Her Secret Life

The touch of his hand at the curve of her back sent shivers up and down her spine. “Come on in.”

She stepped into his office and turned to face him. “Jackie.” His whisper of her name had the sound of reverence. “Jackie, let me hold you. Just let me feel you in my arms.” He didn’t touch her until she raised her arms to his shoulders, and then he laid claim, gripping her to him. What was happening to her? She wanted his hands all over her, but he only stroked her back as one would soothe a baby. She wanted to scream her frustration.

“Warren…I—”

“Shh. This isn’t the place for me to show you what I’m feeling right now.”

Get it together, girl, she told herself. Later…when he takes you home. She moved away from him with all the grace she could muster, and as if he hadn’t said a word, she spoke calmly the first repeatable thing that came to her mind. “If your theater group puts on a play, I’d like to see it.”

When he didn’t answer, she glanced up at him, and saw his perplexed stare. “Was I too abrupt?” he asked her, ignoring her meaningless remark. “I didn’t mean to unsettle you, but I know the consequences if I went any further with you. You’re a new experience for me, Jackie. I’ve always been able to control my feelings for a woman, if need be, but I can’t do that with you.” His right hand caressed her cheek. “I risk burning up every time you touch me, and your kiss…well, I don’t even want to think about that right now. Come on. I want to show you the sports and gymnastics halls and the swimming pool.”

Was she such an open book with this man that she allowed him to know that she wanted more than he gave? He’s a new experience for me, too, and I’d better learn how to deal with him.

He completed the tour and spoke to a man who walked out of the computer room as they approached it. “I noticed that one of the computers is missing, Ron. Order four new ones and keep the computer room locked unless you or one of the volunteers is in the room. Keep a record of who supervises that room and at what times.”

“Right, Warren. I’ll get on it Monday morning.”

“Forgive me. Ms. Parks, this is Ron Hackett, the club’s manager.”

Ron’s quick appraisal was not lost on Warren. Nevertheless, Ron spoke graciously. “I’m glad to meet you Ms. Parks.” She acknowledged the introduction, careful to make it as impersonal as possible.

When they walked outside, darkness surrounded them. “I didn’t realize we’d been there so long,” she said. “What wonderful opportunities you’ve given those children. I feel privileged to be with you.” And she did. She had liked him, indeed she cared for him, but now, she deeply admired him, and she had a sense of humility that, with his numerous options, he chose to spend his time with her.

“When I think of my own good fortune, Jackie, that isn’t so much.”

“Thanks for bringing me here, Warren. You’ve shown me a side of you that I wouldn’t have imagined.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better get home and change so I can get to work by six.”

He appeared crestfallen. “Yes. Somehow, I forgot about that. In the back of my mind was the idea that you and I were going to have dinner and a leisurely evening together.” He shrugged. “So be it. I’ll drive you home.” He found a parking space a few doors from the building in which she lived. “May I see you to your apartment?”

If she said no, she would miss his kiss, and if she said yes, she risked her doorman greeting her as Dr. Parkton. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If members of Allegory, Inc. knew that she was a reporter and unit manager for a national magazine, overhearing their conversations, witnessing business deals and the like, she would be fired summarily and probably sued for false representation. As he stared into her eyes, his gaze—hot and hungry—riveted her, and her breath shortened almost to a pant. Without another word, he got out of the car, walked around it, opened the door and held out his hand to her. She took it, and his fingers closed around hers, settling the matter.

When they entered the lobby, she managed not to look in the direction of the uniformed man who always greeted her with such reverence. In the elevator, she wouldn’t look at Warren, until he squeezed her hand. “Look at me, Jackie. You can’t escape what is happening to us. If you go to Japan or Australia, you’ll still feel it.” Suddenly, a smile lit his countenance. “At least we didn’t have to walk up this time.”

She still couldn’t find words. Maybe he could sound lighthearted, but she knew what was happening to her, and it frightened her that this man could so captivate her. As they stepped off the elevator, his arm slid around her.

“Warren, this is…moving too fast.”

He didn’t answer, but when she put her key into the lock, his hand covered hers. He turned the key, opened the door and waited. She walked in, heard the door close behind her, and then she was in his arms. Oh, the sweet feeling of his body tight against hers and of his heat firing her from head to foot. She looked up, and his mouth claimed her, stunning her with the tremors that it sent through her body. His tongue swept the seam of her lips and she opened to him and sucked his tongue deeply inside of her, as her arms gripped his shoulders. He let the wall take his weight, pulled her close and, with a hand at the back of her head, his other one gripping her buttocks and his tongue swirling and dipping in her mouth, he possessed her as no man ever had.

Heat settled in her groin and she tightened her hips in search of relief, but she needed more, much more, all of him. Her nipple hardened and, frenzied, she grabbed the hand that held her head, placed it inside her coat and caressed her breast with it.

He groaned as he rubbed the tortured areola. “I want my mouth on you.”

“Yes. Yes,” she moaned.

In a second, her coat and jacket fell to the floor, and she felt his hand on her naked flesh moments before he bent and sucked her nipples into his moist, warm mouth. “Oh,” she moaned and, in spite of herself, she undulated against him. Tell him to stop, her mind told her. Break it off before it goes too far, her common sense dictated, but she held his hips with one hand and pressed his head to her with her other one. Suddenly, his erection bulged against her belly, and she broke his kiss and leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to move or speak.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he said, when he couldn’t get her to look at him. “I know you didn’t mean for it to go so far, and I certainly didn’t mean for—”

“It’s all right,” she managed to say. “Considering what was going on, I don’t see how you could have avoided it. I…uh…I’d better get ready for work.”

“I’d take you, but if I do, someone will certainly see you get out of the car. I hate this secrecy, Jackie. I don’t like the idea of having to hide my behavior from anybody.”

She looked at him then. “I have no choice right now, Warren. It’s an honest living, and I need the job.”

“I know. Go on and get ready. I’ll wait here. I can at least see that you get a taxi.”

She didn’t want that, but to have refused would have raised his suspicions. She dressed conservatively, as she usually did, and took comfort in the fact that the doorman would be on his break when she left the building. She decided not to apply the heavy makeup that she wore as a waitress, and put her makeup kit in her handbag. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the difference.

But he did. As soon as she joined him in her living room, he said “You’re so much more beautiful without the makeup you wear at work. Why do you wear it?”

Her shrug was intended to suggest that the makeup was of no consequence. “My job description calls for a glamorous, sexy woman, and specifies that I wear that ridiculous uniform and high-heeled sandals.”

He stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be damned. I wonder what idiot wrote that. It must have been Hornsby.”

“Whoever he was, I don’t thank him.”

He drove over to Broadway at 66th Street, double parked and hailed a taxi. “I’ll see you later,” he told her. “I’ll have some guests tonight, so when you get a call from me, remember that I won’t be alone.” He kissed her quickly, gave the address to the driver along with a twenty-dollar bill and said to her, “He’s been paid and tipped. Bye for now.”

She made it through the night in what she could best describe as a fog, thankful that she made no blunders and got her work done with a semblance of efficiency. But she couldn’t remember ever having been in such a daze. In every minute, she could feel him and taste him. And when she went into the private lounge to answer his call, she was practically tongue-tied.

“I’d like a round of vodka comets and a selection of hot hors d’oeuvres, please,” he said when she failed to ask what he wanted.

“Yes, of course, sir,” she replied, and left the lounge as quickly as she could without inquiring as to whether he would like anything else.

Twelve o’clock came slowly, but at last she could change into her street clothes and go home. She stepped out onto 63rd, walked toward Fifth Avenue to get a taxi and stopped for the light. Warren’s Town Car eased to the curb where she stood. “I’ll be on 64th just east of Fifth,” he told her, and drove off before she could answer. She walked to the next block and got into his car.