“Patrick.” His name was a reverent whisper on her lips. “Could you help me? I lost an earring. A round, lush pearl. I could go down on my hands and knees to look for it—” she slowly ran her hands over her dress, lingering on the fabric covering her breasts “—but this is so tight. It might tear right down the middle.”
The man’s eyes widened. The tip of his tongue probed the corner of his mouth. A pulse danced on his neck.
“There’s no need to speak.” She pressed the tip of a nail against his lips. “I followed you in here because I want you.” She withdrew her hand and put the same nail in her mouth, biting down on it as she stared at him, her dark eyes daring him to make a move.
“I—I can’t,” he stammered.
Mrs. Smith tucked a finger under the shoulder strap of her dress and eased it over and down. She pushed the strap lower and lower until the swell of her right breast was exposed. She leaned back until her nipples strained against the blue silk. Even in the dim light, the man could see how they begged for his touch.
An animalistic groan rose from his throat.
He tugged at the top of Mrs. Smith’s dress, freeing herperfect breasts. His mouth was suddenly everywhere. He licked and bit her. He sucked on her. Drooled on her.
When she couldn’t stand his fruitless pawing anymore, Mrs. Smith shoved him away and told him to take off his pants. While he unbuckled and unzipped, she bent over the table.
Glancing at him over her shoulder, she commanded, “Don’t be gentle. I want you to take me. Prove to me that you’re in charge.”
This seemed to release something primal in the man—an atavistic, biological need to dominate.
Digging his fingers into her hips, he thrust himself inside of her. He rammed into her slowly at first. Then he picked up speed. The table struck the wall with a forcefulbam, bam, bam, but he didn’t stop. When he climaxed, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled so hard that a clump of black strands came away in his hand.
He dropped the hair in revulsion and backed away from her.
While Mrs. Smith stood and began to adjust her dress, he growled, “This never happened. You got me? Thisneverhappened.”
Mrs. Smith retrieved a comb and a compact from her purse. Studying her reflection, she said, “It’s already forgotten.”
After he fled the room, she worked the tangles from her hair and reapplied her lipstick. After using powder to conceal the bite marks on her neck and décolletage, she spritzed herself with perfume and stepped out of the coatroom just as Natalie Scott exited the ladies’ room across the hall.
Mrs. Smith contorted her mouth into the semblance of a smile. “Hello, neighbor.”
Natalie let out a soft gasp. “Oh, my goodness! Are you Mrs. Smith?”
Mrs. Smith disliked shaking hands, so she performed a small bow instead. “One and the same.”
“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” the Natalie woman gushed. “I know I’m staring, but I can’t help it. You’restunning. I can’t believe you ever had a skin condition.”
“How very kind.”
Natalie made a visible effort to stop gawking. “Did you just come in? If so, I can introduce you to everyone.”
“Perhaps not everyone. I am unaccustomed to crowds. My immediate neighbors will be enough for this evening.”
Natalie blushed. “Of course. I almost forgot that you’ve... kept to yourself for a long time. The Bernsteins are at the bar. Let’s start with them.”
As she entered the room, Mrs. Smith saw heads turning her way. Men and women openly ogled her. And then the whispering began.
“Who isthat?”
“Is she a model?”
“A movie star?”
“Shehasto be someone famous.”
“Look. Natalie is introducing her to the Bernsteins.”
“Figures. They’ve got more money than the rest of us put together.”
