Read Online Vanishing Point (Circle of Spies Novella) by Laura Pauling - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Pauling
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papers from the man’s briefcase, but first, she had to take care of the man.
Slowly, her hands moved to the buttons on her blouse and as she undid each one, she died a bit on the inside. She swayed her hips back and forth and moved to imaginary music. At the last button, she inched closer to the bed and blocked the view of the bedside table upon which sat his drink. On reaching the side, her black lace bra exposed, along with a few rolls, she reached around behind her and while Bernard ogled her breasts, she held the pill over his drink.
But before she could drop it in, Bernard wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. Her chest pressed against his and she fell forward with a flail of her arms. She felt the heat rise from his body, his breath on her face and she panicked. In a flurry of arms and legs, Marisa extracted herself.
“Playing the tease, are we?” Bernard asked in a bedroom voice, low and sultry.
She rested her hands on the button of her pants. “Isn’t that how men like it?” Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Now she sounded like a whore. “In my limited experience.” Then the thought crossed her mind that just possibly he thought she was a whore, a call girl. Why else would she be stripping in his bedroom after barely having a drink together?
He nodded for her to continue. Then after he clicked the control, soft music played in the background, violins and flutes.
She froze, wanting to dash from the room, run away, and tell Will to go to hell, but no. She turned her back to him as if on cue and swayed a bit again, praying the darkness hid the rolls at her sides. This whole charade didn’t make her feel even a bit sexy, not with a strange disgusting perverted man in the room, on the bed behind her, watching her ass jiggle.
She could do this.
With each dip in the music, she ran her hands up and down her sides, tracing each curve and roll. She unbuttoned her pants and as they slipped to the floor, or as she forced them over her hips and then they slipped to the floor, exposing the matching black lace thong, she died a thousand deaths and finally plopped the pill into his drink.
Bernard didn’t respond and Marisa feared he was wondering why the hell a woman her age was wearing panties with lace up her ass. But no. Instead, his fingers traced the outline of her hips. The strong and sudden urge to puke churned in her stomach.
She grabbed his glass and whipped around. “Here,” she said in a sultry voice that cracked a bit with every word. “Don’t want to waste a good drink.”
Bernard didn’t seem very interested. Marisa sighed. Men. What would Lenore do? She moved forward and made it part of her act. The glass touched his lips and his eyes turned stormy with lust. Marisa cringed inside as she straddled him and poured the drink down his throat, some of it dripping off his chin.
Done. Finished. How long until it took effect? With a shaky hand, she returned the glass to the bedside table. Then she could leave the report in the file folder, get the hell out of there, take an extremely long and hot shower and call Stephen and talk dirty. Anything to erase this memory.
In one suave movement, he reached his hand around her and spun her so she was underneath him and he was on top. His body, big and overbearing, ready to crush hers. He smashed his mouth to hers and his roaming hands left nothing to the imagination.
She sucked at this. Beatrice DeWilflower would have dropped the pill in the drink downstairs and never gotten herself into this position. The thought and feel of a man other than Stephen on top of her brought on waves of repulsion.
Bernard rolled off her.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the verbal onslaught of how she led him on and how she was the one who followed him upstairs.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“I guess, I guess, I’m just not ready.”
He didn’t say anything and when Marisa finally peeked over at him, he shook his head. He
Slowly, her hands moved to the buttons on her blouse and as she undid each one, she died a bit on the inside. She swayed her hips back and forth and moved to imaginary music. At the last button, she inched closer to the bed and blocked the view of the bedside table upon which sat his drink. On reaching the side, her black lace bra exposed, along with a few rolls, she reached around behind her and while Bernard ogled her breasts, she held the pill over his drink.
But before she could drop it in, Bernard wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. Her chest pressed against his and she fell forward with a flail of her arms. She felt the heat rise from his body, his breath on her face and she panicked. In a flurry of arms and legs, Marisa extracted herself.
“Playing the tease, are we?” Bernard asked in a bedroom voice, low and sultry.
She rested her hands on the button of her pants. “Isn’t that how men like it?” Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Now she sounded like a whore. “In my limited experience.” Then the thought crossed her mind that just possibly he thought she was a whore, a call girl. Why else would she be stripping in his bedroom after barely having a drink together?
He nodded for her to continue. Then after he clicked the control, soft music played in the background, violins and flutes.
She froze, wanting to dash from the room, run away, and tell Will to go to hell, but no. She turned her back to him as if on cue and swayed a bit again, praying the darkness hid the rolls at her sides. This whole charade didn’t make her feel even a bit sexy, not with a strange disgusting perverted man in the room, on the bed behind her, watching her ass jiggle.
She could do this.
With each dip in the music, she ran her hands up and down her sides, tracing each curve and roll. She unbuttoned her pants and as they slipped to the floor, or as she forced them over her hips and then they slipped to the floor, exposing the matching black lace thong, she died a thousand deaths and finally plopped the pill into his drink.
Bernard didn’t respond and Marisa feared he was wondering why the hell a woman her age was wearing panties with lace up her ass. But no. Instead, his fingers traced the outline of her hips. The strong and sudden urge to puke churned in her stomach.
She grabbed his glass and whipped around. “Here,” she said in a sultry voice that cracked a bit with every word. “Don’t want to waste a good drink.”
Bernard didn’t seem very interested. Marisa sighed. Men. What would Lenore do? She moved forward and made it part of her act. The glass touched his lips and his eyes turned stormy with lust. Marisa cringed inside as she straddled him and poured the drink down his throat, some of it dripping off his chin.
Done. Finished. How long until it took effect? With a shaky hand, she returned the glass to the bedside table. Then she could leave the report in the file folder, get the hell out of there, take an extremely long and hot shower and call Stephen and talk dirty. Anything to erase this memory.
In one suave movement, he reached his hand around her and spun her so she was underneath him and he was on top. His body, big and overbearing, ready to crush hers. He smashed his mouth to hers and his roaming hands left nothing to the imagination.
She sucked at this. Beatrice DeWilflower would have dropped the pill in the drink downstairs and never gotten herself into this position. The thought and feel of a man other than Stephen on top of her brought on waves of repulsion.
Bernard rolled off her.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the verbal onslaught of how she led him on and how she was the one who followed him upstairs.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“I guess, I guess, I’m just not ready.”
He didn’t say anything and when Marisa finally peeked over at him, he shook his head. He
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