Christmas Curves Read online

  Whatever the reason, as they approached the doors leading into the room that had been transformed into a disco for the night, she hoped this was not going to end badly. However when he placed his hand on her elbow to guide her forward she almost jumped into the air at the jolt of electricity that passed between them. This was all so new; it was more intoxicating than any of the wine she had drunk so far this evening.

  At first, they went unnoticed, a slow song was playing and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his hard toned body. With a shock she realised it was not the only part of him that was hard, his stiff length pressed against her thigh, and he felt huge.

  Panic hit her, she had not thought about what he might expect in return for this play-acting. After an evening of pretending to be her boy friend, would he expect some kind of payment in kind at the end of it?

  These thoughts soon turned from panic to excitement. Anita began to imagine what it would be like if this man was her boyfriend, of all the ways he could please her, of all the things he could do to her to make her cry out in pleasure.

  Her body reacted to these thoughts and she pressed herself closer to him, wanting the contact between them to be intimate and real.

  “Mmmm, that feels good,” he whispered in her ear. “I think everyone here can see the chemistry between us.”

  He slid his hand down over her bottom, and pulled her against him, or more precisely his cock. If he had not been holding her so tight she would have jumped and pulled away. Then she saw Rochelle looking at them, she was with Samantha, and they were furiously talking with their eyes fixed on Anita and her dance partner.

  Anita's heart began to beat faster, Rochelle had grabbed Stan and they were slow dancing towards Anita, it was then that she realised this whole plan would fall apart in an instant. She knew nothing about her dance partner, not even his name. Anyone would be able to see straight through their little charade.

  “What's your name?” she hissed at her mystery man, cross with herself at having gone along with such a stupid ruse.

  “Charles Whitmore, and you are?”

  “Anita Sanders.”

  “Nice to meet you Anita Sanders, I guess the fun is about to begin.”

  He gave her a wink as Stan and Rochelle came so close they were almost touching elbows.

  “Hello, Anita. So this is your mystery man.” She looked Charles up and down quite appreciatively. Anita felt a pang of jealousy. She knew that Rochelle was going to try to cause trouble, she was the kind of woman who could not bear to be outdone, and at this moment, it was obvious who had the better man.

  Between Stan and Charles, there was no competition. In the way both men held themselves, the difference was obvious. Stan lacked the grace and elegance of Charles, and it showed in the way they moved and the way they spoke.

  “So you’re the one who's captured dear Anita?” asked Rochelle, a bitchy tone to her voice.

  “Yes, I’m that lucky man.” Charles ran a finger down her cheek, and Anita felt her legs turn to jelly again.

  “She’s never mentioned you before tonight.”

  “No. My Anita is very discreet. But I couldn’t let her come here alone; it seemed a good time to make our relationship public.”

  Rochelle took a closer look at Charles, and her expression changed. “Oh my god. You are Charles Whitmore.”

  “The very same.”

  Anita almost stopped moving, stunned that Rochelle knew the man she was dancing with by sight. She had no idea who he was, but had an idea she had unwittingly involved herself in something that could cause a stir that would leave the whole office gossiping about her.

  She looked up at Charles, who winked at her mischievously, and then caught the look of shock on Rochelle's face, even Stan seemed to be looking at Charles in some kind of awe. Anita was simply kicking herself for not finding out who he was before she had gone along with this.

  Charles Whitmore was well known and recognisable in this city. But for what? Was he a good man or a bad? When he pulled her close and propelled her gently away from Rochelle and Stan she so wanted to believe he was a good man, because the feelings he drew from her body were incredibly good.

  As the music stopped, he headed over to the bar, her hand still held firmly in his.

  “You look like you need a drink,” he said, and she noted the concern in his voice.

  She followed meekly, accepting the drink and sipping it slowly while she tried to put her thoughts in some kind of order. Then she asked him the question she needed an honest answer to.

  “Who are you?”

  He looked at her, searching her face for something before answering. “My name is Charles Whitmore.”

  “That does not tell me who you are.” Her voice had become firmer now.

  “Charles Whitmore, technology tycoon, philanthropist and playboy.” His voice mimicked that of a newsreader, and Anita wondered how often he had been in the news, and for what. Playboy was the word that panicked her the most.

  “And you thought you'd have a little fun at my expense.” The whole situation was becoming quite clear; he was using her as much as she was using him. He was probably a bored billionaire who thought it would be funny to stir up some gossip. However, when the truth came out, as it invariably would, Anita would be the laughing stock.

  He saw the tears that threatened to spill again, and placed his hand on her arm, its warmth spreading through her body almost instantly.

  “No, not at all. At first, you intrigued me. There are not many people who don’t recognise me straight away. I thought you were playing me to begin with, and then I sensed you were for real, and I wanted to help you.”

  “So you pity me?” That thought seemed even worse.

  “No, not at all. Although I have two sisters and more than once they have found themselves bullied by other women. I guess I wanted to make you happy. Plus I really would like to take you to bed.”

  “I’m sorry, that's not the kind of girl I am. You might take sex lightly, but I don’t,” Anita said shocked he had brought the subject of sex up again.

  “Hey, who said I take sex lightly?”

  “Isn't that what the phrase “playboy” means?”

  “Oh. Well yes, but that's how the press describe me. I confess I enjoy the company of women immensely, but I can promise you I am very selective about who I take to my bed.” He was close to her again now, so close she could feel the heat of his body, he leaned forward and his breath tickled her ear as he said, “I could show you so much pleasure, just say the word and we’ll leave now.”

  She looked at him, her eyes dilated with desire, she was like an open book, ready and willing to go with him and let him do whatever he pleased to her. If she was ever going to lose her virginity she could think of no one else it should be with.

  He was sensuous in a way she had never noticed in a man before, not that men had taken up too much of her thoughts. When you are alone in the world, self-preservation and survival are uppermost in your mind.

  This self-preservation kicked in now. She could give herself to him, and take the consequences, however incredibly good they may be, or she could walk away. Anita had always been the person who walked away, trusting only in herself.

  “I can’t,” she said, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

  “Disappointing,” Charles answered, and then asked, “But if you could, if you could let yourself. Would you?”

  “Yes,” she answered and then turned and fled to the bathroom.

  She took her time to calm down, splashing cold water on her face. When the door opened, she expected it to be Rochelle, come to gloat over her hurried exit. No doubt, they had all seen through the charade that had been so badly played out at the party. Instead, it was Samantha.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, making Anita instantly on her guard.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She made to leave, deciding to go back to the party and thank Charles for what he had done for her,
and then head home. However, Samantha stalled her, and Anita knew Rochelle must have put her up to it.

  “You seemed so upset; I hope everything is OK between you and Charles Whitmore.” Her voice not quite conveying the concern it should have.

  “Yes, fine thank you. I’m just a little tired, I’m going home now.”

  “Will Charles be taking you?”

  This was an awkward thing to answer; she had planned on leaving on her own, so that Charles did not get the wrong idea. Yet this would look suspicious. Who was she kidding the whole thing looked suspicious. To think she could have got away with fooling everyone that a man likes Charles would want a curvy girl like her.

  “I’m not sure, he may have business elsewhere.”

  Samantha let her little act slip then. “Oh, he’s probably already getting on with new business right now.”

  Anita stood with her mouth open, not able to ask what Samantha meant. Not really wanting to know. Samantha was the kind of person who liked to deliver a punch below the belt though, so she told Anita anyway.

  “It’s obvious Charles Whitmore is only with you out of pity. I don’t know what hold you’ve got over him but it will soon be gone.” Samantha stood looking in the mirror, calmly reapplying her lipstick. “Rochelle is out there now, chatting him up, he'll be like putty in her hands. Like Stan, all men would prefer a woman like her to someone like…you.”

  The last line was delivered with such a derisory look that Anita felt like some piece of trash left on the ground, unsightly and out of place.

  She left the bathroom and blindly walked back to the party, wanting the humiliation out of the way tonight, otherwise she would never have the courage to return to work on Monday. Opening the door, she saw Charles talking to Rochelle. Her heart sank, and a feeling of loss consumed her, a ridiculous feeling because he had never really been hers to lose.

  She straightened her back, summoning all the dignity she could to walk over to them. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Stan looking daggers at Rochelle and Charles; he had been dumped for something better. Anita could sympathise with him there, but maybe he deserved it.

  She took a deep breath, and was about to speak when Charles turned to look at her. His smile was radiant; it took the breath from her, and made her speechless. It was like being in the presence of a god.

  “There you are, my dear. Are you ready to go?”

  Anita almost looked around to check who he was talking to. She still found speech impossible, so instead she simply nodded.

  “Good, I have plans for you when we get home.”

  With that, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. This time her knees definitely gave out, and only his strong embrace kept her upright.

  His mouth was warm and firm, he plundered hers with his tongue, and she allowed him every access. Somehow she knew how to respond, despite never been kissed like this before. Her lips moved against his, her tongue slid out to meet and entwine with his, and feelings awoke in her that she never knew existed. Everyone and everything around her seemed to disappear; it was just the two of them together in this moment.

  As they broke away from each other, she knew in an instant he had felt it too, and that was something she had never expected. Surely, he was a man of the world and as such had many kisses, with lots of women.

  In her mind, there was no way she could be special to someone like him, and yet there it was written clearly on his face. Or was he simply a good actor, because the next minute the smile returned to his lips and he wrapped one arm round her and turned them both towards Rochelle who was standing open mouthed watching this mismatched couple.

  “It’s been so nice to meet you all, but now I think I need to take Anita home.”

  The look on his face left everyone watching in no doubt what they would be doing when he got her home, even though Anita knew there was no way he would want to sleep with her when he found out she was an inexperienced virgin. A sophisticated man of the world as this would want excitement and experience.

  On legs only barely supporting her she left the party, a fixed smile on her face. She kept up the pretence until he had walked her to his car and opened the door for her to get in.

  “I think it would be better if I called a taxi,” Anita said.

  “Don’t be silly, get in; I’ll have you home quicker than a taxi can get here.”

  “I know, but you’ve done so much for me already. You've been so kind going along with everything.”

  “Please get in, Anita. I can’t possibly leave you standing here. What if someone from the party sees you here alone?”

  “Do you really care if anyone finds out this was an act?”

  “I’m also concerned with my reputation; if anything happened to you the press would have a field day. Billionaire Charles Whitmore Leaves Date Stranded. I can see it now.”

  “Are you really a billionaire?”

  “Yes,” he laughed at the shock on her face. “I really am. Now get in the car.”

  His car was not overly flamboyant, it was an economical hybrid, brand new of course, but not exactly what she expected from a billionaire, but then she had not met one before. One thing she did know about Charles was that nothing about him seemed to fit in with her preconceived ideas of what one would be like. She liked that about him, she liked it a lot.

  “You'll have to tell me where you live,” he said as they pulled away from the party.

  She gave him directions, finding it strange to give him her address; she did not want him to think badly of her because she lived in one of the poorer areas of the city.

  In a few minutes, they were driving along her street, and it struck her how out of place his car seemed here. Everything about Charles Whitmore was out of place here, it reinforced the idea that they were from two completely different worlds.

  “Here we are,” she said as they approached her apartment building.

  He pulled over and she felt nervous when he parked the car, rather than just pulling up for her to jump out.

  “It’s OK, I can walk up on my own,” she said when he got out and came around to open her door.

  “It’s no problem at all,” he said offering her his hand.

  She got out and opened her bag to look for the keys. Inserting it into the lock, she nervously opened the door, unsure of what he expected from her.

  “Well, goodnight then,” she said after she had turned the light on and placed her keys on the hook.

  “Goodnight,” he replied.

  For a moment, she thought he was simply going to turn and walk out of her life. However, he leaned forward and drew her to him again, his lips moving against hers and he kissed her in such a way that her insides turned to liquid fire. If he had asked her right then to stay the night, she would have said yes.

  Yet that was not his intention, instead he teased her with his mouth and hands. His tongue invading her mouth while his hand slid up and stroked her breast. Her nipples hardened instantly, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

  Never had a man touched her voluptuous curves, all her self-consciousness left her, and she relaxed under his touch. Then just as suddenly, he let her go.

  “Goodnight, Anita.”

  She stood looking at him; no words would even form in her mind. He was leaving her, but her body wanted to beg him to stay, to allow him to have his way with her.

  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?” he asked.

  She looked at him, still not able to think straight, the feel of his lips and hands too fresh in her mind. Slowly she nodded, and watched him smile, a wicked amusement covering his face.

  He knew exactly the effect he had on her, and his final words were, “I’ll pick you up at seven.” Before he walked back to his car and drove away, leaving Anita standing and staring after him.

  Her world had been turned upside down and shaken up, what tomorrow would bring she had no idea, but going inside and closing the door all she could do was fantasise abou
t the pleasure he could show her if she dared let him.

  Chapter Three

  Throughout the next day, if she could have contacted him to cancel she would have. However he had left no number and there was none listed, as you would expect from someone like Charles. The rich and famous did not exactly want to make themselves available to everyone.

  As the day wore on, and she realised she would have to go through with it, she had moments of utter excitement followed by utter panic. Her wardrobe was emptied, in the hope of finding something suitable to wear, but she did not know where he was taking her, and so found it impossible to decide on anything.

  It was not that she did not know what to wear on a normal date; it was that she had no idea what to wear to places where rich people went to eat. Her dread was that he would take her to some really fancy and exclusive restaurant and the other diners would now she was of a different class instantly. You could not fake wealth, not when you were a foster kid from a poor background.

  At 2 o'clock, she finally grabbed her purse and dashed out to try to find something suitable. She could not really afford a new dress, but what the hell, once in a lifetime experiences like this caused for a little extravagance.

  Once in a lifetime, yes, she was not kidding herself they would get past the first date, because he would want to sleep with her surely, and she was not ready for that. This was the conclusion she had come too when she had gone over their conversations.

  He had said several times he wanted to take her to bed. Anita realised her refusal had probably dented his ego; most women would fall into bed with him, and now he felt the thrill of the chase. Once she had given in, he would move on.

  However, when she refused him again tonight, she was certain he would probably tire of her, because she would be dull company after all the rich and famous people he had dated. What would they even find to talk about when they were from such different worlds?

  Her stomach turned over again and she felt quite sick. Anita had been unable to stop herself Googling him. So she knew about the women he usually dated, rich socialites, beautiful models and actresses. She paled so significantly in comparison it was as if she did not even exist.