Chapter 5
Miquela
“Allow me to introduce you to Serene, my… date… for the evening.”
Miquela could hardly believe her eyes. Here she was, at the damned opera with an old American friend named Clivia Nielson, and one of her favorite women was making eyes at her.
“Pleased to… see you, Serene.” Miquela wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know the West Coast beauty.
With skin glowing in a healthy tan, eyes shrouded in hazel contacts, and bleached-blond hair pulled back into a sporty ponytail, Serene was the picture of Californian vivacity.
She’s also available for a nominal fee. Either there or Vegas.
Miquela had paid for her services in both cities before.
She was even in a little black book of pros!
This is hilarious. Even more hilarious when Serene went from stroking Clivia’s arms to smiling at Miquela.
There was a reason she liked her so much.
“Pleasure to see you again, Ms. Bolivar.” Serene didn’t mess around.
Clivia glanced between her date and friend. “I see you two know each other.” She sighed. “I should have guessed, knowing you, Miquela. Where’s your date?”
“Don’t have one, I’m afraid. I’m still new in town, you know.
Give me some time to find a woman who isn’t my assistant to bring to these things.
” She tried not to think about June. Would she like the opera?
I should ask. As soon as Miquela became her patron, she was taking her everywhere.
I would love her to be on my arm. Whether meeting a friend for an artistic evening or going to a business dinner, June could blend in seamlessly.
It wasn’t her job. It was her nature, and Miquela could respect the hell out of that.
So much for not thinking about her.
They had their own balcony for that night’s show, Carmen.
A show Miquela had seen a hundred times, given its popularity in both Spain and France.
Never seen Americans take it on, though.
Tonight’s cast was predominantly Latin, making the Spanish lyrics roll easily off the tongue and the chemistry between Don Jose and Senorita Carmen sizzling.
In true American fashion, however, the sexuality was ramped up about 100,000 degrees.
Fahrenheit, of course. Halfway through the show, the delightful actress playing Carmen sang both her fantastic song and danced as if her body were on fire.
Clivia excused herself to get a drink during intermission. The moment she left, Serene hopped up from her chair and sat in her date’s, right next to Miquela.
“What do you think of the show?” she asked, one long, tanned leg swinging over the other.
Her perfume was tropical. Her lips? Full and pursed.
There’s one thing she is really, really good at.
Miquela usually paid a premium to keep going as long as possible.
When a woman was that good… “It’s scandalizing.
I didn’t know the opera was supposed to make me think of sex! ”
“You’re always thinking of sex,” Miquela pointed out. “Which begs the question… what are you doing all the way out here? I thought you kept your hunting grounds to the southwest.”
“When a client pays you to fly out to New England to keep her happy and fulfilled for a week, you go.” Serene’s grin should’ve been illegal. Stop looking at her, fool. “What I want to know is what you’re doing here. Business?”
She gave Serene a quick rundown regarding her partial move to America. Eyes widened. Those contacts were going to give Miquela nightmares.
“Really? Do remember me if you’re ever on the West Coast.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Although knowing you, you’ll have some other American girl all over you.
Big moves usually mean personal changes for people like you.
That said…” She pulled a card from her bust. Right from her cleavage.
Covered in that tropical perfume. “If you want to fly me out here for some fun once in a while, I am game. I need at least a month’s notice so I can pencil such a thing in.
Besides...” Her hand curled over Miquela’s thigh, fingers brushing against her mound.
“My time with Clivia ends tomorrow, and I’ll be around for a couple more days after that.
Got some shopping to catch up on… friends to meet with…
” Her hand pressed firmly. “Clients to see.”
“I get the point.” Miquela didn’t shoo her hand away, but she also didn’t encourage her to explore further. “You know you’re one of the first women to come to my mind when I think of my favorite Americans.”
“Stop it with that accent! You’re getting my panties all wet, Miquela.”
“Just helping Clivia for later.”
“Between you and me…” Serene’s voice lowered as her tongue threatened to touch Miquela’s ear. “She ain’t that great in bed. Loses interest about ten minutes in. Sigh.”
“Doesn’t that make your job easier?”
“I would like to enjoy my job like anyone else. No woman wants to have bland sex, no matter how much she’s being paid for it.”
“So, you’re not flirting with me because you need to keep the income flowing, but because you also like me. How about that?”
“Your money is half of the attraction, sure.” Grinning, Serene brushed the back of her hand against Miquela’s cheek. “So, what do you say? I’m a free woman starting tomorrow night. Whatever you want, Miss.”
Whatever I want? What did she want? June.
She even surprised herself with that thought.
Miquela glanced at Serene again. She was beautiful, funny, and a complete professional in and out of the bedroom.
Talented too, as had been established. I could get the second tongue lashing of the year tomorrow night.
June was first, of course. “Mierda,” she murmured.
“Sorry, Serene, but I’m a bit spoken for at the moment. Maybe some other time.”
Her crestfallen countenance almost made Miquela sad. Whether it was meant to do that or was how she truly felt… Miquela had few relationship principles, but they now told her to mind where she stuck herself. She hadn’t felt that tug of monogamy in years. Not since…
She swallowed.
“If you’re ever in the mood, you have my number.”
“I certainly do.” Serene had backed off before Clivia returned. Miquela chose then to go to the restroom, even though she probably wouldn’t be back in time for the start of the second half of the opera.
What was her problem? She found a single-stall restroom and paced around, occasionally glancing at herself in the mirror and washing her hands to keep them busy.
I never turn down Serene, unless I have to.
She had the time. For fuck’s sake, she had the money.
She was game, she was rich and available…
Or was she? Available, that is.
Shit! It felt wrong to be with Serene!
Miquela gripped either side of the sink and glared at herself in the mirror. The only times in her life she ever looked at herself like this were when she made a bad business deal, she fought with her family, or…
Relationships. Fuck ‘em.
Her phone vibrated with a text message. She pulled it out and saw the main number of the Manoir flashing on her screen. The other woman vying for June’s financial affections had outbid her again. Monique asked if Miquela would like to raise her bid as well.
“You know how much Serene would cost?” she grumbled, punching in a huge YES on her phone.
“Ten thousand. Ten measly fucking thousand for sex and to stay the night. But no, I’ve got it going for only one lumia.
” She didn’t usually pull words like that out of her ass.
Miquela always tried to call the women she hired by whatever terms they liked.
Of course, those terms were constantly changing, and were different all over the world, but she had a feeling neither Serene nor June would appreciate being called a blasé prostitute.
The whole point of going to women like them was that it was a business transaction and nothing more. No love. No emotions, outside of respect and perhaps a light likeness. Miquela had eschewed obnoxious emotions like romantic love after…
It was a long time ago, and it had been treating her well for the past few years. Now the thought that she somehow owed June a form of monogamy… when even June couldn’t give her that… how fucking absurd!
“Calmaos,” she grumbled to herself. No idea who she was talking to outside of herself, but if anyone was listening from outside the bathroom, they'd better calm down, too. “One thing at a time.” After inhaling deeply, Miquela made her decision: she would address how important June was in her life if she won the bidding war for the courtesan’s most precious commodity.
Her time.
Miquela called ahead the next day. When she woke up that morning with a raging ache between her legs and dreams of June, she knew she had to confront what lurked in her heart.
Emotions. Crazy, stupid, obnoxious emotions that had no business being in her life.
“She’s a professional,” that’s what she told herself as she drove up the mountainside, a familiar route by now.
“Anything she makes you feel is fake, you bitch.” Miquela was grateful that she was going back to Monaco soon.
She needed to clear her head of this American bullshit.
“Don’t be a pendeja.” The angrier she got, the more she slipped into Spanish – particularly Latin American. She blamed Rosa.
Fucking. Rosa.
She pulled off to the side of the road. Rain had begun to fall. Splitter. Splatter. Drop, drop, drop.
It had rained the night Rosa dumped her.
The car was back on the road, going a respectable speed, but Miquela’s brain was five miles away.
The sun was long down. A message from Aimee went unanswered on her phone.
Probably about her upcoming trip back to Monaco.
She had charged Aimee with making last-minute arrangements earlier that day. She would not be going with Miquela.