A Window to Love (Windows) (Volume 1)
Read A Window to Love (Windows) (Volume 1) Online
Authors: Fifi Flowers
by
A Window to Love
Book One in the Window Series
Copyright © 2013 Fifi Flowers
Edited
by
Ruthie Bradford
Cover
Design by
Once Upon a Time Covers
Painting
by
Fifi Flowers
Published by
Champagne Girl
Studios
All rights reserved.
Without
limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
the above author of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized,
associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners
.
HERE I AM again, the lonely, single
Melissa Camille Bennette standing amongst the beautifully dressed people of the
art world. Yes, yet another annual holiday work party with no date. Another
night of going home alone to emptiness. Alas, no kiss under the mistletoe. No
one to take me home. No one to strip me out of my little black dress or the
sexy black lace lingerie hidden beneath or my high heel fuck-me pumps. I didn't
know why I bothered to attend these events. At least there were always plenty of
tantalizing nibbles and continuous glasses of bubbly to drown my sorrows.
Looking down at my watch, I realized it was nearing
midnight, and decided that I had seen enough rubbing bodies, grinding hips and
tangling tongues on the dance floor. My mind and body could no longer handle
the loneliness. It was clearly time to get out of this ballroom. Wanting to
prolong the beginning of another weekend alone for as long as possible, I
decided maybe I needed a jolt of holiday spirit. What better place to feel the
Christmas merriment than by catching a glimpse of a few department store
windows filled with holiday ornaments? I headed to the coat check room, handed
my ticket to the attendant, and then slipped into my heavy coat ready to brave
the cool, crisp night that awaited me.
Leaving the party at the Peninsula Hotel, I ventured out
onto Fifth Avenue, heading uptown towards Central Park. I was hoping the
holiday spirit would envelop me as the city's magic began to enchant me, taking
away some of my sadness. The trees along the avenue were twinkling with white
lights, large ornaments were playfully displayed on the sidewalks, holiday
music rang in my ears, and chestnuts assaulted my nose. I have never liked the
smell of roasting chestnuts, but I had to admit they did say “Christmas.” There
is nowhere like the island of Manhattan for the holiday season. From the
lighting of the grand Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center with the famous
Rockettes high-stepping around the corner at Radio City Music Hall, to ice
skating at The Rink or riding in a horse-drawn carriage through the snow in
Central Park, it was as if a magical world was brought to life once year. If
the weather gods were working in our favour, a white Christmas gave New York
City the supreme holiday experience.
The department store windows lent their own unique allure,
heightening everyone's spirits as pure fantasy enchanted in each window.
Adventures abound throughout the city behind panes of glass and delighted us.
When I come upon the first holiday decorated window, old memories flood my
brain. Since I was a little girl, I have loved visiting the holiday windows
around New York City with my parents. During the Christmas season, it became a
family tradition, and although they’ve been gone for seven years, it seemed
like just yesterday we were taking our traditional stroll. My mother planned
our adventure every year leaving no detail to chance. She would research all
the windows while my father researched which restaurant we would end our night
in for the perfect meal. We always rode to the city on the train and stayed at
The Pierre right across from Central Park. This was the first time since their
passing that I had ventured by these windows to stop and take a look.
Now I am alone with only my memories of bundling up in
scarves, mittens, hats and sipping steaming cups of hot cocoa as my parents,
and I stood exactly where I stand now excitedly discussing every detail of the
masterfully created miniature winter wonderlands. There was no excitement this
year; there was no one to ooh and aah with, to dream with, to share the special
spirit of the holiday.
I stopped at the window of the renowned Bergdorf Goodman
department store. My eyes began dancing around at all the trésors on display
within the window. Pale, icy blue draperies dropped in long glistening sheets
down either side of this dazzling fantasy world. The first thing that captured
my attention was the exquisite Christmas tree dripping with tear-shaped jewels
in brilliant shades of blue. Twinkling white lights made all of the gems
sparkle, tantalizing my senses. The crown jewel of the window was a magnifique
blue crystal chandelier which hung in the center of the window. Light blue
droplets cascaded to the floor giving the illusion of an icy cold rain shower.
Surrounding the chandelier, fragrance bottles floated at various heights
decorating the open space. Some of the bottles had fallen and broken open,
spilling blue liquid into pools on the ground. Light dancing off the liquid
gave the illusion of ripples on a pond of blue water ensconced by bejeweled
blue sea creatures. As my eyes darted around enchanted by all the blue
reflections, I was drawn to an enormous, plush, blue velvet chair. Leaning up
against the front of the chair was a large framed photograph. My heart started
racing. Tilting my head, I looked into the most gorgeous face I had ever laid
my eyes upon. Dark, thick, tousled hair; perfect for running my fingers
through. Full lips looked as if they are waiting for me to trace them with my
tongue. His piercing blue eyes, made even more pronounced by all of the blue
elements, made my body tingle. The taunt body was just as moan-producing. I got
a hint of his wide shoulders and broad chest. Yes, I was undressing this
beautiful man. I licked my lips, letting out a soft sigh as my eyes slipped
halfway closed.
“Oh j'adore... what I would love to do with you!” I murmured
faintly.
Suddenly, my eyes fluttered open as I heard a husky,
masculine voice, “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”
Have I said those words out loud?
Startled, I turned and looked into darkened, smirking eyes;
the same eyes as the ones in the window. I stumbled forward. Luckily, his
strong hands reached out to catch me. The touch sent electricity shooting
through my body and heat straight between my thighs. My heart rate accelerated
and my breathing became erratic. I thought I may pass out. He was even more
gorgeous in person. My fantasy man was dressed in a black three-piece suit with
a crisp white shirt, a slate blue tie and a coordinating pocket square that
intensified his blue eyes. His hair was a bit messy as if he had just run his
hand through it. A shadow of facial stubble on his ruggedly handsome face
accentuated his strong jaw line. Ooh la la, he was totally edible! Undeniably
sexy.
His grip remained firm. “What exactly did you have in mind
to do with me?” he inquired as he raised a dark eyebrow in a suggestive manner,
moving his face within inches of mine. “You have my full attention.”
“I’m… I’m sorry. I thought I was alone,” I said breathlessly,
gazing at his gorgeous mouth that was close enough to lick.
“I'm not sorry. Although I am curious. I’m glad I followed
you from the McDimel-Sanders’ party,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“You followed moi?” I asked, confused.
His hand slowly moved up to my mouth, and with his thumbs he
lightly ran it across my bottom lip. “The beautiful lady speaks French, but I
don't think you are French.”
At the sound of him saying “French,” and the feel of his
touch on my lips, my mind was reeling with thoughts of kissing his sensuous
mouth. My body was reeling with thoughts of so much more.
“Oui and non. I’m part French and part mystery. J'adore the
language and I have a habit of throwing out a few words here and there.”
He laughed at my rambling. I stared at his slight dimples.
I wanted to lick them, too.
Trying to regain control of myself, I asked, “Why are you
following me?”
His laughter turned to a soft chuckle as he stepped back and
took my hand in his then bowed deeply from the waist, “Allow me to introduce
myself. I am Evan Duke. By day, I am a highly paid clothing rack. By night, I
save beautiful women from the dark streets of the city.”
No longer smiling, he gave me a long, dark, penetrating
look. “I wanted to make sure you made it safely to a cab, but then you started
walking.” With a stern look on his face he continued, “It’s late. It’s dark and
not safe for a beautiful lady to be roaming the streets of New York alone. You
needed protection, so I followed you.”
My face flushed at the thought of model Evan Duke thinking I
was beautiful. Yes, that’s right. Evan Duke, the male supermodel of the moment.
He did print ads for two of McDimel-Sanders’ big clients. McDimel-Sanders was
an advertising firm and my employer. I worked in their art department working
up storyboards for advertisements. The firm threw a large annual holiday party
every year at the Peninsula Hotel, transforming the grand ballroom into famous
nightclubs, inviting important clients and staff. This year’s themed nightclub
was the Moulin Rouge complete with can-can girls dancing to modern DJ music. Of
course Evan would be invited, although I didn’t see him at the party. He
must’ve been seated in a VIP area of the ballroom. Special clients were rarely
seated among the common office personnel, so I had no hope of seeing this
dreamy man of my naughty fantasies.
Without thinking I blurted out, “I couldn’t bear the thought
of going home alone to an empty apartment. I needed a little dose of holiday
cheer or joy or something, so I thought I would stroll by some holiday windows
with the hope of prolonging the inevitable lonely night.” After this last
statement left my lips, I felt pathetic and exposed.
“Well, now that we’ve established that there isn’t a jealous
boyfriend or husband at home waiting for you, you can take me home with you and
show me what you would love to do with me.”
Oh, how that devilish grin on that amazing face was making
my heart beat wildly.
Before I had a chance to respond, a strong hand was on my
arm guiding me to a waiting car. “Charles, take us to Ms. Bennette’s home,” He
gave Charles the name and address of my apartment building, and we were off.
“You know my name and where I live?” I asked, tilting my
head and raising an eyebrow in his direction.
“I know a lot more about you than you think,” he answered
looking straight into my soul, causing my breath to falter for a moment.
Leaning back into the deep leather seats of his town car, I
was curious. How and why does he know so much about me? A gorgeous stalker? No,
he was clearly not a stalker. I was intrigued, but hesitant to ask more.
Within minutes, we pulled up in front of my building.
Phillip, my doorman, greeted me as he opened the door, “Hello Ms. Bennette.
Hope you enjoyed your evening.”
“Thank you, I did.” I said with a small grin on my face.
“Goodnight, Phillip.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Bennette.” Phillip called after us.
Holding my hand, we entered the lobby and rode the elevator
silently. I couldn't help but look up at him. He looked at me with a slight
smile, squeezed my hand tighter and then brought it up to his lips, and gently
brushed them across the inside of my wrist. His facial hair tickled me in a
sensuous way. My knees felt a bit weak. I was surprised I was still standing. I
had an overwhelming desire to jump in his arms, wrap my legs around him and
ride him right here in the elevator. Oh oui, this was one of my many fantasies
starring this hunk of a man. Oh mon dieu, I couldn't believe he was so close to
me and going to my apartment.
Once in front of my door, he asked for my keys and unlocked
it. The touch of his hand on the small of my back as he guides me inside sent a
vibration right down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and my
panties moistened. I was thrilled with the idea of having this incredible man
come home with me, but I wondered, what was I doing? I had not been with a man
in years. Evan's a male model, he has women drooling all over him and wanting
to bed him constantly. What was I thinking?
I LOVE MY apartment with its high
ceilings, boiserie paneled walls, hardwood floors and big windows that looked
out onto Central Park. As always, my apartment was dimly lit as I hated to come
home to darkness. The soft lighting gave me the feeling that I was expected,
that someone left them on for me. Just before my parents died, they purchased
the apartment I now call home, but tragically, never moved in. In the early
days of living here, it was difficult to look around the apartment and not feel
sadness, yet on the other hand, it made me feel close to them knowing I was
living in their intended home.