Normally after charging up my batteries like that, I would’ve spent a little time letting the water run while I stroked my cock. But since I’m pressed for time, I race through my shower and dress in an immaculate bespoke tuxedo. Speeding out the door, I’m still fussing with my bowtie when I find Kaia waiting on the curb.
She’s fresh out of the shower too, her hair thrown up in a wet ponytail, her skin glowing. I flag my limousine down as I look her up and down.
There is a part of me that realizes that if I were a slightly different person, if life hadn’t fucked me up so badly so early on, I would want to be with a girl like Kaia. Fresh faced, no makeup, no fucking artifice. She’s stunning without a face full of make up or a wardrobe of designer clothes.
If I had met her here as a ballet dancer first, without knowing her secret life as Cerise, would I still feel the same?
“Calum,” she prompts.
I realize that the chauffeur has opened the back door and is waiting patiently for me to get in. I climb in after Kaia, smelling her honeyed fragrance. I lean closer to her as the door closes, getting another whiff.
It’s coming from her damp ponytail.
“That scent… what shampoo do you use?” I ask.
She looks embarrassed. “It’s something French. I might have splurged on shampoo and conditioner last week. You don’t hate it, do you?”
I let out a bark of laughter. “I love it. You smell just like a ripe honeycomb. I’m having a hard time not rubbing your scent all over my fucking body.”
She grins at that and rolls her eyes. “I’m glad that it meets with your approval.”
When we pull up outside of her apartment in Queens, I rake my gaze over her house. It’s nothing much to write home about, just a brown brick house that has three stories. Even though it’s taller than most of the surrounding buildings, it can’t have much square footage.
Kaia opens her car door and gets out. She almost closes the door on me and then looks at me with surprise. “Oh! Did you want to… come in?”
I get out of the back of the limo, buttoning my tux. “I planned on it.”
She looks nervously over her shoulder. “Oh. Ummm… all right.”
As she leads me up to a door around the side of the house, I look at the neighborhood. From the look of the little Hispanic grocery store on the corner and pedestrian traffic on the street, the neighborhood is mostly Latino. Kaia glances back at me as she unlocks her door, her expression uncertain.
She heads inside, trotting up the stairs. I close the door and lock it, then follow her up. Her space is at once very light and airy, and very small. Nestled up here in the eaves of the house, her bedroom is on the left and her tiny kitchen on the right. Her bedroom is basically a big white bed and a bedside table; I can see that she has a hanging rack of clothes near the wall and a laundry basket beside it. Between the rooms is a gap with shiny wooden floors, probably perfect for stretching.
There is a bathroom in the far corner, it’s heavy wooden door pulled shut. And the last thing I notice is a black cat poking it’s head out from behind the bed, staring at me with intense green-yellow eyes.
I take the whole room in with a jaundiced eye. I can see that she has a wall of photos pinned up over the bed and a bed for her cat in the corner. Obviously she cares for this space…
“So you live alone,” I guess.
She ducks her head, moving to the bed and dropping her duffel bag. “Yes.”
Somehow I had imagined her living somewhere more glamorous. I squint around at the room, putting my hands behind my back.
Kaia turns to me, her mouth tugging down. Her cheeks are already stained with color. “It’s small. But it gets really good light during the day,” she says.
I tilt my head. “I didn’t realize that you were struggling financially.”
She shoots me a hard look as she goes over to the hanging rack of clothes. “I didn’t work at Club X because I liked the camaraderie, Calum.”
My lips twitch. “No, I suppose not.” I pause, thinking. “Where is your family?”
Her shoulders visibly tense up. She quickly sorts through several dresses, pulling one off its hanger. It takes her a long time to answer my question. “My parents live in Hartford.”
I cock a brow. “And why doesn’t your family pay for a nicer apartment?”
Kaia turns, her expression baleful. “Not everybody has everything that you have.”
I raise my brows at the heat in her tone. “I didn’t realize your family was disadvantaged.”
She toes off her shoes, her expression pinched, and heads to the bathroom. “They aren’t. I grew up with money. It’s just… my story is more complicated than that.”
She shuts the heavy bathroom door hard, effectively ending the conversation. But her evasiveness doesn’t settle anything in my book.
No, it only makes me more curious about Kaia’s background.
Walking around her apartment, I notice that she has a number of votive candles, most burned down to the bottom. She also has a box of old pointe shoes in the corner, most pulled apart and scavenged for bits and pieces.
The next thing I see is a small side table with a tray of what appears to be costume jewelry. A cluster of oversized pearls, a diadem with several stones missing. A long chain of intricate silver bangles with several missing links.
“What’s with all the broken jewelry?” I call.
“It’s not broken! It can still be salvaged. It just needs a little love and attention…” She answers, her voice muffled by the bathroom door.
I pull out my phone, texting my assistant to pull a background check on Kaia and her family. From the look of this apartment, I don’t actually know what to think.
There is a mural made of photos that are carefully pinned up by the window. I walk toward it, trying to find some answers.
In the next second though, she steps out of her bathroom again and my mind goes blank. She wears a clingy light blue cocktail dress that shows off her cleavage. She has pulled her wet hair down and it curls gently about her shoulders.
I bite my lip appreciably. Kaia tosses her hair and steps into a pair of dark heels. Then she adds a grey winter coat.
At that moment, I wish I had a diamond necklace to put around her neck and frame her décolletage. Making a note to keep some more jewelry on hand, I exhale deeply.
She turns to me. “Do I need to bring anything?”
My lips curl up. “No. Just yourself. You look utterly intoxicating, Kaia.”
She blushes, a little smile playing about her lips. “Thanks, Calum.”
I offer her my arm. “Come on. Let’s go to the gala and act like we are sophisticated socialites rather than depraved sexual deviants.”
She walks over and slides her hand into the crook of my arm. Her hazel eyes glint with a mischievous look. “You take the lead, Calum.”
I lean down and kiss her on the lips, hard and passionate. She pushes up onto her tiptoes, kissing me back for just a moment.
It’s indefinitely satisfying, the feeling of being wanted by someone as beautiful as Kaia.
Then I urge her toward her apartment steps, thinking of how good that dress will look on my bedroom floor later.
23
Kaia