Gonzalo López had never looked more uncomfortable than he did at that moment, losing all the composure Clara had known him for. It was as though he was ready to bury himself deep in the ground, while at the same time the situation before him seemed too surreal to be believed. For Clara who had just been caught by the person she worked with at the office, she could only imagine if this was how Andre had felt when she had unmasked him at the club.Because right now, her first instinct was to wish that the chief secretary would be transferred to as far as Afghanistan where she wouldn't have to set her eyes on him again. Her cheeks were sure flooded with obvious shades of deep embarrassment, judging by the hotness which was currently spreading through her blood. "Mr. Gonzalo, you came to see Clara I suppose?" Her eyes flew to her boss who had suddenly regained that composure he used at the office which made him stay in control of the most dire situations. But although she had never ima
It had been that blissful over the past week; serenity washed over her soul as his body wrapped around hers, his warmth and heartbeat entangled with hers in the most beautiful rhythmical dance of the salsa. Calming and soothing and yet arousing, being with Andre surpassed what she had dreamed of.It could almost be properly said that he lived in her apartment now; her bathtub was lined with his body products and her closet held some of his clothes and shoes and underwear. Not that he needed them when he was with her anyway, but he wasn't unemployed like her and still went to work from her house. The beautiful articles of clothing he wore however made a trail on the floors as soon as he returned to her apartment, his lips descending on hers.Sometimes he was quite busy with his laptop or spent his time on the phone giving instructions, a sight which was always hilarious to her because he was clad in his glowing tanned skin most of the time, and she found her naughty side reaching for h
Shimmering sweaty bodies who craved the worst cruelty of torture were bound to the confinement of handcuffs, their silhouette the most mesmerising sight for people who got off on sadism and masochism. They twisted their arched bodies beneath the dark grey lights, their cries muffled by the balls restraining their lips. Not that their screams of pleasure could pierce through the walls anyway; the rooms were as soundproofed as the identity of the club patrons which had been protected for years. Until a certain young man had found his hands on the database in the guise of registering to join the club. Well, his best part of programming was getting rid of bugs, that and hacking into systems of high corporate organisations which had dared cross him, and helping them decrypt and filter their information according to his idea of what would be important to them. Everything had been going in accordance with his plans, until Luca had detected that virus lurking around the club. There wasn't
Clara adjusted her sunshades as she rolled her box away from the airport terminal, her slender body clad in a bright yellow summer dress which rode down to her ankles, her exposed arms glowing with the natural tan she had acquired from hours of working on the farm.It had been good to be home, but it felt even better returning to the setting sun of Manhattan which didn't signal the end of a busy day. People briskly made their way past her, hurrying to catch the next flight. If it were a weekend, people like Andre would only be preparing for their night ventures at the club. Thoughts of him reminded her of the message he had left just before she boarded a flight; precise and detailed in informing her that someone would come to pick her up at the airport. She was smiling again as she thought of him, which was virtually all she had done since that gesture of reconciliation between them. He had called every evening to ask how her day had been and without making any pretence, she had be
"More wine?" Clad in dark tailored pants whose colour matched the T-shirt with the top two buttons open, and holding a bottle of red wine which he held towards her, Andre looked every bit the seductive chef who lured people with the both kinds of food.Both which were appetising and made Clara feel that surge of uncontrollable urge to ravish them all the time.Andre made a hell of an amazing cook, a discovery which surprised her as well as it turned her on even more. Dinner had been like a private cocktail party with the perfect ravioli and grilled chicken, and she had of course cleared her plate, eating so much that her stomach felt the impact.She shook her head, her eyes mirroring the kind of satisfaction they always had after rounds of sexual sessions with him. "No, can't take anything else." A familiar teasing smirk graced his beautiful lips as he brought the bottle closer and poured for himself, twirling the glass cup in between his fingers. "You can't taking ANYTHING ELSE, su
The best part of soap operas were the plot twists; especially the unexpected ones. For her, it was the part where the lead character returned after a long time to take back what they had lost. She enjoyed it the most when the lead made a grand comeback, the type which held every attention captive and lured it into revolving around them. Clara Lynn had decided that if she were to be a heroine in a fictional tale, she would make choices that would lessen her predictability as much as possible, while at the same time keeping the audience on their toes. Because it was all she could think of, she discarded the idea of wearing the accessories Andre had gifted her at the last minute, choosing a pair of skin embracing thigh high platform boots which boasted of confidence and dripped a spicy sauce of sexiness. Cladding her body was navy-blue power jacket which extended to the thighs, its buttons matching the champagne gold zip running from the top to the bottom of the boots. Perhaps she
For the first time over the past few weeks, Andre found himself in a position where his intentions were in question. No office project irrespective of the amount of money it earned him had ever made him as excited as he had been preparing this position for Clara. But the unforgettable look in her eyes didn't nearly match his excitement, pouring cold water instead on the fire which had been burning fiercely in him, putting a halt to the thrill of doing things he'd thought would make her happy behind her back. Was he missing something? Wasn't this what she had always wanted? The beauty of rhetorical questions was that they never answered themselves, and lacking the patience to discover the cause of the problem later, Andre halted in the middle of the hallway and like Clara had done that morning, turned to the opposite direction and took brisk steps towards the elevator, the white jacket which made a clean outline of his wide shoulders flying as he took long calculated strides, the
Her new office was a masterpiece. From its expansive size to the originality Incorporated into the design of each flooring, wallpaper, lightening and furniture, it was akin to being in an official presidential suite. Clara was astounded even before she stepped into her office; the reception itself had first caught her in awe with the calligraphic inscription above the door, 'Clara Lynn, Fashion Design Technician.' It was a moderate sized room which had been recently renovated as well and held small tables and moveable seating in a stylish, elegant way. Adjacent the reception was Jessica's office which was labelled in her name as Clara's personal assistant, exuding the same clean professional energy which couldn't even enable anyone see her position as anything less than serious business. Then there was her office which was designed and furnished to taste, its elegance matching that of a Queen with glass bookcase for documents and the latest design of the company's invention place