Barely Legal Vol 1: Barely Legal Series Page 3

  Already, I detected a spring in my step since entering the building, and my chin seemed to tilt up a little higher than usual. The fear and panic brought on by the dark garage were a thing of the past as I looked forward to the next two days.

  Watch yourself, I silently warned. You don’t want to get all high and mighty because you have a temporary stylish address.

  When the elevator reached the fourth floor I got out and was once again impressed. The wide hallway was painted in muted tones of gold and bronze. A delicate wall mounted lighting fixture was set beside each door, with the same style of fixture echoed on the ceiling.

  It was all so plush and luxurious, and I was increasingly eager to see the apartment itself. I turned to the right and strolled to room 411, taking in the occasional work of art that adorned the walls.

  “So what is the big secret all about, Mr. Peter Townshend?” I said as I slipped the key in the keyhole above the elegant antique doorknob. I pushed the door open to find a short corridor that led into the apartment.

  To my right the dining area welcomed me with a vase filled with vividly colored spring flowers and the living room beyond it was elegantly furnished with a curved leather sofa and two acrylic modern versions of Hepplewhite chairs set around a glass topped coffee table. Though pretty and tasteful, there was nothing really extraordinary about it.

  I turned my attention to the bedroom. It was much larger than my room back in Irvine and decidedly more luxurious. My eye was immediately drawn the large window where the blazing afternoon sun streamed in through the apple green sheer curtains, bathing the room in brilliant light. Back in Irvine, my bedroom window looked out onto a shaded parking lot leaving my room in constant gloom.

  While the fourth floor view wasn’t spectacular, it was pleasant.

  The big king sized bed took up the center of the room and was piled high with beautiful pillows in various shades of apple green. The creamy white comforter was soft and billowy. It was all so chic and expensive. The walnut commode, topped with a vase of fresh white roses, offered storage space and an elegant sense of style. In the first drawer I found soft and silky panties, in the second a rainbow of bras and in the third a variety of very small nighties.

  “We’re getting a little too intimate, aren’t we, Mr. Townshend?”

  Still, there was nothing particularly special about the room. For all the mystery that surrounded Peter Townshend, the room lacked the climatic resolution to it all. I don’t know what I had expected, exactly, but I had expected more.

  Opening the closet door, I walked in, hoping to find something more interesting, something more telling about the man and his intentions. Lined with cocktail dresses, a few gowns and an array of slacks and shirts, the wardrobe was a veritable who’s who of the fashion world. Jacobs, Wang, McCartney, and on and on. And at the far end, shelves upon shelves of the most beautiful shoes I’d ever laid eyes on; black pumps, red stilettos, moss green sling backs and baby blue peeptoes. Every color and every style imaginable.

  Kicking off my running shoes, I picked up a pair of Zanotti’s fringed open toe booties and tried them on. I instantly went from casual chic to sexy chic. “I like your style, Mr. Townshend.”

  Keeping the beloved booties on, I turned to my right to find a series of small drawers; belts, scarves, bangles and more. Everything for the forward thinking fashionista.

  “Looks like you really did think of everything, Mr. Townshend.” I picked up a glittering crystal encrusted cuff and slipped it on. “Yes, and you thought of everything just right. I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d gone out shopping myself.”

  My eyes darted around the large closet. It was almost too much.

  “It’s like getting set free in a candy store. I love it all.”

  I reached out for a perfect pair of periwinkle blue sandals and smelled the fine Italian leather then reached out to pet the soft and supple suede of a tan pump.

  I wonder if I get to keep these when all is said in done.

  Satisfied that my wardrobe was well taken care of, I headed to the bathroom. The large step-in tub was lined with bottles of fragrant beads, oils and salts and in the center of it all, a large bowl of fresh cut perfect white calla lilies.

  Above the ceramique countertop was a large mirror trimmed with a gold braid and flanked by two compartments. In one compartment she found an array of cosmetics; half a dozen shades of lipstick, pink, peach, cherry red, persimmon, coral and magenta, several shades of eye shadow, an eyeliner and mascara. Housed in the other compartment were an assortment of salon shampoos and conditioners, and styling products. There were several brushes, combs and hair accessories. Everything else a girl needed to get ready to go out was in the top drawer.

  Everything, he’d really thought of everything. I huffed and berated myself for being so naïve and easily impressed. He probably had Ana go out and shop for all this. Only another woman could think of so many little details.

  Walking back into the living room, I checked my watch. I’d left the office ten minutes ago.

  So why the big rush to have me in room 411 within ten minutes? More of his unconventional way of doing things? He’d mentioned I’d find further instructions, but there was nothing.

  Just as I was about to chock it up to another mystery, there was a knock at the door.

  “Punctual, this Mr. Townshend. Ten minutes sharp.”

  I opened the door to find no one there, only a small black bag at the door step. The hall was empty without even a sign of anyone passing by.

  Mysterious even in the way he gives me instructions, I mused. Fine. At this point I realized there was probably little that could surprise me. I’d just have to give into the game and go with it. I picked up the large suede bag, surprised by the weight.

  Inside my new posh apartment, I sat on the butter soft leather sofa and set the little black bag on the coffee table in front of me, trying to guess what it could possibly contain. A bottle of wine? A book?

  The bag was tied with a silk cord which I tugged on to release the bow. With both hands on either side of the bag, I pulled it down and gasped as the contents were revealed.

  Mirroring the exact color of my skin was a wax mold of a woman’s breasts. Round and heavy with perked up nipples and even the tiny scar on the underside of the left breast.

  It was the perfect mold of my breasts.

  Chapter 3

  I stared at my breasts with a touch of amusement. There was something rather odd about gazing upon my own breasts sitting there on the coffee table.

  “Not bad,” I said with a touch of pride.

  At the back of my mind, however, was one question; when had I had a mold of my breasts made… and why? Surely it was a process that was difficult to forget. Frowning I pulled the pair out of the bag and turned it over looking for a note or clue. When I found nothing, I rummaged through the bottom of the bag. Still nothing.

  “Okay, Mr. Peter. I think you forgot something.” Setting the breasts down, I headed to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. Plenty of wholesome and nutritious food, just enough dishes, glasses, cups and flatware, and a minimal amount of pots and pans, but still no message regarding instructions.

  I returned to the bedroom, my favorite room by far. Like steel to a magnet, I was drawn to the closet. Such a wardrobe, a wardrobe I never would have even dreamed of.

  With my luck, half of it wouldn’t even fit me.

  “So let’s give a few of them a try.”

  My first choice was a long sleeved black mini dress. I threw off my jeans and tank top and slipped the snug dress on.

  “Like a glove,” I murmured as I admired myself in the mirror. “And what shall we pair this magnificent mini dress with? A gladiator sandal? No. A classic but sexy black pump? No.”

  I slipped my fingers under the leather straps of pair of silver sandals embellished with crushed crystals. “Come to mama, my pretties.”

  With the sandals secured on my feet, I admired myself once more
. “All that’s missing is a knight in shining armor.” I puckered my lips. “Hello, handsome,” I whispered to my reflection. “Care for a drink?”

  Swirling around to a beat to no song in particular, I danced and swayed my hips. Who would have thought a simple dress could do so much to brighten a mood?

  “Okay,” I finally said. “Get over yourself.” I turned to the other dresses just waiting for me in the closet. “There are dozens more to try on.”

  Every dress fit me perfectly, even the gowns were of the right length with the appropriate heel. I was elegant and sophisticated in Reem Acra perfect pink strapless gown and stunning in a Dolce and Gabbana feminine tuxedo with a short open jacket over a black lace shirt with satin trim. The slacks were sophisticated and sexy, as if tailored specifically for me as though Mr. Townshend knew my body so very well. The thought sent an unexpected pleasurable shiver down my spine, as I imagined his hands over all me, feeling and memorizing every inch of me. A man who puts that much detail and attention into a woman’s wardrobe, who was straight and as dominant as Mr. Townshend seems, is a man who appreciates women. It made the mysterious Peter even more tantalizing yet frustrating. Who was he, and how did he know my body so well?

  There was something for every conceivable occasion. Even a cute pair of denim shorts with a playful puffy sleeved shirt and whimsical tennis shoes for a picnic in the park.

  “You have great taste, Mr. Townshend. I couldn’t have picked a better wardrobe myself… had I your budget of course.”

  I pulled out a striking navy dress with a plunging neckline and pulled it on just as the doorbell rang. Taking a second to check myself in the mirror, I adjusted the skirt and ran out just as the impatient visitor knocked on the door.

  “Coming,” I chimed. This time I checked though the peephole first. A pretty African American girl with long straight hair and velvety mocha skin stood there waiting. Her big brown eyes and full lips gave her a quiet and subtle sex appeal.

  I opened the door only to find that the girl’s body screamed loud and clear sex appeal. She was my height, but her neck was longer, graceful like a swan’s, while the rest of her body was curvaceous, yet slim.

  “Hi, I know we don’t know each other, but I’m your new neighbor. I just move in a week ago, and, girl, I’m in a jam. I invited this really cool guy to come over for some soft music and appetizers… you know, a little wine and cheese type of deal, but, girl, I was so excited about this night with this hot new guy that I went all dumb ass and forgot to buy the wine. If you have just a simple bottle of red, or a nice bottle of white, I’d owe you one big time.”

  “Um, I’m not sure if I have any wine. I could go check.”

  “You have no idea how much I’d appreciate that. I mean, I don’t want this guy to think I’m that air headed, you know?”

  I opened the door wider and waved my neighbor in. “Come in, um...

  “Camille,” she said with a warm smile. “Camille Johnson.”

  “And I’m Laura. Come in. If there is any, you can choose the bottle you like.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What kind of cheese did you buy?” I asked as I led Camille to my new kitchen.

  “Oh, nothing too fancy. An Asiago, a little Neufchatel and a good Brie.”

  I opened the refrigerator door. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  For sure, I must have blushed all the way down to my toes. The top shelf had several whipped cream canisters, two bottles of chocolate syrup and the bottom shelf held a variety of drinks.

  “Looks like you're ready for a fun party of your own, girlfriend,” Camille said with a throaty laugh. “Maybe I should ditch my wine and cheese and get me some of that syrup and whipped cream instead.”

  I shut the refrigerator door. “I don’t know where my head is at,” I said, hitting the heel of my hand against the side of my head. I’d noticed a good sized refrigerated wine cellar tucked unassumingly beside the large armoire in the living room. “Follow me.”

  In front of the impressive wine cellar that easily housed two hundred bottles, I smiled. “Now that’s more like it.”

  “I’ll say,” Camille let out as she pulled out a tempting Bordeaux.

  “Red or white?” I said as I looked at the impressive assortment. Even my father, a wine connoisseur, would be impressed by the selection. From Chardonnays to Chiantis to Merlots and Pinot Noir, and everything in between.

  “Red,” Camille said. “I’ll try to be reasonable and go with something I can afford… let’s say, this 1992 Merlot.”

  “I don’t really know all that much about wine, but I think this white Sauvignon would be great with the cheeses you mentioned,” I said.

  “How much do you think a bottle like that goes for?” Camille dug into the pocket of her skin tight jeans and pulled out a few bills. “Think twenty bucks will cover it?”

  “Take it,” I said. “Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

  Camille’s brow shot up. “For real?”

  “Sure.”

  “I won’t forget this.”

  Instantly liking my new neighbor, I walked her to the door. “Anytime. Maybe we’ll have more time to chat the next time.”

  “Will do. I’ll let you know how my night of wine and cheese goes.” Camille stepped out, but poked her head back in before I could shut the door. “If you let me know how your night of syrup and cream turn out,” she said with a playful wink.

  I just laughed and closed the door behind her. Great. Camille was the first person I’d met in the building and this was the impression I’d made on her. She probably thought I was into some kinky, weird sex.

  Heading back into the bedroom to take off the navy dress, I immediately noticed something different. Something was out of place. Something had changed since I’d left to open the door for Camille.

  Hadn’t I closed the closet door before heading out?

  Feeling a little frustrated, I shook my head. Maybe I hadn’t, but I was nonetheless surprised to see it wide open. Walking into the closet, my eyes turned directly to a blue woven silk tie draped over a wooden hanger.

  Now I know that wasn’t there before, I thought.

  Maybe in my eagerness to see all the pretty dresses and try on the sexy shoes, I’d simply overlooked it. I’m going to be a lawyer, for heaven’s sake.

  I’m not supposed to overlook something that is so blatantly obvious, especially when I’m here looking for clues.

  Pursing my lips, I pulled the tie off the hanger and fingered the fine fabric. The subtle tone on tone diamond pattern was barely distinguishable from afar, but distinct up close. Every other diamond had a daisy in it, also tone on tone. I’d seen the pattern before, but couldn’t quite recall where or when.

  “How could I have overlooked it?” I muttered, still unable to believe it. I walked back into the bedroom and looked around to see if anything else had changed. At first glance, everything seemed exactly the same as when I’d left it, but I no longer trusted my first glance. I took the time to re-examine the whole room and still found nothing out of place.

  “So if that tie wasn’t in there before, how did it get there?”

  Stretching the tie straight out, I realized that it was much longer than the average tie and also a bit wider. Curious to see the designer of the tie, I flipped it over and was surprised to find the embroidered initials instead:

  P.T.

  Peter Townshend. The ever mysterious and unconventional Peter Townshend.

  “More mystery, Mr. Townshend?” I called out into the room, almost expecting him to answer me. I held the tie up. “Is this tie supposed to mean something to me? Because, if you think this should ring a bell, it doesn’t. I have no idea who you are and what I should make of all this.”

  Chapter 4

  I’d often been told I had the patience of a saint, but at that moment, after scouring the apartment in search of a clue or anything that could lead to a semblance of instruction, my patience was running thin… u
nnervingly thin. If mister big shot thought I was just going to sit around and wait for some vague instructions to appear, he was dead wrong. There was only so much control over me I’d allow him, and he’d overstepped that boundary. Despite what he might think, I had a life. Okay, so maybe between studying and exams it wasn’t much of a life at that very moment, but it was my own and I had control over it.

  But the situation he’d left me in, as fabulous as the apartment was and as glorious as all the clothes were, was not my life.

  Not quite sure where I intended to go, I reached for my purse, and though it clashed dramatically with the fabulous dress I had on, I headed for the door. My hand on the door knob, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at the screen. While I didn’t recognize the number, I had a feeling in my gut. Who else could it be but my mysterious new stranger.

  “Hello?” I said, keeping my tone authoritative and strong.

  “How are you enjoying your stay so far?”

  My heart clenched, almost as much as the area between my legs. That voice, so smooth and sexy, so masculine and velvety. I already felt like putty in his hands, willing to do whatever he asked of me, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I took a second to collect myself and hoped to pull out a strong and assertive voice despite the sexual tension growing inside me. My breath was a little labored when I said, “You’ve got good taste. I’ll give you that.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I put a lot of time into making sure everything was to your liking.”

  “I’ll admit, it wouldn’t be a lifestyle difficult to get accustomed to.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate a little luxury after all that hard work studying. I also had a feeling you’d be the kind of girl who enjoyed the finer things in life.”

  “That would all depend on your definition of ‘finer things in life.’”

  “Well, how about this for a definition; maintaining your reputation. Of course, I’m sure you have lifestyle standards you’d like to maintain… a minimum of creature comforts, but when all is said and done, your reputation is really all you have, isn’t it? How can you ever hope to become a lawyer with a murder rap over your head?”