When Mr. Douglas reached down and took a cigarette I picked up the lighter and lit the tip for him, something I’d been trained to do for patrons. That’s when our eyes met.
Oh, my gosh. I needed to breathe. The intensity there was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was startling. So much more than lust was going on behind those dark blue eyes. He looked away, dragging in a breath and blowing a plume of dark smoke to the side. My hand shook as I set the lighter on the table. The clanking caused Marco to look over at me and I gave him a quick, small smile of apology, dropping my eyes.
I needed to stop shaking. I focused on Mr. Douglas’s hand, trying not to let the allure of the Middle Eastern music and my own crazy thoughts sweep me away. He held his cigarette in that sexy, manly way, between thumb and middle finger. His lips as they went around the filter made me tingle between my legs. I shifted and he gripped my hip as if to stop me from stimulating him further.
The dance ended and everyone clapped politely. One man got up, clearly aroused, and left with Jin. Another dance began, the music mournful and sultry. Mr. Douglas made no move to get up. He seemed happy to sit there song after song, touching my skin, kissing my neck, but mostly staring at the dancers with far-away eyes, as if lost in thought. I wondered if he was day dreaming about his next painting.
People came and went from the room, but Marco and Mr. Douglas remained. I couldn’t help but notice the look of peace and contentment on Perla’s face as she sat on Marco’s lap, her long, slim legs crossed, and her fingers in the back of his hair.
Across the room the Italian man was sitting with his slave on her hands and knees next to him. He was fingering her roughly from behind. Her eyes were closed and her forehead creased with discomfort. My stomach churned and I looked away. Any second he’d be on his knees behind her. I was so thankful that wasn’t me, but I couldn’t help but empathize.
I snuggled even closer to Mr. Douglas and then wondered if I’d done wrong, because he abruptly stood, catching me around the waist. I dropped to the floor in kneeling position.
“I think I’ll have a walk,” Mr. Douglas said to Marco. “I thank you for allowing me such beautiful company. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Until then,” Marco said with an incline of his head.
“Come,” Mr. Douglas said to me.
I crawled at his side as he strolled through the house. He stopped to admire every piece of artwork he passed. It started to feel like he was purposely wasting time. He’d chosen me, but he was making no rush to get me alone. In fact, so much time passed that we were back in the dining room for dinner without ever having made it to Mr. Douglas’s bedroom.
Paranoia rose up inside me. Why wasn’t he making use of me? This was unknown territory, and I didn’t know how to take it. What was I doing wrong? I felt scared, like at any second he would change his mind and ask for a different slave. It’s not like he wasn’t a sexual man. So what was the problem?
I felt like I’d somehow failed to entice him enough. I wanted to be wanted by him, and that was a rare, overwhelming feeing. To be denied was a sting of rejection. My head hung low, and I accepted morsels of tender scallops and seared tuna without joy.
After dinner I followed him back to his room.
“Make yourself comfortable on the bed,” he said to me.
As I climbed up into the downy comfort he went on his balcony for a cigarette. I lay in the middle on my back with one knee up. When he entered the room he didn’t even look at me; just strode right past into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on and I felt completely dejected.
Were all artistic people this confusing?
I lay where I was without moving until he came back in the room. My head turned and my breath caught at the sight of the towel around his waist, and the fact that it was slowly rising as the hardening length of his arousal became apparent.
I made the mistake of looking in his eyes again. Why did he seem so at odds? Almost…pissed off?
I desperately wanted to wipe the menacing look from his face. I slipped from the bed onto my knees and crawled forward, stopping in front of him to give him full access to me, but letting him have the first move, as always. Please want me.
He gave the towel around his waist a tug and let it fall to the floor alongside my fears, because it was pretty safe to say he wanted me.
“Se?or,” I whispered, staring at the solid beauty of his body.
“Stand up,” he commanded. I lifted myself to stand in front of him, staring at his chest.