Elsa unplugged her laptop and went down the hall to Viv’s place and was given permission to borrow her WiFi for a short time. Once connected, she hit the jackpot with a simple Google search.
Mr. Black wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill businessman as she had suspected. He was a well-known criminal profiler for the FBI with a long list of accolades and honors to his name. He also had a list just as long of criminals he had helped to capture and cases he had helped to solve. Elsa continued on her quest to seek out all that she could about him, stunned at everything she was reading. He was truly an amazing man, even if he was a harsh task master.
If the community only knew of his bizarre requests and rules, they might not think so highly of him. Not that she would ever disclose that sort of thing. Everyone was allowed their secrets. But surely she wasn’t the first of his conquests. He was nearly thirty-six years old and by his actions with her, he clearly had presence of mind and experience in dealing with women. Most especially in the manner he was dealing with her.
With his government connections, it was no wonder he could manipulate her computer and phone access and was privy to all her personal information. He truly was a nosey douchebag of epic proportions – albeit an intelligent, crime-solving, gorgeous, sex-depriving douchebag.
Overcome with everything she had learned, she sank into Viv’s couch and laughed ironically at herself. What was it about her that she could attract the most screwed up and demanding men? Did she have a target on her head that said: if you’re an asshole, here I am! Use and abuse me! Break my heart! Maybe the bull’s-eye was on her pussy. She must be secreting some jacked up pheromones to be attracting such weirdoes.
Why couldn’t Mr. Black be like he was after her punishment: The one who had read her mind and body and taken her like she had always wanted to be taken; the man who had held her close as he slept next to her; the person who had watched and touched her gently when he thought she was asleep; the gentleman who had hand washed her skirt and set out one of his own clean shirts for her to wear. That guy. Why not him? Was that tender man the real person hiding behind the cold façade or was she just deceiving herself like she had with Patrick?
She leaned her head back and sighed heavily. Now what was she going to do? The answer remained unspoken, but hovered on her lips: follow his rules until he says otherwise.
8: Unpredictable
Monday at work was every bit as frustrating as her weekend had been. After everything she had learned about Mr. Black, she was having a difficult time motivating herself and her lack of sleep was only making matters worse. She wanted to know more. The internet search had only produced basic facts about the inexplicable and handsome man, not the kind of details she could really sink her teeth into. Like was he married? Despite exhaustive efforts and staying at Viv’s until the wee hours of the morning, she could find nothing at all about his personal life. The only thing of real interest was an obituary for his mother who had died the previous year and revealed that he was her only survivor. Unsurprisingly, there were no details of her death and Elsa was left to her imagination as to what had happened. Mr. Black had been thorough in keeping his personal life private and it was maddening. What made a man like Victor Laurenzo tick? What kinds of atrocities had he seen with his job? She could only imagine.
She was eating an early lunch alone in her office while obsessing over Mr. Black when her phone notified her of a text message.
MrBlack: 1:00 pm, Albans Gynecology, 926 Center St.
With everything that had happened and all that was on her mind, she had forgotten about her appointment. At least this time a phone number was associated with the text message and she promptly stored it in her list of contacts. Frowning at the impersonal message, she considered whether or not to go. Of course she would go. Contract or not, she was too curious and intrigued by Mr. Black not to. She began typing a response, but decided to just let sleeping dogs lie. Anyway, what would she say?
After her appointment, she found her way back to her office and closed up early. There was just too much on her mind to try and get anymore work done.
Back at her apartment, she rummaged through some of her still packed boxes and found several items that she wasn’t planning on using and loaded them up and took them to 2500 East Grace Street. The stark white walls and sterility of the home were unwelcoming and if she was going to spend any time there, then it would have to be made to feel like a real home.
The small hand woven rug that she had bought at a flea market looked nice in the tiled entrance and gave the residence a homier feel. Two pictures, one of the seaside and the other of a beautiful sunset, she hung over the mantle and in the dining area. She placed an old, small music box that was hers as a child on the night stand in the bedroom in hopes that it would bring some kind of peacefulness to the cold, empty house. The last item, a brightly colored comforter, she lay out on the large bed. It immediately gave the barren white room life and she smiled as she looked around, pleased with herself, though the troubling thought crossed her mind that Mr. Black might not appreciate her presumptuousness and efforts.
Two more days had come and gone without so much as a phone call or text message from Mr. Black. She had driven past the brownstone several times to see if there was any life within it, but only darkened windows glared back at her.
Wednesday was proving to be just as uneventful. The only good thing was that in the time away from Mr. Black, her mind had somewhat stopped fixating on him. The unfortunate side effect of that was that her thoughts were now drifting back to Patrick.
On her way home from work, she bought a bottle of chardonnay to ease her boredom.
Showered and with her bottle of wine freshly cracked open and Laura Palmer by Bastille thumping noisily on her MP3 player, a knock on her door took her by surprise. In only a terrycloth robe, she chained the door and peeked out. On the other side stood Mr. Black, wearing the same form-fitting leather jacket he had worn the first night she met him and dark, worn jeans. His expression was relaxed as he watched her through the open door with his hands by his side and keys dangling casually as he twirled them. When he shifted his stance, the smell of nicotine and his unique cologne erased any rational thoughts from her brain.
“You told me to come to the door like a normal person and now you’re just going to leave me out here?” he lifted an eyebrow at her.
Elsa sputtered and gave him a feeble smile as she unchained the door and opened it wide for him to enter. He moved past her, brushing up against her purposefully. Tightening her robe around her body, she watched him with new found interest as he moved about the room, touching her personal belongings and looking over the family photos that she had scattered throughout the room.
She moved close to him and when she did, he peeked over his shoulder, his eyes darkening with desire.
“You look and smell suitable for eating” he purred, turning to face her and pulling her close to him by her waist. “What are you wearing underneath?” he sneaked a hand under the fabric.
Hell yes, she wanted to be devoured by him. With cheeks flushed, she answered. “Nothing. I just showered.”
One side of his mouth lifted, his crooked, wicked grin speaking directly to her pussy as he touched the flesh of her labia. “I know.”
“You’ve been watching again?” She felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended on hers and he thrust two digits into her.
His tongue only probed her mouth briefly when he answered in a whispered tone against her mouth. “Again?” he pumped his fingers. “I’m always watching you, Elsa. I see and hear everything - where you go; what you do; who you’re doing it with.”