TurnKey Lovers
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Whispers Publishing
www.whispershome.com
Copyright ©
First published in 2008, 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
TurnKey Lovers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
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Turn-Key Lovers
Destiny Blaine
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!
TurnKey Lovers
A Whispers Publishing Publication
November 2008
Copyright ©2008 Destiny Blaine
Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Rene Walden of BG Designs
ISBN Not Assigned
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.
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Chapter One
Paisley glared out the window. A black stretch limousine parked curbside as soon as it arrived. Its sleek beauty invited her to savor the moment, but her runaway heart inspired her to turn away from the glass. She needed to go outside.
Hell no. She could use a drink, a very strong one.
She cursed her inhibitions and her strong sense of adventure. The undertaking of something new led her to a place where she'd never been, and as soon as she stepped foot out of the tiny cottage, the one with the white picket fence for show, she'd lose all control.
Vulnerability didn't amuse her. In fact, she never possessed a tolerance for it. When her parents were among the living, they refused to acknowledge outward signs of weakness. It allowed the competition to find hot buttons and later use them to their advantage. She never understood or enjoyed a power struggle which is why some mused over her strengths and others marveled at perceived perfection.
While she thrived in the world of business closings and delegated agendas, her private life suffered. Not only did she have a twisted and personal relationship with loneliness, but she also feared it would always remain just as it always had been.
Paisley checked the mirror just to see if she looked the part. “Nope, not a chance.” She talked to herself often. Sometimes, from boredom or maybe a little lunacy, she even replied.
Trying to peer slightly over her shoulder, she cursed her ideas and the foundation for which they were discovered. If her father were only alive to see her now, he wouldn't just send her to her room, but he would help her design her own casket. Then, he'd seal her there. Yes, the man ruled with a cruel hand, and often she despised him and his memory, for it.
After an exasperated sigh, Paisley turned around again to face the woman staring back at her. The girl she thought she might have been before she slipped on the black spider web dress challenged her. She felt herself transform as the material fell over her smooth, bare skin.
Undergarments were made to order. Naturally, they were shipped at the last minute so there wouldn't be time to debate the practical appraisal of whether or not she looked good enough to eat.
The bodice of the webbing provided a natural fit, and it slid and moved with her body easily. The sleeves weren't comfortable, and the snug confinement found there left a lot to be desired. When the apparatus first arrived, she almost trashed it because of the flaw. The mere act of pushing her arms through the entanglement tried her patience. The price she paid for the get-up bordered with hilarity. Those in fashion were grotesquely over-paid.
A large scoop at the back of the dress led to a trail of faux tails. Something tuxedos in another century resembled, only the suits of a previous time didn't expose so much. Ah, but if only. She stopped herself from thinking of the perversion found in such a mental image—yes, a divine clip. Men in those days would've been appalled.
"It's time to experience a man while there's still one out there willing to teach.” Right now didn't seem quite appropriate for self indulgent conversation.
Behind a desk, she typically wore executive clothing and unisex attire with ridiculous boxer boots. It alienated any assumptions. When she stood at the head of Paisley Properties, no one out ranked her. Not only did she carry her company's name, she was the company.
Eyes drifted downward and scanned the opening at the crotch. The v-exposure trimmed the lace panties underneath. From the back, the thong looked nice on her shapely ass, but the frontal view offered far too much sex appeal. The dress left nothing to a man's fantasy and said everything for originality.
A quick wink and puckered lips, maybe she was ready—or maybe not—it didn't matter. The here and now arrived. On the other side of the door, he waited, and he knocked.
* * * *
"Are you ready darling?” He didn't bother with introductions. He would've been fired on the spot if he'd offered one; an order her liaison received with her initial instructions.
"I admire a man who is right on time.” She clutched a small purse, a very peculiar octagon shape with black zigzags across a silver case. Simple elegance for a woman eager to learn the ropes or perhaps find herself tied up by a few.
His dimples were cute for an older man. The indentation didn't lead to a larger smile or maybe it did. Either way, she imagined she'd see more of them. A man like the one in front of her would be full of surprises. He'd been recommended as the best turnkey lover in the galaxy, and if she'd been misinformed, there would be cause and reason to kill, yes slaughter, the messenger.
He casually slid his arm around her waist only for a split second and just quick enough to shut the front door behind them. Once he did, he offered his arm in an extended hook, a gentleman's gesture which she took without hesitation.
The clickety-click sound of high heels spiked the interest of the concrete beneath them because the sound of her steps rang out in an echo across the dimly lit path. The long walk to the car didn't surprise her. Forty yards to an awaiting automobile bound for the office proved short. Now, it seemed to take a few extra minutes.
The chauffeur stepped out of their way and then politely opened the door. He made an art out of avoidance. He nodded with the simultaneous tip of his hat and then allowed them to enter.
He's gay. Just as requested. She didn't want to feel uncomfortable in her latest design, and the last thing she needed was a limousine driver more interested in driving
into her rather than onto the road ahead of them. Her latest fashion choices would eventually make it to Europe, and some years later, the States would accept it but for now, this type of statement had a definite place. Most men would appreciate her bold step into the night, but she didn't need their approval. She wanted something more, and few doubts existed about where she'd find it.
She paid a hefty price to guarantee it.
* * * *
If the woman wanted to stop his artificial heart, then she accomplished her immediate goal. Thank God, it started back again or else resuscitation would've guaranteed permanent termination—one of the pitfalls of the job. Whenever he visited Earth, he didn't have a plan B if he stopped ticking. Without a control room nearby, he just gambled on existence whenever he traveled beyond his original and intended parameters. He was a clone who knew his place, but when he occasionally forgot it, he took fate and his life for granted. Much like humans, he decided.
Brogan didn't want to stare, but at the same time, he was paid to adorn her with an appreciative eye. Why not start with the polite conversation? It gave him the opportunity to survey her without the uncomfortable intervention of unwanted silence.
"So you're in real estate?” He noticed the immediate change. Her shoulders, once delicate to his easy touch, now held firm in a salute of confidence. The coolness in the air drifted across the plush interior of the extravagant car.
"Tell me about yourself, Brogan.” Her lips pursed. She waited for his answer.
The authoritative tone she took with him all but pissed him off. He might be her employee for the night, but he'd also been paid very well to take the lead and remain in control.
He pushed for something, anything at all, to challenge her air of superiority. “I'm taking you to one of your father's first global communities for dinner this evening.” He chose to play the same game. He would answer the questions he wanted to acknowledge, and those he didn't could easily be replaced with one of his own or the subject changed altogether.
"I know. The Zahur was his crowning achievement.” A flicker of recognition didn't pass her eyes nor did pride in her father's accomplishments; and they existed on a grand scale. Her father and mother were notorious for their achievements.
"You've seen it a million times, I'm sure.” He knew damn well she'd never been there. No one under the age of twenty-one was permitted to cross the boundaries of separated space, but it allowed for turn about with the fairest of plays.
"In pictures."
Good for her. She didn't allow him to see her excitement, but he realized it existed. The first time anyone visited The Colonies of Our Galaxy, particularly Zaid, one of his favorite choices, they usually had a lot of expectations. The thrill of riding one of the shuttles into space trumped all other life events. Once there, most soon recognized his or her good fortune.
The Colonies were strategically placed and followed the continents in a mesmerizing pattern. Only the rich visited there—or those who adorned their arms. Never mind other body parts.
The communities found there were spectacular, and Paisley's father developed every one of them. Their fortune hit massive proportions which is why he was startled to discover where she'd chosen to wait for him—a simple cottage. Something he personally chose to ignore. He knew the cabin-like environment wasn't her home. He even made it his business to find out where she lived. Yes, in opulent surroundings but he didn't blame a girl for playing it safe. He pretended he didn't notice the tiny home at all.
Brogan reached across her for a slender glass and tilted the rim. “Champagne?"
"No, thank you."
"You are of drinking age?"
"My father made various laws, remember? Because of social ordinances, I've been of legal drinking age since the tender age of fourteen—and I never particularly cared for alcohol."
"I see.” He wasn't impressed, and he planned to drink with her or without her and later, he'd simply drink her in altogether. The bottles were from The Zahur, and as with everything there, the liquid only tasted sweeter with the name on the bottle.
A few seconds later, his glass to his lips, he gave Paisley the reverse sweep. His gaze started at her heel before moving to her ankle, calf, knee, and hip. He shifted in his seat. “I see you're familiar with some of the designers at The Zahur.” He sipped, swallowed, and licked the corner of his mouth.
"Fashion Consultants are on the payroll like everyone else.” She moved her buttocks over to the edge of the seat and stared him straight in the eyes. Her dark eyes would later haunt him. Certainty of it boiled him with the touch he wanted her to initiate.
He heard the chuckle fall from his lips, and he hated it, but God, he had to kiss her. “Right now, I don't give a damn whose names can be found there on your over-crowded spreadsheets. I'm going to taste some of that bitterness you're known for, and I swear to you, I'll kiss it sweet."
* * * *
She should've slapped him, but she kissed him. Hard and fast but hungry, so incredibly hungry, she waltzed right into his mouth with a reaching tongue and a need filled with a raging fire. At twenty-one years old, she'd waited for a man. It was far too long to delay notice by the opposite sex and act as a woman with needs—oh, and did she ever possess them.
Paisley's arms draped over his shoulders like he'd been kissing her for the last five years. It felt natural as he kissed and nipped, only at her lips, and she longed for more. A quick meeting of mouths, the introduction of a deal in the making, and she was ready.
Forcing herself away from him, she pointed to the landing. “We're here."
"I see.” He rolled his head, stretched his neck to see the area beyond guarded gates and then moved closer. “And I don't care.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him again. “Close your eyes, Paisley."
His mouth covered hers again, and it was then when she realized, the first kiss they shared was one driven by her own sloppiness and a lot of tongue driving into him at one time. And yes, with her eyes wide open, she remained fixated on him now.
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Chapter Two
The passionate meeting of mouths in the car left her without a care in the world. If meeting tongue to tongue saved a woman from pain or heartache then she would initiate the kissing of mere strangers. She needed the practice, and finding volunteers wouldn't be difficult. Hell, the one in front of her, according to her liaison, all but agreed to date her for free. Her virginity status weighed heavily on his generosity.
Brogan was forty-eight and a kept man. He wasn't interested in women for any other purpose than money, and she'd been advised by her liaison and his. His availability calendar stayed full with damsels in dire need of a man to fill them in just the right places—or perhaps feel would be just as appropriate. His interest in her specifically drew questions because he made an exception and moved a few dates around to accommodate her. She wondered why but didn't ask.
A few minutes after they arrived at the Paisley Transportation Compound, they boarded the strange metallic vessel. As they walked through security, Brogan pressed his palm against her lower back. Anyone who dared to notice would believe they were a couple—intimate lovers.
The shuttle carried them across the atmosphere to a faraway land. Actually, it wasn't traditional ground at all. Outer space in pictures didn't justify the colonies her father created in the sky. Incredible beauty lit up the cosmic territory in the distance, and her eyes were focused on the one she knew would lure her. It called to her from out of the darkness and its shape, strangely familiar, made her feel all the more expectant. It was her land, her family property. Her country—her place in the galaxy.
Brogan's role really began there. She felt it in the sudden change between them. He held her hand firmly before bringing it to his lips for a shower of pecks and kisses across her knuckles. “You're going to love it here, my darling."
"Yes, and I may love it enough to stay."
"Ah, yes. Your father spent a lot of time here, didn'
t he?"
She nodded and hoped he wouldn't ask anything more about her family.
"And your mother, did she like it as well?” He studied her closely.
Damn it all, he realized what he asked. The rumors about her mother were very accurate, and yet everyone questioned and wanted to know more about her. The fantasy of her mother only came alive in the role she now portrayed.
"I didn't see my mother very much. She traveled a lot, and of course, as you can imagine, she and my father had a lot of new terrain to cover before they..."
"I understand.” He cut her off and kissed her cheek. “And I really don't care."
Of course he didn't..
He continued to court the façade of a perfect gentleman, and she realized then she came very close to confirming the rumors. It would've been so easy to just spread open her mouth, drop her jaw, and release years of a troubled truth.
The hostess on the shuttle stood up and called out an announcement for the twenty or so passengers. The arrival to The Zahur was a success, and departing the vessel would begin within minutes.
Within seven or eight more minutes, Brogan and Paisley were walking on the fluorescent streets of The Zahur. With golden boulevards and beauty seemingly everywhere, Paisley couldn't believe her eyes. She felt as if she'd finally arrived to a refreshing and long-awaited life.
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"What do you think?"
"It's what I imagined. And then everything I wanted to picture and yet, couldn't.” She seemed quite taken with the amusements found there. Her father was by far one of the greatest visionaries of all time. If anyone wanted proof, they only needed one visit to The Colonies of Our Galaxy.
The streets were metallic in a sense and it was one of the reason shoes were always required. The solar system often reminded those in the area who remained in control. It wasn't Paisley or the empire her family created. It was a much higher power. Without special boots or steel heels, walking there proved impossible.