Cinderella
Copyright 2008-2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults only. [email protected]
Cinderella - Book Three
by T.S. Severe
Chapter Seventeen
"Hmph. Did you see this?" I asked Sofia, holding up the magazine, some glossy rag called "The Village Resident" which sounded like a good title for a foreign film to me.
"Uhhhh…Nope," she said with a roll of her eyes, going back to her own magazine, a recent issue of The New Yorker. We were in the rather well appointed offices of Walcott Properties, one of the more prestigious firms in Manhattan.
"Artist of the stars, it says," I said around a sip of wine, licking my lips. The receptionist, an attractive young redhead named Mindy was smiling at me. "This guy in Greenwich is supposed to be the best tattoo guy in the city."
"You want a tattoo?" Sofia looked up sharply.
"Sure, that'd be cool." I nodded and then caught her look. "What?"
"You can't get a tattoo," she decided, dismissing the idea completely and looking back down.
"Why not?" I wondered, slipping once more into the role of spoiled teenage girl. I think Sofia liked it, actually. "Everybody's got tattoos nowadays. Let's get one!"
"Let's?" She wasn't looking at me. "I don't want a tattoo and you can't have a tattoo. So let's not."
"Sofia!" I whined, giggling and sticking out my tongue at her. "Me and you! We can get something little, something personal, okay? Nobody has to know."
"I don't want to get a tattoo," she finally sighed, putting her magazine down impatiently and looking at her watch.
"Please?" I asked, taking a deep breath so my tits swelled up beneath my blouse.
She'd made me dress up and I was still resenting that. I was officially on vacation and I dressed up for a living, you know? Dressing up just to look at an apartment seemed to be an awful lot like work. I mean, I was going to be spending a million dollars, probably more than that with taxes and fees and everything else…A person willing to blow that much money on four walls and a view oughta be able to dress any old way she wants, don't you think?
"You really are boring," I said, sounding vaguely surprised and knowing exactly what that would do to the girl. It was my ace in the hole and I rarely played it, but Sofia seriously needed a life and besides…I really wanted a tattoo.
"What?" Sofia's green eyes flashed and she pulled her blonde hair out of her face, just so I'd be sure to notice.
"Never mind," I sighed airily.
"I am not boring!" she said.
"I know," I agreed, obviously humoring her.
"And a tattoo doesn't make a person more interesting." Sofia sipped her wine, looking at me over the glass.
"I didn't say you're not interesting." I gave her an innocent smile, glancing at Mindy as if looking for agreement.
"That's kind of the definition of boring," Sofia said with a frown at me and then a decidedly dirty look at the receptionist who looked away quickly.
"Yeah. I know," I shrugged, contradicting myself.
We sat in silence for all of three minutes probably. I was paging through my magazine, humming softly to myself and ignoring Sofia's eyes. I just had to let the girl stew.
"Let me see it," she finally said and I suppressed a triumphant grin as I gave Sofia the magazine.
A few minutes after that, Wendell Walcott was finally able to see us and I suspected he'd made us wait ten minutes on purpose.
"Cindy!" he gushed handsomely in his silk suit, baby blue like his eyes. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. Did Mindy take care of you? Bob was on the phone, he's doing another picture with Scorsese and…"
"Bob?" I wondered as I let him hold my hands. Walcott was slick as oil, and I'd never met him before, but he was acting like we were best friends. I'd met a lot of people like that, unfortunately, and I really didn't like any of them.
"Bob De Niro, yeah." He gave me a smooth, name dropping smile. "Do you know him? Great guy. He's looking for a place right now. I have to tell you, Cindy, I don't know how long I can hold the apartment…"
"Why don't you show it to her before you start the hard sell, Wendell," Sofia said a little testily, mostly because she was worried about being boring now, but she probably didn't like the guy either.
"Hard sell?" The man looked offended and then turned his sincere gaze back on me. "I'm only trying to help, Cindy. The market these days…" He shook his head sadly. "I have a car waiting downstairs. Shall we?"
An hour later we were done.
"What did you think?" I asked Sofia as we got in a taxi. My assistant had wanted to rent a limo, but it was my first day back and I wanted to feel it, you know? Riding in a limo was like putting up a big brick wall to keep the city out.
"The bedrooms were too small," she said. "They should knock out a wall or something."
"The Village," I told the driver. "West Tenth and Broadway." He was a man named V. Chandrasekhar according to the permit taped to the Plexiglas between us. He wore a turban and I know it's totally stupid, but I talked loudly just in case his English wasn't too good.
"What do you think?" Sofia asked.
"Bob can have it," I said with a grin, and she laughed at me. "What kinda tattoo are you gonna get?"
"Oh God," Sofia sighed. "I can't believe you talked me into this."
"Me neither!" I stuck my tongue out at her, but it hadn't been all that hard. I knew which buttons to push and besides that, she really would do just about anything to make me happy.
"What are you getting?"
"I want a little slipper," I said, because I had been giving it some thought.
"A slipper?" Sofia narrowed her eyes as we rode through twilit Manhattan. It was after eight, but the sun was just barely settling down for the night.
"Yeah," I agreed with a shrug. "Like a little high heel shoe, inside my left thigh. I told you, I just want a little tattoo, nothing fancy."
"Why a shoe?" she wondered and I made a little face at her, feeling a bit self-conscious. It was kind of a dumb tattoo maybe, but if I was going to wear it forever, I wanted it to mean something.
"What kind of Cinderella would I be without a glass slipper?" I asked her.
"Ohhhh…" She grinned at me. "So when Prince Charming goes down on you…"
"Yeah! Hey, you could get one too!" I said. "Get the other slipper!"
"On my right thigh?" Sofia giggled. "Nah, I think I need something a little more me."
"Like what?"
"I dunno." She shrugged. "I'll have to look first."
"Did you call your folks yet?" I asked and she gave me a guilty look. "Call them. Tonight. Let them know you're in town. When are you going up there?"
"I don't know," Sofia sighed. "Maybe the twelfth? Come back on the sixteenth…"
"Three days?" I shook my head. "I told you a week."
"It's not that easy," she said. "We have to find you an apartment, take care of that thing with Angie…"
"Tomorrow night?" I looked at her, now that she'd reminded me of the little girl. "Dinner with that Dearborn guy, right?"
"Yeah," Sofia nodded. "Just him. I told him he could bring his wife or girlfriend, but I guess he's single."
"Is he cute?"
"I dunno." She laughed. "Why? You starting a collection?"
"I was thinking about you!" I stuck my tongue out at her.
"Stop!" She held up her hand. "Don't even think about trying to hook me up with someone."
"What? Why? You're supposed to be on vacation too," I told my best friend. "You really need to get laid."
"I got laid last night," she said, pouting just a little. "Or did you forget that already?"
"I didn't forget," I giggled. "But I don't count either. You need a boyfriend. It would do you some good."
"No it wouldn't," Sofia sighed.
The tattoo artist for the stars had a nice little shop wedged between a delicatessen and a photographer's studio. It was like any other tattoo parlor, I suppose, but still surprising to me. Sofia too, I thought. We'd always imagined places like that being kinda…you know, low rent. Kind of sleazy, but this place was nice. Carpeted and clean, with a lot of framed and autographed pictures of famous people on the wall in addition to the expected tattoo designs on display.
"Woody Allen has a tattoo?" Sofia grinned and a couple customers, two young men were staring at us.
They were kinda cute, looking like college guys and clean cut. I was checking them out from behind my sunglasses and pretending I was looking at a photo album full of body art. It was nice walking around and not being totally recognized. Some people crave that stuff and then act all pissy when it happens, but I was perfectly happy being anonymous, although it rarely lasted for more than half an hour at a time. Someone always recognized me and had to announce it to everyone else.
"Alright, just lay back and relax…" Robbie said. He'd turned out to be just as normal as his shop, except he was covered with tattoos. We were in a private room, rather like a doctor's examination room, I thought, complete with a vaguely antiseptic smell and too much air conditioning.
"You are discrete, right?" Sofia asked the guy for like the third time.
"Exceptionally," he assured her patiently. "I'm in the ink business, not the gossip business."
"Because if you're not…"
"Whoops!" I made a face as I pulled my skirt up and all five inches of my girlish cock were obscenely obvious through the thin lace of my white panties.
"Ahhh…" Robbie, who looked an awful lot like Edward Norton, the actor, with Buddy Holly glasses -- You know, those big black frames that are so uncool they're cool? Anyway, the man was just blinking at me.
"Sorry," I said, giggling softly as my cheeks bloomed pink. "It always gets hard when I'm nervous."
"Uh-kay," he said with a slow nod, looking the rest of me over slowly and then blinking again at what had to be a penis and balls.
"You're alright…right?" I asked him with a glance at Sofia. She just shrugged, kinda giving me an I-told-ya-so look, even though she hadn't.
"I'm…Me? Yeah, um…Are you alright?" Robbie wondered and I nodded my head.
"She's just got a really big, uh…you know…" Sofia cleared her throat and this wasn't the first time something like this had happened to me, obviously. I wasn't gonna live my life hiding though and sometimes it was just inevitable.
"Clit," I finished for my friend. "Don't worry, it won't bite you or anything."
"Yeah. Okay." Robbie was finally moving and that's the way it usually worked. It would take a minute or two to sink in and then he'd rationalize it, and then…Everything was fine.
"Did it hurt?" Sofia asked me later, as we enjoyed a late dinner at Trattoria Manzo, probably the best Italian restaurant in Manhattan.
We didn't have a reservation, but that had never stopped me before and tonight was no exception. We were seated immediately, which was nice and I wasn't the most famous person in the room by a long shot, which was even nicer. I felt like a normal person and slightly awed when Derek Jeter asked me for my autograph.
"It's for my cousin," he said, giving me a big shot of boyish charm.
"That's a serious coincidence!" I grinned at him. "My cousin is a big Yankees fan."
So we swapped autographs and I had the impression Derek wouldn't have minded swapping more than that. Phone numbers, I mean. Except he had Natalia Vodianova hanging off his arm. What a slut! We had to play nice though, saying hi to each other and pretending like we were best friends. All I was thinking though was, if Natalia got the Sports Illustrated cover in February? I was gonna be pissed. I mean, Derek or the cover; one or the other I could live with, but if she got both? Give me a break!
"Who's her fairy godmother?" I wondered after they left and Sofia gave me a curious look, not really hearing me.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Hey," Sofia whispered, slipping under the covers and I was already reaching for her.
"Hi," I whispered back.
It was nice and quiet in the master bedroom of my suite, dark too and that was okay. Sofia smelled like Camay soap and toothpaste, real minty as she got close to me. I could smell her too. That Sofia smell that was all her and I liked it. I liked her and sometimes I thought we could have a real thing, but we never did.
It was strange, like the ebb and flow of some emotional tide. We'd get close for awhile, only privately of course, but close the way two people in love can be. We'd share our bed and the small intimacies of romance, but after a few weeks…I don't know. We'd just drift apart again and not for any obvious reason. I couldn't even tell if it was Sofia or me, it would just happen. She'd meet a guy and go on a few dates, or most usually one date. I'd catch up with my boyfriend, whoever he might be for the moment, and they were invariable famous and busy with their own careers. And then a few weeks or a month later, we'd get back together.
Back and forth we'd go like that. Sofia wasn't a lesbian, I knew that. She enjoyed sex and didn't mind sleeping with Eva, for example. She didn't mind sleeping with me either, obviously, but it wasn't the same for her. Even with my unique sexuality, my constant and ready erection, Sofia knew I was a woman and making love to me wasn't the complete experience she needed. Perhaps for me as well, I'm not sure. I remembered Evelyn though and I'd been in love with her, but was that because she'd accepted me more completely than Sofia could?
It troubled me, but I didn't complain. I took Sofia as she was able to give herself to me and so even our romance, if such it could be called, was more a convenience than anything else. She loved me like a sister, I thought, and I loved her as well. But we weren't in love and sometimes I wondered what that would be like, really falling in love with small, sexy, overworked Sofia. It would probably be hard, I decided, as hard as her falling in love with me. Who would want to share someone with the rest of the world? It was why I only dated other celebrities, because they were too busy to demand more than they themselves could give.
Whoever Sofia might love, he would have to share her with me. What sort of man would want that? All in all, we were probably perfect for each other, but it could be a little depressing if we thought about it too much.
Now we were in the middle of one of our romantic periods and Sofia spent every night with me, and much of her days as well. We were rarely separated and all too rarely alone, but that was a fun game because we'd tease each other with small looks and touches. We were very good at it and nobody would suspect anything, except Wolfgang and Eva perhaps, but they knew we slept together anyway. They expected such things and plainly wondered why Sofia and I weren't even closer than we were.
"What were you like as a man?" Sofia asked me in the dark, reaching between us to find my cock already straining for her touch.
"I don't know," I said with a soft laugh and then a slight gasp as her fingers wrapped around my penis. We were laying side by side, with my right arm beneath her.
"Were you very different than you are now?" she wondered and I really didn't know how to answer.
"I was bigger," I told her lightly and I could sense her smile and hear it in her voice.
"Come on," she said and then sighed. "I wish I'd known you then."
"I wasn't anybody then," I said seriously. "I was just a guy. You wouldn't have looked at me twice."
"Maybe I would have."
"No," I took a deep breath, moving my left hand over her bare hip and down her thigh. "If I'd met you at a bar or something, or at a party? You'd have forgotten me five minutes later."
"I don't believe you," Sofia decided. "I mean, yeah. I shot down everyone for a long time, but…I don't know. When I'm with you, I think it's meant to be."
"Meant to be?" I giggled.
"I don't mean sex." She laughed as well. "I mean, I really like you. All the time, you know? I like being with you."
"Okay," I nodded slowly, adjusting my hips as Sofia massaged my cock gently, working the foreskin over the head and down, back and forth.
"What? You really don't think I'd have liked you before?"
"Yeah," I shrugged. "You might have. I would have liked you a lot, but…"
"But?"
"I'm not sure you would have given me a chance," I said. "I've seen you with guys, Sofia. You make up your mind quick."
"Too quick?" she wondered and I could just barely see her biting her bottom lip.
"Maybe," I agreed.
"Well…" She seemed to think about it for a second and then laughed. "I'm pretty busy, you know?"
"You haven't really changed, have you?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that's what you used to say before you met Paul, right?"
"Yeah," Sofia agreed somewhat reluctantly. "Maybe, but it's not the same. I'm doing something now. I'm working and I'm with you. That counts, doesn't it?"
"You need a boyfriend," I whispered, smiling in the dark as I stroked her soft thigh.
"Someday," Sofia whispered back and we shifted slightly. Moving by unspoken agreement until the petite blonde could spread her legs for me.
Sofia lifted her right, putting her leg over mine and it was only slightly awkward. She was rubbing the sensitive head of my cock around her sex, freshly shaven and baby smooth, like me. I tingled as the tip of my penis found her soft pussy, Sofia's labia already moist and easily parted as we shifted again, finding the angle for our perfect union. We were joined, my cock sliding inside the girl easily, and I brought my left hand to her breasts.
She was so small and firm, each of Sofia's tits nothing more than a handful and I did love playing with them so much. She offered me a small murmur of pleasure as I worked my cock in and out of her cunt and Sofia moved her hips, tilting her pelvis to find the pressure she needed. I wasn't very large, even for her small body, but my friend found what she wanted as her swollen clit would graze the shaft and the mouth of her sex tighten around me.
We made love slowly that way, like we sometimes did. We didn't speak and the only sounds were our heavy breathing punctuated by the occasional groan and gasp. Sofia found my own tits with one hand, pressing her palm to my firm flesh and playing her thumb across my nipple while I did the same with her. The girl's other hand was between us so she could finger her clitoris, give it the extra stimulation she desired and I could feel her fingernails across my cock as it moved back and forth.
Five minutes of that was all I could take. I had to fuck her then, deep and hard. I moved so that I was straddling her right thigh, with my cock inside her, and I held Sofia's left leg in the air, letting her rest it between my breasts and over my shoulder. This was good for me, the best and it was how I'd made love to Evelyn so many times. Grinding as if we were two lesbians with nothing but cunts to love each other with. I pushed my cock inside the girl completely and held myself there, moving my hips and pelvis, working my sex against Sofia's without pulling back at all.
I kissed her foot, hugging her leg against my body as I knelt on the bed. It as hot and we were sweating and I'd tossed the sheets away from our bodies. I could feel my balls against her flushed skin, trapped between us as Sofia moved faster, grinding herself against my prick as it tried to fill the girl completely. I licked and nibbled at he small toes, tasting her clean and fresh from her bath. I could smell Sofia's sex, wet now and clasping with the tiny contractions of her quiet orgasms.
She was cumming for me, moaning between her tightly shut lips, breathing deeply through her nose with her head tilted back. I wished I had a real pussy then, wondering how that would feel. Could it be so much difference than the ache low in my tummy, the tension of every muscle in my body trembling with the need to finish inside the girl? I couldn't remember making love as Robert, those memories were long gone and I didn't mourn them. I was moaning in my female voice. My ripe breasts heaved with every ragged breath and I could feel their weight tugging at me, the pressure in my nipples as they throbbed.
I was cumming as well and it would be a long one, multiple orgasms jerking my body against Sofia's as I rode her eager sex. We kept moving all the while, never stopping and even after my ejaculation had finished, I was still hard for her, still rushing with another climax that had nothing to do with my sex and everything to do with who we were. It was good, like it always was, and only at the point of exhaustion, when Sofia and I were breathless and giggling, consumed by the pleasure we'd shared, did we finally move to lay close together once more.
We kissed tenderly, lazily and stroked each other wordlessly. I could have loved her, I thought, if only Sofia would give herself to me completely. If she'd want to possess me completely, the way Evelyn had taken me. I wanted her selfish and greedy, the way I longed to be, but it wasn't in her to love another woman that way and I was too afraid to tell her how badly I wanted it.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Where were you guys?" I asked as Eva and Wolfgang joined me for breakfast. Sofia was already busy, still in the suite's large bedroom and probably still talking on the phone.
"Good morning," Eva said with a smile
"Yeah. Good morning," I replied, but I was too curious for much of that. "I knocked on your door last night, but you weren't in."
"We were making arrangements," Wolfgang said, sitting down across from me. We were sitting at a glass table near the large bay windows overlooking Central Park.
"Oh." I nodded at that. "Is everything okay?"
"Ja," Eva said, reaching for the coffee. "It is very good."
"How about money?" I looked between them.
"We have enough for now," Wolfgang said. "The expenses for the moment are very small."
"Okay. Just let me know what you need," I told him. "That Frankie hooked you up, huh? I mean, he's getting you what you need?"
"Yes." Wolfgang picked up his coffee after Eva poured it. "We've met people like him before, it won't be a problem."
"Well, just be careful," I said.
"We have to be careful with you as well," he told me and then he said something to Eva in German.
"What do you mean?" I asked, watching as the woman pulled out a celphone and handed it to me.
"It's probably better if nobody knows we're working for you," Wolfgang said. "Outside the hotel, we shouldn't have any direct contact."
"Okay," I nodded. "So…"
"Use that phone if you need to contact us," he explained. "Not for anything else. We have another that we'll only use to contact you."
"You guys aren't going to disappear, are you?" I smiled at them and Eva shrugged.
"It is better," she said.
"We're going to be watching you," Wolfgang told me. "You don't have to worry, we won't be far."
"This banker, he knows who killed your friends, ja?" Eva asked me and I nodded slowly.
"I think so," I said. "He knows whose money I took anyway, so…"
"So, he's the one we'll start with," Wolfgang said.
"Start with…how?" I wondered.
Eva said something in German to Wolfgang and it was obvious they were reluctant to say anything specific, probably to protect me.
"I want to know," I said, interrupting them. "What are you going to do?"
"Once we know who he is, we'll watch him for some time, a day or two," Wolfgang said. "And when we have an opportunity to take him…"
"Kidnap him?"
"Ja," Eva agreed. "We will have with him a private talk."
"Hmmm…" I looked between them and I understood what they were saying. They were going to kidnap Baron Carlisle and torture the guy until he talked, find the next guy and the next and keep doing that until they found whoever was responsible for killing Evelyn.
"This is what you will want," Eva said.
"It's the fastest way," Wolfgang told me.
They were probably right about that, but was it really what I wanted? Carlisle was my father-in-law, or at least he had been. I didn't hate the man. I didn't want to see him suffer, did I? Being beaten or worse…No. I knew he didn't kill Evelyn. He might be partly responsible, but Baron Carlisle wasn't a murderer. I knew the man, I'd worked with him and he was a bastard when he wanted to be, but…
"No," I cleared my throat. "We can't do it like that."
Eva looked at Wolfgang and then they both looked at me.
"You guys just watch him, or whatever, okay? Just do the surveillance thing and let me talk to him," I said slowly. "See what I can find out and, uh…If we can avoid hurting anyone, I mean…"
"We understand," Eva said softly. "We can watch."
"We're not going to do anything against your wishes," Wolfgang agreed. "Whatever you feel is necessary," he looked at his sister, "that is what we'll do."
"Ja," Eva nodded her head.
I guess it hadn't really occurred to me until that moment what I was really doing. I was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner of someone. Wolfgang and Eva would kill if I asked them to and they were already preparing to do just that. I had little doubt that once Baron Carlisle gave up his partners, my two guardian angels would kill him. How could they not? It had seemed so abstract before, like a game almost. I'd had no idea what I was really asking for and now it was real.
"What's going on?" Sofia asked, walking out of the bedroom and smiling at us cheerfully.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Twenty-eight hundred square feet," Danielle said, walking us around the apartment. She was a young, attractive go-getter and I appreciated her brisk attitude. She hadn't made us wait or dropped any names, she was pretty much willing to let the place sell itself too.
"That's a little smaller than what Cindy's looking for," Sofia said, but I was going straight for the view. It was my friend's job to point out all the negatives and play devil's advocate.
"I bet this looks great at night," I said, mostly to myself.
There was a sunken living room, a large one with a gas fireplace and two expensive sofas. A small bar, a huge, flat screen television, an entertainment console thing. It was much like you'd expect, I suppose, but the view…One whole wall was nothing but glass and we were on the eighteenth floor of a modern high-rise looking towards midtown Manhattan. At night it would be all lit up like Christmas and beautiful.
"Should have a view of the park," Sofia suggested.
"It's furnished, as you can see," Danielle said. "But I'm sure you have your own ideas. We can remove anything you don't want. If you're looking for a designer, I can give your assistant several excellent references."
We walked through the place, checking the master bedroom and bath, a smaller guest room with a private bath as well. The kitchen and dining rooms were on the small side, which was how the rest of the apartment had been scaled so generously. The furnishings were nice enough for the moment, not extravagant by any means, but tasteful anyway. It would do until I had the place redone. The elevator wasn't private, but required a key to stop at my floor and in any case, it had an operator, an older man named Mr. Walters. The apartment's electronic security system was augmented by a private firm contracted by the company who owned the building.
"How much?" Sofia asked bluntly.
"One point four three," Danielle said, not bothered at all by the question. "That includes closing fees. You can expect annual expenses of about sixty-five thousand for utilities, property taxes, and maintenance."
"If she wants to sell it?"
"Carroll Investments will be the only authorized broker," Danielle said with a small smile. "I can make the contracts available to you immediately if you want to look through them."
"Yeah. We'll need those," Sofia told her. "Jason Kirkpatrick will be closing the deal for Cindy."
"Great. I've worked with Jason before," Danielle agreed. "He's very good."
"We have some other appointments…" Sofia started saying, but I cut her off.
"I'll take it," I said, smiling at Danielle. "Sofia will have my lawyer contact your office. How soon can I move in?"
"As soon as you sign," Danielle was smiling too. "You'll be arranging financing through…"
"Jason will have the details," Sofia told her. "I'll have him call you this afternoon."
"Of course," Danielle nodded. "I look forward to hearing from him."
I sat quietly in the back of our rented limo while Sofia called Mr. Kirkpatrick. He was a lawyer who specialized in real estate and his biggest job was to make sure I didn't sign any contracts that weren't in my best interests. He was supposed to be one of the best property lawyers in the city and Melissa had recommended him. He was charging me a tenth of a point for making the deal happen, in this case about fifteen thousand dollars for three days work and he was probably worth it. All I had to do now was wait and the idea that I was spending well over a million dollars on an apartment hadn't really sunk in yet.
"Are you sure you want to spend that much?" Sofia asked me. "There are other places we can look at."
"I know," I said with a nervous giggle. "No. I just want it over with. It's nice, right?"
"The apartment? It's beautiful," my assistant agreed, listening to her phone ring. "But that's a lot of money…Good morning. This is Sofia Preston calling for Mr. Kirkpatrick…Yes, I'll hold. Thank you…Are you going to pay cash?"
"Me?" I grinned at her. "Ummm…I was thinking I'd ask Baron Carlisle for some money."
"Oh." Sofia blinked at me and then turned her attention to the phone. "Jason. Hi…I'm just fine, thanks…I think Cindy found an apartment…"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Hi Ralph," I said with a smile to the old security guard of First Providence Bank.
I was dressed up again, but today I didn't mind it so much. I wanted to look my best and so I was wearing a chic Givenchy business suit, an elegant design originally done for Audrey Hepburn in the late 1950's. The skirt was long and tight around my hips and thighs, slit in the back and sexy-modest. A black silk blouse beneath the jacket, which was tailored to my figure and accentuated my curves wonderfully. Three inch Prada heels and black, silk stockings. The suit was emerald green to match my tennis bracelet, the only piece of my wife's jewelry I still owned and I was wearing it just for Baron Carlisle. I wore my bed-head hair loose, like always, and my face was made up perfectly.
I could have done a cover for Vogue, looking like I did, and it was amusing to see an entire bank come to a screeching halt as I walked across the marble lobby.
"Good morning, Miss." Ralph blinked at me, but I was already past the man, walking towards Mrs. Samson, the senior account manager. She had an office upstairs, but during banking hours she was always downstairs at a large desk, overseeing her domain. The tellers and account managers all belonged to her and she wasn't much loved, despite looking like someone's grandmother. Ruth Samson was a bitch, but I suppose she had to be as a lot of money walked in and out of the bank every day and she was responsible for all of it.
"Cindy?" She wasn't going to be a bitch to me though, I knew that.
The woman was already standing up, looking equal parts shocked, surprised, and pleased. Most celebrities don't bother with something so mundane as opening a new savings account. I hardly even touched money anymore, which sounds strange, but it's true. If I wanted to buy something, Sofia was right there to pay for it, usually with a credit card and I had a bunch of those, all in Sofia's name. I did have a platinum American Express card in my purse, but I'd only used it three or four times. All the bills went to Allen in Paris and he gave me an allowance, paid Sofia's salary as well as Wolfgang's and Eva's, and what was left went into my investment portfolio.
"Good morning," I said with a smile. "I'm Cindy."
"I know!" She blinked at me. "I mean…It's a pleasure to meet you."
Three minutes later Baron Carlisle was exiting the elevator, looking much as I remembered him. He wasn't yet sixty-five and large, very robust in his dark, conservative suit. He had a handsome face, rugged like he belonged outside someplace, on a horse, I thought. Baron's thick, black hair was graying at his temples, combed neatly and parted on the right. He was square jawed and barrel chested, with a flat, hard stomach and cold, blue-grey eyes like his daughter. He strode across his bank with a confident purpose that I've always found attractive in men and despite his age, this was what I'd both expected and dreaded.
Baron Carlisle made my dick hard.
"Welcome to my bank," he said with a large smile, his eyes fixed fearlessly on mine. "My God. It really is you."
"Mr. Baron Carlisle, may I present Cindy…" Ruth said, quite unnecessarily.
"A pleasure to meet you sir," I said softly, letting the man take my right hand in both of his.
"All mine," he told me with a satisfied breath. "Please, call me Baron."
"Alright." I smiled back at him. "This is my personal assistant, Sofia Preston."
"Sofia, it's nice to meet you," Baron agreed, letting me go somewhat reluctantly so he could shake hands with the girl. "How can I be of service?"
"Cindy wants to open an account," Ruth said, reminding us that she was still there.
"Well, we can certainly help you with that," Mr. Carlisle decided and looked at me. "Ms. Samson and your assistant can prepare the necessary paperwork. May I show you to my office? We'll be much more comfortable there, I think."
"That sounds wonderful," I said with a small purse of my lips.
"You've made a wise choice investing your money with First Providence," Baron said, giving me what I knew to be his patented speech on the illustrious history and untarnished reputation of his bank.
I listened patiently, smiling and nodding at the right places, but already knowing entirely too much about the man and his business. I'd worked there for over a year and been married to Baron's daughter. I'd been privy to many of the old man's secrets as well and being with him, feeling Baron's confidence and enjoying it, I'll confess I had a difficult time imagining someone else pulling his strings.
The bank had been his for nearly thirty years after the death of his father and Baron had done well with it. He wasn't a stupid man, nor was he entirely greedy. As one of the few privately owned banks left in New York, First Providence required a steady hand and I knew of at least two takeover bids by much larger institutions over the years. Baron had survived those and weathered the economic storms that had ruined so many others. The bank was a good one and honest for the great majority of its customers…So why had he started laundering money and for whom? It made little sense to me.
"Gillian, would you ask Mr. Roth to join us please?" Carlisle asked his secretary.
"Yes sir," the woman agreed, giving me a curious look and reaching for her telephone.
"Please, sit down over here, Cindy." Baron gestured towards a large sofa upholstered in Italian silk.
It was a nice office, very nice as you would expect from a bank president. Thickly carpeted and richly appointed with wood paneled walls and portraits of his father and grandfather. There was a conference table, not overly large and near the windows looking towards the East River from thirty five stories up. The bank owned the building, but occupied only six floors of it, the lower five and the top floor. The rest of the building was rented out as business space and First Providence turned a nice little profit on that, believe me.
"She's lovely," I said, ignoring the man's offer for the moment and looking at his desk. I picked up a framed photograph of Belinda, the woman I'd been married to as Robert.
"Oh yes," Baron smiled, looking over my shoulder. "That's Belinda."
"Your wife?" I asked him with a straight face.
"Wife? Uh…No." He chuckled gently. "She's my daughter."
"Oh." I nodded, looking only slightly embarrassed at my mistake. "I see the resemblance now. She has your eyes," I said, taking the opportunity to turn my head and look into Baron's face. "They're very pretty."
"Ahhh, yes…" He reddened slightly.
"Are you married, Baron?" I asked him, replacing the photo and seeing no others. I seemed to recall he'd once kept a photo of his wife, deceased now for many years, but apparently Baron had removed it.
"Not at the moment," he chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm rather devoted to my work, it can make things…difficult."
"Oh I know!" I giggled and played with my lower lip, biting it playfully. "I'm the same way. Always working. I never have time to meet a real man."
"I'm sure a woman like you…"
He was interrupted by a knock at the door and a young man in a gray suit stepped in slowly.
"You wanted me, sir?" he said meekly, clearing his throat and trying very hard not to stare at me. He was thirty, maybe, and not a bad looking man with his neat brown hair and doe eyes. He looked distinctly uncomfortable though and gave me the impression of a wayward child summoned for punishment. He had a reluctant stoop to his shoulders and a natural tilt of the head, as if he was used to looking at another man's shoes.
"Mr. Roth," Baron said, and I knew that tone of voice well. "Would you bring us some…" he looked at me, "…tea? Coffee?"
"Tea would be nice," I said. "Thank you."
"Tea, Mr. Roth," Carlisle told the man and I knew that little scene wasn't really for me. Baron had found a new whipping boy, now that Robert had disappeared, and the young Mr. Roth was already off to do his master's bidding.
It had happened to me plenty of times, being called away from my real job just so Baron could have me do the most mundane tasks. His secretary could have gotten us tea quite easily and in most places she would have, but not here. It was something I didn't like about the man, obviously, and I wondered why he'd settled on Mr. Roth in particular.
"Was that your butler?" I asked with something like a frown, wishing to express my low opinion of Baron's regard for his underling, but Carlisle was immune to such things and I'd have done better not saying anything at all.
"Roth?" The old man chuckled. "He's whatever I want him to be. Let's sit down; he'll be back in a few minutes with our tea."
"It must be nice to have your own bank," I said, sitting in the center of the sofa and crossing my legs.
"Hmmm," Baron agreed, sitting next to me. "Especially when I have the chance to meet clients so attractive and interesting as you, my dear."
"Thank you." I smiled at his compliments, but not too much. I expected such things, to tell the truth and I wished I didn't.
"And really," he continued with his deep, sincere voice, "I hope client isn't the right word."
"Oh?" I widened my eyes. "You don't want my money, Baron?"
"I'd much rather have your friendship," he said and his blue eyes actually twinkled a bit as a self-conscious smiled bloomed on my face.
"You don't have to sell me anything," I said lightly. "I'm already here, see?"
"I do see," he chuckled and any excuse to look me over was a good one apparently. "Forgive me. I don't get the opportunity to entertain as often as I'd like. Are you going to be staying in New York for long?"
"I think so," I told him. "I'm buying an apartment on the Upper East Side."
"Park Avenue?" he asked me with a smile and I giggled.
"Fifth," I said with a shrug. "I didn't realize how expensive it would be though."
"How much are you spending?" he wondered. "If I may ask, of course."
"You're my banker, right?" I teased him. "A million four, give or take a little."
"I see." Baron nodded appreciatively. "That's a large investment."
"I know!" I laughed nervously. "I still can't believe I'm really buying it, but…"
"Excuse me, uh…Sir?" Mr. Roth was back, wheeling a cart with a silver tea set on it. "I have your tea."
"Well, don't just stand there." Baron waved at the man. "Bring it over. You were saying, Cindy?"
I smiled at the young man, wondering if I'd seemed so fawning when I'd worked for Baron and I thought I probably had. Baron had walked all over Robert and I'd silently accepted the abuse.
"Well," I said slowly. "I only brought two million with me and I was going to pay cash, you know. Get it all out of the way and done with."
"Always a good idea," Baron agreed.
"But I would like to have a million in my account here," I explained. "In case of emergency and if I put a million down on the apartment, then…Well, it needs some work, some renovation…"
"It's why I never move," Baron said with a sympathetic nod of his head. "I have my house just the way I like it."
"Yeah, see? Exactly!" I smiled back at him. "So I was thinking perhaps I could get a line of credit from you, for…oh…say seven hundred fifty thousand? To cover the balance of my apartment and do some redecorating, that sort of thing."
"Ahhh…" Baron nodded slowly, watching as Mr. Roth poured our tea into delicate cups of bone china.
"I know I'm new here and I'm only opening an account today, but…" I gave him a small pout.
"And you're depositing a million today?" Baron looked at me.
"Two million, actually," I said. "But one of those will have to go to Jason Kirkpatrick, he's my attorney in the deal."
"Oh, very good," Baron grunted his approval. "I've dealt with him before. A good man."
"That's what everyone says," I giggled, playing it up for the old man.
"Well, I think we can arrange something," he said slowly. "A line of credit at a reasonable rate…Ninety days? Would that suit you?"
"Sixty days would be fine," I told him. "I have the money, but you know how it is. My accountants in Paris refuse to rush on anything."
"Of course," Baron agreed with a smile. "A sixty day note for seven hundred fifty thousand…Roth, have you been paying attention?"
"Sir?" The man had served us tea and was waiting patiently for just this moment apparently.
"Run downstairs and tell Ms. Samson to get someone started on that note for Cindy. Her assistant is down there, Ms. Preston, let them know what's going on. I want the paperwork pronto. She doesn't have time to sit around here all day."
"Yes sir." Mr. Roth glanced at me and it was just more of the same gopher work that I'd been doing for the old bastard.
You really have no idea how humiliating it is unless you've been there, trust me on that. He was a thirty year old man with his hard earned MBA, and being treated like a sophomore intern in front of a very important and decidedly attractive client. Baron hadn't even bothered introducing us and I was tempted to introduce myself, but I knew Carlisle would make him pay for it later if I did, so I let it go.
That pettiness in Baron Carlisle was another thing I found at odds with his confidence and I knew that with me, with Robert, there had been a purpose to it. Carlisle had used humiliation to keep me in my place, meek and subservient both to himself and especially to his cheating slut of a daughter. He'd used his power over Robert to stamp out any hint of independence and so it was understandable in that sense, but why this Roth guy? It bothered me because I couldn't understand it, unless Baron just liked having that one person to bully about. Like some Freudian thing? I guess that was always possible.
"This is very good tea," I said, holding my cup and Baron was ignoring his.
"I have to ask…" he narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to me and I gave him a curious smile.
"What's that?"
"Your perfume," he said, taking a deep, deliberate breath. "It's very nice."
"Oh!" I offered him an amused look, setting my cup down. "Do you like it?"
"Very much," Baron nodded, turned slightly now and facing me with his right arm behind me on the sofa.
"It's my own fragrance," I told him. "Arden is marketing it in Europe; I don't think it's over here yet."
"Your own perfume?" The man looked impressed. "What do you call it?"
"Just Cindy," I giggled. "Two words. Just Cindy. I don't know. I wanted to call it something else."
"No, that's perfect," Baron insisted. "It's very nice."
"I have some in my purse," I said. "Here…You can give it to your daughter, maybe she'd like it."
I found a small 20ml bottle of Just Cindy petit parfum which went for 35 euros in Paris. Arden had already developed the scent and even marketed it briefly under a different name to lukewarm sales the year previously. Their marketing people, looking for a new approach had decided to capitalize on my quickly growing popularity with teen girls. They lowered their price point by a third, aimed their new campaign at the 13-19 year olds, and we were off and running. I'd spent most of the previous April promoting the perfume all over Europe and it was selling well, which was good news for everyone concerned. I didn't get a very large percentage, but sell enough of the stuff and it added up quickly.
I shared that story with Baron, knowing the man would appreciate such things far more than I did. His company was enjoyable, I had to admit and there was a palpable tension in the air. He was looking at me and I wasn't hiding. I rather liked the way he smiled at me, his patience and good manners when we were alone. I was flirting with him, not too obviously, but enough. A man knows, especially one with as much experience as Baron Carlisle had. I wasn't making myself completely available to him, not yet, but the invitation for him to try was unmistakable.
"Excuse me, Mr. Carlisle?" His secretary opened the door after knocking softly. "I'm sorry, but your meeting with the Hanover Group is about to start…"
"Oh." He frowned, glancing at his watch and offering me an apologetic sigh. "Cindy, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't put this off."
"I understand." I smiled at him. "Your wife is calling."
"Heh!" He grinned at me. "Would you let me make it up to you? Dinner this evening perhaps?"
"Ohhhh…" I made a face. "I have plans, I'm afraid. But…Would you care to join me?"
"I wouldn't want to intrude," Baron said slowly.
"No. Not at all," I assured him. "I'm meeting the regional director for Make-A-Wish. Mr. Vincent Dearborn. I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing me with a banker, if you wouldn't mind sharing me with my favorite charity."
"I see," he said with a small chuckle.
"Bring your checkbook," I told him with a little tongue playing between my lips. "No, I'm only kidding. I promise, it's not a fund raiser."
"Alright. Yes. I'd love to join you," Baron agreed, standing up slowly and I was rising with him. "Just let my secretary know where and when."
"Good." I smiled happily. "And if your daughter has no plans," I shrugged, "she's more than welcome. I'd like to meet her, too."
"Belinda?" The man narrowed his eyes momentarily, but then he relaxed and nodded. "I'll talk to her."
"Okay…Ummm, I guess I'll wait outside." I reached for my purse, but the man stopped me.
"No, just stay here," he told me. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure Ms. Samson will be up shortly. I look forward to dinner."
"Alright, Baron. I'll see you tonight," I replied, letting him hold my hands for a moment before he left the office with one last smile over his broad shoulder.