Chelsea was breathing heavy and Derek hadn’t even touched her yet. Judging by what he had just said, he actually wanted her. It wasn’t insincere flirting. His tone was laced with desire. His dark smoldering eyes were actually darker than usual and she didn’t think that could happen. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she opened the door. Derek had let his cell slip out of his hand, hitting the carpet. And she also noticed the bulge in his pants that was directed at her. What do I do now? Do I go to him or wait for him to come to me? He began to walk to her. Yes. I should let him make the first move since he knows what he’s doing and I don’t. He gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder above the strap of her lingerie. “You look . . . amazing.” “Oh, thank you,” she said, trying not to blush. She wanted to be sexy and alluring. Not nervous and jittery like a virgin - despite the fact that’s what she was.
Sunday . . . It was Sunday afternoon and the Dawson jet had just taken off. Chelsea went to the back to freshen up. Her and Derek had enjoyed a nice lunch at the Unconventional Diner on Ninth Street before leaving D.C. Derek’s cell chimed. It was a text. Q: Hey, buddy. How’s the trip? Are you coming back today? Derek: Yeah, I’m coming back today. We’re on the jet now. The trip was great – a lot better than I could hope for. Q: How was . . . the big night? Did Chelsea like it? Derek: Oh yeah, she liked it. It went great but at first it was like knocking a locked door down with my dick. Q: LOL! I guess that was too be expected since she is – I mean was a virgin. Derek: Yeah. Talking about sex, I’m going to hit my bride up for a round. We got a good hour and a half on the plane. Don’t want to waste it. Derek added an emoji that was winking to his message. Q sent back a big smiling
Five days later . . . Derek had moved some of his clothes to Hilltop House last week. He had spent the night there and with Chelsea for the last four days.Chelsea was beyond ecstatic. Tonight, her husband was taking her to Early’s Art Gallery. They’re having a showing tonight, and Derek suggested they go to see if she liked any paintings for Hilltop House.Chelsea hadn’t been to an art showing since she was eighteen. She remembered them being a little boring. She hoped Derek could put some excitement in it. Caitlin and Hector had planned to go, so both couples decided it was a good idea to go together. Hector picked up Derek and Chelsea in his stretch limo.They arrived a little bit after eight. The billionaires, millionaires, and a few celebrities graced Early’s Art Gallery with their presence.They looked around at the paintings. The gallery was featuring a few ceramic pieces tonight as well.“This is interesting,” Derek said as he stopped in front of a pain
The gallery was on Fifth Avenue so there were a few shops a few blocks down from it. Steven had gotten lucky that Derek was able to go into one that was still open and had his size clothing. Steven was about six foot two and he was three times Derek’s width. He wasn’t the size most men shops carried in general inventory. He was able to get a pair of cheap dress shoes in Steven’s size. But the store didn’t have underwear in his size.Derek had to stop three cab drivers before he got one that was willing to take him where he wanted to go. According to the first two drivers, where he wanted to go was in a really rough area of the Bronx and wasn’t worth the cab fare going there.Derek had offered the second driver double his far. “Forget it, buddy. And if I were you, I wouldn’t go to that part of the Bronx unless it was life or death.” The cab driver had taken off. If Lionel, a black cab driver, hadn’t come along Derek would still be trying to get a cab to take him
They were in Lionel’s cab getting the hell out of the Bronx. Steven wore a pair of black slacks, an evergreen dress shirt, and black dress shoes that were made out of fake leather. Steven asked Lionel if he heard of a hooker named Liza.Lionel hadn’t but knowing the name on the side of the bag Derek had been carrying was a clothing store, knowing that the motel charged by the hour, and Steven asking about a particular hooker, he knew what had happened. “Some ho got you good, huh?”“Yeah. Real good,” Steven said with a deep frown.“Don’t feel too bad, man. It’s been many a time I’ve driven naked men home from this neighborhood – the roach motel included. Did she put something in your drink?”“No. Something was in that joint she offered me other than weed.”“Aaah,” Lionel said with understanding.“What I don’t get is why she didn’t pass out, too? She took two hits off of it.”“Are you sure she inhaled, bruh?” Lionel asked.“Ye - well, I can’t be a hundred percent certain.”“Uh huh. Som
Per Derek’s word, they had spent the day together at Hilltop House. Not only did they talk, they ended up making love on top of the dining room table. Derek had sat her on the edge of it and they went to town. Afterwards, they lazily went into the kitchen. Derek cooked dinner. Shrimp alfredo, chef’s salad, and homemade garlic bread. During the preparation, he had Chelsea help him. She did all right, listening to his careful instructions. That’s when she entertained the idea of taking a cooking class. Then again, there was something so hot and sexy about a man who knew how to cook. Derek was whispering sweet nothings in her ear on the sofa when his phone jingled. “Hold on, love. It might be Murray at the club.” He picked up his phone and looked at it. Chelsea waited patiently. Derek sighed with a little smile. “What is it?” “It’s Q. He’s trying to goad me into driving out to the Floyd Bennett Field toni
Cameron Townsend cordially invites you to the engagement party of Mr. Harold Townsend and Ms. Angela King at The Richmond County Country Club on October 14th at seven p.m. Six weeks later . . . The past eight weeks with Derek had been the happiest of Chelsea’s life. Ever since the D.C. trip, Derek had been attentive, considerate, romantic, and acting like . . . a husband in love. Chelsea hoped he had fallen for her. It seemed like he had. Surely, he wasn’t faking it for the hell of it. What motive would he have for faking affec
Chelsea had thrown up twice a day for two days. One day, she had felt so dizzy she thought she was going to faint. Derek had asked if she was all right. She had lied and said that she believed she had a stomach bug. He had suggested she stay in bed for the day and he left for Dawson Inc.Chelsea had no choice but to accept the possibility that she could be pregnant. In a way, she hoped not because she didn’t know how Derek would react. They had never discussed having children. But the other part of her hoped she was pregnant. A small little life that was a part of both of them. Something of Derek’s she could love for a lifetime.Since she knew nothing about buying pregnancy tests or being pregnant at all, she called the one Van Dyke sister who did. Constance. Her eldest sister had been more than happy to pick up a pregnancy test and bring it by Hilltop House. Chelsea was grateful because she didn’t feel like leaving the house. She was feeling pretty nauseas.It was almost noon when C
Three months later . . . Walter Lee Dawson’s estate had finally been settled in the court’s eyes. Violet Dawson was being seen around the city here and there with a distinguished hotel chain owner she had known for years. Deidre was the hottest new heiress in New York Society. Men, most of them a little too old for her, were beating the door down to take her out on a date. Derek was officially head of Dawson Inc. Businessmen stood in line to shake his hand and propose deals. Most of them weren’t good or too high risk. Derek figured some of them thought they could get away with taking advantage of him. What they didn’t know – and learned later was Derek had been doing business most of his life – it just wasn’t always for Dawson. He knew when something didn’t smell right. Derek was at home, at Hilltop House, listening to his cousin rant and rave over the phone. But he managed to get a word in. “When did Amanda leave you?”
A few hours later . . . It was early evening when Derek had arrived at Hilltop House. He took his coat off as he and Chelsea walked into the living room. Chelsea had changed out of her outfit from earlier into a pair of blue jeans and a red cashmere sweater. She had on black socks – no shoes. Her blonde hair flowed around her. Derek had changed clothes from this morning, too. He had put on a pair of black jeans and a black and white polo shirt. “Would you like something to drink?” Chelsea asked. “No, thank you. I thought we could . . . talk.” Chelsea walked to the sofa. “Talk about what?” She sat down. “You know what. Us.” “Oh, you want to have that talk,” she said timidly. “Yes, I think it’s high time we do,” he said as he remained standing. “You’re about four months pregnant now. I think we need to iron things out and where we stand before the baby comes, don’t you
Everyone had left Francis Chadwick and Derek alone in the sitting room. Francis walked over to the couch Derek was sitting on as he reached into his inner suit jacket pocket. He stopped in front of him and offered him a white legal sized envelope. “What’s this?” Derek asked as he gently took the envelope. For some reason he was suspicious of it. “It contains the codicil that was attached to Walt’s will. The one in regards to your inheritance if you didn’t marry – the codicil that is now null in void.” Derek’s head rocked back with relief. Thank god. I was afraid Dad had slipped something in that required me to jump through another hoop. “My instructions were to give you a copy – the only copy of the codicil upon your father’s will reading – if you had met the terms, of course. Since you have, you can do whatever you wish with it. The flash drive that the codicil is on is in the envelope as well.” I’m burning this
The next day . . . As promised, Derek had called Chelsea last night. It was almost midnight; therefore, it wasn’t a long conversation. “I just needed to tell you I love you,” Derek had said huskily. “And to hear your voice before I fell asleep. “Oh . . . I see.” “You’re not going to say it back?” She had thought for a moment. “No,” she had whispered. “Why not? You know you do.” Chelsea exhaled. “Are you trying to play hard to get?” “No.” “Then say it, angel.” “I love you.” “That’s my girl. I’ll see you tomorrow at Francis Chadwick’s office for the will reading. We have to be there by nine a.m.” “I’ll be there.” Mr. Chadwick’s secretary escorted Chelsea down the hall. They didn’t speak. She stopped at a door and reached for the knob. When she opened the door, Chelsea was surprised She had thought they would b
That evening . . . It was strangely coincidental that Derek was going to see both Bartholomew women on the same day. But he assumed the cosmos were trying to help him get his life in order. He had his former maid from the penthouse to come over and clean up his father’s Jersey penthouse. Derek wasn’t planning on being in it long, but he didn’t want the remnants of his father’s last visit lingering about. The buzzer went off. His guest had arrived. Derek had taken off his suit jacket and tie when he had first arrived. He had unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt. He opened the door to who he was expecting. Whitney Bartholomew. She hugged a mink stole around her body. “Darling boy,” she cooed as she crossed the threshold. She kissed his cheek so quick he didn’t have a chance to back away. Then she walked into the living space. Derek closed the door. He turned to see Whitney taking off the mink and drapin
New York Society’s Loss By: Judy Budd Yesterday Walter Lee Dawson, CEO and president of Dawson Incorporated was laid to rest at Green-Wood Cemetery. Anyone who is anyone in NYC society was there, including Walter’s son’s estranged wife Chelsea Van Dyke-Dawson and the rest of the New York Van Dykes. I’m not sure if Derek and Chelsea are back together but she was standing by her man yesterday. Walt Dawson was more than a billionaire businessman. He was a pren
The next morning . . . Deidre Dawson slipped her feet into Rene Caovilla designer shoes. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn yesterday to her father’s funeral. Then again, most women had to put on what they had worn the night before when they stay out all night at a man’s condo. She stood and turned around to look at the man who she had spent the night with. Quinton Johnson, aka, Q, was resting his back against two red satin pillows. His lower half was covered by a black comforter. Deidre had ended up at his place yesterday as the sun was setting. It was a miracle she had remembered where he lived. The one time she had been at his home was four years ago when he had thrown himself a birthday party. He had invited her because she was his best friend’s sister, nothing more. Now. . . “I still can’t believe I did this,” Q muttered. “Believe it, big boy.” And I do mean big. Q was the b
After the repast, the Dawsons went back to their townhouse with Chelsea in toe. Ms. Violet had asked Chelsea to have a quiet drink with her in the den. Chelsea suspected she had wanted Deidre to sit with her instead, but Deidre had said she needed to be alone for a while. Everyone just let her be – along with Derek. He had said the same thing and slowly wandered somewhere else in the townhouse. Deidre had left all together. Everyone had been riveted by Violet Dawson’s speech at the repast, including Chelsea and her sisters. Apparently, she had more in common with her mother-in-law than she had thought and she told Ms. Violet that. Ms. Violet smiled at her as she held her brandy. “Hmm. You think so?” Chelsea was drinking club soda. Alcohol was bad for her beloved baby. “Yes. We . . . both were determined to marry Dawson men,” Chelsea admitted. “You . . . were?” she said with intrigue. Chelsea could feel the simmeri
Derek was still trying to make his way back to Q. He kept getting stopped by people who wanted to give their condolences. Some chatted him up a bit about when he will officially be taking over Dawson Inc. They had deals in the works and wanted to see if he wanted to get involved. It was becoming a little too much. Can’t these people let him grieve in peace?Once he was able to take a breather, someone else came along. Deidre. Derek was slightly alarmed because she looked rather pale. “What is it?”“It’s him,” Deidre hissed as she encircled her arm around his.“Who?”She stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “The man I told you about a few months ago. The one who I thought had an affair with Mother.”Derek’s body jerked. “Ugh, god. Why is he here?” Then he realized how dumb his question was. His father wasn’t cold in the grave yet and the vultures were already circling around a wealthy, still good looking for her age widow. “Never mind. I just answered my own question.”Deidre put