Page 3 of Menotte avec toi

And to think I nearly cancelled today’s meeting and left this foolish quest for the perfect art behind us. Accepting the black walls I knew all too well as a fixture for life. But I was over that, just frustrated with the interviewees thus far. We poured too much money intoMenottéto have it be just another BDSM club. It was so much more than that.

“Harper, Harper.” Simon’s jovial voice broke through the haze. What had he found so funny? “Would you care to introduce yourself to our guest?”

Comedy was the best way to describe the blank blinks my mind rotated through as I regained focus. My visions of her and I engaged, naked bodies entwined, were so clear, yet we hadn’t made it past the lobby.

“My apologies, I’m Harper Moreau.” Her smile faltered. The urge to restore it to its rightful place upon her beautiful face nearly had me reaching out.Consent, Harper. Remember the golden rule.

“Oh, you’re married?” She gestured between Simon and me.

“No!” Simon and I blurted in unison.

Given the way she jumped, our responses came out a bit too harshly.

“Apologies. No, Simon and I have been divorced for years but remain business partners and friends. But nothing more.” Why had I added that last part? It wasn’t necessary, though her smiledid return. Dare I dream and hope she’s as drawn to me as I am to her?

“Nice to meet you both. I-I, I must be honest. I’ve never visited a lifestyle club before.” The adorable blush tinting her cheeks and neck had me wishing she were naked so I could see how far it ran. “I have my portfolio,” she tapped the case in hand, “is there a table I could lay it out on for you to view?”

“Yes, please, follow us.” Simon and I led her into the lounge area of the club to utilize one of the tables. Carefully, she slid several pieces from her case and set them out.

“These may not be what you’re looking for, but they at least showcase my gifts.”

Gift. That she truly was and quite possibly dropped into my lap by the Goddess of Love herself.

Simon and I examined each one, the vision in my head nearly identical to what she’d shown us. “These are very close to what I’d imagined. Geometric shapes and lines, forming naked, faceless human bodies. Some solo while others engaged in sensual acts.” I glanced up at her, the heat in my eyes wouldn’t go unnoticed. “Why don’t you come back on Saturday night for the grand reopening as my guest? The rooms will be occupied, but perhaps that may…influence your vision?” Either that or pique her curiosity, both of which I’d request a front row seat for.

Simon’s eyes met mine, and I knew we were on the same page and in agreement—Harper was the artist we sought.

“I have the contract in my office. Would you like for me to email it to you and your lawyer?”

She blinked those alluring hazel eyes at me. “I-I don’t have a lawyer. Do I need one?”

Oh, my sweet, sweet kitten, you’ll soon learn I’ll never screw you over and would protect you with everything I have.

“It’s always recommended for your own protection, but I can promise you it’s pretty straightforward. Shall we?”

Goddess, I’ve never asked for much and have worked hard for all I’ve achieved. Please, just let me have this one wish… Let this beautiful soul become mine.

Chapter Two

Sonnet

Was there a dress code?

Oh, shit, I should have asked that question, at the very least, before agreeing to go to a lifestyle club.

What was I thinking in not asking that? Where was my head at?

Gone, that’s where. With Harper staring at me with her beautifully intense gaze and sensual lips curled up into the barest hint of a smile. A striking woman, she’d captivated my artist’s soul from the moment I laid eyes on her.

Listening to her describe what she was after for the club, shapes entwined, flowing together until their lines blended and blurred into an image of unabashed bliss. I’d felt my face heat up as she’d spoken about the emotion she longed to see the artwork convey. My inner artist wanted to give her everything she sought and then some, but the images in my portfolio had been bornof wet dreams and hope. I had little in the way of experiences to draw from and certainly nothing that delved deeply into a lifestyle I’d long admired.

Call me a bit of a scared cat, but seeing for myself had seemed like an impossible mission to tackle alone. Perhaps if I’d had a friend to cast a guiding light and show me the way, but art had been my dearest friend since childhood, and few people had ever been able to lure me away from it for long enough to get to know me, let alone for friendships to form.

Now here I was, standing barefoot on the carpeted floor of my bedroom, staring into a closet that contained mostly paint-splattered clothes, trying to remember where I’d shoved the few clubbing outfits I did own.

Yet they hardly felt appropriate.

Sundress, sundress, spaghetti strap top,I wasn’t sure if I’d ever bought a skirt to go with…

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