Beneath The Surface 18+ (Sample)

Chapter 3: Beneath Your Beautiful

Craig's POV

"Please, if you will excuse me for a moment, I need to check up on my date," I murmured as I disentangled myself from the flashy high maintenance blonde at my side.

I glanced down at her adorned ring finger and the woman had the grace to at least blush.

Making my excuses, I started towards the hallway I had seen Leslie pass through. It had been 15 minutes and I knew Leslie should have been back by now. I had a nagging feeling something was amiss and with The b***h and The Bastard in attendance tonight, I was almost positive it would have to do with one, or both, of them.

The temperature dipped as I passed through the doorway into the hallway to the restrooms. The ballroom had been stifling and even if Leslie hadn't gone to use the facilities, I would have eventually made my way here, if only to relieve myself from the pretentious atmosphere and heat emitting from the dancing bodies.

I stood in the hallways breathing in a sigh of relief when I heard a muffled sound. I walked slowly towards the lavoratories and heard a whimper.

Determinedly, I walked up to the doorway of an elegant room housing a baby grand in the back. I saw The Bastard pawing at a very frightened Leslie. He had one hand on her low back, roughly rubbing the top of her bottom, and his other hand was gripping her face in place while he nuzzled her neck forcecully. She was obviously struggling with her attempt to get away and her whimpers made it evident that this was not a wanted rendezvous.

"Just what the f*****g do you think you are doing?" I heard myself growl.

The Bastard didn't move as he said, "What she's been wanting me to do to her all night long." He nips at her shoulder. Leslie cried out in shock.

My thin veneer of self control snapped at the sound of her cry and I surged forward. I grabbed the arrogant prick by the neck, and pulled him off her. He emitted a choked gasp as his airway is restricted by the force of my hand.

I forced Grant to look deeply into my eyes and said in a slow, forced calm. "You will leave her alone. Not just today, but every day. You will walk out to the Devereaux's, make your excuses and leave here for good." I paused for effect. "If you do not do this, I will break you."

The bastard started to speak and I wasted no time. I pulled back an arm and plant a stiff fist into his face. His nose immediately gushed blood as he hit the floor.

I walked forward one step and asked, "Do you understand?"

He looked up at me mutely and just nodded his head.

Both Leslie and I were silent and still as he walked hurriedly to the entrance, avoiding the larger groups standing at the double doors.

As soon as I know he is out of sight, I broke form and walked over to a stunned looking Leslie. Her face was pale with shock. Unshed tears threatened to spill over her dark lashes.

I grabbed her gently by the shoulders and asked softly, "Are you hurt?" My eyes roam over her body to check for bruising or scratches when I noticed her exposed half bra. My c**k stiffened a bit at the sight and I silently admonished my hormones. Not the time you i***t.

She attempted to answer. "I'm-I'm f-f--fi--," and promptly bursts into tears. I pulled her into my arms, letting her vanilla scent wash over me as her tears dampen the lapels of my tux.

I knew now is not the time for silly sentiments, so I gently crooned soft words and tryied to hush her cries. I felt her body heaving with pent-up emotion.

As her sobs softened, I gently loosened my grip on her and started to rub her arm gently. I made passes over her shoulder and upper warm down to her elbow and back. This seemed to bring her back to herself.

"My apologies," her watery voice mewled and my breath caught lightly. This woman gave me the feels, dammit. "I was overcome and scared and-"

"No apologies necessary," I said, letting my voice's more dulcet tones soothe her. "It was to be expected after the way he treated you." I frowned slightly, thinking back to Grant's vulgar display of lust.

Abruptly, Leslie pushed me away softly, as if embarassed. She smoothed out her dress from the waist down and I caught the outer rim of one pink areola peeking trought the top of her bra. My breath hitched and I cleared my throat.

She didn't seem to notice and my pants tightened further as I try to take a moment to mentally adjust and calm the throbbing in my groin.

As she straightened up, she hastily looked at me and blushed a delicate pink.

"I should be getting back to the party," she murmured.

She started to walk past me and I stopped her gently with one hand on her wrist.

"I can't let you go out there looking like that." I said.

She glanced back at me with questioning eyes.

I smirked roguishly and said, "We would have a full out riot if you went in there looking like that."

To answer her unspoken question, I stared pointedly down to the breast that is partially exposed.

"Well s**t!" she said inelegantly and it's all I can do not to laugh out loud at her cursing. It was quite adorable coming from her guileless face.

Leslie clasped her hands to the exposed breast and my traitorous c**k twitched at the sight-the son of a b***h.

She looked up at me in horror and I smoothly took off my jacket and wrapped it around her. I was amused at the modesty of this woman who without qualms would hire a rent-boy, yet had the grace to be embarrassed of exposing a meager portion of her womanhood.

"Do you have a sewing kit?" I asked.

******

Leslie's POV

I brought Lance up to my childhood bedroom and he immediately got comfortable. He sat on the edge of my bed as I searched the room for my sewing kit. It was an unused one I knew, since if I ripped something growing up, my mother was more likely to just buy me new outfit.

However, since it was unused, I had no idea where I had left it after purchasing it years ago.

I turned on the lightswitch in the en suite bathroom, figuring this was probably a good place to store such things.

I opened up the cabinets below the double sink to look when I heard movement and a voice in the doorway. I stood up, pin straight at the sound.

"Have you checked the medicine cabinet?" Lance asked while leisurely unclasping his cufflinks. There was something sexy in the removal of them and I unconsciously clenched as he moved forward, setting the cufflinks on the marble top of the nearest sink of the doube sinks.

Blushing furiously, I stiffly opened up a smoke mirrored medicine cabinet and found the white case containing thread, needles, and a small pair of blue handled scissors.

I took it down with trembling hands. I had barely opened the lid when his hand came down gently upon mine. A spike of electricity shot through my body at the touch and I felt lightheaded.

Lance took the black bobbin and expertly threaded the needle. He looked over at me inquisitively.

"Do you happen to have anything to change into? It's easier to sew when you are not wearing the fabric being mended." he said slowly smiling.

I let out a small laugh at that and shook my head. "No, all of my clothing is at my place and my mother's clothing is too small on me. I have much larger hips and my breasts would pop out any of her tops if I were to wear them."

I stopped myself at the unwanted yet honest statement I had just spoken, embarrassed.

He eased over the pause and said, "That's fine. You can wear my jacket as I repair. That is, if you dont mind being in your underthings for a few minutes. "

Dear. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I tried not to squirm where I was standing.

I took off the borrowed jacket and walked into my bedroom. I had a hard time locating my zipper with my trembling hands.

Suddenly I felt his warm calloused hands on back above the zipper and I shivered.

"Sorry," he said softly as he unzipped my dress.

I could barely move as I let the soft fabric pool around my ankles. I stepped out of the clothing and onto the floor as Lance bends over to grab the material. I put on his jacket and sat on the bed, trying not to melt into a puddle.

Lance took the sewing kit and started to turn the bodice inside out to work on darning the fabric.

The silence was stifling and I felt the need to break it before I expired.

"How often do you do this?" I asked quietly but firmly.

He looks quizzically over at me, "Do what?"

"Escorting?" I said honestly. "Is it a full time career with little time left over for writing or just something to get you by?"

Lance hesitated and said, "First of all, it's not a career, as you well know and secondly, I only do it insofar as it helps pay the bills to that I can live comfortably till I can become a published novelist." He stopped and added, "Do you realize how much ink and paper costs these days?"

I giggled at that practicality of his statement, almost completely forgetting I'm in my underwear while Don Juan is delicately sewing my ruined gown.

"Besides," he said, smirking. "'Dating' such as you call it is a great way to hone my craft. I get to experience all types of people, which definitely helps me bring the characters in my stories to life. It makes them more honest. "

"I suppose you see much of the dark sides of people as well," I said, thinking back to Grant's rough treatment of me downstairs.

Lance looked sharply at me and said, "Indeed, I do. But it always surprises me when I see it in the flesh-as it were." His eyes dipped down to my ample bosom and I'm too amused at his choice of words to feel self-conscious. Surprisingly, I was enjoying getting to know man behind the face-and body.

I cleared my throat. "I apologize if this is too personal a question, but what does your job entail precisely?"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Are you asking me if I get paid to sleep with people as well as take them out?"

I shrugged, emboldened by his blunt response.

"Well, even though I get paid to be in the company of women, I do not sleep with my, clients, as it were." He grinned. "Well not as of yet."

My stomach curled as I catch his gaze wander from one end of my body to the other. Yikes.

"Sorry if my question offended you," I reply meekly. "I know it said in your bio online that you are a companionship escort only, but words are cheap and I just thought I'd ask."

"Not at all," he said with a grin. "I like your honesty. Most women I 'date' seem to expect me to bed them before the end of the night, even though I tell them I have no intentions of becoming a professional manwhore in the bargain."

I saw he was almost finished with half of the bodice and was surprised at his quick work.

"How do you know how to do that?" The words slipped out unbidden.

"Sewing?" Lance asked. Something in his mood darkened.

"Yeah, I haven't run into many manwhores who can wield a needle with such proclivity." I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed softly and said after a pause, "My sister Cassie used to be a seamstress and I would sometimes help her out if she was-behind in her work."

There was something in his tone that made me want to drop the subject of his sister. I felt that Cassie may not be residing in the land of the living anymore and I didn't want her ghost to darken the mood any further.

"What about you, Leslie?" he asked, expertly changing subjects. "What do you do in your spare time?"

"Well, I'm a social worker." I added, "And artist-well, painter to be precise. I'm afraid I don't habve much free time after that."

Lance stopped sewing to look at me with a puzzled expression. "That's probably about the last thing I expected to hear out of your mouth." he admitted.

I bristled, raised a brow and said, "Why? Because my parents are rich, you expect me to be a trustfund baby until marrying into some other old money family to become a professional trophy wife?" It was a common assumption I've had to deal with.

I had tried not to sound hurt, but from the look on his face, I could tell I didn't fully succeed.

"I'm sorry, I suppose I did make assumptions that you would spend your days getting your hair done and gossiping over long lunches with your girlfriends." he said without taking his eyes off me. I can tell his apology is sincere.

I shrugged it off and admitted, "It's what most people think anyway."I paused and smiled. "I probably deserved for inferring you were a male prostitute." I blushed.

"Disappointed are we?" he said rakishly, returning his attention to the remainder of torn fabric with a smile. All was forgiven it seemed.

"Good God, no!" I said, utterly shocked. "I may have leased you for the night, but I would never presume for you to bed me as part of the purchase." I was beyond embarassed as to where this conversation has led.

"Are you almost done? Im getting quite cold." I inquired, eager to change the subject.

"Hold your horses, woman," he said while clamping the needle between his teeth and grinning at the same time. Oh, to be that needle... "I'm just about finished."

He ended the repair of my dress with a flourish, and I politely applauded.

Craig grinned again as he walked towards me. I looked down shyly as I handed him back his jacket and took the gown from him. I slid the dress back over my skin, trying to ignore the brush of the fabric against my more sensitive parts. Dammit.

Without having to ask, he zipped me back up and I turned around with what I hoped was a lighthearted ta-da pose. He let out one short laugh and bent over to look down at his handiwork.

Lance's eyes roved over my chest as he inspected his work and I felt my n*****s pucker under his gaze. His hand unconsciously roamed over the fabric lightly as he inspected the almost imperceptible seam. My body jerked lightly from his touch and I can't tell if I have n*****s anymore or if they have petrified and fallen off. He pulled his hand away uttering an apology.

Over the rush of blood I could hear in my head, I thought I heard him murmur the word perfect. I assumed he was admiring his mending skills.

I walked a few steps toward the door, trying to clear the air.

The mood had gotten a little intense and I felt his eyes watching me as I shake my long hair out from its chopstick prison. I turned and asked him if he was ready to go.

I found him staring.

"What?" I asked defensively as he watched my curls cascade down to my hips. I shrugged. "The chopsticks gave me a headache and I can easily hide the tear in the dress with my hair if I have to."

Lance continued to stare and slowly moved towards me nodding. He cleared his throat as we stepped towards my bedroom door and out into the hallway.

End of POV