With that, I sweep the curvy girl into my arms and plunder her mouth ravenously. Gemma moans beneath me, her legs already parting and welcoming me into that sweet vee. Her breath is so soft and fragrant that I could die right now from the pleasure. But my girl deserves better than some temporary purgatory because I’ve fallen in love … and plan on telling her my feelings.
Chapter 13
Gemma
Stealthily, I make my way to the elevator.
“Miss Gemma, is there something I can help you with?” calls Mary from the front desk. Oh shit. Just my luck. It’s 3 a.m. and I’m trying to sneak out of the club. I figured I’d be apprehended by a security guard or some military commando that they hire to keep watch over this place, but instead, I’ve been made by a middle-aged woman.
“Um, hey,” I stammer, biting my lip. I’ve seen Mary weekly ever since landing at the Billionaires Club, and we’ve become friendly of sorts. Not friends because she’s careful around me. She knows that I’m the kept woman of Mr. Carmichael, so she’s attentive and caring, but not overly so. “Um, just getting my hair done,” I fib lightly.
Mary stares at me.
“At 3 a.m.?” she asks skeptically, glancing a clock on the wall. “Why?”
“Well, you know Mr. Carmichael gets up really early to go to the gym, and I hate looking like a messed-up rat so early in the morning. It’s embarrassing,” I whisper, as if confiding a secret. “He means so much to me, and I hate that the first thing he sees when opening his eyes is me looking like a hag.”
Mary shakes her head.
“Well Miss Gemma, if I do say so myself, you would never look like a hag,” she says. “But I understand the desire to look beautiful. After all, our billionaires are everything to us, aren’t they? And you are so lucky to have snagged one of the best ones at the club.”
I nod weakly, even as my finger goes for the elevator button again.
“Um yeah,” I say. “Mr. Carmichael is everything to me.”
Mary grins again. “Then go ahead and go up,” she says. “All beauty services are open twenty four hours especially because of circumstances like this. We are here to satisfy and please, and I’m so happy that you’ve taken to your role at the Club.”
I smile weakly at the middle-aged again as the doors slide closed, before shaking my head once she can’t see. “Satisfy and please?” Where is she getting this? It sounds like Mary’s drunk the Kool-Aid, and there’s no going back. But I get what she’s saying. After all, the Billionaires Club is the hand that feeds us, and there’s no need to bite that hand. I just want to get out and see Henry. He means everything to me because I have no family.
So yeah, all this skulking and sneaking around is to see my old tomcat once again. It’s lame, I know. Who does stupid shit like this? But the thing is, Mr. Carmichael and I had “the talk” a month ago about where our relationship is, and where it’s going, and I still don’t have any answers. He makes love to me non-stop, morning, noon, and night, and that makes me happy. But he’s never said anything about “love” or “permanence” or even “girlfriend.” It’s more along the lines of, “Why do you want to go back up? Isn’t every need tended to here?” Or even worse: “Do you really want to work at that greasy spoon the Silver Star? The one that paid you nothing?”
Of course I don’t want to go back, but I can’t just float around forever here. Maybe I don’t have a great education or work experience, but I still want to make something of myself. And I’m definitely not doing that while being Mr. Carmichael’s sex slave. There, I said it. I’m basically his personal geisha girl, smiling when the door opens in the evening, and making love with him non-stop all hours of the day or night.
The problem is that I’m conflicted because I love being his personal geisha girl. I love making sure my man has hot food when he comes home from work, and giving him a shoulder massage as he eats. I love dressing up in saucy lingerie just for him, and then having him take it off piece by piece. I love the debates we get into, and the conversation that’s so natural between us. But it doesn’t get me anywhere professionally, and I can’t hang my hat on a man who won’t even acknowledge me to the real world. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do just yet, but right now, I’m going to see my cat. It’s just a baby step, but surely, more progress will follow.