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Harge Aird may be the honored ‘Man of the Year’ at tonight’s event, but he doesn’t know everything.
He doesn’t know how much this glamorous party cost to put on, he doesn’t know how long it took to plan and how many people it required to help pull it all together. He doesn’t even know everyone on the guest list, only the other powerful male business tycoons and few additional people he deemed worthy of his time. He doesn’t know the name of the young woman taking his photo right now, despite it not being their first encounter. He doesn’t know that it’s the same woman who shot his New York Times, Forbes and Wall Street Journal covers. He doesn’t know that it’s his wife, Carol, who made sure she was here tonight. In fact, if he knew all of this perhaps he would be more alive to what was transpiring in front of his very eyes, instead of reveling in his night of celebration. For what Harge doesn’t know least of all is that mere hours ago, Therese Belivet, the photographer in question, had his wife pinned up against a wall in their home screaming her name.
The illicit affair had been going on for months without his knowledge, ever since Therese was assigned to that first cover shoot. She had never envisioned her career turning out this way, photographing unremarkable white, middle-aged men praised for their contributions to capitalism, but she was still coming up in the industry and knew it was too big of an opportunity to pass up. And while these kinds of shoots didn’t require much creativity of her, she made sure to do a good job. Although that had been a momentous day for her career, she wasn’t nervous - that is until Harge’s wife showed up.
All the hustle and bustle of the set had disappeared to the background and all Therese could focus on was the blonde beauty who had quietly slipped into the room dressed in a slim brown dress and a golden fur coat, her full lips painted a deep red. The woman appraised the room with a pleasant expression and when her eyes finally landed on Therese, the photographer almost dropped her camera. They were an icy blue, almost grey and their coolness sent shivers straight down Therese’s spine. The corners of the woman’s mouth had turned up slightly, as if she was amused and then she glided over to join her husband. Therese returned to her task at hand with newfound enthusiasm, desperate to capture the stunning creature. In a certain light they made a handsome couple, but Harge’s was easily outshone by his wife.
Later, the journalist had pulled Harge aside and Therese was doing a quick review of the photos on a monitor when a delicious amber scented perfume attacked her senses.
“My, my, you are talented,” a low and warm voice murmured behind her.
Therese turned and felt incredibly proud of herself for not collapsing when making direct eye contact with the woman. Up close, she could see all the finer details that not even her camera could capture. The cat-like shape of her eyes, the soft wrinkles at their corners, the stateliness of her nose and sharpness of her jaw.
“I’m sorry,” the other woman smiled softly. “I’m being greedy aren’t I? These aren’t even the finished product.”
“That’s alright,” it’s a miracle that Therese was able to speak. “You’re welcome to see whatever you’d like, Mrs. Aird.”
The correction was swift, but nonaggressive. “Carol. My name is Carol.”
“Carol,” Therese repeated, as if it was a precious secret she’d just been bestowed.
Carol’s gaze was unwavering. “And yours?”
“Therese. Therese Belivet.”
The other woman grinned with satisfaction, “Therese Belivet. You’re so experienced for your age.”
“It’s an easy job when my subjects are so photogenic.”
Pale brows lifted slightly, playfully. “Photogenic? That’s being generous. It’s a testament to your talent that I don’t look dreadful.”
“You could never look dreadful,” Therese offered without a second thought.
Carol’s eyes darkened and just as tension ratcheted up between them, she was whisked off by an assistant to join Harge over with the journalist.
The moment she left, Therese took her first breath in what felt like hours. She quietly excused herself and left the studio, heading quickly for the bathroom. Once inside she ungracefully splashed cold water on her face and gasped from the sting, her hands gripping the sink.
She’s not sure how long she stood there, but suddenly the bathroom door opened. Carol emerged and strode straight towards Therese, her hands finding the brunette’s hips as she pushed her against the bathroom counter and kissed her firmly, sending Therese into a tailspin. The blonde’s lips were impossibly soft and Therese gasped into the kiss, her knees almost buckling when Carol’s tongue smoothly sought entrance. It was over as quickly as it had started, with Carol wiping her smudged lipstick as she quit the bathroom.
The next time she showed up unexpectedly, while Therese was still getting ready, long before the rest of the crew was due to arrive.
“You’re early,” Therese stammered, the words dying on her lips as she saw Carol’s molten stare.
“I thought I was imagining it when I saw your name on the call sheet.” Carol slinked closer to her. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
Before long Therese found herself hoisted up on a nearby table with Carol slotted between her legs. Carol's tongue and teeth tore across Therese’s chest as her hand maintained a punishing rhythm that had Therese struggling to keep her eyes open. During the shoot, Therese was distracted by the thought of her own arousal still lingering on the other woman’s skin.
The third time, Harge had to leave immediately after to catch a flight to Los Angeles. When everyone else had packed up, Carol pulled Therese into a taxi that took them to the back door of a hotel. Once inside their room, Therese had Carol on the bed with her head between the blonde’s thighs. Hours passed as Carol’s body continued to shudder and writhe with pleasure. It was in the morning when after Therese had showered that she found Carol elegantly laid out on the bed, her eyes full of conspiracy.
“Harge’s Man of the Year celebration is next week.”
“I know,” Therese almost laughed. “It’s all the city can talk about.”
Carol’s tone was dead serious, determined. “I’m going to make sure you’re there.”
And that’s how Therese found herself, on the night of the party, in the elevator on her way up to the Aird’s penthouse after being asked there by Carol. So far, everything had been stolen moments between her and Carol. This felt reckless and dangerous in a way that she wasn’t sure made her scared or aroused. She was already way over her head with Carol, but this was on a different level.
The doors opened into the grand penthouse and Therese’s heart hammered when there was no sight of Carol. This was a huge mistake, she thought as she ventured deeper inside, feeling like an intruder and completely out of place.
“Carol?”
“I’m in the dressing room, darling,” Carol called out.
Therese steeled her nerves, but it was no use when she finally found the giant dressing room and also Carol, with her hair and makeup done and completely nude, save for a miraculous diamond necklace that sat between her breasts. Her jaw was on the floor as she watched Carol rise from her place at the vanity and saunter towards her. Therese could see that the older woman had something dark in her hand that she was holding behind her back, but it was the least of her worries with the woman’s exquisite figure on display for her. Carol was the epitome of statuesque, a true goddess and Therese was a mere mortal, desperate to worship her.
“You see I was getting ready and it was dawning on me that I have to be on Harge’s arm all night as he’s fawned over,” Carol spoke conversationally despite the present circumstances. “There’s going to be so many men there. Men that admire him, that are jealous of him, that despise him perhaps. And they always make passes at me, even right in front of Harge, but he’s too distracted by his own success to frankly give a damn.”
Carol was impossibly close to Therese now, she could feel the heat radiating off the other woman’s body. She could smell her amber perfume and something else that was heady and intoxicating.
“I have no interest in them,” Carol continued slowly. “I have no interest in anyone who will be there tonight, except for you.”
A red manicured hand slid up Therese’s arm to pull off her blazer. “And I was hoping you would give me something, Therese. Something to keep in my mind and get me through the night.”
Carol skillfully unbuttoned Therese’s shirt with a single hand and licked a hot stripe from Therese’s neck down to her waist, where she unzipped her trousers. They pooled at Therese’s feet leaving her in only cotton boxers. Carol’s other hand finally appeared from behind her back, holding a large strap and harness.
Therese's pulse started to race at the sight and she choked as Carol’s lips found her ear, her breath hot. “I want you to fuck me, Therese. I want you to fuck me like no man ever has and ever could. I want you to leave me so spent and sore and wanting for you that it's all I can think about tonight. Can you do that for me, darling?”
Now Therese was at the party, camera in hand as she photographed the happy couple. Harge was beaming. Carol was radiant, in a black dress that clung to her every curve and showed off her toned back and long legs. If the dress shifted even a few inches, however, Therese and everyone would be able to see the bruises on Carol’s hips. They would be able to see the hickey that Therese left under Carol’s right breast and the small red marks on her collarbone.
With every flash, Therese saw a different picture in her mind. Carol pressed up against the wardrobe, her hands clutching its sides as Therese filled her from behind. Her panting as she turned them around and frantically wrapped her leg around Therese’s waist, holding them up as Therese confidently pushed through her wetness. She saw Carol’s mouth open and could hear her unabashed moans, her growls, her screams as Therese pressed as close as she could, their hips sliding against each other to lock in place.
Therese was absolutely soaked, drenched and when she locked eyes with Carol she could tell that the other woman’s head was full of the same sordid images.
So yes, Harge doesn’t know everything.