Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (3 page)

The water was warmer than the most comfortable blanket. Whatever tension remained in my muscles evaporated. I kept my eyes closed and let myself breathe. I could picture him so clearly in my mind, looming above me like an earthbound god over a sacrifice. I didn’t know who he was, all I knew was that I wanted him and that he’d find me one day. His presence was strong and vivid. My fingers twitched, a reflex to reach out and touch him. I wanted to feel him, I wanted him to feel
me
. I wanted his fingers to dance over my skin, to light me ablaze with lust like he could so easily. I sighed, and opened my eyes. The pale light of the bathroom seemed hollow without his long shadow in its way.

I had always loved baths and yet like the light, the experience seemed empty. It wasn’t that I’d come to dislike it, it was that I’d come to like something else so much more. His influence was devastating; I knew he was becoming a priority that eclipsed everything I used to enjoy. That, I began to realize, was his true talent.

I slid forward and let my head sink under. The warmth of the water rushed over my eyes and into my ears. The quiet was perfect; where before I had seen him without my eyes, I now heard him without my ears. His commanding tone rung in my mind, and I felt my hands snaking between my legs.

“Lay down-
sit-
Spread your legs-
don’t move
-Stand up,“ his voice shook through me, and the water began to rock back and forth. I exhaled from the pleasure, and bubbles flitted from my nostrils. My finger slipped inside, and my shoulder rolled with each stroke. I teased my clit, and let my hips rise and fall weightlessly in the water.

“Suck-
be quiet
-Pay attention-
close your eyes-
“ I imagined his hands grabbing me, entering me, torturing my sensitive skin with light touches. I wanted him between my legs so badly; I wanted his kisses on my thighs, his teeth on my neck, his whispers in my ear. I felt the water begin to curl and splash, creating little waves which made to vault over the sides of the bath. Let the floor get wet, I didn’t care. I was somewhere else, I was with
him
.

I imagined him sliding his lips down my legs, kissing my feet, pulling on my toes with his mouth. I imaged his tongue on my tongue, his thick manhood rubbing between my legs. I saw the triumphant look on his face when my façade cracked and I begged. To beg to him was like a form of prayer. Even as he sneered and mocked, all you wanted was to give him more. He deserved it, he earned it. He could break me like a twig and let spill all of my willpower.

“
Good girl-“
he made me
feel
good. He made me feel weak, and to be weak near him felt like being free. Even my own touch paled in comparison to what he could do. His fingers could slide inside me and open me up, as though they were keys and I the lock. He could swirl his tongue around my nipples and they would ache for more. He could grab any part of my body and, I swear, pour the heat of his lust right into me. Whatever he did, whenever he did it, was magnificent- just because he was
him
.

My hips bucked. Water splashed
up and crashed back down as my hands quickened. I rose above the waves and inhaled, letting cold air spread through my lungs as warmth blossomed between my thighs. I slid another finger inside and groaned for him. My spine curved as I rubbed my clit harder and began to quicken my breath. Each thrust inside of me was better than the last, each picture of him in my head more clear. I felt his hand around my throat, I felt his fingers pinch my skin and I nearly yelped in imagined pain. My eyelids squeezed shut so tightly that colors began to explode behind my eyes. I felt ready to explode too.

“Mmm,” I cried, and this time the word hit air. I saw his full lips pull into a smile, his pearly teeth glinting at me. I saw his eyes narrow, and his face drop closer. My hands and his hands became one, and my toes curled as I felt him push deeper inside of me. I felt my muscles tighten, I felt that deep fire in me begin to release. Suddenly, it was upon me. My legs made the water around them slosh this way and that. My hips kicked up splashes that coated my chest. My feet pushed desperately at the end of the tub. My hands worked and worked, desperate for more release. I clenched my teeth and let the heat wash over me, gasping and shaking and thinking of his body as we, together, stroked me to completion.

And when it was all over, I sunk back down into the water, breathless and exhausted and alone.  

***

I was toweling off as the hotel phone rang.  Palms sweating, I picked it up.  It had to be Carmichael. “Hello?” I whispered, mouth dry.

Please don’t let this be a terrible mistake
, I prayed. “Hello, Sabrina,” Jack Carmichael’s rich voice came through the line.  “Are you ready to hear some good news?”

“I think so,” I squeaked.

He laughed—a warm, comforting sound.

“As I expected, the bidding was fierce.  But only competitive to a point.  One bid blew the others away.  It was delivered privately, rather than through the website, but there was no chance of it being outbid either way.
”

“Uh-huh…” I said, trying to process the fact that the auction was now a done deal. No going back…

“Sabrina, are you sitting down?”

“Yes… yes.”

“Three
million
dollars, Sabrina. Three
million.
Well done!”

I almost dropped the phone, “Are… are you kidding? Oh my god.”

“Amazing,” he said. 

“But you’ll need to fly to New York tonight. He’ll make the arrangements.”

“Mr. Carmichael—I mean, Jack—may I have some time to think about—”

“No, Sabrina, that’s one of his terms for the bid.”

“Can you tell me anything about him? His name, how old?” Worry crept into my voice; I was beginning to panic.

“Let’s breathe, Sabrina. We’ll take this step by step,” Mr. Carmichael said softly. “His nam
e is Calvin Chambers. However, I can’t disclose any more information at this time.”

I breathed nervously into the phone. Calvin Chambers. Calvin Chambers. I repeated the name in my head. This made it so
real
, so final.

“Sabrina, this
is
what you wanted. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed.  But this is an incredible bid and it would be a shame for cold feet to let it slip away.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s an incredible bid, and I mean that more the amount is incredible.  You’re very lucky. I cannot disclose much, and I can’t speak for you… But I think this is an offer worth taking.”

“I just…” I paused. “I don’t know him.” It sounded silly. That was the point, after all.  But now that it came down to it, all of these years of saving myself, it still came as a shock that I would fly to New York
to have sex with someone I don’t know.

“Think about this, then Sabrina. He doesn’t know you, and he didn’t need to bid that high, but he did. He already values you immensely. That is a positive sign.”

I considered that, unable to help the warm feeling of satisfaction spreading through me. Someone thought I was worth three
million
dollars!

“Will everyone know?” I asked softly.

“No,” he answered. “The name of the winner won’t be made public.”

I nodded to myself, preparing to give him an answer. On the nightstand, my phone buzzed with another incoming text. Brandon.

Scanning the message, I slammed the phone down in disgust.
Sabrina, talk to me. I heard about the auction.

Too little too late, Brandon. And that was what I was saving myself for…

When Mr. Chambers was out there, a man who considered my virginity to be, well, not priceless but certainly precious. 

“I’ll do it,” I told Mr. Carmichael. “Let me know the travel arrangements as soon as possible.”

Chapter 2

Both women in the painting are beautiful, breathtaking even, with raven hair and creamy complexions. Their smiles are innocent, but their eyes dangerous.

A crimson—almost black—droplet of blood creeps down the one woman’s fleshy thigh. Against her milky white skin, the bead glows brightly, seeming to move, drip, toward her knee. A fresh scratch on her abdomen seems the origin, and the other woman licks her finger savagely, tasting the blood she’s just produced.

The image is disturbing, but more startling is the look in the bleeding woman’s eye, as if she invites the pain, as if she wants to feel the nails rake across her skin, so sharply that they pierce the surface.

T
wo plastic display cases, each with distinctive metal contraptions inside, frame the painting on either side. Where had I seen those devices before? History class? Something like them maybe, but never with those spikes or—
was that a leash
? The left display case held the device with the spiked, leash-like apparatus, while the right display case featured a pair of clamps of some sort, rusty with age, the once shiny iron now corroded.

Fascinated, I couldn’t help imagining where and how you’d use those items. An image of the spiked collar around the neck of the woman in the painting popped into my head, her eyes shining with pleasure. She enjoys the pull of the leash and—
whoa!
I pinched the side of my thigh sharply.

I have to admit Calvin Chambers’ lobby took me by surprise. The only thing I knew about Chambers was that he owned a multi-billion-dollar hedge fund (thank you, Google), so I had expected some extravagant pieces to punctuate the decor, but not…
this
. To say the least, it contrasted starkly with the light and airy entrance of any corporate office I’d ever visited, including my dad’s law firm where I spent summers. The gray, almost black, walls, softly lit by warm bulbs, created an intimate dusk-like feeling in the room, as if it were 7:00 in the evening instead of 9:30 a.m.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, wondering how long I’d wait. A loud knocking on the door of my hotel room earlier this morning had awakened me. Blurry-eyed, I had reached for my phone—what time was it? No instructions had been left for me after my arrival, only that Mr. Chambers would be in touch.
How?
I’d wondered. It all seemed so businesslike, as if I were traveling for an employer, rather than, well—a virginity expedition.

My room in Manhattan was like the room in Vegas—luxurious and lavish. I’d tried to get some sleep, knowing that I should be well rested for whatever ensued, but I’d tossed and turned for hours in the sinfully soft linen, unable to get comfortable. I think I dozed around 4:00 a.m., finally reaching deep slumber as the sun crept through the curtains signaling daybreak about 6:00.

My phone read 8:32.
Housekeeping this early?
I thought grouchily, willing the pounding to stop.
Wait, what if this was it—contact from Chambers
? That thought jolted me awake. As I stumbled toward the knocking, my toe kicked a large, flat, white envelope, clearly slipped under the door. Whoever was on the other side of the door stopped their clamoring, satisfied. I tore into it, eager to learn more about the deal I had entered. So far, it was all so secretive, like a clandestine operation.

Sabrina, welcome to Manhattan. A car will be waiting in front of the hotel at 8:50 a.m. Don’t be late.
No signature, but I knew it had to be from him.

He expected me to be downstairs at 8:50? That gave me twenty minutes to kick it into high gear and somehow find a way to make myself presentable. For what, I wasn’t sure. A romantic rendezvous? A meet-and-greet breakfast? I had been half-expecting Mr. Chambers to appear in the doorframe in the middle of the night, ready to claim his winnings. With that possibility clearly out the window, all I could think about was shaving my legs.

I ransacked the small bag I had packed two nights earlier, desperate to find something that would suit the occasion—whatever it might be. Settling on a simple black cotton skirt and a light camel-colored cashmere sweater, I dressed quickly, heart pounding a mile a minute.