Like a druggie who needed her fix, I needed to see Lucien Delano, my lover, to hold him, to feel his strength one last time.And so I found myself back at the club where it had all begun.My shadow, the burly, unpleasant White, had murmured his misgivings, but I had insisted coolly and he had had no choice but to take me to the gentlemen's club where I had first met Gaston. He had appeared taken aback when I frowned at him and put my foot down, demanding that he drive me to the club."If you don't take me," I said firmly, glaring at him, "I shall simply take a cab." Breathing heavily, my face hot with anger, I went on calmly."You can't stop me.'It was probably the first time I had opened my mouth to confront him, and his jaw dropped. Ana the cook, turned and stared at me, disbelief etched on her otherwise sneering face.With a toss of my head, I marched out, my overly large jacket flapping in the wind as I went to the gates, determined to leave.I had also calculated that White woul
Lucien DelanoHe returned to his office, where the arms dealers from Albania were supposed to be waiting for him. The scent of her body remained on his clothes and on his skin, and he felt himself hardening at the thought of the abandoned way she had behaved in the room, urging him to come in.Swearing darkly, he made his way to the washroom, trying to regain control. The little vixen had proved that it would not be easy for him to dump her, as he was used to doing with his other women. He was still hungry for her, and the need to possess her made him stamp his seal on her wheat-colored body, which was firm and plump, enticing him.The hot spray hit his body, and he shut his eyes, picturing her youthfulness, her gasp as he thrust into her ferociously, her small hands clawing at him frantically...He groaned. When he was discussing matters with the wily Albanians, he needed to have a clear head, not a sex-addled brain.It was as he was stepping out of the bath after a much-needed, quic
Lucien Delano It was only after two days that it finally dawned on him that she had left him for good. Worse, she appeared to have vanished from the face of the earth. There was no trace of her. Her friends appeared to be as baffled as he was. In the ferocity of his anger, he had driven to the apartment that very night, the one she had shared with her old friends, although it had been close to 4 a.m when he stood, banging on the door, unmindful of the commotion, ignoring the irate neighbors. One look at his furious snarling face, and the old woman who had peeked out from the neighboring apartment to complain had vanished hastily. The bleary-eyed girls had been as perplexed, openly worried. The tall blonde, Tanya had been on the verge of tears, 'You...gangster, she sobbed,' You broke her heart, didn't you? With those cheap photographs pasted all over the net!' She had been too distraught to continue, sitting down on the couch and howling, 'Now she's gone...!!!' Luc
Proserpina The evening was calm. Dusk settled over the valley gracefully, like a soft shawl tenderly wrapped around the shoulders of the mountain peaks that surrounded the tiny monastery, which lay half hidden on the slopes of the mountains. I smiled as I straightened up, having rocked my twins to sleep. Almost a year and a half old now, my son, little Piers, drifted off to sleep almost immediately. My daughter, Ria, was the stubborn one who went to sleep unwillingly. I tucked the cotton sheet around her plump little body, dropping a kiss on her golden curls. "A real fighter," I thought fondly. "Like her father," said a small voice inside me. I sighed and stood up wearily. This had become my home—this little monastery tucked away on the hillside of the Himalayas. The orderly, serene life of the Buddhist nuns and their unconditional acceptance had been a balm on my sore heart, and when I gave birth to the children, the nuns nursed me with tender care. Yet the thoughts of Lucie
I was dimly aware of the silence in the hall, the fragrance of incense, and the all-pervading sense of tranquillity as I walked toward the dimly lit waiting room. The entire atmosphere had such a calming effect on anyone who came in, I thought. Long windows, a carved ceiling, and walls adorned with paintings that retold the story of the Buddha.When I had first come here, broken-hearted and almost hopeless, this monastery had offered me shelter, unconditionally. There were times when i used to sit here in this room, weeping, praying to a Power I wasn't sure was listening anymore.Gradually, the love and concern of the people around me had made me a more confident person. The birth of my children had only added to the purpose of my life.Smiling softly to myself, I entered the hall.*But my words of greeting died away when I saw the powerfully built man standing before the impressive statue of Lord Buddha. Dressed in a dark suit with a long overcoat, his salt and pepper head gleaming,
Releasing my arms, he grasped a handful of my hair in his fist, winding the other arm savagely around my waist, trapping me effortlessly in a brutal embrace that had nothing to do with love. As I gasped in pain, he brought his head down, kissing me with ferocity and grinding his mouth on mine. There was no love, no gentleness. Only he needs to brand me as his.When he raised his head, I could taste blood. He flung me away, his face mirroring self-disgust.Breathing hard, wide-eyed with shock and a host of conflicting emotions, I watched him, touching my bruised mouth, aware that I would have darkening bruises on my arms where he had sunk his hard fingers into my arms in such a brutish way.He turned, his eyes glinting almost evilly in the feeble lighting. His eyes dropped to my heavy breasts, the nipples clearly outlined through the coarse cloth of my gown, because he still had the power to arouse me, even with his cruelty. With a low growl, he came closer again, roughly fondling my f
It was as though time speeded up after that. I remember hazily saying my goodbyes to the kind nuns who had taken me in when I was broken and forlorn. I knelt before the Mother Superior and she gently laid her hands on my head in a traditional gesture of bestowing blessings and asked, after a short silence,"Is this what you want, child?"I had grown very fond of the old woman who ran the nunnery like a tight ship, but who was equally compassionate and intelligent.I smiled through my tear-filled eyes and bowed my head to avoid showing her my distress, I nodded, whispering, "He is the father of my children, Mother."Her all-seeing eyes glimmered, but she remained silent after blessing me and I rose and left the room, my steps heavy, heart filled with foreboding.Lucien Delano stood waiting impatiently beside a large, dark limousine, and he gave a curt nod in the direction of the Mother Superior, who had made the unexpected gesture of seeing us off. My old friend, Brian Gaulle, came to
ProserpinaWhen we stopped to refuel and where I have no idea. All I recall is the landing on American soil and groggily getting out of the car in front of the large house I had visited once before, the night Lucien had seduced me so thoroughly.My heart pounding, I studied the house in the twilight. It was as large as I remembered and as grotesque.The wide pathway, the well-maintained gardens, the swimming pool in the distance, glistening invitingly in the evening sun, everything bespoke wealth. Spanish arches, wide verandas and wrought iron balconies completed the look of extravagance. And the entire sprawling estate was bounded by on all sides a high wall. The sentries at the door were also conspicuous in their presence. As the car sped past the huge iron gates and the cubicle where the guard sat, I was dimly aware of the feeling that I was entering a fortress.I shuddered.The night I had visited, it had seemed an ugly sprawling building. In the gathering dusk, I made a kinder as