult.

“My boyfriend, Charlie Clover.”

He laughed slightly as he took Bliss’ hand, gently correctly her. “Certainly more than your boyfriend. How about your lover? Your adoring suitor? Your besotted beau? All would be more apt than a simple boyfriend, don’t you think?” Charlie laid on his plummy upper class English accent thick for his west coast audience. Charlie had just neatly put these two arrivistes in their place.

Ingrid and Jennifer didn’t even flinch at the slight, turning to Lennon with avid eyes. “And you! It’s been so long. At the Vanity Fair Oscar party a few years back.” Lennon had stood politely when the women approached the table and now was engulfed in a full on body hug by the auburn haired woman. Alex bit back a comment, angry at how this Ingrid person was draping that bony body over her date.

Lennon took a tiny step back, reclaiming some personal space. “It’s been a while. What are you doing on St. Barts? It’s not high season.”

“Daddy’s yacht,” said Ingrid, waving away any explanations as if they were all too boring for words. “And you?” She leaned in close as a question mark so that her boobs brushed against his arm. Alex saw Lennon flinch but he answered smoothly, “I’m opening a restaurant.”

“Everybody needs a hobby. When are you coming back home? We could use an extra man at dinner parties. And I remember how you used to love to swim after a meal. I’m still in the guest house at daddy’s. The one with the king-sized bed.” Ingrid might as well have just pulled off her panties and jumped him at the table. Alex seemed to be the only one who was shocked. No one else raised an eyebrow.

Bliss merely asked, “What happened to Carlos?”

“Starter husband,” Ingrid said tossing her hair. No big loss said the motion. “I’m back home, and I’m lonely, Lennon,” she added with a smile, pushing her elbows together so that her tits almost popped out of her dress.

“Maybe I’ll see you when I’m back in town,” was his reply but his hand found Alex’s, stroking her palm as if he could sense her pulse was racing with anger.

Charlie started when the waiter approached. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave for a second,” he said, smiling so charmingly the two women sidled away. “Bliss, I took the liberty of ordering your dessert. A chocolate soufflé.”

She clapped her hands like a little girl. “I haven’t had one in years. Lennon was always better at sweets. I’m too impatient for soufflé, I keep checking the oven and they fall.”

The waiter put the dish in front of her and Charlie poured everyone a fresh glass of champagne. “No one else is having anything?” Bliss asked, her spoon poised above the slightly cracked crust.

“This one’s special. Just for you.”

She savoured her first tiny bite, eyes closed in ecstasy.
But when she went in for a second scoop, her spoon hit something hard in the molten chocolate. She fished the object out of her soufflé, took it in her hand and then grinned as Charlie popped it into her glass of water. The chocolate coating melted away unveiling a ring, a cushion cut diamond the size of a walnut, glistening in the glass.
Charlie fished it out of the water, wiped it on his napkin and moving his chair, got down on one knee next to Bliss, her eyes wide and her mouth formed a huge O.

“I’ve known you your whole life. I changed your diapers, which probably makes me a bit of a perv, but I can’t help it. I adore you. You make my life complete. I want you to marry you Bliss. Before the baby, after the baby, fucking hell, during labour. I don’t care. Just marry me and make me the happiest man on earth.”

Alex was used to Charlie telling stories and making speeches and holding a crowd’s rapt attention with his accent and his way with words, but this proposal for so simple, so sincere, so heartfelt she felt tears welling up. They spilt out onto her cheeks as she looked from Charlie’s earnest, anxious face to Bliss, who was beaming. She nodded, her curls coming undone from the comb on the right side of her face. The curtain of hair bobbed once and Alex her a whisper of an answer, “Yes, please” and the couple was hidden behind a sheen of reddish hair, kissing as if they derived oxygen from one another and not the atmosphere.

Alex turned and looked at Lennon who was smiling so wide it looked as though his face would be cut in two.

“I am so happy for them. And,” he said, kissing the inside of her wrist, “I’m happy we’re both here as witnesses so Charlie can’t back out when he realizes what a pain in the ass my sister really is.”

“When they come up for air, there’s gonna be more champagne. I’d better go to the washroom now.”

“Do me a favour,” Lennon pulled her close and whispered in her hair. “Take off your panties. I want my fingers in you all the way home, getting you wet.”

“Too late.” She smiled at how his eyes shone in surprise. A server showed her the way and she teetered along, wondering if she had to toast the happy couple. Alex couldn’t remember the last time she’d drunk this much.

She was in the stall, idly wondering where the wedding would be when she heard the bathroom door open. Two pairs of platform shoes appeared in front of the stall door. The soles were red- Christian Louboutin. The voices familiar. It was the two women who came to the table, Ingrid and Jennifer, the Larsens’ schoolmates. The stall door next to hers yanked open and she saw a pair of knees hit the floor and heard the sound of retching. The smell of vomit permeated the room followed by a flush and a laugh. Ingrid.

“I may have waited too long to get rid of those calories. I hope that haven’t already settled on my hips.” The two women were back in front of her stall door now. Alex heard the taps run and the sound of someone gargling. “I’m going to have to get my veneers redone soon. Bulimia may be efficient but it’s hell on the dental bills. Oh well, daddy doesn’t mind.”

“What did you think of Bliss? Knocked up. And who’s the guy anyway?”

“I looked him up online over dinner. Charlie Clover. The director. Won an Oscar for that documentary about her dead mom. I wonder if maybe he had a thing for her mother and that’s why he marrying her?”

Jennifer must have made a face because Ingrid continued, “It happens. My friend Marie found her fiancée in bed with her father. Still, if I’d known who he was, I would have been nicer.”

“They just got engaged.”

“Yeah,” said Ingrid. The taps turned off. “Who knows how long it’ll last. Maybe just to give the baby a name. The Brits are funny that way. Inheriting titles and shit. I wouldn’t mind being a Duchess. Do you think he’s a Duke or something?”

Alex stayed as quiet as a mouse, not flushing, not moving, just listening.

Jennifer responded, “I doubt he’s a Duke. You can have him. I want Lennon. He’s even yummier than I remember.”

Alex’s heart skipped a beat when Ingrid boasted, “I’ve had Lennon. In a bathroom just like this. The Hollywood handshake. I was seventeen, he was fifteen. Even then, he was something else. And his cock! I could barely fit it in my mouth. I wonder if it’s filled in along with the rest of him. I’d love a chance to find out.”

“What about the woman he was with? Alex something?”

“Please!” came the dismissive reply. “That three dressed up like a nine? She’s a nobody. Can you imagine her hanging out at the Argyll or mingling at the Soho. I know Lennon. She’s an island fling. He’s slumming. Wait till the A-listers show up in a couple of months. He’ll be out trolling again. He never stays with one woman for long. Soon he’ll come home and when he does, I’ll be waiting. I wouldn’t mind another shot at that cock. Not to mention his money. His family’s loaded. Hey, maybe we could have a threesome with his sexy brother Liam. Can you imagine being sandwiched between the two of them?”

The two women moved onto how they’d experienced a coregasm in pilates class when they exited the bathroom, leaving Alex shaking.

When she emerged from the stall, she took a long look in the mirror. A three dressed up like a nine. A nobody. Lennon was slumming. Cinderella indeed. Her panties were wadded up in her fist and she jammed them into her purse, too weary to bother putting them back on. She fixed her lipstick with shaking fingers and went back to the table, a smile plastered on her face as rejoined the table determined to act as though her entire world hadn’t just been blown apart

Chapter 14

When she got back to the table, Bliss and Charlie were arguing about the wedding. He wanted London, she wanted St. Barts but admitted that was unlikely since her father probably wouldn’t attend.

“You were gone a while,” Lennon observed, as he spread her napkin on her lap, his fingers lingering for a fleeting second on the folds of her dress between her thighs. He stroked lightly, once, inhaling sharply when he realized she had followed his instructions and wasn’t wearing any underpants. With one smooth motion, he signalled for the cheque, his arm rigid as it lay in deceptive languor across her shoulders. He and Charlie had a bit of a wrangle over the bill but Lennon won. “You are going to have to pick up Bliss’s bills from now on. Trust me. This is the least of it.”

Bliss just grinned. She couldn’t seem to stop grinning. The two women waited at the entrance as the men went to get the cars. “I hope you’ll be my maid of honour.”

“What?” Alex was astonished by the request. They hadn’t known each other that long and surely someone like Bliss would have countless closer friends.

“I want you to be part of it. You and Lennon. You’re here for the proposal and you should be along for the vows. Make sure Charlie doesn’t get cold feet,” she laughed off the ridiculous notion. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now, I want to go home, have Charlie rub my feet and have jungle sex with my fiancé. God, I love that word. Fiancé! And, I love my ring.” She extended her hand so that the diamond twinkled like starlight in the glow from the lanterns.

Alex hugged Bliss tightly. “I’m so happy for you both. For all three of you, the baby included. I think your mom would be happy as well.”

Bliss’ eyes welled up. “You always know the perfect thing to say. That’s why you have to be my maid of honour. To stop me from putting my foot in my mouth.”

Lennon and Bliss exchanged a hug goodnight and Alex heard her name mentioned. She asked Lennon about it on the drive home but he sloughed off the question, intent on sliding up her dress and slipping his fingers between her thighs. “If you were any wetter, you’d slide off the seat,” he growled.

“If I were any wetter around you, I’d have to wear Depends.” She closed her eyes giving into sensation. Putting the ugly words she’d overheard in the bathroom to the back of her mind. Ignoring the stab of regret, the flood of insecurity. They may not have any future but they had this, here, now.

Lennon’s fingers stroking her, teasing her thighs to open wider. His voice urging her to put the seat back. He turned the dome light on, so he could see her spread wide and wet. And narrowly missed turning into a stone wall. A foul curse followed by, “I can’t concentrate when you’re like that. I’m a danger to myself and the public.”

“Could you concentrate any better if you stopped touching me?”

“Like that’s gonna happen.”

“What if I touched myself? Would that help?” She slid her own fingers between her thighs and felt the car jerk as if he couldn’t control his foot on the brakes. Slowly she opened up her folds, then slid one finger over her clit and then inside her. She could hear his harsh, jagged breathing over the sound of the engine. Feel the cool night air on her steaming skin.

When she moved her finger to her mouth and licked, the car jerked to a stop. They were in the parking lot of his restaurant. Lennon yanked up the parking brake and dove down into her crotch, hungry for her. There was no leisurely climb to climax. He ate her as if he were starving, nibbling and sucking, inserting two fingers inside her as he searched for the perfect rhythm. Alex moaned and rocked against him, finding the perfect fit. Her arms flung high, she clutched onto the headrest and used it as leverage to lift up, just a bit so that his mouth was exactly where she needed it and then came. And came. And came. Ragged spurts of pleasure until she felt him gently kiss her, withdraw his fingers and kneeling on the drivers seat lean over and press his lips to her forehead, inhaling the sweat and scent of sex.

They finally made it to her house where Lennon tossed her over her shoulders, her bare bum exposed to the night air and the no-see-ums. Alex had to disarm the security system upside down, barely having enough higher mental function left to remember the code. Then the lingering remnants of reason fled when Lennon tossed her on the bed and plunged into her, pounding until he collapsed in dead weight against her chest.

“Len?” she nudged.

“Aargg,” was the response.

“Heavy. Move.” Alex tried shoving but he remained on top of her, flattening her, constricting her lungs, still rooted deep. Her arms pinned, she finally resorted to her one available weapon and bit his earlobe. Hard.

“Hey,” he jerked up alarmed. “I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

“I only resort to pain when I can’t breathe. Want a drink?”

“Water. Please,” he said flopping onto his back.

She came back with two tumblers and a large ice cold bottle. He was dozing. The moonlight through the shutters illuminated the sculpted muscles on his arms, shoulders and chest. His abs were more a twelve pack than a six. His now deflated cock nestled innocuously in a cocoon of hair at his groin. Alex remembered what she’d overheard in the bathroom. About Ingrid sucking him off when he was fifteen. Just before he fled Los Angeles. Was that part of the reason? she wondered, filling the glasses and drinking her fill as she drank in the sight of him. She knew so little about his life back then. Lennon did not over share, he under shared. Kept so much private. Perhaps understandable in a person whose childhood had been lived in the public eye, but it made Alex feel sad. Would she never really share much more than this with him. Why should she? Ingrid was right. Lennon was way out of her league and no doubt, when the celebrities descended on St. Barts in a few months’ time, he’d move on. Be with his own kind. Famous people of a feather flocking together. The overheard comments were a reality check, a reminder that this interlude with Lennon was temporary for both of them. She ignored the pang in her heart and put the glass down, sliding in next to him, licking her way from his chest to his groin.

“You are trying to kill me,” he said, barely opening his eyes.

“Just thought you might like a Hollywood handshake,” she answered and bent her head to her task.

He woke her in the middle of the night. They’d been spooning and she felt his insistent pressure against her from behind. This time it was slow and sweet, gentle exhalations against her skin, teasing fingers between her thighs. He kneaded and tormented her breasts as he took her in steady thrusts, whispering her name when he came.

In the aftermath she remembered to ask, “What did Bliss say to you at the end of the night? You had a weird look on your face and I heard my name.”

“I congratulated her on her engagement again and she said I’d be next.”

Alex mentally shook off any unrealistic expectations. Nip those childish dreams in the bud right now. Better for both of them. Snuggling deeper in his arms she said as she nodded off to sleep, “She’s just crazy in love or just crazy. Anybody can tell you’re too young to think about settling down with one woman.” As she slipped into sleep, she could have sworn she felt him tense and pull away.

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