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She braced herself, terrified he was home early because he’d found out about her extracurricular activities. Her anxiety grew as he strode in and wordlessly began opening cupboards and slamming them shut.
“John...uh...are you okay?” she stammered, convinced his temper had something to do with her.
“Where’s the whiskey?”
“In your den where it always is. Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No, I’m going there now. Listen, Stella, I’ve got some problems at the studio. Big problems. I need to think,” he exclaimed, then spun around and marched away.
Thinking she might faint from the profound relief, she wondered what could possibly be so terrible. But whatever was troubling him, he hadn’t sought comfort from her or wanted her opinion, further proof of his total disregard. At a loss, she moved through the house, out to the terrace, and down the steps to the sand. The ocean breeze was refreshingly cool against her skin, and she looked across at the sun. In a couple of hours it would sink into the ocean and send a dazzling array of colors across the sky.
A chill suddenly sent goosebumps across her skin.
Change was in the air, and it wasn’t just the seasons.
* * *
WHEN JOHN HEARD STELLAopen the sliding glass doors, he’d carried his whiskey to the windows and peered through the dark brown shutters. She was ambling along the shoreline. He knew she was upset because he hadn’t told her what his big problem was, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t have the energy to fabricate a story.
Moving back to the dark brown Chesterfield couch, he sat down, closed his eyes, and thought back to the horrendous events from the night before.
It had started with a call from Sue Jackson—shockingly at his apartment. How she had found his number was a mystery and deeply disturbing. But before he could ask her about it, she’d launched into an abject apology for demanding the extra cash, promised to explain when she saw him, and begged him to let her come over and spend the night.
It had been a tough decision.
Then he recalled the words of the immortal Don Corleone.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Though he agreed and gave her the address, he made it clear there would be no sex. He planned to deliver a grim lecture that would put the scheming bitch in her place.
Fifteen minutes late, she’d knocked on his door, then flounced in wearing a tight-fitting ridiculously short dress with a plunging neckline that left nothing to the imagination. Trying to ignore the voluptuous body on offer, he’d asked her how she’d found his very private phone number. She’d just laughed and grabbed his crotch.
He’d had enough.
Furiously grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off her feet, he’d carried her into the bedroom, tossed her on the bed, then jumped on top of her, and pinned her arms on either side of her head.
“What’s your game, little girl? It’s not smart to play with fire, and that’s what you’re doing. You’ll get your fucking fingers burned.”
“There is no game. I just like rich, powerful men. Men who know how to fuck.”
Her brazen manner and challenging words had sent a rush of energy through his loins.
“If you ever come to my office again and try to—”
Before he could finish, she’d lifted her head, planted her mouth on his and darted her tongue between his teeth. He’d fisted her hair and roughly responded, crushing her lips for endless seconds. But when he’d pulled back, she’d laughed out loud.
“Isn’t it fun to have felt so impotent in your office, and now so powerful on this bed? Face it, Johnny boy. I had you by the balls, and I can do it again whenever I want.”
With the blood rushing through his body, he’d reached under her dress to rip off her panties, only to find she wasn’t wearing any.
“What the hell is this, and why are you here?” he demanded. “Tell me!”
“I already did. I like to be fucked by rich, powerful men, but you didn’t seem like a powerful man in your office when you caved. Such a disappointment. You didn’t even seem like much of a man at all. You were more like a pussy...cat.”
It was the last straw.
Unzipping his fly, he’d pulled out his stiff shaft, placed it against her entrance and plunged into her passage.
