What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas...

*WARNING!!! There is sex, drugs and violence in this story! DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU ARE OLDER THAN 18 YEARS OF AGE!*

I have no way of knowing if you are older than 18, so please adhere to this warning.

Kismet – Part 1

HER version…

“The landing was good. I’m now in a cab on my way to the hotel. Yes, I remembered everything and yes I’ll double-check again tonight,” I grumble to my office manager while rolling my eyes. “I’ll leave you a message.” She drones on about something I care not a whit about and as she talks I rummage through my purse for a mirror to check my hair. “What?”

“I asked what your plans were this weekend - I know you’re not listening to me.”

“I am.” I say into my cellphone and roll my eyes again as I tuck a bit of hair into its clip. “I’m going sightseeing.”

“Try not to look like a tourist.”

“Har-dee-har-har, Charlotte. I know it’s my first time in Sin City but...” My ears pick up a faint ring in the background; I look at the caller ID and see that I want to take this incoming call. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” I click over. “Hi, Sis. Yes, I’m here in Las Vegas - woohoo!” I cheer loudly. With Charlotte I’m the ultimate professional but with my sister I can be myself. “What?” I ask as I press on the speaker button. “I can’t hear you. Wait.” The call abruptly ends; it seems the mountain range is interfering with my signal so I knock on the window dividing me and the driver. “Hey, Mr. Cabbie, could you pull over for a minute or two?”

“Sure, lady.”

He swerves so quickly changing lanes that I almost fall off the seat; well my purse empties all over the floor but I'll get to that afterwards. “Great – thanks,” I say sarcastically as I step out of the cab, then I stretch my back and walk a few feet away to make the call. “Jane. Sorry, interference. Now, what were you saying?”

“Lizzy, it wasn’t important. I was just missing you already; the apartment is so quiet.” My sister and I share a condo in a little Midwestern town. She’s a custom designer for a large architectural firm in Chicago.

“Awww... that’s sweet, Jane. I miss you too.” I work as an architect in same firm but I’m here to pitch a proposal to a big corporation for a re-tread on one of their satellite campuses. “You’re just going to have to get used to… What the fuck??”

“Lizzy!”

“Jane! The cab took off with my stuff! Hey!” I run around the corner as fast as my high heels can take me but the taxi speeds through a yellow light and fades into obscurity. “FUUUUUUUCK!”

“Lizzy! Are you alright! What’s happening?”

I lean against a brick wall to catch my breath. “Damn! I have to call Charlotte. She’s going to be so pissed.”

“Forget Charlotte! Are you alright? Are you at the hotel? Maybe they can help you?”

I don’t want to worry her but I’m pretty scared myself. “I don’t know where I am,” I sniffle. The adrenaline rush is wearing down fast and I can feel the panic rise as tears slip down my face. “What am I going to do??”

“Is there a restaurant in sight? Another hotel?”

“I-I’m standing across the street from one: Jake's Café.”

“Does it look safe?”

“I think so.” I know my mascara is running and so is my nose; I use my sleeve to wipe my face as people stand nearby but remain strangely mute.

“Check the street names, call the Police and tell them what happened. Go inside and get a coffee, call Charlotte then call me back.”

She’s the composed one in the family, obviously. Me? I’m the uptight one; the one that flies off the handle at the slightest upset but my sister has, as usual, such a calming affect on me. I gulp down my fear. “Thanks, Sis, you’re the best.”

“Call the police, Lizzy. I'll be here waiting.”

The police officer just left. He was tall, good looking, and helpful. He bought me a coffee to calm my nerves since I didn’t have a dime on me but I could’ve done without his sarcasm as he drove me to my hotel. ‘Little ladies in the big city need protection’ my ass! If he and his lot were doing their jobs I wouldn’t be in this mess now, would I? Anyway, he let me know that all taxi drivers are required to call in their pickups so I might have my stuff back and the criminal behind bars before I leave town. Fat chance. Cabbies aren’t stupid and I doubt this guy had a valid hack license. Meanwhile, I had never been in a squad car before and certainly not in the back seat; I felt belittled, degraded, and in desperate need of a bath.

“Miss Bennet checking in.”

“Hello,” the desk clerk smiles cautiously. “Charlotte Lucas just called and told us what happened. Don’t worry about a thing. Your room is ready, we’ll have a laptop for you in the morning and your presentation is being emailed to your account.”

“Great!” I smile cheerily in return but I don’t think it passes off that well.

“Miss Lucas also faxed a copy of your company’s AMEX card so here is $100 for food, etc. until we can confirm your expense account on Monday.”

“Thank you.” This time I really smile. The money is an unexpected surprise and I’m grateful. “Thank you very much, Miss King.”

“It is our pleasure, Miss Bennet, to always be here for our patrons. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I shake my head; I can’t think of anything right now.

“This young man will take you to your room.”

After my hour-long Jacuzzi, I was still too excited to sleep. Antsy more like it. I cried a river in the bubbles. My purse with my entire life in it, my laptop, and my luggage – all gone. I had never experienced such a mix of anger, fear, and despair in my life. And I hope to never revisit that feeling again either. Anyway, here I am now, sitting in a very swank piano bar of the best hotel in the free world and swirling one fine glass of VSOP. So I splurged $20 on a shot of Cognac when a $9 glass of house wine would do. Char is relieved, Jane is relieved, and I’m just happy to be alive. I look around, trying to be discreet, at the patrons. All the ladies are dressed to the nines and the men are all in expensive looking suits. Very nice. Charlotte always insists on the best… although that fiancé of hers. Well, never mind that now. Everyone seems to be paired up though. Hmmm? I take another tiny sip from my glass and my mind races to what I have to do to survive for the next few days with little money and no ID. Tomorrow, I’ll get a bagel for breakfast from the coffee shop down the block, buy a pair of cheap jeans and t-shirts from a local souvenir shop, launder the suit and blouse that I’m currently wearing, walk down the strip to see some of the famous themed hotels, order a pizza, and check out the laptop when I get back to the room. Oh, underwear. I’ll need several pair. Going commando isn’t as comfortable as I thought it would be. Maybe I’ll...

“Hello.”

I look up and suddenly I can’t speak.

“Hello,” he repeats but this time with a smile.

I smile back but instead of returning the greeting I take a sip of my drink. Good God, this man should not be allowed to walk on the streets alone!

“Is this seat taken?”

I shake my head. I’m absolutely certain he thinks I’m certifiable because he looks carefully at me as he takes the bar stool next to me. He orders Premier Cru and I whistle low in my mind. He surprises me with an offer to refresh my drink but I think I shock him more when I refuse.

“Did Sam put you up to this?”

I’m sure he can see confusion on my face as we look at each other in the large mirror behind the bar. Still though, I say nothing.

“My friend said it would be easy.”

“Easy?” I finally croak.

“Yes,” he says and turns toward me as the barkeep brings over his drink. “Look over the ladies, choose one, buy her a drink, chat for a bit, and…”

I gasp out loud. I believe I was just called a hooker in a not-so-obvious way. “Are you…?” I can’t finish my question; he suddenly looks… uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you? I thought you were…”

Obviously, he can’t complete his sentence either because I start laughing so hard that I have the attention of the entire room. This is my usual reaction to the absurd and after the first few hours in this city, hell, I deserve it, don’t you think?

“Damn,” he murmurs while I compose myself and nearly downs his entire glass. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His face is blushed with shame and it’s apparent that his demeanor doesn’t take kindly to mortification. “You should be,” I say sternly but with a smile. I don’t know why I want to relieve his suffering but I do.

“Lesson learned.”

“Which was?”

“Go with my gut.” He puts his face into his hands and looks down into his nearly empty glass.

“Come on, you might as well spill it all,” I chide. “You insulted me; the least you could do is tell me your embarrassing story.”

He finally exhales on a “Why not? It can’t get any worse.” Then he looks at me and his discomfiture comes with a crooked grin and dimples and I nearly puddle on the floor. “I’ve been so… I haven’t… I haven’t had time for a relationship. Sam, my friend – who’s just walking out of the bar with the blond in the red dress – told me I need to get laid.”

I snort quietly, interrupting his spiel but he bravely continues.

“I didn’t want to do this but… after weeks of harassment I was persuaded to follow this scheme.”

“This is a regular pick-up bar?” I know my voice rose; I could hear the screeching resound in my ears.

“Yes.”

Not that I hadn’t noticed the other women around me bejeweled in their finest and poured into their slinkiest dresses but that wasn’t how I saw it. “So… why me?” I decide to be bold.

“I prefer Brunettes.”

I only raise an eyebrow as a response.

“And your eyes… they are the most expressive… beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I say as I lower and flutter them. He clears his throat and I raise my head as I take a sip of my drink.

“So what brings you to this city?”

“How…?”

“The accent.”

It’s very late and I’m a little tipsy as I stumble inside the room. Nevertheless, I drop my cardkey on the table and struggle towards the minibar. I’m all hot and bothered now but can barely keep my eyes open. After I guzzle a bottle of spring water, I strip down to my skin, tossing the clothes as I walk to the bed, and fall into it. Telling all of my troubles to the handsome stranger seemed to melt away the tenseness in my shoulders. In fact, he’s pretty good at melting all my inhibitions away as well. I can feel his heat across my backside as his kisses sear the nape of my neck. “Oooh!”

“Am I too heavy?”

Am I dreaming??

After a nearly 54-hour fucking marathon – and I mean that literally – I managed to get the hotel’s spare laptop and catch a taxi to the meeting place. Now, I sit here in a conference room at Caesar’s Palace with a great view, stirring my coffee as my presentation downloads and I can only think with wonder on my weekend. Needless to say I never did do any sightseeing unless I count all the times I traversed the body of the Adonis that lay next to me. The first time started out with a quick massage that conflagrated into a furious fuck. I came so hard, I wet the bed. Never, ever, drink water before sex. He didn’t mind at all though. He said it just made the wet spot… a little wetter and we cozily shared one side of the bed. I was exhausted after that and fell asleep but he woke me up a few hours later when he spread my legs and entered me from behind. I know it had been a long time in between lovers for both of us but did he really believe I could sleep through that? God, he was doing delicious things to me! One hand caressing my breast, his teeth nibbling my ear, and his length stroking me at leisure; hell, I nearly flipped him over with my new-found energy. I turned my head to kiss him and his pace quickened. Then he turned me completely on my stomach, pulled me to all-fours, spread me wider, and made his bitch. Then, yes then, at that very moment, I turned into a first-class whore: screaming at the top of my lungs and begging him to take me harder. He did as I asked and I was all the better for it. He reached depths that I know for certain hadn’t been tapped before and now I know what an out-of-body experience truly is. That’s what we did all of Saturday, Sunday and the better part of this morning. Okay, we ordered room service a few times and sent my suit and blouse to be laundered but any other words between us seemed superfluous. Basically, we just fucked each other wholly and completely until exhaustion claimed us. Fortunately, my internal alarm clock woke me this morning and I was ready to ravish him again but I finally remembered that I had a meeting to attend and that I was in his suite and not in my room, so I scrambled from the bed and lunged for the shower. I wish I could’ve remembered to get his name as I ran out of the door but Mandingo served just as well and for some reason I just wanted to remember him as he was – laid out on the bed, sated and asleep. Yummy… Yes, I know I should feel ashamed that I acted so out-of-character, but I don’t. For once in my life I felt free, invigorated, and indulgent. To be more precise: I got my freak on. And if I ever meet him again in my travels, I’ll discreetly thank him for allowing me to do that. Oh, my PowerPoint has completed so I had better start looking at my presentation. I have 15 minutes before the meeting begins; that should give me enough time to wipe my drool, repair my lipstick, print out copies, and go over my notes.

“Miss Bennet, I’m Charles Bingley.”

“Hello, Mr. Bingley,” I smile and shake his hand. He’s the Vice President of Operations for Darcy Enterprises and is overseeing the selection process. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice on the phone.”

“Agreed and call me Charles, please?”

“Lizzy.” He’s all ease and friendliness; my sister would love him!

“I hope you didn’t mind flying out to meet us in Las Vegas?”

“Not at all,” I try not to beam. They were here for a convention so my boss decided that I would go to them. “I’ve had quite the experience.”

“Excellent.” He introduces me to the rest of his team. “Our CEO is running late, do you mind if we wait a few minutes?”

“No, of course not.” I didn’t know that the CEO was joining us, so I print out a few more copies just in case others feel the need to drop in unexpectedly. Polite chit-chat turns to anecdotes and anecdotes turn to humorous office faux pas as time marches on while we wait for the big-wig. I finally decide to pass out copies of my presentation and was just turning around to go back to my seat when I get the biggest shock of my life: my Adonis, in the flesh! Well, with clothes on this time, but I was too numb to do anything but stare.

Mr. Bingley races from his chair to pick up the papers that had dropped from my hands. “Miss Bennet, this is Mr. Darcy, our Chairman and CEO. Will, Lizzy.”

“Miss… Bennet.”

His shock quickly fades into stiff insouciance but when our hands touch to shake I feel the heat arc between us.

“Shall we begin?”

I nod woodenly and practically stagger to my chair. Before I open my mouth, I take a long drink of water then a sip of my cold coffee and as I take a deep breath I quickly pray for strength. And composure. “Yes. Let’s.” So much for composure!

I wait until they all leave the conference room before I decide to hyperventilate. Things couldn’t get any stranger or any worse. I’m sure they all noticed how I fudged and slurred my way through the presentation though none of them made mention of it. That man… stared at me – looked through me – the entire time but never spoke a word. God, my hands are like ice! But the rest of me is still on fire. I need to get out of here. I need to…

The door opens. “Miss Bennet.”

I close my eyes and wish him miles away.

“Lizzy,” he repeats.

I tremble at the sound of his rich cultured voice as I imagine his uttering it against my clit. I want to scream again but this is certainly not the time or place to do it… unless he wants a repeat of this weekend. Stop… I open my eyes, finally, after another prayer and rush out with “I’m sorry.” Then I walk out of the room and hide in the bathroom. I can feel the panic rise in my throat as I think about the deal I’ve blown for my company. I can’t believe I did that! I slept with a perfect stranger. Me? If I felt degraded in the back seat of the squad car, I most definitely feel lower now. What must he think of me? I need to damper down on my anxiety so I decide that I’ll wait him out in here for an eternity if I need to because… I’ve got to return that laptop to the hotel before I return home tomorrow and that man should be gone before night fall. See? Calm and reason are returning.

Well, I escaped that man, eventually, but not on my own cunning. I was cowed by the looks some of the women – a few I recognized from the meeting – gave me as I stood in the bathroom trying to wet-wipe an imaginary stain from my blouse for 4 hours. I felt so stupid! So I tucked tail and did a cloak-and-dagger I-SPY thing back to the conference room and out of the building. Now, here I sit in my hotel room, alone; afraid to leave it, afraid to order room service, afraid to open the door, afraid to answer the phone. Not even an elevator ride up in the Eiffel Tower at Paris, a gondola ride in the Venetian canal, the water dance at the Bellagio, nor the famous Pirate ship battle at Treasure Island can lure me from my self-made prison this night.

It’s been 39 days since that debacle and only two good things came out of my trip: (1) I didn’t catch any STDs and (2) the atrophy that I feel is only due to overworked muscles. God, my loins still ache… No word on whether the bid was accepted or rejected, no word on the criminal cabbie, and no word from that man.

My door opens and Charlotte steps in with a sly grin and I just know that she has some high profile gossip she wants to share with me. “What’s up?”

“Are you ready for the unveiling tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I say with a confidence that I don’t feel. We’re getting a new contract tomorrow and one of my designs is in the running. If I get it, I’ll get a nice fat pay raise, endless weeks with the CAD team, and several extended trips to some middle-of-nowhere place. If I don’t get it, well, back to the drawing board for all the other proposals coming down the pipeline. Either way I’ll be very busy; too busy – I hope – to occupy my waking hours with visions of that man’s mind-numbing thew-snapping exertions. I do enough of that at night!

“I thought you’d be nervous; this is a huge contract.”

I hide my hands; the bald fingernails are a dead giveaway. “I’m trying to take it all in stride,” I lie. This is what all architects strive for; a chance to be the winning design on the largest contract in the history of a company. Imagine the genuflecting as I enter a room!

“Oh, by the way, the big boss wants to see you ASAP.”

“Char!” I yell as she scampers out the door, laughing. The big boss doesn’t ask for you unless you’re in trouble and I can only guess what the problem is. I don’t have time for prayer instead I reach for the mirror in my desk to check for any make-up and hair mishaps. Not much comfort in gussying up when my ass is getting ready to be flattened but it gives me enough time to calm my nerves.

“Lizzy,” Mr. Goulding says as he looks at his watch. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make this quick: we didn’t get the bid on the Darcy Enterprises Oklahoma project.”

“Oh…” I try to act dismayed because I had a feeling this was why I was called up here but I’m torn between disappointment and relief. “Did they a give reason?”

“They need more time.”

“More time?”

“Yes, they’re thinking of expansion now rather than the refurb.”

“I see.” So, I didn’t exactly blow the bid, they changed their minds. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you call me up here?”

“Because I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done.”

Did I say that out loud? Damn! I’ve been doing that a lot lately… “Thank you.”

“Mr. Bingley told me that your design and presentation were well received and that it would be a waste to put it on the Norman office. That’s what prompted them to rethink the project.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

That’s my cue to leave. “Thank you, Mr. Goulding.” I go in a much better spirit than thither I came and ride down the elevator to my floor in a cheerful mood.

“Lizzy!” my sister squeaks as I open my office door. She’s in an even better mood than I am. Of course, she should be; she’s already on the design team of this new huge contract. I do structure and exterior and she does the interior’s look and feel.

“Hi, Jane. What’s up?”

“I’m meeting with the VP for dinner tonight.”

I raise an eyebrow at this. My sister is a model of decorum; she does not romance the clients – not that some of them haven’t tried. Me, on the other hand? I sleep with the CEO. Ugh!

“Would you join us?”

“Why?”

“Because it would make me happy.”

She needs me for protection – good! “Sure. What time?”

“Be dressed by 7:00 pm.”

I nod and Jane leaves – happy as all get out but I can read her like a book. From what I understand, the guy just landed last night. He must be gorgeous and she’s afraid she’ll lose her head.

It’s 6:57 pm and I’m dressed and ready to go. Jane and I stand next to each other in the full-length mirror in the hallway; we certainly are a pair. Our coloring and height are similar but with her hair lightened, we don’t exactly look like sisters anymore. Not that we ever did that much; she’s svelte and I’m just that little bit more curvy. She’s all soft pastels and I’m brassy which explains why she chose a lavender dress and I chose fire engine red. The phone rings at exactly 7:00 pm, she answers and I grab our wraps to head out the door. The elevator ride is silent but we smile at each other: (1) because we love each other and (2) to see if there’s any lipstick on our teeth. A limousine is waiting for us and I hesitate a bit but Jane pulls on my arm and we enter the car. To my surprise, the car is empty. “Where’s your date?” I ask.

“Charles had a late meeting, besides it made more sense that he didn’t have to travel out to get us only to come back to the same place.”

“Charles?”

“Mr. Bingley from Darcy Enterprises.”

Oh, dear God! “What is he doing here?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“DE is the huge contract.”

I’m speechless!

“I hope you get it, Lizzy. It would be great to work together again.”

My sister continues her drabble but my mind races, my hackles stand on end, my eyes blur, and my heart seems like it wants out of my body. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“You got the memo last December, just like I did.”

“Oh. Right.” Now I remember. I had drafted several designs nearly 8 months ago for a competition. That was long before the debacle with that man and I’ve had a lot of things on my mind since then – like how I got the carpet burns on my knees while… Stop!

“Stop what?”

“What?”

“You said ‘stop’.”

“Uh… it’s just us 3 for dinner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” I exhale deeply as we enter onto the highway. I soon regain tranquility as I lean back into the leather seats and close my eyes; I can now look forward to dinner without fear of running into that man… at least tonight.

“Jane, Lizzy,” Charles greets us with his kind smile and a kiss to our cheeks. “You two look lovely.

“Thank you, Charles,” we both say.

“Our table is ready.” He guides us through the 5-star restaurant with the ease of someone who is a regular here. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited a friend.”

My heart stops. Oh-my-fucking-God! My Adonis rises from his chair.

“Jane,” he greets her with a kiss to her cheek.

“Will,” she smiles at him. “I’m surprised to see you here but glad all the same.”

Now my head is spinning. How does that man know my sister? I feel soft lips on my hand and my knees nearly buckle from the flashbacks of the weekend in Vegas. “Hello,” I manage to say. He helps me into my chair; I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and memories of being spanked into submission rush over me in waves. I cross my legs to stem the tide that I know is about to come. No-no-no-no… Conversation swirls all around me but I can’t participate until the blood flow returns to my brain. I grab for my glass and take comfort in the feel of water going down my throat, refreshing my flushed body and returning me to some sense of normalcy. I come back just in time to see all of them laughing at me. “What?” I obviously said or did something in my comatose state.

“You asked how we knew each other,” Jane’s voice came to me from across the table,” then refused to believe that I’ve had weekly teleconferences with Will and Charles for the last month.”

“Alright,” I concede. There’s no point in arguing something in which I haven’t the foggiest notion. Soon enough, a waiter comes to the table to take our orders and I’m sufficiently settled to request the salmon entrée. We talk shop for a while and although I try to relax back into myself I still can’t look at that man. Unfortunately, the music calls Charles to the floor and he pulls Jane with him; I nervously reach for my water glass again.

“While I have a moment alone with you, I want to take this opportunity to apologize for my behaviour… back then. Not that I regret…”

“Can’t we just forget that it happened?”

“I wish I could,” he murmurs.

“I meant… I didn’t…” Oh, help me! “I-It’s not something that I’ve ever done before and I’m…”

“Shh…” he says as he places his hand on mine. “I understand.”

I close my eyes and absorb his touch. This is how it all started in Las Vegas: he touched me, our eyes met and locked, and an unspoken agreement to a tryst was on the table. Is that what he’s trying to rekindle now? I buck up my courage and look at him, squarely. He smiles that crooked smile and I’ll be damned if he isn’t trying to seduce me again. I slowly withdraw my hand and sip my water. “So, what brings you to this city?”

“You.”

“Me?” I choke.

“Yes. I flew to Las Vegas purposely to meet you. I saw your designs several months ago and I wanted to meet the woman who drew what I envisioned. You tapped into my mind without even meeting me.”

Oh, dear. What am I supposed to say to that? I look down into my empty plate and pray for words, any words, to come to my mouth. Nothing does but he is undaunted by my silence.

“So, here I am again, this time in Chicago, trying to understand what it is that connects us… metaphysically.”

And physically, I add in my mind. That damn little butterfly in my lower abdomen is having a field day and I’m having the hardest time trying to focus on his words rather than his lips. Succulent lips that have my nipples begging for a return of their undivided attention. Thankfully, Charles and Jane return to the table, interrupting what I will fondly refer to as intellectual stimuli and I pull my shawl up around my shoulders to hide my peaks’ entreaty.

It’s 10:30 am and people are congratulating me on the winning design for DE’s new corporate office tower in lower Manhattan, NYC. I’m thrilled but not as much as I should be. Last night, after Jane and I returned to our apartment, alone, and I laid down my head on my pillow, I came to the realization that I had won after the not-so-subtle hints dropped during dinner. So my true elation came then and so too did my anxiety. I knew that whenever, wherever, Will Darcy decided to seduce me, I would follow willingly. I stand to gain personally because that man makes my toes curl just by looking at me, but professionally, it would a death knell if the scandal ever reached the newspapers. So, now I sit, as Charles Bingley and Mr. Goulding talk about the breadth and scope of the project, and plan how to avoid the Adonis – sitting next to me – while I work for him.

Apparently, I didn’t need to waste energy on an avoidance plan because I never saw him again. 7 months and not a word from that man. Nothing. Nada. I saw and conferenced with Charles often enough although not so much as my sister. They are hot and heavy but the office gossip mill must have halted production because I haven’t heard a drop of rumor or innuendo about them. Not even from Charlotte. Strange, huh? Even stranger is that my mother hasn’t sussed it out yet. Still, while the VP is cleaning Jane’s pipes and giving free root canals whenever he’s in town, I haven’t had the slightest sniff from the CEO. At the ground-breaking ceremony last month, that man barely acknowledged me and I was left with an emptiness that was even more hollow than the previous 6 months. I can’t explain what I feel. How does one form an opinion of another that she’s only seen and talked to for a combined 60 hours in the span of 3 temperate seasons? I don’t know, but I thought we connected on a whole other level. Anyway, that question can only be answered by the occupant of a Central Park penthouse who is obviously not thinking about me. Oh well, it was a chance meeting – kismet, if you will – and one that I’ll never forget. But I’ve got to forget it if I can ever go forward and move on with my life. I’ve got to wrap my mind around the idea that a weekend fling could never be more than that then let it all go. My time here in NYC has ended anyway. Officially, my part in the project is over: the foundation was poured this morning. No more stress and weight bearing tests, no more contract negotiations or responses to governmental inquiries, and no more wearing high heels and skirt praying that that man might decide to stop by the construction site to ask me out to dinner. The final design, blueprints, and documentation are in the mail to the Patent Office, all progress reports and/or problems will be handled weekly over the phone and I can go home now. Right now I’m so tired – and lonely – and hungry that I vow I’ll go online to book my flight home after room service has brought up my dinner and I’ve scarfed it down. Oh, well, the knock at the door signals that my dinner is here. I open the door and move behind it to hide the tears running down my face. The tray that I’m expecting never comes through and before I can inquire, a voice from the beyond shakes me to my very core.

“Hello.”

I look up and suddenly I can’t speak.

“Hello,” he repeats but this time with a smile.

If my mind is playing tricks on me right now I will never forgive it, but I fall into my Adonis’ arms hoping against hope that he’ll catch me. He does! And all is right with my world.

Kismet – Part 2

HIS version…

“It was a defeat of most unusual proportions: 3-nil,” I crow.

“What happened?”

“He went for the nick a few times too many and when I realized his weakness at certain points I attacked from the T for the kill,” I answer in place of the loser; to savor my latest squash victory and to make certain the story is told with the proper spin and handed down to posterity with the éclat of a proverb.

“You usually give him a run for his money.”

He shrugs. “Sam, he’s stronger than I’ve ever seen him.”

I nod at the loser – Charles Bingley’s always gracious in defeat – then I unveil a brief but smug smile at the inquisitor, Sam Fitzwilliam, across from me.

“So, to what great improvements do you owe to your new right-hand strength; other than jerking off every night?”

Charles spews his drink across the table.

I recovered from the humiliation of that afternoon but never realized that the onslaught would continue non-stop these past several weeks. So, here I am now, sitting across from one of my most trusted friends listening to him rattle on about something I care not a whit about and as he talks I try to think of the thousand other things I could be doing at this moment such as making another million for Darcy Enterprises. Instead I cringe, even now, at the nickname of Hardball Hamfist he labeled me with during that intolerable luncheon; or 3 weeks ago when he asked me if blue balls came with a choker; or when I showed up to some banquet last week with a date on my arm he laughed and asked me if I could remember real pleasure beyond scratching my own itch or was she just there to watch; or yesterday when he and Charles presented me with an early birthday gift: a blow-up doll with no visible orifices and Sam’s remark that I wouldn’t know what to do with her if she had holes when I so needlessly objected. I hate my friends. “What?”

“I knew you weren’t listening to me.” I give him my patent stare. “I said that you’ve been acting like a royal prick lately.”

“Pardon me?” I growl.

“Seriously, Will, you need to get laid.”

“I-do-not-need…”

“Yes you do,” he laughs. My stoic grit works on everyone else in the world except for Sam; he usually returns it with a smile. “And what better place to do it in than Sin City.”

“A common hooker?” I sneer, purposely.

“You should know me better than that, my friend. In fact, I’ll fly out with you to show you how it’s done.”

We arrived in Las Vegas midday. I made an unannounced tour of the convention floor to discreetly ascertain that my company had been represented properly and spoke with Charles about a meeting on Monday that I was eager to attend. Then Sam demanded that I meet him for dinner at 9:00 pm. Yes, it’s a little late to be eating but Sam had some strategy he wants to go over. So, here I am now, listening to my friend again with his supposedly sage advice but I could do without his sarcasm.

“Picture in your mind that perfect seductress. I know it’s been a while for you in reality but something or someone manages to get you off at night.”

“Fuck off,” I growl low.

“Great legs on that one,” he says with a smile and a waggle of his eyebrows.

He knows my weakness but I agree with his assessment anyway as I watch the young lady walk into the piano bar via the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the restaurant.

“Look them over, choose one, buy her a drink, and take her upstairs.”

“And how do you propose I go from drinks to sex?”

“Turn on the charm.”

“Turn on the charm?” I say without thinking.

“Will, even you can be glib for 10 minutes.”

I glare at him again but he just smiles and returns his attention to his swordfish. One-by-one elegant, classy, well-dressed, not overly done up creatures glide across the carpet; I usually prefer them as such but I was secretly hoping for something different. I push my half-eaten steak aside, take a large swallow of my Cognac and plan in my mind how I’m going to disappoint my friend tonight.

“Hello.”

She looks up at me but doesn’t say a word.

“Hello,” I repeat but this time with a smile.

She – I don’t know her name yet – returns my smile and that’s it.

Turn on the charm… “Is this seat taken?” Still no words; just a shake of her head. I try not to raise an eyebrow as I take the bar stool next to her. Is she mute or just toying with me? I order a Premier Cru and offer to refresh her drink but she turns me down flat with another shake of her head. Now I know I’m being played. “Did Sam put you up to this?”

We look at each other in the large mirror behind the bar, yet and still she says nothing.

The one woman that intrigued me enough to put myself out on a limb is being downright uncivil; inwardly I curse myself. “My friend said it would be easy.”

“Easy?” she finally says.

“Yes.” I turn towards her as my drink arrives. “Look over the ladies, choose one, buy her a drink, chat for a bit, and…”

“Are you…?” she gasps.

“Aren’t you? I thought you were…” Oh, shit… Suddenly I can feel the heat rise up my neck but she adds to my discomfiture when she starts laughing so hard that we have the attention of the entire room. I stand silent and pray for some quick remedy that quiets her soon. “Damn.” I nearly down my entire glass. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You should be,” she says as she wipes her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

I deserved that but somehow, intuitively; I feel that she’s forgiven me. “Lesson learned.”

“Which was?”

“Go with my gut.” I belatedly realize that some of the people here might recognize me, so I try to hide my mortification at the bottom of my glass.

“Come on, you might as well spill it all. You insulted me; the least you could do is tell me your embarrassing story.”

I did insult her. I practically called her a whore. A high class one, but nevertheless a whore all the same. I finally manage a “Why not? It can’t get any worse.” Then I turn to her with a genuine apology on my lips and she gives me a look that makes me want to reveal my every secret to her. “I’ve been so… I haven’t… I haven’t had time for a relationship. Sam, my friend – who’s just walking out of the bar with the blond in the red dress – told me I need to get laid.” Damn him! I’m going have to listen to him gloat for the next several weeks.

She chortles sweetly, interrupting my spiel, and I’m even more drawn into her beauty.

“I didn’t want to do this but… after weeks of harassment I was persuaded to follow this scheme.”

“This is a regular pick-up bar?”

“Yes.”

“So… why me?”

“I prefer Brunettes.” Hell, I might as well be completely honest. “And your eyes… they are the most expressive… beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

She flutters her eyelashes and all I want to do is kiss them. I definitely need to get laid. I clear my throat to get her attention and my thoughts under good regulation. “So what brings you to this city?”

“How…?”

“The accent.”

The rest of our conversation was a blur. I don’t remember if it was 2 hours or 20 minutes but she divulged to me her sad introduction to this city and all I wanted was to relieve her suffering. I managed to make it to my room sometime before midnight, remove my clothes, and smile at the moonlight shining through the window. She was a vision before me – my very own Venus. Turns out that I do have some charms; enough to charm the socks off her. Also, enough for her suit and blouse to follow. In fact, I was naked before her jacket hit the floor and I wasted no time in staking my claim on the Goddess in my bed.

She moans as I straddle her ass to massage her shoulders.

“Am I too heavy?” I whisper into the neck that I had fantasized kissing and licking since we met.

“Fuck me.”

Am I dreaming??

I hear a door close in the distance but I lay still and quiet. I want to savor this weekend as my greatest success. Our first time together started out with a quick massage that conflagrated into a furious fuck. She pleaded with me to find my release after her first orgasm but I couldn’t. I selfishly wanted to see her ecstasy in her wondrous eyes at the same time as I had mine. I pressed her hips closer and went full-throttle; deep and long, short and hard. When that certain desirable event happened, it was glorious; quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. She felt embarrassed, however, about the mess that we made but I told her that we would be adding to it later, undoubtedly. I adore her laugh. We cuddled on one side of the bed and I teased her until she fell asleep. A few hours later, I startled from my own slumber in a most unusual position. You see, it’s a relative novelty for me to wake up with a woman, any woman, in my bed. That wasn’t something I did because: (1) I didn’t like to imply that there was more to the relationship than a casual one and (2) my sister is now living with me again and I feel guilty bringing indifferent acquaintances home even for a few hours. Anyway, Venus had me rising before I was even fully awake; one hand caressing her breasts, my teeth nibbling her ear, and my dick stroking at leisure. God, she was delicious! Suddenly, her hand covered mine and she turned her head to look at me. I knew her bright eyes would be upbraiding me for waking her in such a bizarre fashion but instead she smiled sleepily and kissed me. I turned her completely onto her stomach, pulled her to all-fours, spread her wider, and made her mine for all eternity. I had no intention of being rough but she begged me to take her harder and… just let me say that I lost it. Then, yes then, at that particular moment, I unequivocally and irrevocably stepped outside of myself and I was all the better for it. I rode on her wave much longer than can be recorded by any technology known to man. One thing is for certain: I’m not as fit as I thought I was because keeping up with her is taking a serious toll on my heart. I sigh loudly. My erection is saluting again and the only relief for it is right next to me. I reach across the bed and meet with nothing. I suddenly realize the lack of warmth on the sheets and my eyes open quickly. She’s gone! I nearly panic until I see the light on and steam coming from under the bathroom door. I close my eyes again and more fond memories flood my senses. I vividly recollect us trying to re-enact every Kama Sutra position; surprisingly we could only remember numbers 65 through 70 or was it that she lost her voice on number 70? Either way I can’t complain and neither did she. On another occasion, where we ordered nothing but desserts, she dipped her fingers into the whipped cream, spread it on my balls, and licked them clean. I was in heaven; pure heaven except for the carpet burns on my backside. I thought she would repeat the sticky seduction on my dick, but no… she went straight for the vanilla ice cream. My eyes shot open and I reached for her before she could get away. She shrieked and laughed and squirmed in my arms as I tickled her then my thoughts turned wicked; she would pay for trying to freeze my alter ego. In the next moment, I had her bent over my knees spanking that magnificent ass until she begged me to stop. Oh, but she was truly contrite while pursing her previously interrupted arts and allurements and I was quite magnanimous when I returned her favor. Yummy… We played games like Doctor and Prison Break and just fucked each other wholly and completely until exhaustion claimed us. My friends would be pleased to know that I remembered what to do when presented with such comeliness. The phone rings and startles me. Had I fallen back to sleep? I grab it on the third ring. “Hello?”

“This is your requested 8:00 am wake up call.”

“My what?”

“Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes.”

“This is Miss Mary King at the front desk. You asked us to wake you at 8:00 am.”

I sigh with relief. “That was for Monday.”

“It is Monday, sir.”

Oh, shit!

After a quick shower, calling Charles telling him to hold up the meeting until I arrive, frantically running around my suite for matching socks, and finding a taxi that could get me to Caesar’s Palace in less than 10 minutes, I’m now standing in the lobby waiting for the elevator and trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. On a normal day, I could’ve easily walked here but I never arrive anywhere looking anything less than immaculate. In the taxi, I had no time to ponder where my Venus had disappeared and how I was going to find her without a real name, instead I had to focus on this upcoming meeting. An architect from a Chicago firm agreed to meet us and present his designs for our Norman Oklahoma office renovation. I pay Charles handsomely to handle these kinds of decisions and he hasn’t failed me yet, however, this same architect had drafted, 8 months ago, a corporate office building as though he looked into my heart and mind and I wanted to meet this E. Bennet at the earliest opportunity. As I walk off the elevator, I run through some questions in my mind that only the architect can answer. I have a 4-hour window until my next meeting and I relish the opportunity for an in-depth interview. I tug on my tie a little as for some unknown reason I’m a little nervous, open the conference room door, and get the biggest shock of my life: my Venus, in the flesh! Well, with clothes on this time, but I was too numb to do anything but stare.

Charles’ voice comes to me from somewhere. “Miss Bennet, this is Mr. Darcy, our Chairman and CEO. Will, Lizzy.”

My architect is Aphrodite? “Miss… Bennet,” I croak. I know that was my voice since everyone in the room is looking at me with confusion. I’ve got to get control of myself so I revert back to the ‘me’ that they’re all used to. However, when our hands touch to shake I feel the heat arc between us and I pull away too quickly. I look everywhere except directly at her. “Shall we begin?” She nods, walks away, and I fall into the nearest chair before my knees buckle beneath me.

I file out of the room with everyone else at the end of the Q&A session. It’s a blessing, really, that she stayed inside the conference room. I need time to process what has happened to the last 60 some odd hours of my life; during the presentation I was dazed and dazzled and couldn’t speak but if she was standing before me now, my staff would be witness to a complete and utter meltdown. Still, I must talk to her to try to make some sense of things. Without much thought, I open the door. “Miss Bennet.”

She stiffens, closes her eyes and says nothing.

“Lizzy,” I repeat and a shudder envelops my body as I imagine humming that name against her clit. Oh, God… I just want to lay down at her feet and worship her forever. “Please… look at me? I want to…”

“Stop…” She opens her eyes, finally, then says “I’m sorry” and runs away from me.

Well, I certainly feel stupid. I’ve been standing outside of the ladies bathroom, discreetly mind you, for the last 2 hours waiting for my Venus to walk out. I was further reduced to idiocy in the eyes of my staff when I asked for their help: to go in, make certain that she was well, and offer her any assistance available. I am told, with some unease, that Lizzy is attending to a stain on her blouse but I know it to be an avoidance tactic. I take my leave. I have 15 minutes before my next appointment; in the taxi I can wallow in the misery of an opportunity lost.

For some reason known only to me that I’m not willing to divulge out loud, I take a taxi back to my hotel and before going up to my suite I plant myself in the dining room. I linger over my dinner for more than 2 hours then, with sudden brilliance, I ask the waiter for a house phone and ask to be connected to Lizzy’s room but my hopes never come to fruition; she neither appears before my eyes nor answers her phone. Reaching another level of genius, I park myself outside her door for a while until my loitering gets strange looks from hotel guests and staff alike. Finally, I lower my head and slink to my room to sulk for the night.

I hate Charles. It’s a simple revelation that came to me as we leave Mr. Goulding’s office. It took him no more than 1 minute to decide on the Norman Project but 38 days to actually inform me. Yes, I know that I pay him well to make these decisions for me but if he knew how much was riding on this I’m sure he would’ve relieved my suffering at the earliest instance. I flew here immediately after notification which was this morning; I can face her now that a decision has been made. Just now, to add insult to injury, he drops another incendiary down my pants. “What?”

“I said that I’m having dinner with Miss Bennet tonight.”

My frantic mind inquires: which Miss Bennet?

“Jane.”

I sigh inwardly. It’s most disturbing that I could so easily forget myself in front of others; however, I obtain the answer that I want. So, it’s Jane he has his eye on. She’s definitely beautiful but… I must remind him of office entanglements and how romance… Oh, hell! Who am I to say such things? For an entire weekend I fucked her sister like there was no tomorrow. Ugh! I hate Charles.

I love Charles; truly I do. He’s the best friend any man could ever want; although I’m loath to tell him the reason for my complete reversal from this afternoon. I said nary a word as he waxed poetic – at nearly every private moment before, during, and after our meetings – on his upcoming dinner companion. I carried that same attitude into the limousine from the office building to the hotel and practically pouted from the front desk to my suite. However, he must’ve felt some sympathy towards me as he imparted that Lizzy was joining them for dinner and asked would I care to round out the party. I know not how I answered him but he beamed back at me and told me that the limo was picking them up in a few minutes and that we would meet them at the restaurant at 8:00 pm. So, here I am now, sitting at a table for 4 in a swank downtown Chicago restaurant waiting for the woman who has starred in my every conscious thought and erotic dream since our weekend in Vegas. I mindlessly swirl the Cognac in my glass as Charles continues his litany of Jane’s perfection but nearly drop it when he abruptly stands and walks away. That’s my cue to simulate composure but it’s a very hard-won thing when I’ve been denied Lizzy’s beauty for so long. I lustfully drink in her appearance as she follows Charles to our table; a sexy siren in a stunning red dress. I’m not disappointed and smirk to myself that my memory did not do her justice. Close up is even better. How in the hell am I supposed to get through dinner without embarrassing myself? I rise from my chair and realize her shock on seeing me. I look to Charles for an explanation but he’s too busy admiring Jane to notice our discomfort. “Jane,” I greet her with a kiss to her cheek.

“Will,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m surprised to see you here but glad all the same.”

“So am I…” I manage to say as I turn to her sister. “Lizzy.”

“Hello,” she says and looks away.

I can feel her tremble as I reach for her hand and kiss the back of it. Old fashioned display, yes, but if I lean anywhere near those lips, I will expose us all to ridicule. Her beautiful eyes – still wide in surprise – are glazed and uncertain; I guide her into her chair. Instinctively, I inhale a quick whiff of her scent from her exposed neck and a memory of plowing her depths rushes over me in waves; it’s all I can do not to hike up her dress and take her from behind.

“How do you know my sister?”

She hasn’t looked at me since the initial greeting so I keep quiet as I take my seat next to her.

“No-no-no-no…”

We all laugh at her quick dismissal of Charles’ answer.

“What?”

“You asked how we knew each other,” Jane said, “then refused to believe that I’ve had weekly teleconferences with Will and Charles for the last month.”

Her eyes seemed to clear soon after her concession of the truth. We ordered our meals and talked shop for a while, yet and still she refuses to look at me. I must rectify this situation and put her at ease; but how? Fortunately, the music calls Charles to the floor and he pulls Jane with him; Lizzy nervously reaches for her water glass and I waste no time in seizing the opening. “While I have a moment alone with you, I want to take this opportunity to apologize for my behaviour… back then. Not that I regret…”

“Can’t we just forget that it happened?” she interrupts.

“I wish I could,” I murmur as pain seeps into my heart and I pull back from a whispering distance.

“I meant… I didn’t… I-It’s not something that I’ve ever done before and I’m…”

“Shh…” I say and caress her hand. “I understand.” If this is the end then I would want it to be with no arguments or harsh words between us. She closes her eyes and I’m tempted to steal a kiss. This was not how it all started in Las Vegas; there she mentioned that she wasn’t wearing underwear and I, as any red-blooded male animal, was determined to see proof. Now though? I wonder if she’s gone commando again tonight? If I find out that she is I won’t be responsible for my actions. In fact, I’d be willing to have my dinner under the table; her nectar is that sweet. Finally, she opens her eyes, I smile at her and I’ll be damned if she isn’t giving me that look again.

She slowly withdraws her hand and sips her water and I feel bereft. “So, what brings you to this city?”

“You.”

“Me?” she chokes.

“Yes.” I softly pat her on her back and hand her a napkin from the table. “I flew to Las Vegas purposely to meet you. I saw your designs several months ago and I wanted to meet the woman who drew what I envisioned. You tapped into my mind without even meeting me.”

She looks down into her empty plate and once again goes silent.

I clear my throat to have her look at me again but she doesn’t and I’m left to admire her profile. “So, here I am again, this time in Chicago, trying to understand what it is that connects us… metaphysically.” And physically, I add in my mind. I’m having the hardest time trying to focus on my words rather than her lips. Succulent lips that have my cock regretting its current confinement and begging for another round of her own brand of due diligence in release of the ‘prisoner’. Thankfully, Charles and Jane return to the table, interrupting our tête-à-tête, and I gently place the white linen napkin into my lap to conceal my dick’s plea.

It’s 10:30 am and people are still congratulating Lizzy on the winning design for our new corporate office tower in lower Manhattan, NYC. She has a beautiful smile but I can tell that she’s not as thrilled as she should be. She didn’t let on last night but I know that she absorbed our subtle hints at some point during dinner. Smart woman. Other than receiving my congratulations, she has ignored me for the better part of the morning. An admirable quality for public display but if I’ve interpreted that look she gave me last night we’ll both need to hide behind this mantle for the next several months. The things that I want to do to and with her in private will get me thrown in jail in some states and heaven help us if the scandal sheets ever got wind of it. So, now I sit, as Charles and Mr. Goulding talk about the breadth and scope of the project, and plan how to avoid the Venus – sitting next to me – while she works for me.

It’s been a very long 7 months. My avoidance plan worked like a charm; I’m not particularly happy about it either since it reminds me daily of my temptation. Charles and Sam have been less than helpful in my time of need – although they have no idea what plagues me – instead they tease that my right arm is starting to look hugely disproportionate to my left arm. I hate my best friends. Charles has been back and forth to Chicago at least twice a month. He and Jane are an item of which I would only care if he could bring me news of Lizzy, but she’s here in NYC working at the construction site for my corporate tower in a little trailer that I can see from my apartment if I crane my neck just so… This was as close as I was willing to get because just a glimpse of her and I am undone. As proof, last month at the ground-breaking ceremony, I almost revealed my desires to one and all: camera and crew. I blame Lizzy for revealing herself first. Not that I have any hard evidence, except… well, never mind that now… but I’m almost certain that she didn’t wear panties that day. She was already on the grandstand when I appeared later than the appointed time but before the actual ribbon cutting. I walked around the perimeter of the gathering crowd in the chairs on the ground and looked up… to see nothing but her legs disappear under that skirt. Let me just say that for the first 30 minutes I was glad the podium was up and for the remainder of the celebration that Charles or some other prop could be held in front of me. I did, however, deflate when I was handed the ceremonial scissors. I dared not risk another glance her way or it would’ve been a difficult walk to the limo. This last month has been even harder to stay away; my fantasies have been outlandish at times and I have rarely been fit for company. Sam’s company, in particular; his crude comments about my right-hand and knowing with certainty that he would be correct would have had me blushing like a teenage boy viewing my first naughty picture. Thank the Gods that he’s currently out of the country. Now though, I’m standing in her hotel and the reason I hesitate at her door is that I wonder at my reception. Officially, her part in the project is over: the foundation was poured this morning. I’m both relieved and anxious because she could actually decide to go home, especially if she’s unaware of the reasons I stayed away. How does one convince another that despite our weekend fling and less than 120 total minutes of conversation in the span of 3 temperate seasons that it’s not just about sex; that I thought we connected on a whole other level; that we could be so much more to each other; that she already means so much more to me? I don’t know, but I don’t want her to leave; she belongs here with me. True, it was a chance meeting – kismet, if you will – but one that I’d like to believe pre-empted our predestined meeting for my corporate building and I’d spend the rest of my days and nights persuading her to my way of thinking; if only she’d let me. Still wary, I sigh quietly and knock anyway.

The door opens but she moves behind it.

Why is she hiding? I realize that I haven’t actually made my presence known; I clear my throat and say “Hello.”

She looks up but doesn’t speak.

“Hello,” I repeat but this time with a smile.

My Venus rushes me before I even have the chance to open my arms and sobs into my jacket. I rock her and shush her and wipe her tears. She finally looks up and levels me with that particular look that I know is just for me… And all is right with my world.

THE END

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