Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Eric
I arrived at Baudelaire at ten AM sharp, a boutique on the west side of Coral Gables that catered to custom clothing, costume fitting, and anything in between that might strike the fancy of someone with too much money to spend and plenty of time in which to spend it. For many of Felix’s parties, I had purchased suits here. The owner, Meriwether, had known me for nearly fifteen years, and there was nowhere better to get a suit fitted, no matter what people said about overpriced designer label clothes.
Walking through the front door a half hour early, the melodic chime signalled my arrival. Not a moment later a squat, older woman with fly away grey curls pinned away from her face came around from the back. She may have been tiny, but she was a firecracker in personality and could wrangle even the toughest client into submission.
“Eric! So nice of you to come back. After that fiasco with that strumpet you brought the last time, I thought you were gone for good, too embarrassed to come back to my humble shop and browse my wares.” She grinned, showing off two rows of perfect veneers. “Of course, you’re never one to run away from a good thing, are you? It’s nice to see our relationship is still intact.”
I tried not to wince at the unpleasant reminder of that last visit. “And it’s nice to see that you’re still as lively and trouble making as ever, Meri,” I said with a grin.
We walked between several prominent displays of pre-made gowns and suits, a few period pieces—looking like they were styled for eighteenth century England fashion, probably for themed parties—and to the section of the boutique that I always booked for fittings with my girls. A nice, private room with plenty of light and mirrors to capture all angles, and a bar for drinks if we wished to indulge. Depending on how long the fitting went, there was the possibility we’d order something to eat, but that depended entirely on Jasmine.
Admittedly, after my night, and then the next day with Jasmine, I was more impressed with her than I had expected I would be. I’d been wholly intrigued by the conversation we’d had during breakfast and hearing how she’d ended up as an escort. She clearly considered Dominque her saviour from a bad situation, which made me even more curious about the particulars of her becoming first a cam girl, then an escort. For as much as Jasmine had shared with me, I had no doubt there had been more she’d kept close to the vest. Not that I blamed her.
She was young, yes, but clearly an old soul. She was full of wisdom and insight and possessed an emotional maturity that most of the women I had dated lacked. It had been a week since I’d last seen her, and she’d consumed my thoughts to the point of distraction. An anomaly for me, considering no one in recent memory had preoccupied my mind the way she had.
As I sat down on a plush, red velvet settee and wine was poured for me, I couldn’t deny the anticipation coursing through me. I sipped my wine, enjoying the sweet tartness that hit my tongue before looking back to Meriwether.
The older woman stared at me with a knowing smile and a cheeky, raised brow, as if she were in on some secret that she had yet to share with me. “What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m just very interested in this girl you’ve brought today. After last time, I was certain you were done with your lady entertainers. What’s different?”
In a wry tone, I said, “What’s different is she’s shown she’s not likely to be a woman who gets drunk in a fitting room boutique and spills red wine all over polished hardwood floors and restored traditional Chinese garments that are, quite frankly, irreplaceable.”
Because I was such a good customer, Meriwether had insisted that I didn’t need to pay back the acquisition and restoration cost of the piece, but it would have been insanity not to reimburse her. Besides, the strumpet in question certainly wouldn’t have had the funds to do such a thing, and she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to ruin the garment had I not brought her here in the first place, so the fault was mine.
“I think you’ll like her,” I continued. “She’s quite charming. I think Felix will enjoy her company and I imagine that she’ll find him delightfully entertaining. No historical garments harmed in the process.”
Meriwether chuckled. “Mhmm. Well, I’ll bring her back when she comes in. You relax and enjoy the quiet. I made sure that the only people here today were myself and Stephanie, who is busy in the back tailoring a few pieces for me, so you’ll have the shop to yourself and your lady. I’ll bring out the pieces I selected when she arrives.”
Meri walked out of the fitting area and I waited patiently for Jasmine, enjoying my wine. I just finished my drink when the front door chimed again, then the soft voices of Meriwether and Jasmine carrying over.
“Welcome, welcome, dearie,” Meri greeted her in a jovial voice. “You must be Miss Jasmine.”
“Just Jasmine,” she said in a sweet, friendly tone. “Uhm, is Eric Maxim here?”
“Just back this way. Come, I’ll take you to him.”
I couldn’t hold back the amused quirk of my lips as Meriwether chattered with Jasmine, asking how her day was (it was lovely so far), if she had ever been to Baudelaire (she hadn’t), and how she felt about the 1920s (she loved the fashion of the era and wished she had the face for a short bob hairstyle).
I set my glass down on the small table beside the settee as they came into the private fitting area, Jasmine in a pair of jeans and a loose red blouse. Hair up in a ponytail and minimal makeup on her face, she looked a vision of casual comfort. It was a difference that I wasn’t opposed to and liked very much.
I offered Jasmine a smile and stood. “You’re early,” I said, even though I was pleased she wasn’t late as others had been. But she still had about fifteen minutes before the probably-should-book-it-here time frame that I had given her.
She glanced around the beautifully appointed fitting room with a bit of awe in her eyes. “I figured for something like this it would be best to arrive early. I’ve never been here before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Only the best personal treatment that Coral Gables, Florida has to offer,” Meriwether said proudly. “I can guarantee you’ve never been to a boutique like mine and I doubt that you ever will. I’d apologize in advance for ruining any future experiences of yours, but I’d have to actually be sorry for that.” Meriwether gave her a wink, and there was a slight flush on Jasmine’s cheeks in response.
I shook my head and looked to Meriwether, knowing how long winded the other woman could be. “The dresses?”
Meriwether clicked her tongue. “Oh, you never let me have any fun, no matter how well I treat you, Eric. The audacity.”
Still, she fluttered out of the room to retrieve the dresses for the event, leaving Jasmine and me alone.
“Sorry,” I said, turning to her. “Meri’s very bold in personality, but she’s truly one of the sweetest people I know. She’ll be the one that handles any fittings for any dinners that you’ll be needing formal dresses for.”
Jasmine smiled and nodded, approaching where I was still standing by the settee. “She is quite nice and welcoming. I didn’t expect it. Honestly, most of the boutiques in Coral Gables are run by…very particular people.”
“It’s alright to call them uppity,” I said, enjoying the slight surprise on Jasmine’s face that I’d say such a thing. I shrugged a shoulder. “I understand the way that most boutiques treat women in your line of work. Eager to accept the money as swiftly as they are to pass judgement. I don’t like subjecting the girls I spend time with to those kinds of places. Meriwether simply doesn’t care. She likes creating a memorable experience and showing off her pieces to willing test subjects,” I said with a wink.
Jasmine gave a soft laugh. It was a beautiful, tinkling thing. Like chimes, with a little bit of depth to the timbre. “Well, as long as she’s not asking for blood or my first-born child or anything like that—”
“Oh, heavens no, dear,” Meri exclaimed from behind us. “I’d ask for the second one. Always less trouble than the first.”
Meriwether came back, a cart rolling with her. There were several dresses on it, about ten in total, all in different colors, cuts, and level of detail in beading and fringe, but all of them were signature 1920s flapper dresses and gowns. A perfect selection to choose from—and if none of these were up to par for Jasmine’s tastes, I knew that Meriwether would have at least ten more to come back with just to prove that she wasn’t a half-stepper when it came to her business.
It was part of what made working with her so easy and pleasant.
Meriwether scooted the cart in front of Jasmine and me, a self-satisfied smile on her face as she gestured grandly to the spread of fabrics. “Alright missy. Let’s get you started.”
I sat once more as Meriwether ushered her to the changing room. I felt—and stamped down—the compulsion to follow. That I even had the feeling was surprising to me, but I decided I could blame it on the fact that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about our first night together. The softness of her skin still lingered on my fingertips. Her taste, the sweet sound of her moans. I hadn’t had an experience that had stayed with me so bone deep in such a long time; maybe that was why I was hyper-fixating on her so deeply.
Then again, it had also been a while since I’d had decent sex in general, and Jasmine had proven to be a perfect match for my voracious appetite.
Those thoughts made me anticipate her emergence from the dressing room even more than I already was. Made me want to drink in her appearance, see the reaction on her face to the way she looked in the first gown that Meriwether put her in. When I heard the door open and the first dull footsteps coming my way, I looked up, taken aback by how stunning she looked.
The first was an emerald green dress with black beading. Even given the design of the dress, not particularly intended to highlight curves and body shape, there was no missing Jasmine’s figure beneath the glittering, beautiful fabric. It fell over her body like a waterfall, and I couldn’t hold back the smile at the flush on her face as she came out, doing a little twirl for me, as if seeking my approval.
“I’ve never worn a dress like this,” she admitted, almost a bit shy. “It’s very different.”
“Do you like it?” I asked, standing.
I came up behind her, putting my hands on her shoulders. A soft, near imperceptible gasp came from her at my touch. It pleased me far more than it should have as I turned her toward the multitude of mirrors that she had yet to allow herself to look in. Her lips fell apart as she took in the sight before her—her own reflection staring back at her like she had stepped out of a photograph from the 1920s, but instead of muted sepia, in full vibrant color.
“Do you like it?” I asked again.
She regarded herself for a moment, before meeting my gaze in the mirror. She bit her lip uncertainly. “I do like it, but…I don’t know if green is my color.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough,” I said, and looked over to Meriwether.
“Good thing we’ve got a selection of colors, eh?” Meriwether smirked, ushering Jasmine back into the dressing room.
What followed were no more green dresses, but a selection of other colors. Blue, violet, a champagne number with iridescent beading and sequins. Meriwether would bring Jasmine out from the dressing room, she would see herself in the mirror and be amazed by the captivating way she looked, yet there wasn’t one that caused a specific spark in her eyes to form just yet.
What I wanted was for her to find something that would elicit excitement. It was one thing for a man to doll a woman up in one’s own idea of beauty, or for one’s own pleasure. It was another thing to simply see what she did when choosing for herself what she wanted, what she liked.
Which is why, when she came out in the last dress, I paused, almost holding my breath for her reaction.
This one was midnight black, with ruby red beading. If the first accented her curves and the soft, round turns of her body, this one only served to do the same, and add a seductive, classy hit to the mix.
But it was the way that Jasmine walked out, her back straighter than the other times, her shoulders more squared, her chin up. She walked with the confidence and sexual empowerment of a woman who knew that she was gorgeous and felt it deep in her bones.
This was the dress. I could tell as she stood in front of the mirror, taking herself in—not with wide, undecided eyes this time at her appearance, but with a bright smirk and the corner of her mouth pulled between her teeth, as if she were pleased with herself.
“I do believe we’ve found the one, dear,” Meriwether said, clearly witnessing what I did, too. “Now, go on and get up on that pedestal there and I can figure out the adjustments I’ll need to make before—”
Before Jasmine could step up onto the pedestal, from the front of the store, the phone rang. Meriwether rolled her eyes at the intrusion. “One moment.”
She skittered off, and Jasmine and I were left alone.
Jasmine stood on the pedestal Meriwether put all her sizing clients on, staying there as Meri’s voice drifted from the front of the boutique. Her irritation faded into the background as Jasmine and I stared at each other, a magnetism in our gazes—me sitting on the settee and her before me. As if, if we were alone, perhaps in my office, I would be sitting here, observing her, waiting for her to approach me.
What would happen if she did? I could picture a few illicit things I’d want to do to her. Every single one more tempting than the one that came before.
“My God, I swear some people are just incompetent,” Meriwether said, breaking the silence, and heated awareness, building between myself and Jasmine.
The shop owner came back into the fitting room, an annoyed look on her face that told me someone was going to get the wrong side of her otherwise fluffy personality.
“Trouble?” I asked, taking my eyes off Jasmine to give attention to Meriwether.
“Oh, you can say that again,” Meriwether huffed. “I have to rush out and settle an issue with a textile order from a seller. I wouldn’t usually leave like this, but this is something I have to handle in person.” She sighed, looking to me. “Do you want to reschedule?”
I tilted my head. “How long will you be?”
“An hour. No longer than that. It’s two blocks over and I have a car.”
“Then we can wait,” I assured her, since I had no other pressing plans for the day. “Lock up when you leave and we’ll keep an eye on the boutique. Maybe send an order for the bistro while we do.”
Relief flitted across the other woman’s face. “Ah, you’re a gem, Eric. Be back in a flash. Stephanie! Come with me. We’re going to bust some sense into Geraldine and her bad taste in fabrics!”
Meriwether and the other girl working left, locking the door behind them, leaving the soft music playing and us alone. Truly alone.
The air was thick with that knowledge. I could feel it crackling in the space between the two of us, and rather than let it continue, unresolved, I pushed myself to my feet. I approached her as she watched, coming to stand in front of her. She looked up at me, eyes beautiful, round. Endearing and trusting. I slid my fingers along her jaw and tucked my thumb beneath her chin, tilting her head back a bit more so that those eyes remained on me.
“You’re very beautiful in this dress, you know,” I said, my voice low and husky.
“T-thank you.” Her words were breathless, and a pretty pink flush suffused her cheeks, as if she wasn’t used to such compliments.
As I continued to stare into her eyes, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly. Was it my proximity, or the unwavering way in which I looked at her? Or was it something else entirely?
I asked no questions because it didn’t matter. Instead, I leaned in, pressing my mouth to hers, kissing her openly where she stood. Jasmine melted into me like butter, a soft groan in the back of her throat that I was all too willing to capitalize on. My tongue slipped between her lips, and my fingers tangled into the hair at the base of her neck, enjoying its silkiness from where it had fallen loose from her ponytail in between changing dresses.
“If you wanted them, I’d buy you every single dress you just tried on,” I said against her mouth before moving my head back a few inches to look into those soulful eyes again. “But I think with how much you like this one, I’ll just settle on making this a memorable experience. If you’ll permit me?”
Confusion flickered across her features, even as she nodded her consent to whatever I intended.
Holding her sultry gaze, I slid my hand down the front of her body, fingers trailing between her full, firm breasts, then over the beading on her stomach. I didn’t go lower, though, teasing her with the thought that I might touch her there, lower, that I might do more to her than merely touch. The allure of us being somewhere we might be caught was more appealing than it should have been. Like the gallery showing, Jasmine pushed me past levels of comfort and desire that made me want to break my own limits.
She licked her damp lower lip, her expression hesitant. “Here?” she asked, and I knew she meant here, this place, but I also couldn’t help but read here, where I was touching her, where I wanted to go lower.
“Here,” I repeated, letting my hand slip down to the hem of her dress. I pushed it up, and felt my dick harden at the first brush of my fingers against her silky, smooth thighs. “And here .”
Jasmine bit her lip, throat tight with a swallow. “You come with surprises, Eric,” she breathed out. “I didn’t think you’d want to fuck me here.”
I smirked. “Is that not something you want?” I asked, voice curious as I moved my hand higher, stroking my fingers along the slit of her pussy hidden beneath thin panties.
Her breath hitched again. “I want it,” she admitted shamelessly. “But… won’t Meriwether return?”
“In an hour.”
Her incredulous look made me laugh. Brow quirked, mouth set in a line that told me she, too, remembered our last time together. Remembered that an hour wouldn’t be near enough for how much we would want of each other.
“It’s alright,” I said with a sinful smile. “It isn’t a fuck I’m vying for, anyway.”
I removed my fingers from between her legs, earning a slight, protesting sound as I backed her toward the door to the dressing room. Because yes, it wouldn’t do to potentially have someone see what we were doing from the street because I decided to fondle her in front of the big bay windows there. This intimate moment was for me to revel in, me to watch her fall to pieces as I pleasured her.
Backed into the dressing room, I pressed myself fully to her, pinning her smaller form against the cool, crème colored wall. My body aligned against hers, firm between her legs, which was beginning to become a comfortable place for myself. Like I belonged there and her body knew that I did, too. It was a satisfying feeling.
I rolled my hips, just to let her feel the hard bulge in my pants before I slipped my hand beneath the hem of her dress and between us, fingers sliding once more over the slit of her pussy. Her panties were already saturated, and as I stroked a little deeper, her lashes fell half-mast, her skin flushed, and her breath quickened.
Loving how easily she gave herself over to me, I brushed my lips along the column of her neck and felt her shiver. “Hold up your dress so we don’t ruin it.”
It was all I said as I spread the lips of her pussy beneath that silk panel, finding and playing with her clit between my fingers. She gasped, haphazardly hiking up the hem of her dress to her stomach as her thighs spread for me, one leg lifting and hooking at my hip as she rocked her own against me.
“That feel good?” I breathed against her ear.
She nodded jerkily. “Yeah, it does.”
Her head fell back against the wall, giving my mouth permission to descend upon her throat with lips and teeth grazing along the pulse. I sucked there, enjoying the way I could feel her heartbeat jump beneath my tongue, knowing that I was the one who put the skip to it. She whimpered desperately as I circled and pressed against her clit, the friction of damp fabric increasing the sensations.
There was something intrinsically gratifying about pleasing this woman. Touching her. Watching her be pleased without any inhibitions. I was rock hard and couldn’t think about anything other than simply enjoying her body like this.
When she started writhing in earnest, whines and moans deepening, panties soaked all the way through so even her thighs were damp, I pushed the fabric aside and sunk two fingers deep into her. She let out a wild, heady groan, fingers fisting in her dress to keep herself from dropping it and possibly getting it as messy as she currently was.
“Oh God—right there,” she said, lust and need infusing her voice.
I crooked my fingers a little more, rubbing right where she begged, sending waves of pleasure through her body that I could feel in the telltale constriction of her around me. I relished the tightness, the wetness, the heat. The inarticulate sounds she made as I worked my fingers in and out of her, while letting the heel of my palm grind against her clit until she finally tilted her head back and moaned my name.
Eric. So deep and guttural and reverent, even in her feminine tone.
I stilled my fingers inside her and just let her feel how they filled her up as she rocked against them through her orgasm. She panted, shaking, and I kept her anchored against the wall until she stopped trembling. Only then did I finally withdraw my fingers from her sated pussy.
“Mmm.” She hummed placidly, her face soft with bliss.
I chuckled. “You good?”
She nodded, her lashes fluttering and her eyes opening, meeting mine. “Yeah. That just felt really good,” she breathed out, letting her leg fall from where she’d hooked it against my hip. Then, she grimaced, clearly realizing how soaked her panties now were, how wet and sticky she was between her thighs. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t make too much of a mess?”
“Oh, yeah, you did.”
I raised my fingers to my mouth to lick each digit, one by one, in front of her—making sure she watched, making sure she heard the slight groan in the back of my throat at the taste of her hitting my tongue. Her face flushed, and that in and of itself was enough to satisfy me more than I could have asked for, for the day.
I smirked, then said, “No mess that couldn’t easily and eagerly be cleaned up.”
She flushed adorably, and busied herself in straightening her panties again, and the dress. Smiling, I gently grasped her arm and led the way out of the dressing room and into the main section of the boutique once more.
“Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up,” I suggested, indicating the private restroom in the dressing area. “And when you come back, I’ll order us lunch. We still have plenty of time before Meriwether gets back from her little meeting bullying someone into submission.”