Take the Money and Come

Chapter 4: Erotic Images-2

A woman who knew from the get-go that she was only there for one purpose—to satisfy his baser needs—was more up his alley. It was a mutual arrangement, of course. He was always more than happy to satisfy her needs, too. But that was the kind of arrangement he was accustomed to, that had worked for him thus far. This arrangement with Maya was supposed to be simple. Just business. But business was the last thing on his mind when he looked at her. She was beautiful, sure—sexy as hell, in fact—but it was something else about her that was getting beneath his skin and making him all too happy to blur the lines of business and pleasure just to have her writhing naked beneath him.

Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he opened the car door for Maya, closing it behind her and walking around to the driver's side. The first few minutes of the drive was silent, but the quiet must have gotten to Maya.

“So, your brother just got married, huh?” she queried casually and Michael nodded in response.

“My brother's been dating the same girl since his first year in college. She's great; I really think she's the one for him. I'm just hoping my brother has the good sense to propose before she gets away,” she continued with a smile.

“You're a big fan of marriage then?” Michael asked.

“Well, for others, yes. For me, no.” She didn't elaborate beyond the odd statement.

“Generally, it seems a person is either for or against the institution entirely. Why not for you? Fiancée leave you standing at the alter?” The words were out before Michael realized how cold and insensitive his question was. Damn! What if someone really had broken Maya's heart?

“Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid,” she told him, relieving a modicum of his guilt. She was quiet for a moment, but Michael could tell that she was thinking, figuring out how to phrase what she had to say. “I guess I'm just not relationship material. Enough of them end badly, and you start to realize you just weren't cut out for it, you know?” she explained.

Although she didn't sound the least bit sorry for herself, something in her tone traveled straight to Michael's heart. He was instantly angry, furious at the men who had so obviously hurt Maya in her past, making her think she wasn't “relationship material.” It was different for Michael; the women who came sniffing around were generally only after two things: s*x and money. A relationship built on love, trust or anything other than a stack of bills was the furthest thing from their minds. And Michael was fine with that; he'd gladly give them the one and send them on their way before they could sink their teeth into the other. But Maya wasn't like those women, he was absolutely certain of that now. There was a kindness in her voice that one could not fake, and the way she spoke of love and family, how her conscience had forced her to return the tip he'd left her, even though it hadn't been much more than pocket change to him.

“Enough!” he berated himself silently. This was a business arrangement. If Maya were the kindest, most genuine and loving woman in the world, it would make absolutely no difference. In this, she was nothing more than a means to an end. Michael flinched at his own thoughts. “Damn, that's cold,” he confessed silently.

“What about you?” she asked softly. “Did some woman ruin you for others, or did you always know you weren't interested in a relationship?”

“It just goes hand-in-hand with the job, I guess. Money brings the gold diggers out of every c***k and crevice. No need to worry about their motives when you have no intention of settling down.”

Maya's expression turned sad, like she actually felt bad for him, and it had him instantly regretting having said anything on the subject. Fortunately, he turned onto her street in the same moment, pulling into her driveway a few seconds later.

“I'll pick you up at seven tonight,” he told her and then was silent. Maya figured that was the end of whatever conversation they'd started and so she said goodbye and slid out of the car, closing the door gently behind her. He waited as she ascended the front steps, pulling out of her driveway only after she'd unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Every one of her senses seemed heightened after the time she'd spent with Michael; the cool hardness of the doorknob felt smooth beneath her fingers, the light aroma of lilacs traveled to her from the kitchen where she'd put a freshly clipped bunch of them the day prior. The sun streamed in through her living room window and in its stream she could see dust motes suspended in mid air.

She had several hours still remaining before Michael would be back to pick her up, but she wasn't sure it was long enough to make her feel prepared for this evening. It had all seemed well and good in theory, particularly when the theory had involved two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but what had she been thinking? She wasn't an actress, and she was a lousy liar! How on earth was she going to convince a room full of the people who knew Michael the best that she was the devoted, loving fiancée?

“First things first,” she soothed herself. “Find something to wear, and then worry about the rest.” Taking her own advice, she breathed deeply, heading for her bedroom closet and searching through it. She wasn't entirely certain what she was looking for until her eyes came to rest on a dress pushed to the back of the closet that she'd completely forgotten she owned. It was a dress she'd bought for a cousin's wedding, scrounging and saving for weeks to afford the hefty price tag. OK, it wasn't exactly a designer store purchase, but for her limited budget, it was an expensive item. Falling just below mid-thigh, the strapless, ivory-colored dress was exquisite looking. The corset-like bodice fastened with at least two dozen tiny pearl clasps down her back but it hugged her curves gently, rather than cinching her in unnaturally. She grabbed a short-sleeved, denim bolero jacket from her closet, to dress down the rather formal-looking dress. She could always take it off at dinner if she appeared to be under-dressed for the occasion. Stashing a long, silky scarf in her purse, she figured she might as well be prepared to dress up the outfit, too, if necessary. It wasn't like she dined with the wealthy all that often—or ever.

Laying the dress on her bed, she padded out of her bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower facet and stripping out of the sundress she'd worn to lunch. Stepping beneath the showerhead, she breathed a sigh of relief as water cascaded down her body, soothing every inch of her the hot liquid touched. Closing her eyes, she didn't fight the urge to follow the water's descent with her hands, letting her fingers trail down her neck to the upper swells of her breasts, cupping their fullness in her hands. In the same moment, an image of Michael came unbidden to her mind, imagining his hands caressing her, exploring every inch of her body with his lips before spreading her legs wide, his tongue plunging deep inside her wet slit. He thrust in and out, faster and faster until she couldn't hold back any longer, cumming hard around his tongue.

Maya didn't know exactly when, but at some point during her fantasy, her own hands had moved, her fingers coming to rest on her throbbing clit, rubbing hard, fast. And just seconds after imagining orgasming to Michael's talented tongue, her back arched as the sensations against he clit became too much, and she started to c*m, stifling her moan against the back of her arm. Her cheeks flaming red as the aftershocks of her o****m tremored through her, Maya washed quickly, stepping out of the shower to dry her slim body as she wondered how on earth she was going to get through this evening without memories of her fantasy springing to mind at the most inopportune moments.

Trying to push the images from her mind, she wrapped a towel around her, opting to put off getting dressed until evening was approaching. Heading out into the living room, Maya grabbed an armful of textbooks, figuring that delving into studies would help to keep her mind occupied. And sure enough, it was hours before she looked up again, checking the clock to discover the afternoon had come and gone. Placing her books down on the coffee table in front of her, she stood, heading to her bedroom to dress. She ran a brush through her hair, smoothing out her long, lush locks until their wasn't a single knot left. Pulling open her bedside dresser drawer, she rummaged through the contents in search of some sort of makeup. Though it was rather out of character for Maya, she figured rich people seemed to go to great lengths to primp and prime themselves, and she wanted to fit in as much as she could. Coming up with nothing more than a tube of mascara and a pale rose lip gloss, she shrugged her shoulders, applying the two items, figuring it was better than nothing. She checked her reflection in the mirror, her lips parting slightly in awe at the woman looking back at her. It wasn't often she stopped to check herself out in the mirror and it was even more seldom that she got all dressed up.

Her rare appraisal was cut short though as a knock sounded at her front door. She jumped a little, but recovered quickly, gathering her purse and her bolero, and checking her reflection one last time before hurrying out to greet Michael. She opened the door, doing her best to appear as calm as possible, but the moment she laid eyes on him, the images that had hastened her body onward in the shower came flooding back to her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“Good evening,” he smiled. “You look amazing, Maya,” he complimented her.

“Why, thank you,” she forced the words past her lips. “And you look very handsome.” She tried to keep the tone of her voice as platonic as possible, failing miserably no doubt.

“I had brought you something to wear,” holding a garment bag, he held out his hand in explanation, “but it seems it was rather unnecessary of me. I wouldn't change a thing,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her lips gently. He couldn't resist; it had felt as natural as breathing.

Maya didn't know what to say, and given that she was investing all of her energy at the moment in keeping her hands at her side, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck, molding her soft curves to his hard form, she didn't have a lot left over to invest in conversation. Fortunately, Michael offered his arm—a gallant gesture that immediately brought to mind an old-time lord, offering his arm to his lady. She wondered if she would she ever stop with her fantastical musings?

“Are you ready for this?” Michael queried as he slid into the driver's side seat.

“Close enough,” she offered half-heartedly. “And you're sure they're not going to be suspicious?”

“I'm sure. The moment I say the word 'fiancée' nothing else will matter,” he smiled dryly.

Maya nodded, but she was still nervous—a bit more than could be attributed to the anxiety of meeting new people. But whether tonight was a failure or success, it would be over in a few hours.