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Ignoring him, Tia climbed out of bed and pulled the sheets down, revealing his well muscled, athletic, naked body. She paused to enjoy the sight for just a moment before ordering him to take a shower and get dressed. Mumbling complaints, he stumbled off the mattress and disappeared into the bathroom.
“I should never have let him stay overnight,” she muttered as she pulled back the curtains. Sunshine splashed into the room, and the swimming pool below sparkled its invitation.
“Scott,” she called through the closed bathroom door, “I’m off for a swim. Get your butt out of here pronto.”
She heard a semblance of a response, then pulled open the double doors that led to her dressing room. She smiled at her dazzling wardrobe. She had earned it, and loved to bask in its abundance. Finding the bathing suit she wanted and quickly pulling it on, she walked out to the terrace. Behind a wrought iron gate was a slide that descended into the pool below.
She shivered slightly in the sunny but cool morning air. Fall was fast approaching. Already feeling the water against her skin, she opened the gate and sat down on the slide. As she glanced across to the glistening ocean she could hear the faint hum of distant traffic. It was the morning rush hour from Pacific Coast Highway. Focusing back on the pool and its invitation, with a slight push she was slithering down the slippery slide.
As she hit the water, the warmth embraced her. It was glorious. She insisted the pool be kept at 76 degrees all year round. She began her laps, her long, lithe body and elegant strokes propelling her forward.
Tia Goldman was twenty-eight, one quarter Native American, three quarters Irish. Her black hair, high cheek bones, bright green eyes, and willowy 5’11” frame had graced the pages of Vogue, Harpers Bazaar, Cosmopolitan and just about every other glamor magazine in the world. People recognized her on sight. Her exotic good looks and magnetic presence commanded attention wherever she went.
Although courted by Hollywood, Tia had turned down all offers of an acting career. She was no actress and she knew it. She wanted to keep her image and not tarnish it with the debacle she knew a motion picture debut would probably bring. She enjoyed her fame and the riches it brought, and, of course, her husband Jerry.
Jerry Goldman was fifty-nine when they met, 61 when they got married. For Tia it was a relief. She was an atheist when it came to men. She considered herself smarter than most, and suspected all they really cared about was power, money and conquering as many women as they could. She’d never had the desire to have children, though she was constantly told by others her feelings would change. She knew they were wrong.
What she did crave...had always craved...was great sex.
She would lose herself in the waves of sensation and the intensity of her orgasms, but she didn’t enjoy the games she had to play to get what she wanted. With Jerry, there were no games because there was very little sex. The only time Jerry wanted sex was after he’d closed a big deal, or his latest release broke box office records. Otherwise it didn’t really come up—so to speak—and that was fine with Tia. She hadn’t married Jerry for sex. She had herspecial friendsfor that.
Jerry was wealthy beyond reason, and once had a wife who gave him the sons he wanted. When he met Tia, he was seeking an intelligent, beautiful companion. A woman who wasn’t after his money, or wanted a family.
Tia was happy to fill the role.
She was looking for a best friend. Someone in her corner. A man wealthier than she, and someone her intellectual equal. Jerry was the perfect candidate. She respected him, and over time, came to care for him a great deal. It was a comfortable, close relationship that satisfied them both.
Theirs was the Hollywood wedding of the year.
Jerry Goldman, billionaire and Chief Executive of a major motion picture company, married Tia O’Brien, a world famous supermodel.
She did, however, have to keep herspecial friendsdiscreet. As long as Jerry didn’t see evidence of them at the house, her outside interests didn’t bother him.
Scott was her latest, but he was making noises about his feelings.
She was lost in the laps, and was turning at one end when she thought she heard his Harley Davidson. Pausing to listen, she’d been right, and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was for Vera to run into him. She was a good housekeeper, but she was also friendly with all the other good housekeepers in Malibu, and gossip was something Tia could live without.
There was a young, muscle bound actor, making a name for himself in a prime-time soap opera. He had learned how to please her, but he was beginning to care about her, and that was a no-no. Scott was, sadly, going to get his walking papers.
* * *
IN NEW YORK, JERRYwas in the back of a limousine on his way to the airport chewing on a Mylanta tablet and trying to control his anger. He’d lost out on acquiring the rights to a book he knew was a winner.
It was calledBelle,and it had everything. Drama, romance, intrigue, and a twist at the end. The Mylanta tablet stuck to his teeth and he cursed under his breath.
At least he had Tia waiting at home. Beautiful, elegant, smart, and sexy when he wanted it. She was the bright spot in his life. He wondered if he might even be in love with her. Her minor excursions outside their marriage had never bothered him, but in recent weeks he was starting to feel differently.
Closing his eyes, he pictured her waiting for him.
Long black hair straight down her back.
Her body, lean and perfect.
Her blue eyes sparkling at him.
His cock stirred
Opening his eyes, he frowned.Something was changing.
