CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
We pulled up at a venue on Venice Boulevard. Painted bright red, its name Red House fitted perfectly.
Aidan jumped out of the car and helped me out. Although I could’ve managed alone, I loved his strong arms lifting me up like a ballerina. His eyes were on mine, devouring me. Gender equality notwithstanding, I’d developed a deep fondness for chivalry.
Staring at the long line snaking around the building, I said, “Looks like a popular venue.”
A sudden gust of wind blew my skirt up, exposing my tiny panties. It was lingerie Tabitha had insisted I purchase during a shopping spree, referring to it as tarting me up. Aidan’s heavy-lidded gaze showed that it had worked. His eyes sizzled. “Mm… very nice indeed. But only for my eyes.” He held my skirt down and kissed me suggestively on my neck.
Phew, steamy. Our mutual need had become more ferocious by the minute.
“Let’s go around the side entrance.” Aidan took me by the hand.
He pressed numbers into a keypad by the door and two security guards welcomed us.
“Hey, Aidan. Good to see you, buddy,” they chorused.
Their attention drifting over to me, they looked surprised.
“Wayne.” Aidan nodded. “Jake, how are you?”
As we walked away, Aidan whispered, “They’re two guys I was in the forces with. All my security guys were in the army. Men I served with, all buddies, like family.”
“Like Bryce?” I asked.
“Yeah, only Bryce is a rogue. He’s got some issues.”
I shook my head. “One day, you’ll explain why you have him there.”
Aidan ran his fingers through his hair. My, I’d missed seeing that. “One day soon. I promise.” He touched my face affectionately while his eyes turned a pale shade of grim.
Mystery had taken grip again, but I had to let it go. My heart demanded it.
We entered a dressing room and found a musician with head bowed down, tuning his guitar. He looked up, and his face lit up instantly. “Aidan.” He put down his guitar, and they hugged.
I noticed a similarity between them. After they separated, the older man acknowledged me with a welcoming smile.
Aidan said, “Clarissa, I’d like to introduce my father, Grant.”
My shock must have showed, because both men grinned. My eyes switched from one to the other. “Pleased to meet you,” I stammered.
Grant was an older version of Aidan. The similarity was unmistakable. He was also very much like Greta.
“Have you been on yet?” Aidan asked.
“We’ve done one set.” Grant’s eyes skimmed my face again. “We’re going on again in a minute.”
At that moment, a woman with long red hair entered. A little older than Aidan, she was attractive in an earthy, bohemian way. Dressed in a velvet purple dress, she had one of those contagiously warm natures that put one at ease. When she saw me her eyes lit up.
“This is Sara, my father’s partner,” said Aidan. “Sara, this is Clarissa.”
She hugged me. Smelling of sandalwood, Sara reminded me of a 1960’s hippie. “It’s a delight to meet you, Clarissa.” Sara lifted the top layer of my green dress. “What a stunning little number. It looks genuine.”
“It belonged to my late mother,” I replied, noticing a twinkle of admiration in Aidan’s eyes.
“You’ll fit in real well here, then,” said Grant. “The Red House is very retro.” He chuckled.
Aidan seemed at ease, almost boyish, in this relaxed, familial environment. I hadn’t seen this side of Aidan. Around his father, he was very respectful.
“We should get out there,” said Sara, grabbing her flute.
“Yeah, sure.” Grant was unpretentious and handsome, like his son. I liked him. They were also the same height. The resemblance as they stood side by side was striking. It gave me a preview of Aidan in his early fifties. Hot.
“Has Clarissa heard you play?” Grant asked Aidan.
“Not yet,” Aidan replied, sending me a shy smile.
Grant’s face lit up with glee. “Tonight’s the night, then.”
“I’m not sure about that, Dad,” muttered Aidan.
“I would love to hear you play.” I had to raise my voice in order to be heard. The spacious room was bursting with noisy patrons. And the band hadn’t even started.
Predictably, all the female attention was on Aidan. I, too, had my own audience. Aidan claimed me. With his arm around my waist, he drew me close. His warmth radiated through me. And once again, I was light-headed, drugged out on Aidan.
Even in a ghetto, I would be having the time of my life. Close and hot, with Aidan by my side, I didn’t need anything more. Not that the Red House was run-down. If anything, it was highly sophisticated.
“What can I get you?” Aidan asked.
“I’m not sure. What should I get?”
“What do you like? Bourbon, gin?”
“Gin and tonic, then,” I said.
While Aidan went off to get the drinks, I made my way to the restroom, worried that our earlier steam session had messed up my hair, particularly because there were so many eyes on me. But then, maybe the bright-green dress had more to do with that. Considering that most of the girls wore tight blue jeans, I stood out.
The mirror revealed nothing too shameful. My eyeliner was still doing what it had been designed to do. If anything, it was a little smudgy underneath my eyes, but flatteringly so, rendering my eyes wide and sultry. My complexion was rosy from the anticipation of having Aidan inside of me. In truth, I was in a permanent state of arousal.
My hair, however, was another story. The sad excuse for a ponytail was half undone. I’d met Grant and Sara looking like I’d been through a windstorm or a session of steamy coupling. I was sure they figured it was the latter. Aidan hadn’t hidden his feelings towards me at all. The fact he’d introduced me to his dad was profound. It was still sinking in as I undid the ponytail and let my hair out.
I loved the room. The stage was draped with cascading red-velvet. The rest of the space, covered in bordello-style wallpaper, was reminiscent of the barrooms in the Wild West.
In acknowledgement of celebrated blues artists, there were black-and-white framed photographs of famous African-American musicians, along with signed album covers. My favorite aspect of the décor, however, was the sheet-music wallpaper behind the bar.
Aidan chatted away with a broad, solid man. He looked like a security guard. They were laughing about something when Aidan’s eyes shifted towards me. The room emptied suddenly. It was just us. He was ravaging me again with that smoldering gaze. The guy he was talking to turned to see what had drawn his friend’s attention. He said something to Aidan who, having not taken his eyes away from me, just nodded in a trancelike way.
I stood by his side, and he drew me in close. In an open display of affection, he kissed me on the cheek. Who would have thought a peck on the cheek could be so erotic?
“I love your hair out, Clarissa. I cannot tell you how much you’re driving me crazy.” His eyes had that heavy, lust-filled look.
Aidan ran his hands down my hair. Despite demurring, with a thousand eyes watching us, I could do little but succumb to the sheer bliss of Aidan’s closeness.
I imagined being the envy of every woman present, with their unwavering attention blatantly directed at Aidan. How could they not feel that way when he had jeans that hugged his athletic body perfectly and a face that Hollywood producers would’ve leapt over pits of vipers to sign up?
Aidan Thornhill was pure male in every sense of the word. And as he stood behind me and pulled me in close, I felt his desire, hard and ready.
“What do you think of this place?” asked Aidan.
“I love it. It’s so Victorian bordello, very sensual. I love the velvets and satiny textures. It’s a triumph. I could live here.”
Aidan laughed. “Well, I don’t know about letting you live here. But you, darling girl, have got impeccable taste.”
“Does it belong to somebody you know?” I asked, recalling him pressing the security code earlier.
“You could say that.” Aidan smirked.
“Well?” I said, shaking my head.
“This is my place, Clarissa.”
My lips parted. “Oh… its charming, Aidan—all the pictures and the design. The sheet-music wallpaper is marvelous. Did you get a designer?”
“Not really. I designed it.” Aidan had that adorable off-center, uncertain smile. I’d learnt to recognize that expression, which appeared whenever Aidan admitted to an achievement. I sensed that being a humble person, Aidan felt pride deeply, but not in a boastful way.
“You have a great eye, Aidan. You surround yourself with so much beauty,” I gushed.
“Nothing as beautiful as you, you’re the masterpiece, Clarissa.” Aidan held me tighter. My face hurt from smiling too much.