Chapter Six

It seemed so strange to watch Sandro stand in line for food, when he could just snap his finger and make food appear before them. Rhylie clutched the salt shaker at the small table where she sat, her eyes glued on the man who’d professed his undying love for her, despite the fact they’d only just met.

Love at first sight was a myth, just like… Just like what, Rhylie, like djinn? She glanced back at where he stood, talking to the waitress in the fish and chips shop. Since they were in the area, he’d decided a trip to London was in order, for her to visit the British Museum and see the Rosetta Stone, the busts of Roman art, and the Seal Burse of Elizabeth I, among other things.

She’d listened with interest as he discussed the items in the Roman exhibits, talking about the busts, the coins, jewelry and cups and how they were used. She knew most of the things, but hearing him tell it, and knowing he’d been around to see the beginnings of many of the items, and had used some of them, made the trip that much more fascinating.

At the Egyptian exhibits, she’d recited facts about the Rosetta Stone, telling him of its discovery by French troops in 1799, and how it had been used to decipher hieroglyphs. Then she’d laughed and leaned in to whisper. “You probably already know those things, don’t you? Since you were around, then.”

“It’s better to hear you tell it,” he’d replied. “I never tire of the sound of your beautiful voice.”

It was the words as much as the tone of his voice that produced a full body shiver then. He’d pulled her into his arms, kissing her with an intensity that had curled her toes. The people around them had chuckled, and she’d blushed profusely, her hands clutching his sweater, afraid to look into his eyes for fear she would tell him she never wanted to lose him.

All things came to an end, even affairs with magical djinn who assumed they would be together for the rest of her life. Of course, the rest of her life would be much different from the rest of his, wouldn’t it? That thought had given her pause.

Her body would give out in less than one hundred years, and she’d already lived thirty of them, hadn’t she? What would happen then? Would Sandro be thankful for the time they had together and move on to some other woman he felt destined to love? Or, worse yet, when she grew older, and he stayed the same, would his “undying love,” really die?

“Never.” His voice sounded in her head, and she jerked her gaze toward where he stood at the counter, patiently waiting for their food. “You really must learn not to question things so much, la mia stella.”

His little star. Was that really how he saw her? No one had ever used a term of endearment for her before. Her parents, both of them scientists, had raised her to believe that human emotions were flawed and not to be trusted. She knew they didn’t really like each other very much, though they stayed married because it was easier that way.

Her one attempt at romance had proven them right, and she’d shied away from love. Until now. Of course, she didn’t love him, did she? Her body craved him, craved the pleasure he could give. But, love was an emotion people thought they felt, something that made them feel better, made them feel wanted. It wasn’t real, just a fantasy.

“I thought we’d go to the National Gallery,” Sandro said, setting a newspaper full of fish and chips in front of her. He reached for the vinegar and pushed it toward her. “Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“I love Rubens’ Sampson and Delilah, and Van Gogh, of course. The Sunflowers are beautiful.” He sprinkled vinegar on his fish then took a healthy bite. “They have da Vinci and Monet, too. All the paintings are quite stunning.”

She stared at her fish, then looked at him in wonder. “It’s really wrapped in newspaper.” His grin made her blush.

“This restaurant does it for show, really. If you’ll notice it’s really wrapped in white parchment.”

“Yes, at first the newspaper helped keep the food warm.” She laughed, then took a drink from her cup. “You knew that already, though.”

After dousing her fish with vinegar, she tore off a small chunk and nibbled on it. “Where are we going next? After the museum?”

“Well, I’ve found a pleasant way for us to spend the evening, fashioned after a fantasy I saw buried deep in your subconscious. After that, it’s up to you. What else would you like to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

She knew a few things she wanted to do, truly, but her mind was having trouble getting past the “deep in your subconscious” remark. Had she fantasized about something subconsciously? Or had she pushed something away in her mind as being “too weird,” or “just too far gone?”

Of course, after years of listening to Cassidy talk about her sex life, anything could have planted itself inside her mind. It could just be something she retained that Cassidy said. It didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to do it. Did it? Cassidy was bold and adventurous, taking many different lovers and trying out new things, something Rhylie had never done. Maybe at some point she’d been more than a little fascinated by one of Cassidy’s stories, and had actually thought about living it out.

But, it wasn’t something she would ever do, not something she would have the fortitude to go through with. The desire, maybe, but she would chicken out in the end, she knew it.

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve planned?”

“No.” He popped the last of a piece of fish in his mouth, then doctored the other one before taking a huge bite. “But you’re going to love it, I promise.”

* * * *

Rhylie tried to put the idea in the back of her mind as they toured the National Gallery. Seeing all the beautiful paintings had been absolutely fascinating. She wanted to do more than look, though, she wanted to run her fingers over the canvases, wanted to feel the paint the actual artists had used to create the masterpieces in front of her.

“Such talent,” she said. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have talent.”

“You’ve got a different sort of talent.” Sandro gently stroked her thigh. They were standing in front of The Virgin of the Rocks, and Rhylie marveled at the color and the artistry involved in the painting.

“He did it all,” she said softly. “He was a scientist, a painter, a mathematician. His talents and his curiosities were unbridled.”

She turned suddenly to Sandro. “Did you know him?”

“I met him, yes, in Rome.” His gaze fastened on the painting and she could see a little bit of regret in his look. He continued to study the painting as he spoke. “He was a fascinating man, always in motion, always creating and doing. He was filled with a fire to live life to its fullest. I was young, though, and didn’t appreciate what, or who, I was seeing at the time. It was a missed opportunity that I regret. I was more interested in physical pleasures then.”

“So things haven’t changed, hum?” She loved the frown that appeared on his face, his brows drawing together and his mouth tightening just a little. “Well, you did go down on me the first time we met.”

“Is that a complaint? Because if it is, then I didn’t do it right, and we’ll have to try again. Right here. Right now.” He pulled her into his arms, cupping the back of her head and kissing her with an intensity that made the woman next to them gasp in feigned horror, but Rhylie could tell she was really impressed, and wishing it was she in the handsome djinni’s arms.

You think you like it, sister. Rhylie moaned as Sandro’s tongue delved into her mouth, sending her into a whirlwind of emotions. It felt so good, so right. And yet they were in public, and people were watching. Rhylie pushed against his chest.

“Behave,” she managed to whisper, her chest heaving with her excited breathing. He made her burn with just one touch, one kiss.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“People are watching.” Her nipples tingled against her lacy bra, begging for his touch. Between her thighs her clit throbbed, remembering the pleasures this man could bring.

“You like that idea,” he whispered in her ear. “My beautiful, practical scientist is excited by the fact that a woman is watching, and wishes she could take your place in my arms. But she can’t. The only one I want to hold is you.”

He was right, she knew. The idea of being watched was thrilling, to say the least.

“Yes it is, for us, too,” he whispered in her ear. “The djinn who held you Saturday all wanted to take my place, all wanted a taste of you. If given the chance, they would have brought you to orgasm, one by one, their tongues sliding over your clit, under my watchful eye, of course, since you’re mine.”

The image made Rhylie shiver, and she clasped her hands in his sweater, his hair brushing against her hands. “Sandro.”

“Yes, you like that idea. I know.” His words hit her like a ball of fire, and suddenly she remembered the story Cassidy had told her that had peaked Rhylie’s interest so much, what had fascinated her and titillated her with its naughtiness and taboo nature. She’d told her friend it was terrible, that she should be ashamed of participating in such a thing, but secretly Rhylie had wished it had been her. And now, it seemed as if it would be.

Flames shot up in every corner of the room, licking the ceiling and filling the room with heat. Around her, the people continued to gaze at the paintings, except for the one woman who watched her, envy written all over her face.

“Sandro.” He stepped away, dropping her hand and licking his lips.

“I will see you very soon, la mia stella. Don’t be late.” He disappeared and Rhylie shivered at the sudden lack of heat. Around her, no one seemed to notice he was gone. The woman who’d been staring at her now focused her attention on a painting.

Rhylie swallowed hard, wondering what she was supposed to do next. He’d told her not to be late. Was she supposed to search the museum for him, or was she supposed to wish for something.

No, she’d already done that. She’d done it without even realizing it. Panic swept through her at what he’d seen in her mind. But, he hadn’t seemed to care, or thought she was strange. After all, it was one of the most popular sexual fantasies for women, wasn’t it? Sex with more than one man at a time, and sex with a stranger. Except here one of the men wouldn’t be a stranger. It would be Sandro.

Or would it? Would he participate, or would he sit by the sidelines and watch? The thought thrilled her, and she wondered what it said about her ever practical mind. And she wondered exactly what he would do, how he would handle the situation.

The room seemed to grow colder and Rhylie hugged herself, surprised when her hands met bare arms instead of the sweater she’d been wearing. She looked down at herself, shock running through her like wildfire.

A skimpy erotic maid’s outfit replaced her jeans and sweater. The tight top barely contained her breasts, her nipples pushing against the silky black fabric. One false move and they would pop free. She traced her fingers over the lace of the apron, running her hand down to the skirt. Numerous lacy petticoats lifted the skirt out, almost as if she were wearing a tutu, a very short one that is. It barely covered her crotch. If she moved at all, she would be exposed for every person in the room to see.

But she wasn’t in the museum anymore. She stood on a huge stone stairway, like one you’d find in a French chateau. It was huge, and seemed wide enough to park a car inside. She took a step up, and then another. With each step she took columns of flames appeared behind her, consuming where she’d come from, leaving nowhere for her to go but up.

Nowhere for her to go but to Sandro, who would light her fire yet again.