The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

This romantic/erotic short story features characters from the world of The Black.

 

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

 


Valentine’s Day Morning
Monmouth Beach, New Jersey

 

Simon gave Elle a sponge bubble bath in his sunken Roman tub as she sipped non-alcoholic champagne. The real champagne would come tonight. He kissed her between sips: her lips, her neck, and her shoulders.

“Are we going out today?” she asked.

“Later.”

“Where?”

“No questions. It’s a surprise.”

The doorbell rang. He gave her a kiss and said, “Don’t move.” He went downstairs to answer the door.

He’d paid extra to have the delivery made at the time he specified. It was worth it. She was worth it.

As the delivery man placed everything according to his specifications he said, “Your lady must be a special woman.”

Simon said, “You have no idea.”

Back upstairs he dried Elle off, carried her to his bed like a baby and laid her down. He rubbed perfumed oil into her skin, taking his time and massaging every inch of her beautiful body. It took him nearly an hour to complete the process, and by the time he was done she was moaning and sighing and dying for it…aching for release. But it wasn’t time yet.

The new pink robe he’d bought for her was made of a silk and cashmere mix. Elle sighed and shivered as he slid it over her nakedness.

“This feels like sex,” she breathed.

“Soon enough,” Simon said. “We’ll have time for that later.”

He told her to follow him downstairs.

Elle stood on the stairs, gaping her surprise down at the living room, at what he’d had delivered for her.

One hundred roses: Thirty-three red; thirty-three pink; thirty-three white. One black, because that was his favorite color. A mixture of Godiva chocolates: Dark, milk and white.

Elle dashed among the roses like a bee, inhaling their fragrance as she sampled the chocolates. When she turned back to him he had the jewelry box out and open, presenting the pair of diamond earrings

She came to him, kissed him. Then she went to the coat closet. She came back with a package for him to open.

A watch by Parmigiani Fleurier.

He was blown away.

Simon looked at Elle, watched as she opened the robe and let it fall to the carpet.

“The time is now,” she said.

 

Simon and Elle are from the novel ELLE (INSATIABLE: BOOK ONE)

 

———-

 

Montego Bay, Jamaica
Valentine’s Day Morning

 

They were at the same hotel at which three years ago they’d taken their relationship from friendship to love. Morgan smiled as Mina came out of the suite’s bathroom. He took a moment to drink in her nakedness and then held the wrapped box out to her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby,” he grinned.

Mina pouted at him. “Oh Honey, your gift is at home. If I’d known you were going to surprise me by flying us here –“

“Don’t worry about it,” Morgan said. “You’re my gift…the only gift I need.”

Mina came to him and kissed him. Then she took the box and tore off the wrapping. Morgan watched and smiled as the box was revealed and Mina’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh my God Morgan, no! Not Christian Louboutin!”

“Yep. You’ve been talking about them since we were co-workers in the Air Force. I figured it was about time.”

Mina opened the box and gasped. “Oh Baby, you remembered…these are the ones I showed you…the Lynch fetish model!”

Morgan grinned at his wife’s happiness. “Yeah, no way was I going to forget these babies.”

Mina ripped a shoe out of the box and bent up a shapely leg to put it on. Morgan sat down on the hotel bed to enjoy the show. He watched Mina’s heart-shaped golden bottom as she moved over the carpet in the red-soled, five-inch heeled pumps.

“Damn, Baby, you make those shoes look good,” he said. “But don’t you feel like you’re walking on a tightrope?”

She turned back to him and moved his way, now adding an extra sway to her hips. “Well, these aren’t really made for walking,” she cooed.

“Oh really? Then what are they for?”

Mina stopped in front of him and looked down at him. “Get those boxers off and I’ll show you.”

Morgan did as he was told. Mina kneeled before him in her new no-bullshit fuck me pumps and took him in her mouth. After a few minutes, after she’d transformed his constant desire for her into throbbing, raging need, she rose up and pushed him onto his back.

As she climbed onto him and slid her wet, silken heat down onto his need she said, “These shoes will never touch the floor again.”

 

Morgan and Mina are from a yet to be released novel, untitled.

 

———-

 

Oceanport, New Jersey
Valentine’s Day Morning

 

Maisha had to run out to the store, so Duncan took the opportunity to put a few finishing touches on her Valentine’s Day gift. It had taken him six months to complete, primarily because he’d redone it twice. He hadn’t been satisfied that the first two versions did her justice.

Last summer he’d taken a photograph of her sitting in the sunroom gazing out at their garden. She’d looked so beautiful in that morning light, like a goddess fallen to earth. Duncan used that photo as a reference for the oil painting he’d done as a tribute to his love for her.

He decided to take the painting downstairs so that she’d see it when she came in. He was about to do that when the house phone rang.

It was Maisha, calling from her cell phone.

“Sweetie, come outside,” she said.

When Duncan stepped out onto the porch his instincts went on alert. That always happened when he encountered something out of the ordinary. The gleaming Mercedes sedan sitting in his driveway was out of the ordinary.

Then he saw the big red ribbon strung through the Mercedes’ window, and the bow on its roof. From the corner of his eye Maisha stepped from around from the side of the house and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetie!”

Duncan stared at the car, speechless.

Maisha said, “I always thought my man was too classy to be driving around in a Charger. This car is more you, Baby.”

Duncan grabbed Maisha and pulled her to him, and before he kissed her said, “The only thing classy about me is you.”

As they went inside Duncan said to his wife, “After a Mercedes, my gift for you seems weak.”

“Nothing about you is weak, Duncan. Believe me.”

“Okay well, come up to the studio and let’s see.”

He hadn’t expected Maisha to cry. But when she saw the oil painting he’d done of her she began bawling her eyes out.

When she was able to talk she said, “Oh Honey, you made me look like a queen.”

“You are a queen, Maisha. You’re my queen. You always will be.”

As Maisha dried her eyes she said, “Let’s go break in your new car.”

“Where do you want to go?”

Maisha smiled at him. “Who said go anywhere? I’m talking about the back seat.”

 

© 14 February 2009
The Black
Duncan and Maisha are from the forthcoming novel THE HITMAN CHRONICLES

 

———-

 

 

The West End
Long Branch, New Jersey
Valentine’s Day Evening

 

He thought he’d messed up. Big time. The question had come out of his mouth before he’d thought it through. But he’d seen the way the men were looking at her in the restaurant. He’d seen their unhidden desire, the raw lust in their eyes as they’d gazed at his wife. He’d seen the women too – the wives and girlfriends and lovers – glaring at Auriel with their expressions dripping bitter jealousy instead of enjoying their Valentine’s Day dinners.

Even in her overcoat his wife exuded sexuality, so everyone watched as the hostess escorted them to their table. All eyes watched her stride in her four-inch red heels. They gaped at her sensuous sway, at the curve of her strong dancer’s calves, and at the erotic arch of her feet in her heels.

They watched as he’d helped his wife out of her coat; he could have sworn that a hush came over the room. He knew some men had to shift in their chairs as their erections came to life when they saw Auriel’s beauty revealed in her black belted dress…a red belt at her waist that showed that she had no waist…at the way her round hips and bottom flared out from that non-existent waist…at the split in her skirt that opened as she sat down, showing a glimpse of the pathway to a paradise they would never know.

He’d seen them all looking, the men with longing and the women hating. But what had gotten to him…what had made him ask Auriel the question…were the men. If they looked at her this way in a restaurant, then on her night job at Shadows…

“Do they ever offer you money to do more than dance?” he’d asked as they were finishing their meal.

It was a question that had to cross the mind of most men involved with a woman who danced for other men’s pleasure. But it was a wrong question and a stupid question for him to ask. He was a man. He knew how men thought. Of course they’d offered money to the most desirable woman most of them would ever see. So the pointless question had pointed to the deeper question. That was why Auriel had answered him with a look of surprise and hurt.

He’d apologized as he drove them home. She’d said that it was okay. But he knew his wife. He knew it wasn’t okay. He’d hurt her by asking the question.

He thought he’d ruined Valentine’s Day.

When they got home she’d presented him with a bottle of wine given to them as a gift from Amarante, her employer at Shadows. The wine was a hybrid of the wine created by Auriel’s grandfather in Louisiana. Amarante had had it analyzed and modified into her own exclusive brand. The wine was called Passion’s Nectar.

Auriel had told him to sit down on the sofa as she poured glasses for them. Then she put on the music and did what she does so well.

So now Gordon sat in his living room, watching his wife dance for him to a song called The Principles of Lust by Enigma. He watched as she gave him his own private striptease.

He hadn’t seen her get dressed before they went out. So he was surprised to see that beneath her black belted dress she wore only a thin ruby chain around her hips. A red satin heart hung from the chain, covering her treasure. She danced for him in red four-inch heels and a red satin heart. It was her Valentine’s Day gift to him. But while her body whispered desire, her face still showed her hurt.

He wanted to say something to her to make things right. But the wine – that Passion’s Nectar – was so potent. His mind felt enclosed in fog. He couldn’t focus enough to come up with the right words.

And the wine had another effect, so much more powerful than her uncle’s homemade wine. As he watched his wife dance, the thing between his legs thickened and lengthened until it felt like a throbbing shaft of concrete.

Auriel was watching him as she danced. The hurt was still in her eyes. Her sensuous mouth was turned down in a pout. Occasionally she’d move to the coffee table; take a sip from her own glass and then move back to dance some more. Gordon wondered what effect the wine was having on her, how much it was boosting her desire.

The song ended.

She stood looking at him, her luscious bare breasts heaving, her eyes blazing now, the hurt replaced by something else.

“Take it out,” she said. It wasn’t a request, but a command.

He struggled because he was so hard, but managed to release himself from the confines of his clothing. The shaft of concrete stood straight up, throbbing in the air.

“Look at me,” she said.

He was already looking.

She reached back, unfastened the chain, tossed away the red satin heart. She stepped out of her heels.

She said, “Look at this body.”

He kept looking.

“Don’t you know me?” she asked. “Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know what I am?”

“I’m sorry, Baby…”

She said, “This isn’t my body, Gordon. It’s not mine to give to anyone. This body belongs to you, and any pleasure it gives or receives is at your whim.” She held up her left hand so that he could see her wedding ring. “That’s what this ring means.”

She came to him then, stepped around the coffee table and stood over him, looked down at him…at the shaft of concrete throbbing up at her. “And that belongs to me,” she said. “It’s mine and no one else’s, to do with as I will.”

He reached for her, but she moved away, out of his reach.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again, Gordon. Don’t.”

“Baby, I’m…”

“And don’t apologize again. Now come to bed and bring me my property. And come and claim yours.”

Auriel turned away and went to their bedroom.

Gordon got up and followed, his wife’s property leading the way.

 

© 15 February 2009
The Black

Gordon and Auriel are from the novel GOLDEN (INSATIABLE: BOOK TWO)

The story of the wine they were drinking is detailed in the novella PASSION’S NECTAR and other books in the PASSION series

Posted on February 14, 2013, in Free Stories and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Loooooove that you did this! !!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: