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  The bright lights of Vegas rivaled New York’s; the weather on the other hand was very different. Here in the desert it was sunny and warm. He spent a wonderful night with a beautiful woman and basked in the glory only obtained with independence. Gambling was a new pastime he planned to cultivate over the coming weeks.

  And the women, so unlike those in France. Here in sunny Las Vegas, the women wore very little clothing. Dresses cut down to here, and slit up to there, barely concealing soft curves of breast and thigh. With so many willing women to bed, he might just have to remain here for months.

  His mother, thank heaven, was still in France. He loved her with all his heart but hoped she would stay there. She was not happy about this trip to the States. Every time they had a phone conversation, she assured him she would be arriving soon to bring him home again.

  Frustration was an emotion Gregory had not dealt with often during his life, and the dire warnings from his mother about looking for the past were wearing on his nerves. He'd decided three years ago he would find his father and tell him what his mother should have told him twenty-one years ago.

  With the help of the Parker family’s New York attorney he tracked the man to a private club here in Vegas. Finally, knowing where his father was, Gregory mistakenly assumed it would be an easy matter of calling, requesting an appointment and showing up to announce his existence. What he never anticipated was the trouble it would be to get inside Club Belle Tori. Twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening, he called. Each time the voice on the other end of the line told him they were not accepting new memberships. He left messages each time requesting Pierre DuMonte call him as soon as possible. For whatever reason there might be, all of his messages went unanswered.

  Never one to wait for others, Gregory decided a face-to-face conversation would be best. He rented a car and after getting directions to the club, headed down the Vegas strip toward the desert, the distant hills, and his destiny, which ended at the barred gates of the driveway leading up to Club Belle Tori. Stepping from the car, he scanned for an intercom system. Finding the correct button to call the main house, he pushed it three times and waited for a response.

  * * * *

  Customer relations and membership information for Club Belle Tori were handled by twenty-six-year-old Sophia Edwards. She'd started working at the club five years ago as an assistant bookkeeper. Now in addition to her other duties she was also the person responsible for the communication systems, which included the closed-circuit camera link to the front gate.

  It was just after nine in the morning, while sitting at the control panel resetting the phone message, that she noticed a young man step from his car. He looked around for a moment, then hit the intercom button. Unannounced guests were very unusual for the club, especially this early in the day, before the club opened. Hitting the correct switch to open a line to the front gate she responded, “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Qui, I would like for you to open the gate, tout de suite.”

  “And you are?” She was not comfortable with his response, open the gate right now, how dare he issue commands?

  “My name is Gregory Parker; I am here to speak with Pierre DuMonte.”

  Sophia experienced a moment’s hesitation on hearing his name. He had called the club several times and been told they were not taking new members. This one did not seem to understand the concept of the word no. She was about to tell him to leave when something about the way he stood there caught her attention. She peered into the screen focusing on his features, surprise hitting quickly. Turning away from the intercom system, she picked up the phone. After several seconds she spoke softly, “I need you to get in here, now,” she directed, before settling the receiver back on the cradle. Turning back to the intercom system and she spoke. “I’m sorry young man; Mr. DuMonte is in a meeting. Was he expecting you?”

  “No, he is not expecting me jeune femme, however I have traveled a great distance and waited several days for a call from the man. I am done with waiting chéri; ‘tis time to open the gate.”

  Sophia hit the button to close the open intercom line, disgusted with herself for the spark of interest she suddenly felt. “He starts by calling me young woman and ends with beloved, who is this guy?” She turned to the man now standing beside her, Tony the club’s bartender and currently Pierre’s right hand man, involved in the day-to-day running of the club. “Well Tony, what do you think? This kid isn’t taking no for an answer.”

  “Why did you call me in here honey, tell him we are not taking new members. Send him on his way.”

  “Tony, this is the same man who called several times this week asking for Pierre. I do not think this is about membership. Look at him Tony, I mean really look at the kid.”

  Leaning closer to the screen, Tony studied the man for the first time. Surprise lit his eyes and he turned to Sophia, “You’re sure this is the same man who has been calling for Pierre?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Tony, what do you want me to do?”

  Tony looked at the screen one more time then spoke in a firm tone, “Buzz him in, and take him to the bar. I’ll get Pierre and meet you there.”

  She watched as Tony left the room, then returned her gaze to the screen. He stood in the driveway waiting, “If you will please proceed to the front door, someone will meet you there.” From her vantage point in the security room, Sophia watched as Mr. Parker saluted the camera, returned to his car, and drove through the gates. Her stomach did a flip. He looks just like his father, she thought. Yet, was he his father? The resemblance she first recognized and pointed out to Tony was unmistakable.

  Realizing she was wasting time, she left the security room, heading for the foyer to meet Gregory Parker and escort him to the bar.

  Chapter 3

  Water flowed over Jason’s body, relaxing muscles tight with stress, as soapy foam washed downward to the drain. A whirlwind of memories stirred with remembrance of lips, soft and gentle, as his cock throbbed. The longing to hold her in his arms once again, was driving him to distraction. Leaning his forehead against the cool Italian marble tiles, he tried to gain control of the raging need building deep inside.

  Thinking of the day when he would find her hiding place, he concentrated on what he would do to her body. How he would make her pay for leaving him here alone and wanting. He breathed deeply as the steam created by the hot water swam in his lungs. Exhaling, he pushed away from the wall, turned the handles to cut off the water, and stepped from the shower. Masturbation was not what he wanted. “Fuck!” The word echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom, loud and angry.

  Reaching for a soft oversized towel from the warming rack on the back of the door, he dried his body. Still naked, Jason moved into the bedroom to dress for yet another day of dead ends, frustration, and longing.

  His cock still hard, he stood in the middle of the bedroom and closed his eyes. It took complete concentration to clear his mind and replace thoughts of her with a mental picture of his office in New York City. He struggled to think of himself sitting at his desk, reading a legal description of the property a client was buying. Slowly, ever so slowly, he regained control of his mind and drove desire from his body, once again bringing his cock under control.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked to the closet to dress. He chose black linen slacks and a soft blue, short-sleeve shirt. Winter in Las Vegas in no way compared to the icy cold of New York, the only benefit to being stuck here. Successful at driving thoughts of Victoria deep into his subconscious, Jason went out onto the balcony to make a call to Sam.

  “Hunter Consulting, may I help you?” The friendly voice of the receptionist on the other end of the line welcomed.

  “Good morning Suzette, put me through to Sam’s office please.”

  “Good morning Mr. Hunter. Sir, did you forget Mr. Grimes is on vacation?”

  “No. Yes, actually, where did he go again?”

  “I believe he will be staying at the
Ocean Club in Nassau, however at the moment he is in St. Thomas. Would you like me to try patching you through to his cell phone?”

  “Yes, see if you can pull him away from whatever important thing he is doing.” He heard a soft laugh, as she hit the hold button, sending him into silence while he waited for the connection to go through.

  He thought about Sam, his best friend since high school. They had grown up together, attended the same college, and ended up in business together. Their close relationship was something most men never experience. He felt lucky to have enjoyed such a lasting friendship.

  Sam was the person who had given him the moniker Jase, a shortening of his name that many of their other friends soon adopted. Before they finished their first year in high school, most people, including teachers and coaches, used this nickname. Before long everyone he knew called him Jase, yet the only one he wanted to hear it from at the moment was a very stubborn woman hiding somewhere out of his reach.

  It could not have been more than thirty seconds before the sound of Sam's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. “Hey old man, how are things in sunny Las Vegas.”

  “Don’t be an ass Sam, nothing is going well, and your chipper tone is only going to piss me off, so stop it.”

  “Hey old sport; don’t take it out on me, I didn’t do anything to drive the lady into hiding.”

  “Why the hell do you keep calling me old, you son-of-a-bitch, you’re three months older than I am.”

  “True, but I don’t look as old.”

  “Christ, Sam. It is not how old I look that bothers me, it is how old I feel after the last few weeks. If this damn P.I. doesn’t have good news for me this morning, I’m liable to choke him.”

  Noting a change in Sam’s tone, Jason knew he was getting serious. “Jase, we will find her, it might take a little longer, but we will find her.” There was a short pause, as if he were deciding to continue. “I can’t believe she hasn’t called Pierre, just doesn’t make sense.”

  “So you think DuMonte may be in contact with her. Damn it, I’m going to kill him.”

  “Wait, Jase don’t be stupid. Pierre wants her home as much as you do. If he’d heard from her he would have told you, I’m sure of it.”

  “But you said…”

  “Never mind what I said, just thinking aloud. Trust me if anyone on the staff at the club finds out where Tori is hiding, they will tell you.”

  “You still insist on calling her Tori, don’t you?”

  “It’s her name.”

  “No, her name is Victoria. Tori is a stupid nickname someone gave her as a child, which in my opinion does not compare to the beauty of her real name.”

  “You know, if the only reason you called is to be nasty and ruin my day, I can always hang up.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. Don’t mind me; I’m just losing my mind.”

  “Jason, listen to me. We have known each other a long time and I usually do not give you advice, you know. Under the circumstances though, I don’t think anyone would blame you if… well you know, you fucked someone.”

  “Jesus Christ Sam, I don’t want to discuss this with you.”

  Seeming to ignore his outburst, Sam continued, “Remember why you and Tori are so perfect for each other to begin with. Open sexual freedom. Do you really believe she is sitting… wherever, waiting for you to find her, without enjoying what pleasures may be available?”

  “She damn well better not be screwing anyone else.”

  “Come off it Jase. Damn it, she owns a swing club, is most likely a member of swing clubs all over the world. We know she visited one in Key West. Do you honestly believe she is celibate, just because you are?”

  “No, I’m sure she is dancing naked through the streets of some small island in the Caribbean, fucking everything in pants. Hell Sam, why is it so hard for everyone to believe she might be denying herself sex? After all, she is an expert with the tools of the trade and can easily please herself. Do you honestly believe she needs a man to make her sex life enjoyable?”

  Sam’s voice took on a resigned note. “I just don’t want to see you getting so crazy Jase. If you do not want to get involved in an orgy, at least let one of the girls give you a blowjob. Christ, have you ever gone four months without, well without…?”

  “That is none of your goddamn business,” Jason interrupted. “Now leave me in peace and tell me about what is going on in the office.”

  “How the hell do I know, I’m on vacation!”

  Jason heard Sam’s laughter and his anger exploded again. “Enough fun at my expense asshole, go back to your damn vacation and let me worry about my sex life.” The receiver slamming onto its cradle did nothing to stem Jason’s quickly returning frustration.

  He stood silent, his eyes taking in the sweeping expanse of lawn below. He looked beyond high walls protecting the back of the estate, gazing out at the distant hills, now carpeted in emerald green. Unlike the normal brown cracked surface of summer, a little rain brought forth a riot of color as wild flowers bloomed, and small green plants sprouted across the desert floor.

  His eyes drifted skyward, deep blue with wisps of transparent clouds, a single bird floating along, pinned against the velvet sky by an updraft. Glancing back down at the enclosed estate, he reminded himself the private investigator was waiting in his office. Returning inside, he inhaled deeply, shook the frustration from his body, and left the residence.

  Chapter 4

  With the first stroke of the feather, shivers ran over her skin, causing goose bumps. Starting at her belly, the soft down moved tenderly as it teased her inner thighs and glided slowly down to her toes. Then back up, smoothly skimming along her arms, touching briefly on her fingertips. Slowly, meticulously, the feather stroked over each inch of skin. Touching lightly until her flesh was tingling from top to bottom.

  Her body responded to the soft touch as a low moan escaped her lips. Her muscles contracted as the feather continued to raze her senses. She moved her legs as the tickling sensation continued, trying to stop the spasms building within. Intense heat swelled up inside as she struggled to see the face of her tormentor.

  Trapped in this exquisite realm of pleasure, the darkness complete, no light filtered in from windows or doors, as the heat rose. Moving again, she tried to open her eyes, a name playing on the tip of her tongue.

  She knew his face, it was here, somewhere in her mind. If only she could concentrate, if only the feather was not teasing her senses. If only the heat bubbling deep inside would cool, she could focus. Slowly she gained control of her thoughts, his face became clear. Jason her mind screamed. His name is Jason. Working hard to get the sound out, she said his name in a low whisper, her mind afraid to speak it loudly. There was no response. The heat inside was begging for release as he tortured her with the feather. Why did he not speak? She tried his name again, louder, still no answer. Again, she tried, his name torn from her lips in a scream…

  …which jolted her awake. Beads of sweat covered her body as a chill ran down her frame. Shaking slightly as the dream faded quickly, she opened her eyes feeling lost and alone.

  Slowing she became aware of her surroundings. The afternoon sun blazed high in the sky, its warmth surrounding her like a blanket. Soft waves rolled ashore in endless procession, bringing small shells higher up the beach. Shorebirds danced in and out of the waves, pecking the sand for any tidbits washing in with the tide. Gulls swept overhead, their cries carried on the gentle breeze. Was it only four months, it seemed like a lifetime?

  Under the protective shade of a large umbrella, Victoria allowed herself to give in to tears. Where is he? A question she asked herself every day. She could not take much more of this. Her body ached for his touch. Her lips longed for his taste. She sat there, tears streaming down her face, watching the calm ocean swells.

  Every night she fell asleep with the memory of his exquisite touch, his scent, lying upon her mind. And every morning she woke to the cold space in the bed beside her, a longi
ng in her heart to touch him again. She had made a mistake, she knew this now. How silly to worry about losing him to an accident. How stupid to discount the depth of their love. It was childish and cowardly to run away, yet she truly believed, in the beginning at least, he would come for her. Swooping down from the sky in his silver jet to carry her home like a knight in shining armor.

  Four painful slow months she waited for him to find her. Granted she did her best to make it difficult, using cash instead of credit cards after her arrival in St. Thomas. Not too difficult though, she had checked into the club using her real name. She was staying at one of only seven hotels in the Caribbean that catered to swingers, and truly believed any good detective he hired would find her with a little effort. Yet here it was four months since the fateful night, the night she left her home, her friends, her club; and still he did not come.

  After the first four weeks, when Jason did not arrive, she began to believe his feelings must not run as deeply as hers. She would have moved heaven and earth to find him if it were he who had chosen to run. If he felt the connection between them he would never have let her stay away this long. Yet here she was, still waiting. The only conclusion she could draw: he was not looking for her. This took a while to settle in her brain. When it did, she decided returning to Las Vegas and the emptiness his absence would create, was more than she was up to. Was it only four months? It seemed like a lifetime.

  Sitting on the lonely beach, Victoria finally realized he was not coming for her. “Well some knight you turned out to be, Mr. Hunter,” she yelled at the seagulls flying overhead. Quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, Victoria made a decision to stop waiting. It was time to go home and face the music. If Jason would not come to her, she would go to him. There would be hell to pay if anyone tried to stop her. After months of depression, she felt her confidence return; she rose from the chaise lounge and headed back inside. Tonight, she would party with the other guests. Tomorrow she would call Pierre and tell him of her plans to return home.