“Where do you put them?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer but not wanting to leave anything to chance.
“They’re anal beads,” Alex said around a mouthful of muffaletta. “You can put them in or even better have your partner put them in one at a time, preferably during oral. Vaginal penetration while you’re wearing them is spectacular. The feeling of fullness combined with the way the beads move is out of this world. Even better if your partner pulls them out as you orgasm.”
The beads warmed in my palm, and the longer I held them, the less threatening they seemed. Definitely friendlier than the other options. The image of Jake behind me, moving inside mewhile the beads…moved inside me, made me flush. Followed right on the heels of the surprising desire to try it was the image of him pulling the beads out, and what might happen. I was sure there were ways to prepare for that kind of thing, but I didn’t want to have that conversation with Alex. Maybe in a dark corner of the internet on my laptop after work, but not over lunch.
“Do you have anything that doesn’t go in your butt?”
“Of course. Lots of things.” She rummaged in her sex toy treasure tote and pulled out a clear plastic organizer like the ones people used for beads. Or fishing tackle. “If you like nipple play, these can be lots of fun.”
“Who doesn’t like nipple play?” I watched as she flipped open one of the compartments and pulled out clamps bearing a surprising similarity to binder clips and thumbscrews, realizing we might have a different definition of play.
“These are butterfly clamps.” She squeezed the sides of the clamp, showing the way they opened to grasp the intended part. “Some people get off on the bite of pain from the clamps when you tug on the chain.” She let the chain dangle over her finger, a wicked-looking clamp attached to each end.
I had no trouble picturing the clamps tugging on imaginary nipples. Or even not so imaginary ones—Jake’s strong hand grasping a chain that hung between my breasts. It would be sexy and exotic. Body jewelry without the permanent piercing bits.
“Taking them off can be even more intense. That sudden rush of blood back to the nipple made even better if your lover soothes them with his mouth.”
Her gaze went slight glassy for a moment, and I wondered how much of her knowledge came from before Erik and how much of it was with him. I also might be in the wrong job. I didn’t have the patience to write books, and I never could have handled individual clients the way Alex did before she met herhusband. But I could see the appeal of the research. I doubted I got that blissed-out expression looking at flooring samples and paint chips.
“What else is in the box?”
11
The car dropped me off in front of the iconic robin’s-egg blue building with its blue and white striped awnings. The Commander’s Palace had been a New Orleans fixture since the late 1800s. The legendary restaurant hosted chefs like Emeril Lagasse and Paul Prudhomme, and earned three Michelin stars and multiple James Beard awards. It made sense that John would pick it for our lunch.
I entered the cool interior, blinking against the over-the-top design. With its ornate chandeliers, wallpaper and matching curtains, it practically screamed historic Garden District with just enough use of patterns to make Dorothy Draper nod in agreement. While the design—both interior and out—had never been a favorite of mine, the food was undeniably delicious. It was no hardship to meet John there for lunch. I also had no concerns about the developer with the custom-made suits meeting the jackets-for-gentlemen dress code.
I wasn’t sure Jake even owned a dinner jacket, let alone that he’d remember to wear it. I was less sure of why I was thinking of Jake as I followed the hostess to a private corner in the back of the dining room to meet my client. John was on his feet before we reached the table, his hand outstretched and his smile warm.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be back in the city so soon.” My hand clasped his, his strong fingers holding on for a fraction of a second longer than was necessary.
This close to him, I could smell his aftershave—sandalwood and something spicier. It was good, but my body didn’t react to it the way I did to Jake’s soap or whatever it was that he wore. I’d had to reschedule our bed date to make the lunch with John, which was probably why he was on my mind. I couldn’t exactly turn down important business to play with sex toys.
Jake didn’t say anything about me cancelling. He never did. We’d each had to do it occasionally when work got in the way. But it bothered me more this time than it had before. I couldn’t decide whether it was because I was eager to try the toys with a partner or if it was something else. I didn’t have time to worry about either with my biggest client standing in front of me looking expectant.
“I hadn’t planned to be,” he said, holding my chair, his body a warm strong presence behind me. “But I had an unexpected opening in my schedule. I’d been charmed so much the last time I visited; I decided to take advantage of the break and return.”
The way he saidcharmedmade it seem like he was here for more than just the project. We’d been emailing about approvals. He’d insisted I go directly to him instead of through his assistant. Things were still moving slower than I knew he wanted, but it wasn’t something that warranted an in-person visit from a man as busy as I’m sure he was.
“Whatever the reason, it’s lovely to see you. I certainly don’t need an excuse for lunch at the Commander’s Palace. The city is full of amazing restaurants, but there’s a reason it’s practically legendary.” I settled myself in the chair and waited until John was seated again. “It’s always such a treat.”
“Oh, good. I hoped it wasn’t too touristy for you. It seemed a bit like going to Paris and spending time at the Eiffel Tower. It’snowhere close to the best part of the city, but you can’t go and not see it.” He unbuttoned his suit coat, visibly relaxing. His suit—charcoal this time—fit as perfectly as the last one and the cuffs of his starched white dress shirt framed what I knew without looking would be another exceptional watch. He was handsome with impeccable grooming. Nothing over-the-top to indicate he was high maintenance, just enough to make it clear he paid attention to details. I’d be hard-pressed to design a more perfect man. Even his thoughts about the restaurant echoed my feelings.
A server appeared beside the table and reached for a bottle of wine, chilling in the ice bucket.
“I took the liberty of ordering Château Margaux Pavillon Blanc, but we can order whatever you’d like if you’d prefer something else.” He kept his gaze on my face, as if he were searching for clues.
I didn’t have any trouble understanding his success. He had a way of making it seem like whoever he was talking to was the most important person in the room. It was its own kind of seductive, especially from a man as in control as John. If the parish committee got to see this relaxed, confident version, he wouldn’t have any trouble convincing them to trust him with the building.
“This is perfect.” I nodded to the server, who poured the pale golden wine into my glass.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to look at the menu,” he said, stepping away after reciting the specials.
“Is there something you’d recommend?” John asked when I set my menu to the side.
“Everything’s exceptional. I haven’t had a bad meal here, but since it’s your first time here, you should start with the turtle soup. I’ve heard the rockfish is very good and the curried shrimp is my favorite.” I’d been to the restaurant for the first time as a child when things were going well with one of my mother’sconquests. He’d ended up not being as into families as she’d thought.
“Turtle soup and curried shrimp it is.” He set his menu down and turned his attention back to me.
