The room was fairly crowded and the diners laughed amongst themselves as they sipped from glasses of wine that were constantly being re-filled by the attentive waiters.
Claire could feel herself sinking into boredom as she listened to the partner beside her drone on and on and on. Finance partners charged as much as $500 per hour and she supposed she was supposed to feel grateful that the partner was willing to impart so much knowledge to her during the dinner but it would have made for more pleasant conversation if they had been able to discuss the latest movie at the cinemas rather than the latest loophole in the Tax Amendment Act that he in his brilliance had discovered.
She lifted her serviette to her mouth and stifled a yawn. Across the table she could see that Della McKenzie was having a far more entertaining time flirting outrageously with one of the corporate partners. The partner was passably good-looking, middle-aged, married and completely enspelled by Della's ash blonde beauty, slate blue eyes and long dark lashes.
To do her credit, it wasn't that Della necessarily slept her way to the top, she seemed to enjoy sleeping with even lowly ranked solicitors. Claire wondered what it would be like to have such an uninhibited appreciation of sex. She had to admit that she really didn't understand what the mystery of it all was.
"May I take that from you?" she heard a voice ask her politely from her elbow and she looked up into a pair of pale blue, rather amused eyes which looked down at the way she was clutching her plate convulsively.
"Oh yes," she said relinquishing her plate hastily and apologising as she bumped his hand.
"That's all right, ma'am," he said with a tantalisingly attractive accent colouring his voice. She took a better look at him. Fair hair, closely cropped, smooth skin, blue eyes, perfect features and a tall, lean body which was set off admirably by the black t-shirt and black denim jeans he was wearing.
"Where are you from?" she asked him with interest and he smiled down at her, the smile lighting up his pale blue eyes,
"A little town in Scotland, ma'am," he told her, replacing her plate with a clean one and smiling at her again, his eyes lingering appreciatively on her full, sensuous mouth which was curved in a smile. His accent played with the edges of her consciousness again and she couldn't help but be charmed by such an intriguing accent.
Claire glanced vaguely at her reflection in the mirror. When one was Oriental, there wasn't a lot to do in terms of make-up and she stared at the cloud of dark hair around her pale face and found herself regretting that she hadn't made more of an effort to pretty herself up tonight.
Professional dinner or no professional dinner, she detested making a big fuss in terms of make-up and clothes.
She glanced at Della who had her hand on the partner's arm and was laughing with feigned hilarity and Claire rose and excused herself, going out onto the balcony for a breath of air and a moment of quietness.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" the young waiter asked her inquiringly, materalising at her elbow again and she turned sharply and found herself pressed up against his chest.
"Ummm, no, I'm fine," she said laughing a little and trying to take a step backwards but realised that the railing of the balcony prevented her from moving at all.
He smelt very nice, she decided dispassionately, smelling the tang of his aftershave and feeling the warmth of his strong, hard body against hers. His hands had moved and rested lightly on her bare arms and he was staring down into her face with a faint smile on his lips.
"Is the food so very bad, ma'am?" he asked her and she shook her head and laughed,
"No, but the dinner conversation was execrable."
He grinned and stepped back a little, taking a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and offering her one. She shook her head and he took a cigarette out and lit it, dragging deeply on it and exhaling the smoke reflectively. His light eyes glinted at her in the darkness as he smoked.
"You didn't look as if you really wanted to be in with that crowd at all." he remarked and she shrugged, studying him in the darkness. He really was very attractive.
"I work with them, sometimes it feels a bit unbearable that I have to socialise with them as well."
"Ah, so you're a lawyer," he observed, recollecting that the booking had been in the name of one of the city's oldest and more reputable law firms.
His eyes rested on the almost conservative black dress the woman before him wore. Almost was the operative word because little black dresses were never quite conservative. This one wasn't particular low cut or particular high in the hemline but it skimmed her slim legs, hinted tantalisingly at her full breasts and flirted with her pale, silken skin in a way he found very attractive.
He smoked quietly while she studied him. Finally he ashed his cigarette and tossed it away negligently.
"Shouldn't you be in there scoring brownie points like the blonde lass?" he inquired of her, taking a step towards her and she shrugged negligently and he rested a hand below her chin and tilted her head up and almost as if curious, he lowered his hard mouth to hers and kissed her.
She felt as if she had been knocked breathless as soon as his mouth touched hers and her arms went about his neck to pull him closer, her mouth opening beneath his and her tongue tangled hungrily with his as he backed her against the wall, his kisses growing more urgent, heavier and heavier as his strong, calloused hands caressed her trembling body through her thin black dress.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered hoarsely when they finally came up for air. His mouth trailed nibbling kisses down her pale throat, his hand kneading her breasts and then his mouth returned to hers again.
When she felt his hand beneath her skirt, she knew she should have been shocked but his mouth was hard against hers, his heart slamming against her body and when his hands slipped inside her pantyhose and inside her pants, she gave a muffled scream when his long, cool fingers sank deep into her hot, damp tightness. His fingers were very skilful and very knowledgable and she came against him violently, his mouth muffling her screams and his strong arms supporting her as she climaxed shakily in his arms.
He kissed her damp brow tenderly,"What's your name, lass?" he inquired of her and she gave a shaky laugh,
"Claire. And yours?"
"I'm Michael McKendrick and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance." He nibbled on her lower lip, taking it between his lips and biting sharply.
Her fingers sank into his back convulsively and they kissed with increased hunger. She could feel his hardness thrusting against her body through the denim of his jeans and wondered at herself, losing herself in the arms of a stranger. A very handsome, sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
He guided her hand inside his black jeans and he groaned when she cupped his hot, throbbing hardness. "Your hands feel good on me, lass," he murmured against her lips and they kissed again.
"I should go back in," she said shakily and he smiled and released her, helping her to straighten her dress and smooth her hair back from her flushed face.
"Your lips are swollen," he teased her, kissing her lightly and watching as she returned to the dining room on not quite steady feet. Waiting a short while, he followed her in.
Claire took a sip of her iced water and stared up across the table at Michael who was smiling back at her as she topped up the wine glasses of Della and her latest target. Michael's good looks had not gone unnoticed by Della who was flirting with him quite outrageously and running her red-tipped fingers down his bare arm.
With an effort, Claire turned her attention back to the partner who had switched topics and was now discussing the issue of Capital Gains Tax and the implications for burgeoning businesses.
As Michael cleared the dishes and helped to serve dessert, he dropped a note into her lap and walked away calmly. With a faintly guilty expression on her face she opened the note and saw that he was asking her to meet him.
The dinner went on and on but finally, some people started to leave. The younger people would probably make their way to a nightclub and although she should have been one of them, Claire politely excused herself and made her way into the alcove which was hidden behind the hotel lobby and waited nervously.
"Have you been waiting long?" Michael asked mischievously, holding a single red rose out to her and she flushed slightly but smiled at him,
"Did you steal this from one of the tables?" she asked him and he laughed, carefully tucking the thornless rose behind her ear and drew her against him and kissed her lingeringly.
"I've got a room, will you join me?" he invited her and she found herself being led along back ways and through empty corridors until they arrived at a surprisingly large and luxurious hotel room.
"Are you sure we won't get into trouble?" she asked him with wide eyes and he laughed and ran his fingertip down her nose,
"I've got a special arrangement," he told her and she wondered if he often romanced the female diners who caught his eye. His arms were around her and they were kissing hungrily, frantic open-mouthed kisses as she tore his tshirt from his waistband and sighed as she felt his smooth, warm skin against her finger tips.
He was skilfully unzipping her from her dress and removing her stockings with obscene ease and they made it to the bed in no time at all and he was touching and kissing her everywhere and she was doing the same with no thought of embarrassment or shame and then suddenly he was inside her, his fingers gripping her shoulders tight as he thrust deep inside her, ripping her apart with each powerful thrust and she was moving her hips to meet his thrusts and his mouth was hard against hers and when he spilled his hot seed deep inside her, she was ready for him and pulling his mouth down to hers and meeting his passion with her own.
Claire shifted and then winced. Her body ached all over. There was a grinding pain between her thighs and she felt as if her body was one giant bruise. She tried rolling but realised that she was imprisoned in a pair of rather powerful arms and stared in shock at the sleeping man beside her in the bed.
It took her several panic-stricken seconds to remember where she was and who she was with and in that time, he had opened his eyes and was surveying her with frank amusement.
"I'm Michael," he told her helpfully, his large hand moving in a very familiar fashion over her breast, pinching the rosy nipple lightly and taking the bud into his mouth and suckling. She arched up into his mouth, her fingers moving over his close-cropped blond hair.
"Are you all right?" he asked her in concern when she winced slightly.
She nodded. "Ummm, how many times....?" his eyes lit up with wicked laughter,
"By my count, three." His fingers ran over her bare back and he said in a low husky voice,"And if you go by the Clinton definition of sex, I guess that doesn't count the time you went down on me in the shower." His voice deepened in remembered sensuality and she flushed scarlet, remembering being on her knees before him in the shower, taking him into her mouth and the hot taste of him when he came.
"Do you do this a lot?" she asked him as he kissed her neck.
"Kissing necks? Of course, I adore it." he teased her and then looked serious,"Sex with strangers is not something I normally do, but you are so damnably adorable and despite your prim clothes and touch me not air, you have the most sinful mouth and your eyes were begging me to fuck you."
She glared at him and he laughed, turning her onto her stomach and moving her onto her hands and knees.
"What are you doing?" she began asking and then gasped when he sank into her, taking her from behind and creating all number of new sensations. He gripped her hips tightly and began thrusting slow and hard into her body.
"I can feel your cunt tight around my cock," he whispered into her ear,"And you're very hot and ready for me," he told her and when she tried to move away, he helped her firm and began his long thrusts, withdrawing almost completely and then plunging in again, withdrawing almost completely and then plunging in again, enjoying the sound of her breathless pants and the pleasure which was escaping her mouth.
When she came, he held her tight and she could feel his hot seed trickling down her leg.
"I'm making a mess on your sheets," she said apologetically and he smiled, kissing her lips,
"That's all right, I promise I'll sleep on the wet patch." he told her and she smiled despite herself at his playful humour.
"I love your accent," she murmured against his lips as he kissed her lingeringly, his hands roaming over her body as if he couldn't get enough of the taste and the feel of her.
To humour her he spoke to her, quoting snippets of poems and songs, making naughty observations, his brogue occasionally deepening.
"I'd no idea you had a Ewan McGregor fetish," he teased her and she laughed,
"You don't sound like him." He pretended to look crestfallen. He smoothed her tumbled hair away from her face and rolled onto his back, pulling her onto him to straddle him and watched the wondering expression on her face as he slowly thrust up into her, impaling her onto his body and she groaned, her head tilted back as her hips slowly rode him.
He gripped her hips firmly and thrust deep, making her shudder and his hands then slid up to cup her breasts, knead and fondle them until she was moaning uncontrollably.
Claire quickly got dressed, pulling her clothes on shoving her torn stockings into the pocket of her jacket and quickly pulling her shoes on. Michael was fast asleep in the bed, no doubt exhausted after a sexual marathon. He had been insatiable and to her surprise, so had she.
She resisted the temptation to kiss him once more but the sight of his gently sleeping face and his golden lashes resting on his pale skin were almost too much to resist.
Pulling herself together she went downstairs and hailed a cab, disappearing into the morning.
Claire sat back on her bed limply, feeling washed out and drained. It was the fifth morning in a row she had woken up with nausea and it was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn't last night's dinner which was disagreeing with her.
Pregnant with the child of a stranger she thought incredulously, wondering how the hell the bloody morning after pill had failed her so miserably. She had followed the doctor's instructions to the letter but it looked as if she had turned into one of those statistics they warned about.
She hadn't heard anything from Michael McKendrick since their night together. Part of her was honest enough to admit that she was piqued, wondering why he hadn't sought her out, but then part of her was also relieved. To get involved with a complete stranger would be somewhat embarrassing.
She sighed, her hand going to her stomach which to her imagination was already showing signs of swelling. Her breasts were already a little larger, a little more swollen and she wondered how she was going to tell Michael, or whether she should even tell him. It wasn't as if they were in a relationship, but probably he had the right to know.
She didn't intend to make him pay money or play a role in the child's life. She made enough, she was a professional woman in charge of her own destiny. She sighed and pulled on her clothes. She would have to tell him.
Michael smiled automatically at the couple who were glaring at each other furiously. An arguing couple was to be treated with care, he though. He wasn't as cheerful as he might have been. Everytime he thought about Claire, his mouth tightened and he could taste anger. He had reached out for her and found the bed empty and she had been gone without a trace almost as if she was ashamed of the amazing thing they had discovered.
He set his tray down and smiled at Mindy the new waitress who obviously had a terrible crush on him.
"How's the first night going?" he asked her kindly and she nodded dumbly.
He turned and stopped abruptly when he saw a young woman sitting by the window on her own, her face pale and pensive.
Before anyone else could serve her he crossed to her side.
"How can I help you tonight, ma'am?" he asked her politely, his Scottish accent very pronounced.
Claire started abruptly and looked up at him, pale-faced and wide-eyed.
"Michael." she stammered, looking at him. He looked the same, she thought although it had been a few months now since they had seen each other. His hair was still cropped short, the pale blue eyes lacked the humour and warmth that she had seen in them before.
"Are you planning to order anything?" he asked her and she looked at him,
"I need to speak with you somewhere private. Do you have a break coming up soon?"
A muscle moved in his jaw. "I didn't realise we had any unfinished business. Come back for another fuck? Is that how you get your kicks, sleeping with waiters and then leaving them?"
The colour drained out of her face and she bit her lip,"I shouldn't have come." She said and stumbled to her feet, heading towards the door without looking at him.
He muttered an imprecation under his breath and seized her hand,"Come with me," he said and pulled her out the door. Almost unerringly he led her back to the apartment she had last seen him in, the place where she had spent a night of unbelievable pleasure.
Tonight she was able to see more of the room, saw the beautiful carpet, the beautiful views of the city and Michael closed the door behind her and studied her narrowly.
"What is it you want?"
"You're looking well." she managed to say. "How's business going?"
"Business is going fine."
"Tips are good?" she asked, trying to make light conversation and delay the inevitable.
"Did you really come to talk about how I supplement my income?" he asked her bluntly, his voice very even and brutal.
"I'm pregnant." she told him flatly and he remained very still. He didn't say a word and just watched her silently as she moved around the room restlessly.
"I found out for sure yesterday, but I'd suspected it for awhile."
"Morning after pill?"
"I was one of the failures," she said trying to smile but failing miserably. "The doctor's very apologetic."
He didn't say anything for a very long time and she looked at him and bit her lip,"Aren't you going to ask if it's yours?"
Michael shrugged,"I don't think you're lying to me." He studied her pale face for a few more heartbeats. "Are you keeping the child?" he asked her calmly and she stared at him.
"Yes I am."
"And why have you decided to tell me?"
"I'm telling you because I think you have a right to know. That's all. I'm not expecting you to do anything about all this, I just wanted to let you know."
"And then you intended to do your disappearing act again, I suppose." he said coolly, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it up, dragging deeply from it and exhaling slowly. She shook her head,
"I don't know why I came. I just though it was the right thing to do."
"And you always do the right thing I suppose." he said and suddenly she could see hurt in his eyes.
"Are you mad at me, Michael?" she asked uncertainly,"Did I do something wrong?"
"Do you normally walk out on the men you have sex with?" he asked her evenly, bitingly and she bit her lip.
"No. I just didn't know what to say, what to do. It seemed easier just to leave and leave it at that."
He finished his cigarette and ashed it out in the ashtray and stared at her moodily. "So what now. I suppose you're too ashamed to let the father know its father is a waiter."
Claire looked distressed. "I'm not like that. I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of.... I just didn't think you'd want to be involved....."
Michael swore, low and vicious and crossed to the bar where he poured himself a stiff drink and tried to get his fury under control.
"You have an incredibly low opinion of me, Claire. Or is it of men in general?"
"I'm sorry, I seem to be doing this all wrong."
She crossed to his side and took the glass away from his hand and looked up at him,"Please forgive me. I shouldn't have run away like that." Her eyes were very large and very expressive and he felt his heart melt as he stared down into her pale face.
His hand moved up to caress her cheek, touching the smoothness of her skin and feeling the fullness of her lower lip. "I've missed you, Claire," he said lightly, lowering his head to brush her lips with his. "I've longed to taste you again, to feel your breath mingling with mine and to feel your body against mine."
"I'm here, Michael," she told him breathlessly, sliding her hands beneath his t-shirt and feeling the warm strength of him.
His mouth found hers and they were kissing hungrily, frantic, open-mouthed kisses. She could taste the alcohol on his tongue. His hand slid down to her stomach. "Are you showing yet?" he demanded fiercely, his hand flattenened over her still flat stomach. She shook her head and his hands moved to the swell of her breasts,
"But you're bigger here," he observed with mischievous wonder.
There was a firm rap on the door and someone entered apologetically,"Mr McKendrick, I'm sorry to interrupt you but you've an urgent phonecall in the boardroom. They said they'd wait."
Claire looked up at Michael with a frown on her face. He kissed her briefly,"I'll be back. Don't move." he told her and walked out of the room leaving behind the young executive dressed in a suit.
"I'm Kenneth Cameron," he said extending a polite hand and she shook it.
"Michael's a waiter in the restaurant of the hotel isn't he?" she asked him a little unsteadily.
Kenneth smiled at her. He was a good-looking man with wheat-gold hair and dark eyes.
"Michael's a little eccentric. Nothing seems to make him happier than waiting or tending bar, and although a lot of owners do it, it's not so common when they own a whole chain of hotels."
Claire sat down abruptly. "So he's not just a waiter."
Kenneth chuckled softly. "Mike's not just an anything. Look him up in Who's Who and you'll find out pretty quick." He excused himself and then Michael returned to the room, looking apologetic,
"Sorry about that." he said, sitting beside her. She stared at him. He looked very young and blond and very normal.
"You own this place?" she said gesturing vaguely with her hand and Michael looked amused.
"Yes, does that bother you?" She nodded a little dumbly and he smiled and kissed her gently.
"It just means we'll have somewhere cheap to stay when we go on our honeymoon."
Her eyes widened.
"Claire?"
"Mmmph," Claire mumbled, looking exhausted as she lay tangled amongst the sheets. "How did I end up here again?" she inquired as he pressed slow kisses along her jawline, tracing the pulse in her throat with a fingertip.
"It's where you belong," he said, tasting the saltiness of her skin. "I haven't been able to get you out of my thoughts every fucking day since we've been apart."
She stared up at him, her dark eyes wide and wondering,"I've missed you, too." She kissed his lips hungrily,"I love you," she whispered and he became very still and the pulled her into his arms, their breathing quickening.
"You're killing me," she said with a drained laugh as they lay, arms and legs in a sweaty entanglement. "I love you too." he told her and they lay together, quite still, their heartbeats quietening gradually.
THE END