Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
HUDSON
T he rest of the drive to the store is silent. I can’t say it’s an improvement on the banter, but I like the quiet. I get to think. That doesn’t come easily, though. All that’s left is to play the game of offers and see who comes out at the top. When we get to the store, I can see how eager Juliette is to get out of the car. I might have been comfortable with the silence, but she clearly wasn’t.
“You need to get a gown for a dinner party,” I tell her as we walk in.
“We’re going to a party?”
“Yes, tomorrow night.”
“What kind of party? Who’s going to be there? Is there a particular way I am to dress?” she asks, panicky.
“There’s no need to panic. It is just some dumb party that Frank is throwing. I need to be there, and Phillipa will be there, so it’s the right time to introduce you as my lover.”
“Oh…”
That is all I get back. We start to walk down the aisle, and she picks up some clothes, showing them to me.
“What do you think?”
I shrug. “You’re the one who knows how they fit.”
“Is it the right get up for a future Mrs. Sinclair?”
“Get up?” I ask with a shake. She really is taking all this as a game. Well, she better be ready to play it well. “I won’t know how it fits unless I see it on you.”
“So, you want me to play dress up?”
“You asked for my opinion, and I gave you the honest truth.”
Grinning, she picks up some more clothes. “Okay, I’ll play dress up for you. I’ll play whatever you want me to play for seventy thousand dollars.”
She takes me by the hand, and we head to the dressing room. I tap at one of the attendants and ask if they serve champagne.
“We’ll be here a while, won’t we?” I ask Juliette.
“Yeah. Get yourself something to drink.
The dressing room is a big squarish room with a big room and a smaller cubicle for changing. There’s a sofa in the corner and a loveseat beside it. I choose the loveseat as Juliette packs her handful of clothes into the room.
“How many clothes do you have there with you?”
“Five or thereabout,” she says.
“Will that be enough for a seven-day itinerary?”
“I guess.”
“No, get some more.”
She eyes me for a while, shrugs, and then heads back out into the store. She returns with more clothes and heads immediately to the changing room, while I wait for her.
“We can continue the Google questions while you wait,” she yells from the room.
I had thought I’d have some quiet time, but then we need to know more about each other before the dinner party tomorrow. I get my phone and scroll to the webpage with the questions.
“They say we should tell each other our names. Full names,” I say.
“Okay… I’m Juliette Marianne Nightingale. My grandmother was called Marianne. She died a couple of days before I was born, so naturally, I got her name. I’m not complaining. I like it. Now, you.”
I roll up the page to check the number of questions we still have to go through. It’s a list of a hundred questions. This is terrible, I groan.
“Full name’s Hudson Jonathan Sinclair.”
“Is that all? No anecdote as to why you got the name?”
Is this going to be me for the next seven days? Telling stories, filling up silent moments? On one hand, I feel it might be tiring, on the other, it’s something I’ve never done before, and there is a tepid excitement about it all.
“I didn’t get any of my names from a dead grandparent. My mom wanted to name me Jonathan and my dad Hudson. So, they settled for a middle ground.”
“That’s boring,” Juliette crones from inside the room.
“Well, not everything in life as?—”
The door opens, and I forget what I intend to say. Juliette is standing by the door. She had made some changes to her hair. She’s wrapped it up in a bun, but some parts of it remain free, dangling in a curl down to her ears. It appears like something that was done in a rush, but it highlights her facial features and gives her a more distinct look. I can see her eyes better now, but that isn’t the only thing that has left me speechless. She’s wearing one of the dresses she picked out. It was a dark green dress made of satin, and while it was free, it still wrapped around her body as though part of the cloth was wet. The short dress settles well above her knees and has an open neck shape, so her ample bosom is partly exposed to me.
This woman is different from the one who came into the office hours ago. She looked beautiful back then, but she looks like a seductress here. Her appearance suddenly fills me with the imagination I had put a leash on before. I hunger for the feeling of my finger on her thighs, tracing the soft and milky skin up until I get to her warm wetness.
Fuck!
What is this? I’m hard, and my cock is pressing against my zipper.
“What do you think?” she asks me and throws herself around, giving me a full view of the dress.
I think I’ll have you right here, right now.
“You look good,” I say, only to discover that I’m standing. I don’t return to my seat immediately. Instead, to play it off like I stood up intentionally, I walk over to her and turn her around so she’s looking into the mirror. I stand behind her, my hands on her waist, watching her. “It’s a good choice.”
“It’s expensive,” she complains.
“You are taking it,” I declare.
“But I can’t wear this to the dinner. It’s too… I don’t know the word for it.”
“Sexy,” I give her the word she’s looking for.
“Yeah,” she says, chuckling. “I know just what I’ll wear to the dinner party,” she says and pulls away. When she returns to the changing room, I stand there, looking at myself in the mirror.
What are you doing, Hudson? You’re here to make a deal and secure the future of the company and the future of the family. Not let yourself be beguiled by some woman.
How did she go from looking sweet to looking dangerous suddenly? I told her she wasn’t my type, maybe that is quickly changing.
Still, I know nothing must happen between the two of us, especially because of the contract we both signed. I had indicated there that she isn’t under any obligation to perform sexual acts that do not further the ruse before people. So, I have to push all dirty thoughts that involve her out of my mind and focus on the reason I’m in Manhattan.
My phone chirps and I check it to find I have a message from Alison. She’s finished with her meeting and wants to know if I have any plans for dinner. If I have none, she’d like to make one. She’s sent a list of restaurants we can go to.
I don’t feel like talking business with Alison tonight, so I text her that she is free for the night and that work begins tomorrow. She’ll brief me on how the meeting went, and we’ll prepare for the dinner party later in the day. We’ll prepare a dossier of the benefits we’re willing to offer Frank Dubois and why he stands to gain more by partnering with us instead of buying us out totally.
If all my attempts to reason with Frank fail, I might have to do something unreasonable. I really hope it doesn’t get to that.
“Hey, Hudson. Could you come in here for a minute?”
Juliette’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I walk towards the changing room, wondering why she needs me. Is she all dressed in there or naked? I hope for the latter but quickly chastise myself for thinking that. I’ll have to see some of my connections here in Manhattan. Juliette has stirred and started something in me that she isn’t fit to take care of. I open the door to find her facing me. She’s changed out of the former dress and into something else. This doesn’t scream seductress like the first dress, but it still looks damn good on her. It has a classic look, perfect for the dinner party. She turns around and shows me her bareback.
“Can you help me pull up the zipper?” she asks.
“Sure,” I respond.
I pick up the slider of the zipper, slowly pulling it up. My finger grazes her bareback, and for a moment, it causes me to freeze. I’m too close to her and she has too much skin exposed here. I can’t trust myself to go any further. I want to pull the zipper back down, turn her around, and kiss her.
“Are you alright back there?” she asks, and her voice is all I need to get back in my right senses and pull it up all the way.
“I’m only familiar with the downward pull,” I say and, against better judgment, spin her around. The spin catches her by surprise, causing her to fall towards me. I have to steady her so she doesn’t fall any further. In doing that, my left palm finds itself pushing against her right breast. I let it linger for a while. The dress she’s wearing doesn’t need a bra, so there is only one layer of fabric between my palm and her tender breast. I can feel her nipples poking into my palm. I want more of it, to peel away even that last layer.
“Your hand,” she said, looking down at my palm. I step back and smile at her.
“Sorry. I thought it was calling to me,” I say.
“Alright, you’ve exhausted your usefulness.”
I walk out of the changing still sporting a painful boner. I must do something about it.
A while later, she comes out with the clothes to solicit my opinion. I tell her it’s perfect for dinner. We try some of the other clothes she picked, but nothing compares to the first two she showed me.
As we drive back to the hotel, I begin to wonder if she’d knowingly picked up those two dresses and showed them to me first to make a point. Was she tormenting me? Looking for a lick back because I said she isn’t my type? Is this all her feminine urge to show herself as a suitable mate?
We make no effort to strike up a conversation during the ride back, and it’s late by the time I pull into the hotel parking lot.
“Are you hungry? I’m starving.” I ask her as we make our way back to our rooms.
“Yes, I want to eat.”
“Alright, Why don’t you clean up? Change out of that dress and wear one of the new ones. We’ll have dinner at their restaurant here in the hotel.”
“I wouldn’t know how to make my way there,” she tells me.
“When I’m ready, I’ll knock on your door.”
“How long do I have to prepare?”
“An hour at most,” I tell just as we get to the door to her room. She heads in, and I walk into mine.
I get out of my clothes and hurry to the bathroom. I have more in mind besides having my bath and preparing for dinner. I let the lukewarm water run over me and reach for the soap bar.
I’d have preferred a lube, but I didn’t plan for this, so the soap will do just fine. This is all her fault; showing me that dress and letting me pull up the zipper.
I step away from the running water and lather the soap, so I get good lubrication. I wrap my fingers coated with enough soap around my rock-hard dick, feeling it pulsating with need. I close my eyes, hand on the wall to keep me steady as I stroke myself, looking for relief. With my eyes closed, all I can see is her face. She smiles at me, bites down seductively on her lips, and stands on her toes to whisper in my ear. She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she bites the lobe of my ear gently. I can’t hold it back anymore. I cum, rope after rope of my seed spilling out with only one name on my lips, my face, on my mind.
Juliette.