I paused several times that day questioning the sanity of this scheme and the sexual proclivities of the ultra-wealthy. From what I understood, I would not have any physical contact with Mr. Gordon at all. He would observe the events as a spectator, while filming the deeds for posterity. I had been assured that only Mr. Gordon would view the tape, as he was the legal custodian of the property. This relieved me…somewhat.
My phone buzzed, distracting me from my troubling thoughts. The car was waiting. I grabbed my handbag and left the apartment. A sleek, black limousine was parked out front. A liveried chauffeur held open the door for me, and, as we pulled from the curb, I realized it was too late to turn back. The soaring skyscrapers of the city grew smaller by the mile, while the greenness of the Lake Bluff area came into view. We passed a quaint village with storefront shops and cafes. I had spent time at Sunrise beach when I was a student at Chicago State, and I had once been engaged to a man whose family owned a pretty Queen Ann Victorian three blocks from the shore.
The chauffeur hadn’t spoken one word to me. He directed the car into a secluded driveway, surrounded by a canopy of trees, which all but hid a modest residence. The red brick, two-story structure waited at the end of the drive, appearing as ordinary and innocuous as any home. Did you think they’d have a sign out front that said, wild, kinky sex inside? I exited the vehicle, avoiding eye contact with the driver. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I headed for the entranceway, but I had been expected, and the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman with graying hair and an agreeable smile.
“Welcome, Ms. Fox.”
“Hi.”
Although I had read the contract fifty times over, I still feared something horrible would happen to me. I was, after all, placing myself in a stranger’s hands to do with as he pleased. I worried that Mr. Gordon was a sadist or worse and that I would possibly be subjected to sexual torture, although the contract specifically stated this would not occur. I had the right to object to any sex act, and it would stop immediately.
“This way, please.” The vaulted interior revealed wooden floors, cream-colored walls, and sparse furniture. I followed the woman up a curving staircase. She opened a door, exposing a large bedroom. “Here you are. The bathroom is to your right. Mr. Gordon will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.” The door closed behind her, leaving me alone. The bed, with its brass headboard and beige quilt, would be the scene of unknown depravity. This is where I would…perform for the mysterious billionaire. I stepped out of my shoes and undid my jeans, lowering the material down my legs. I placed the clothing over a nearby chair. Remembering the surveillance camera, I stiffened, feeling violated.
Am I being watched right now?
I removed my bra and panties quickly and threw the robe on. I stared at the ceiling, searching for a camera. Paranoia took over, and I began to stalk around the room, investigating every nook and cranny, looking for little black holes.
“Have you lost something?”
I spun around to find Mr. Gordon, dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit and tie. “Um, no.”
“I think I know what you’re searching for.” His look was vaguely detached, yet amused. “It’s here.” He walked to a shelf across the room and pointed at a small opening in the wood.
“Oh.”
“Is there anything else you want to know?”
“I have a ton of questions.”
“Of course you do.”
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
Ugh. What kind of answer was that? “Is this how you conduct business? Does the CEO of Harlan Pharmaceuticals get videotaped having sex?”
“No.”
“Why me?”
“Please.” He indicated the bed. “Have a seat.” He took a leather chair near the bookshelf. “I might not have been at the meeting, but I monitored your proposal. You must know you’re an attractive woman, beautiful, actually. You have spunk and passion. It gave me an idea. I saw it as an opportunity to fulfill some fantasies.”
“Do you do this a lot?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.” I stared at my fingernails, noticing a ragged edge on my pinky.
“You don’t believe me, but that’s neither here nor there. You’ve read the contract. You know what’s required. You’re in no danger, Ms. Fox.” He wandered over to the nightstand and took my purse, digging through the bag.
“Hey, what are you—”
He handed me my phone. “Keep it near, if it gives you security.”
“T-thanks.”
He resumed his seat, eyeing me. “Do you have any other questions?”
“Yeah, but never mind. Can we just get this over with?”
A hint of a smile turned the edges of his mouth up. “As you wish.” He produced a phone and pressed a button. I eyed the door warily, wondering who would arrive. As the seconds ticked by, the only sound came from the birds outside the window. I rubbed my arms.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“I can turn the heat up.”
“Um, that’s all right.” The door opened, and a thin, gorgeous looking woman entered. Oh, great. I’m gonna have to do the lesbian thing.
“This is Elizabeth. Elizabeth meet Gretchen.”
She smiled. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“She looks petrified, James.”
“She does, doesn’t she?”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
The tall brunette grinned. “Well, that figures.” She began to remove her clothing, revealing an impossibly thin body and small breasts. “This is supposed to be fun. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Gretchen. You’ll see.”
Chapter Three
“I hate to fuck in silence. Is there any music?”
“Sure.” Mr. Gordon stood and went to the shelf, fiddling with an audio component. “Anything in particular?”
“Something easy.” The sultry refrains of Jazz filled the room. “Not too loud.”
“Better?”
“Yes.” Her attention was on me. “She needs a blindfold, doesn’t she?”
“It’s your call.” He resumed his position in the chair. “Top drawer on the right.”
She retrieved a strip of black satin material. “This’ll work great.” She sat next to me on the bed, her eyes shining mischievously.