Dance: Dance of the Seven Veils Page 11

  “How would you feel if I asked you to take all your clothes off right now?” This from the man Kat had called Jules, who had met them at the car.

  Lyssa swallowed. “I’m not sure. If I’m the only one, I think it would be uncomfortable. Especially with the blindfold on and not knowing where I am.”

  “You can invite us to disrobe at any time,” the authoritative voice said. He must be the chairman of the board.

  “For all you know, we’re already naked,” the other male said. “Would you like me to rub my body against yours so you can discover for yourself?”

  “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Is my presence restraining your response in any way?” Kat asked. “Because I can leave if I make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Oh God, no, Kat, don’t leave. I-I really would like to have a friend here.”

  “We’re all friends,” the chairman said. “The members have all seen each other naked. We’re comfortable with our bodies, our desires. We’re comfortable with each other. You saw firsthand how men backed off as soon as you said the word. There is absolutely no intimidation in this group, Lyssa. That’s why we go through such a rigid screening process.”

  Lyssa knew a moment of panic when he called her by name. But then she chastised herself. Of course he knew her name, first and last. After all, someone had nominated her for membership. Also, she obviously had to have been approved simply to attend the masquerade.

  The chairman spoke again. “You have received recommendations from several of our members. You were observed at the gathering and your behavior was considered acceptable. If we here today approve you for membership, you will have to read and agree to our bylaws. That includes not divulging the names of any members to anyone. Not even to your lawyer or doctor.”

  “I-I certainly can hold confidences,” Lyssa volunteered.

  “Good. You should also know,” the chairman said, “that you cannot ask to join. Oh, sure, you can browbeat a member to put your name for nomination, if you are able to discover who any of the members are. But you cannot worm your way into our group unless a formal nomination is made by a member in good standing and voted on unanimously by the board.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

  “We’ll just take a few minutes for our deliberations. Why don’t you sit down?” The man called Jules was at her side, guiding her to a nearby chair. She sat and waited, her mind racing. She hadn’t even considered becoming a member. Did she want to be? How much were dues or initiation fees? Was it fair to ask her to accept the conditions before she read the bylaws? Did she want to share Savidge with other women? Did she want Kat to know how wanton she was?

  Well, that was silly. Kat already knew. She had seen it in her before Lyssa herself had. She should be thanking Kat for awakening her long-dormant sensuality, thank her for bringing her into contact with Savidge. As to sharing him, heck, had they made any promises? Any commitments? Sure, Savidge was any woman’s wet dream, but even before she’d seen him, the other men had revved her juices to a mind-blowing pitch.

  Why, even just looking had turned her on. So, yeah, she wanted to be a member. If Savidge would turn out to be only a flash in the pan, she would still have her sensuality, her hunger, and an outlet for it. Any number of outlets, actually.

  Her body hummed at the thought. Lyssa Markham, sex goddess. George would have a shit-fit. But then, she guessed she wouldn’t be able to tell him.

  No matter. She’d made her decision.

  “Lyssa?” Jules took her hand, helped her rise.

  “The board has voted you into membership,” the chairman said. “If you choose to decline, this offer will not be extended again, nor will you be invited to another function. If you accept, we will require a notarized oath that you will not divulge any information, including but not limited to, the identity of any member.”

  An absurd feeling of relief claimed Lyssa. Had she been worried she’d be found wanting?

  “How say you?”

  She cleared her throat. “I accept the offer to become a member.”

  There was a general murmur of pleasure. Lyssa felt hands moving at the back of her head. The blindfold fell to her shoulders.

  She blinked. She was standing in a spacious living room subtly lit with table lamps near several sofa groupings. The skyline of center city Philadelphia twinkled through a wall of windows. They might be in the Ritz Carlton Hotel, she thought, judging by her view of the twin peaks of One and Two Liberty Place. Or maybe one of the other four-star hotels. And in the penthouse, if her perspective was correct.

  She lowered her eyes to the long table in front of her. Arrayed like the tribunal of judges that they were, sat a handsome, older, white-haired man with piercing whiskey-colored eyes and massive jaw; a man about Lyssa’s age with a receding hairline, sensual lips, and fashionable wire-rimmed glasses; and a stunning, red-haired woman whose face seemed familiar. The man who had removed her blindfold, Jules, and Kat completed the board. All were fully clothed, in what Lyssa thought looked like hand-tailored suits on the men and a haute couture dress on the woman. Truly the cream of upper-class Philadelphia.

  “It’s time to open the champagne,” the white-haired man declared, his voice that of what she thought of as the chairman. He rose, came around the table to Lyssa, and took her face in both of his large hands. “Welcome to the Platinum Society.” He kissed her, softly at first, rocking his face to graze her mouth with his, then more forcefully, nudging her lips apart with a tongue as fiery as a chili pepper. Getting into the spirit of the event, she leaned into him, softening her mouth to cling to his. The man knew how to kiss. She reveled in the sheer delight of it, nothing but their mouths touching, and his hands on her cheeks.

  “Wow,” she said when they finally pulled apart.

  With a devastating smile, he reached inside his jacket and withdrew a hinged bracelet, no more than a quarter-inch wide, inscribed with an intricate design Lyssa couldn’t decipher without a jeweler’s loupe. Taking her right hand, he affixed it to her wrist and closed the clasp. “This is our secret handshake, if you will. Any member can recognize any other member by this trinket. It’s made of platinum, like our name.” He pulled his cuff back over his right forearm to display his own. “See?”

  A frown formed on Lyssa’s brow. “But I thought all the members know each other?”

  “Ah, here in suburban Philadelphia, we do. But there are several chapters in European capitals. This assures club entrée to a member in another location.”

  “Champagne?” Jules interrupted, handing each of them a flute of bubbly.

  “To Lyssa Markham, our newest member.” The chairman touched his glass to hers. The others crowded around, clinking glasses. He introduced Lyssa to the redhead, who, she realized, was the belly dancer at the masquerade, and to the other man.

  With a wicked gleam in his eye, he continued, “And I’m Peyton Savidge. Robert’s father.”

  * * * * *

  “I thought I’d die when he told me his name,” Lyssa said to Kat as they entered Lyssa’s kitchen for a postmortem. “All I could think of was, I screwed your son.” She tossed her suit jacket onto a kitchen chair and ran water into the Braun coffeemaker. “Decaf okay?”

  “Fine. You know,” Kat said casually, “Peyton was there that night. After all, it was his house. I’m sure he saw you seducing his son with that scorching dance you did.”

  Lyssa plugged in the coffeepot, then turned slowly to face her friend. “I have to say, I’m ambivalent about my membership. Maybe I said yes because I knew I wouldn’t be invited again, and I didn’t want to close any doors. After all, I don’t have to participate in anything, I don’t have to attend the next masquerade or picnic or dance.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I felt the same way when I joined. Now, I take my sexuality for granted.”

  “And it shows,” Lyssa admitted. “You have a—I don’t know—a kind of self-assurance, a certain
way you hold your head up, that comes from loving yourself, loving your body. I could use a little more self-confidence.”

  “Honey, I can tell you that the entire board was hoping you’d take them up on the request to take your clothes off. You have the lush look of an odalisque, a Marilyn Monroe kind of body that today’s skinny movie stars can’t hope to match. Your self-confidence is already surfacing since that turd dropped out of your life.”

  An involuntary shudder rippled through Lyssa at the reference to her ex. “I wonder if he told his bride what happened at your poolside.” The memory of Savidge playing along to thumb their collective noses at George made her grin. She glanced at the digital clock atop the wall oven. Nine o’clock. It was two in the morning in London. She wondered if Savidge was sleeping.

  Another, darker thought made her purse her lips. Was there a London Platinum Society? Was he even now enjoying someone else’s dance of seduction?

  So what? They had no ties, no commitment. None whatsoever. He probably had mind-blowing sex with all his partners.

  Trying to derail that distasteful train of thought, she said, “Want a brownie? I have some in the freezer.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled out two of the chewy chocolate confections and popped them into the microwave to thaw, then filled two mugs with fresh brew.

  Just then the doorbell rang. Lyssa’s heart skipped a beat.

  Savidge. Had he flown home already?

  Of course not. He had business in London. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d left U.S. soil.

  Lyssa and Kat exchanged glances. Lyssa shrugged an I don’t know who it is gesture. Taking her mug with her, she moved to the front door, and peered through the peephole.

  “George,” she muttered. “What the heck does he want at this time of night?”

  For a moment she was tempted to just let him stand there until he got tired of leaning on the bell. But he’d obviously seen Kat’s car in the driveway, seen the lights on, and knew they were still up. It would be just like him to keep ringing until his finger fell off.

  Resigned, she unlatched the safety chain, turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

  “It took you long enough. What the devil were you doing?”

  “And good evening to you, too, George. Are you going to come in or are you just going to stand there glowering at me?”

  With a scowl, her ex stalked into the hallway, giving her clingy silk shell the once-over, noting her above-the-knee skirt, the high heels.

  “You wear that kind of stuff to work?”

  Ignoring his question, she said, “We were just having some decaf. Come and join us.” She turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen, not caring whether or not he’d follow. He did.

  She retrieved another mug and poured him a serving. As she handed it to him, his mouth dropped open. He stared at her arm. No, her wrist.

  The platinum bracelet.

  “Where did you get that?” His voice sounded hoarse, as though he’d been rooting for the Phillies for both parts of a doubleheader.

  Mustering all of her dignity, Lyssa set the mug on the table, at the place setting next to Kat, who to her credit, kept silent. “You left your bridal bed to ask me that?”

  “Don’t go trying to change the subject. Where did you get that bracelet?”

  “Why are you shouting at me? And what difference does it make where I got this little trinket?” She delighted in copying the phrase that Peyton Savidge had used when he snapped it onto her wrist. “Bailey, Banks & Biddle maybe? Lord and Taylor? Tiffany’s?” She deliberately picked up her own mug and took a slow sip, eyeing him over the rim. “Maybe it was a gift.”

  He grabbed her arm, splashing coffee onto the table. Kat shot to her feet and plucked the mug from Lyssa’s hand before something more drastic happened. “That’s the Platinum Society bracelet.” George’s voice dripped accusation.

  Taken aback at this breach of secrecy, Lyssa stalled. “Platinum Society? What’s that?”

  “Don’t be so coy. If you’re wearing that thing, you know damn well what it is.”

  “Then why aren’t you wearing one, since you seem to know what it is?”

  “Hell, I’ve been trying for…” His voice trailed off as he apparently realized what he’d just admitted.

  “And no one will sponsor you, isn’t that right?” Lyssa tried not to smirk. Talk about poetic justice. “You’re jealous!”

  Undeterred, he attacked from a different direction. “You’ve been in a sex club behind my back?”

  Lyssa couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Oh, George, you should see your face! That look is priceless!” She took a few steps back until her hip touched the counter, then leaned against it, grateful for its support while she indulged in more laughter. “Do you for one minute think that I’d have had enough gumption to bare myself—pardon the pun—to such naked scrutiny when you kept putting me down because I was so fat and sexless?”

  He sputtered. “Then when did you—”

  “George, we’re divorced. I have the final decree to prove it. I don’t have to answer to you for anything. Why should you care about my sex life? Don’t you have one of your own? Of course, if the last ten years of our marriage was any indication, your bride probably is disappoin—”

  His face purpled. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  “Hey, will you look at that.” Obviously trying to defuse the situation, Kat jumped in, matching her wrist to Lyssa’s and aligning the two gleaming platinum ribbons in front of the man.

  George’s eyes goggled. “Both of you?” he choked out. “Are you lesbians?”

  Another bout of laughter weakened Lyssa’s knees. Kat joined in, both of them laughing so hard, their mascara ran from the tears leaking from their eyes.

  When she finally regained some semblance of composure, Lyssa pulled a tissue from the box on the counter and blotted under her eyes. “Well, if that threebie I told you about was two guys and a girl, you probably don’t have to worry. But if it was one guy with me and another woman, or maybe three women, then you might well come to that conclusion.”

  Her eyes met Kat’s. As if a signal passed between them, Kat moved forward and kissed Lyssa on the mouth, pressing her into the counter and rubbing her body up and down like a contented cat against Lyssa’s body.

  It didn’t last long. Lyssa tried to get into the spirit of the thing, but laughter still bubbled out of her. Kat moved her face far enough away to meet Lyssa’s eyes and she, too, began snickering at the joke they were playing on George. She turned to face him, resting her own butt against the counter, her arm encircling Lyssa’s shoulder. “Wanna make another threebie, Georgie?” she cooed.

  “You’re mad, both of you,” he managed, his eyes shifting from one smiling face to the other. “I can ruin your reputation with this thing.”

  All levity vanished. Lyssa’s face hardened. “Don’t you dare try. Why is it that you were able to walk all over me for so many years, and I try, once, to get your goat, and the first thing you do is want to strike back? Can’t you stand not being the center of my life?”

  “Damn you, I came here to offer a compromise!”

  “About what?”

  “Dartmouth tuition.”

  Every atom in Lyssa’s body came to attention. Shrugging off Kat’s hand, she pushed off from the counter and took a deliberate step forward. “What about it?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “You take out a second mortgage on your house to repay the tuition loan that Quick, Bowers & Savidge set up, and I’ll make the payments.”

  “No. Uh-uh. No way. You’re the one who’s mad.”

  “Lyssie, think. There’s so much equity in this house, you can get a mortgage from any bank in town. This is a good, solid house in a great location. You can—”

  “How do you know,” she overrode him in anger, “that I haven’t already taken out a second or even a third mortgage? What do you think I’m living on in between commissions? Who do you think
paid for all the things Michelle took with her to Dartmouth? All the clothes and the microwave and the desktop computer and printer and everything else on the list?”

  George’s face paled.

  She wasn’t finished. “And who are you to renege on a court order? To put your own daughter’s future in jeopardy? When we agreed to the divorce, you pleaded with me to take the house so Michelle wouldn’t be uprooted, but that’s only because the stock market was still booming and you had a half million dollars in stocks and mutual funds that you didn’t want to share. Don’t you take it out on your own daughter if the market didn’t keep going up and up into the stratosphere. If you weren’t so greedy, you would have judiciously sold some stocks in time to meet your payment.

  “And don’t you threaten to smear my name.” She took another step forward, forcing him to retreat a step. “Who do you think your lawyer will be? If you’re going to say Quick, Bowers & Savidge, think again. They’ll be on the side of the beneficiary whose future they hold in trust.”

  Lyssa took a deep breath. “Besides, you already owe the money to Quick, Bowers & Savidge, not to Dartmouth. I’m sure they have a better collection agency than I do. I wouldn’t put it past you to stiff me out of a payment or three.”

  George opened his mouth to argue then snapped it shut.

  “Get out of my house, George,” she said in a deadly quiet voice. “I have complete faith in my daughter’s attorneys. You will not swindle Michelle out of her college education.”

  “You’ll regret this,” he sputtered. Then turned on his heel and marched down the hall.

  “Don’t slam the door,” she called as she followed to lock the door behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  Half asleep, Lyssa felt the sheet being tugged down, the warm cotton gliding sensuously over her nude body. The gentle abrasion caused her nipples to peak. Lower, and still lower it slid, caressing her hips, her thighs, every inch of her in soft, delicious friction. Her eyes fluttered open. The room was dark as sin.