Sandra glanced at her watch. 4:00 pm. She closed her daily planner and picked up her purse. She, too, decided to leave a little early today. Harry had sent her a text, letting her know he was leaving work, and was going to pick up dinner at their favorite Chinese restaurant. Sandra smiled. She was ready to get home to her nice, comfortable married life.
Chapter 17
Alex gives me a tour of his countryside home, and surprisingly, it’s quite homey. Initially, I envisioned crystal chandeliers, a winding staircase, marble countertops laced with gold running through it. But, to my pleasant surprise, his country home is very warm and welcoming, with a light, airiness to it. Sunlight pours through the windows, filling up the house with a warm glow. It’s decorated with casual, traditional furniture and fabric. No glass or metal in this home. No stainless steel appliances. In fact, he even has a retro, 1950’s style, pastel blue refrigerator.
“It came with the house when I purchased it,” Alex informs me. “I liked it so much, I decided to keep it. Wilson tinkered with it, got it working properly again.”
Wilson, who I met earlier, maintains the property while Alex is away. Early sixties, with kind brown eyes and an easy smile, he looks after the property well. Alex tells me Wilson has always looked after the estate and takes care of the place as if it’s his own.
Wilson leaves, waving goodbye in his truck, and Alex continues the tour, showing me the property grounds. We walk along a stone path, leading us around to the back of the house. Lush, green ivy climbs the sides of the stone walls. We stroll past pink and white rose bushes, the blooms in full, their scent filling the air. Alex unlatches the gate to a sparkling blue swimming pool.
We walk together, hand in hand, strolling past the pool, to the back gate, which has a very large lock on the latch. Alex fishes out a key, unlocking the gate. He opens the door and laid out before me are acres and acres of rolling pasture as far as the eye can see. I stand still, not wanting to blink, trying to burn the image before me into my brain forever.
“Glorious, isn’t it?” Alex says. “Even after all these years, I’m still left speechless every time I see this view.”
I reach for Alex’s hand, gazing at him while he admires the view, seeming to be lost in thought. After a few moments, Alex turns towards me, grinning from ear to ear. “Come with me. I’ve saved the best for last
.” He gently pulls my hand, leading the way.
We walk along the rolling green pasture, a light breeze blowing, feeling the sun’s warmth. “Oh, how lovely!” I exclaim, pointing to a wooden barn with white trim. I smile – another reminder of back home in Georgia.
Alex unlatches the lock, pushing one of the sliding barn doors open, then the other. Its pitch black inside. He switches the overhead lights on, flooding the barn with bright light. The first thing I see is the shiny, dark red floor of the barn. Then – the cars. Not just any cars, either. Parked inside the barn are three vintage sports cars. All parked alongside each other. All sparkling, glittering, polished to perfection. It’s a car fanatics dream come true.
My jaw drops. “Holy shit!”
Alex bursts out laughing. “I’m glad you’re impressed.”
“I was impressed with the Porsche. But, this is……incredible. Where did you get these cars?” I ask, barely able to contain myself.
“I know a gentleman who specializes in restoring vintage and classic cars. Cars like this have always appealed to me, so when I was able to, I started my collection.”
And what a collection it is. I walk around to the first car, a hunter green 1961 Jaguar E type. “The Jag was my first purchase,” Alex tells me. “Fully restored, runs like a dream.”
We walk over to the other two cars, a silver 1956 Mercedes SL 300, and a navy blue 1961 Ferrari 250 GT. Alex gives me a bit of history on each car, and while doing so I can feel the happiness and joy that he gets from his vintage car collection.
“I’m sure people love coming over to see your collection,” I gush.
“Maybe people would love to view it, but no one has. No one is allowed in here, not even Wilson. You’re the only person who has seen it.”
“Are you serious? No one?” I ask, slightly taken aback.
“No one.”
“Why me?”
He shrugs. “This home is my retreat, a place for me to get away from everyone and everything. I never wanted anyone here with me before. Then I met you and…..” he paused, seeming to struggle to find the right words. “Everything changed.”
“Alex……” I’m at a loss for words. I fall into his arms, and we hold each other tightly. I pull back, my hands cradling his head, our eyes fixed steadily on each other, and I realize I don’t need to say anything.
Alex reaches down and tenderly wipes a single tear away from the corner of my eye. “Let’s go back inside. Looking at cars makes me famished,” he says, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Me, too,” I reply, laughing softly. Alex locks up the barn, and we stroll back to the house, taking our time, stopping to watch the sun set.
Caprice was on fire tonight. Bellisimo’s was packed, the drinks were pouring, and the money was flowing. Flowing right into Caprice’s thong. She felt fantastic, and looked even better. Sergio had fucked her before work, taking her from behind, her favorite position. She climaxed fast, Sergio’s hands all over her breasts, his ten inch cock filling her up completely. Then she sucked him off, just how he likes it. Sucking Sergio always turned her on, this time being no different. Caprice was feeling the afterglow, tingling from head to toe.
She surveyed the action tonight, her eyes scanning the room. Caprice had been working for only an hour when she saw Sergio saunter into the club. Caprice smiled slyly, narrowing her eyes as she watched Sergio talk to the club manager. She noticed he had been coming to Bellisimo’s more often the past few weeks. Sergio said he just wanted to make sure the club was running smoothly, wanted to ensure the manager was doing his job. Bullshit, thought Caprice. She knew he wanted to keep an eye on her and the men that paid to see her. Sergio was your typical Italian man – possessive, controlling, and jealous. Caprice knew she could manipulate Sergio by using those traits against him and thereby getting what she wanted.
Caprice worked the pole, wrapping her long legs around it, arching her back, slowly sliding down to the stage floor. She tossed her long dark hair, grabbed the pole, and brought herself up off the floor, ass on display, the tip of her tongue gliding over the silver pole in a most suggestive way. Every man stood up and cheered loudly, clapping and whistling. They couldn’t get enough of Caprice. She glanced at Sergio out of the corner of her eye, knowing he was monitoring her every move.