Well, she is definitely untouched. The fact is erotic, and has been tormenting me since I learned about Michelle’s lack of sexual experience.
Patience, I growl to myself again.
Michelle walks around the room, touching a pillow, running her fingers along the wall, and then peeking her head around the corner at the bathroom.
“That bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment,” she says shyly.
I shrug, expecting the luxury to be new to Michelle.
“Well, we like to get really dirty, so you need a good space to get clean once we’re done with you.” I smile wickedly, half-teasing the innocent young thing but also enjoying her slight panic.
“I well, I guess that’s good to know.” Michelle’s voice is shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s with desire or fear.
“Michelle, he’s kidding! Mostly.” Gabriel finally interjects. My brother and I chuckle, pleased with her naiveté but feeling a tiny bit bad about picking on her.
“You’re making this too easy, you know.” I give Michelle a knowing wink and she immediately seems to relax.
“I know, I’m sorry. This is just all so new.” She continues walking around the vast room, observing and touching the various knickknacks and furniture with awed deference.
I smile to myself as she makes her way around the space. Good, I think with satisfaction, she’s never had anything like this, and I want to spoil her. Part of me wonders about the problems Michelle’s faced that put her in this position. What could Jensen have threatened her with? Why would she even agree? A primal part of me wants to destroy him, and get it over and done with.
Get it together, Tom. Murder is not on the menu. At least not right now.
“Here’s our favorite part of this room,” Gabriel’s deep voice interrupts. “A reading nook.”
Michelle looks at it with delight.
“Wow! Okay, no,” she says.
Gabriel and I look at each other. “No?” we ask her simultaneously.
She smiles then.
“I just mean, no, this can’t be real-life.” Michelle is still shaking her head, as if trying to grapple with reality. “I feel like I’m walking in a fantasy.”
Suddenly, I feel confused. I want her to be happy, but then again, I shouldn’t care what she wants, right? This is just a set-up, with a girl brought in to service our voracious sexual needs. We treat our girls well because a happy woman means for better times in bed. But something about this curvy brunette is different, and I find myself wondering what’s gotten into me. But really, the focus should be on our new guest.
“Michelle,” I ask, “are you alright?”
She turns her beautiful brown eyes toward me, and there’s a slight dampness in them. “I am. I just can’t believe it: this room, and this house. It’s beautiful. And I get to stay here?” She laughs, a bell-like sound that eases my pounding heart immediately. “I mean, this reading nook is straight out of my childhood dreams when I’d curl up by a window and look out onto the rain.”
I look at the simple setup and try to see it through Michelle’s almond-brown eyes.
The plush windowseat overlooks one of the gardens, with rolling hills scattered behind that. There are plump pillows in shades of rose, white, and gold scattered across the wide, cushioned bench. There’s a marble-top table to hold coffee and snacks. A vine in a pretty pink planter grows along one wall, softening the little area nicely. Stacks of leather-bound books grace the built-in shelves.
It’s pretty, I concur, but Michelle is pretty.
I take her hand and squeeze it gently. “You deserve a fairy tale,” I say in a deep voice.
“You don’t even know me, and yet you’re being so kind.” A single tear slides down her soft cheek.
My brother and I share a startled look. Kind? That’s a word that hasn’t been applied to us before. Well, there are firsts for everything.
“Why don’t we all head downstairs for an early dinner, hmm sweetheart? Are you hungry?” I can tell Gabe is also overwhelmed by our thoughts and feelings for this woman. She smiles through her tears.
“I’d like that, thank you. I’m actually really famished.”
I smile appreciatively at the admission. I like a woman who can eat, I think as I take in Michelle’s ample and alluring curves. Then I grin. “How do you feel about filet mignon, scalloped potatoes, and fresh vegetables from the garden?”
“I’ve never had filet mignon,” Michelle says softly, looking embarrassed again. Her hands clasp as she glances at the floor. “It was always the most expensive thing on the menu, and usually out of my price range.”
I seize a small hand in my big bronzed one.
“Well, you’re going to love it.” I smile and lift her chin with my hand. “You need to stop being embarrassed with us. We aren’t going to judge you for being innocent. That’s what we’re here for sweetheart. To take the innocence right out of you.”