She pushed a few strands of her signature bronze bob from her face as she watched with bemusement the other woman pace the length of rug.  Cammy, or how the rest of the world knows her, Camille/Chameleon, was the nearest thing she had to family. Probably the closest human being she would ever have to daughter, but she was sorely trying her nerves. Talk about role reversal.

 Anjae remembered that late night long ago, when a little kid calmly climbed onto the diner stool next to her.  She raised a brow at the kid, who looked about ten, up that late at night.  When the kid first sat next to her, Anjae cast a quick look around to get an idea of who she was attached to.  It was her coffee break for the evening, so she wasn’t all that concerned about a little kid messing up her pool of dates.  But after time stretched on, she realized that the girl wasn’t attached to anybody, but seemed to be trying to lay some sort of claim on her.

It was a good strategy. Anjae smiled to herself, people on the street was less likely to pick on you if you seemed like you had some protection. But the kid was naive, Anjae worked the corners and prostitutes could offer no protection.  In her business protection laid with pimps and even she wasn’t’ cold hearted enough to steer a child into the path of pimp, even if she knew a few who would pay top dollar for a little girl. The kid sat there and kept her trap shut, pretending that her mouth wasn’t watering with every bite that Anjae took. Finally took Anjae pity on the girl and told the waitress to set her up as well.

 That’s how it went that night. Wherever she moved the kid moved.  When a date picked her up, when she got dropped off, the kid was there.  When she was done for the night, she started walking home in the early morning and damn if that kid wasn’t following a few steps behind.  They never said anything to each other and when she reached home, Anjae didn’t bother with an invitation…she just left the door open. She had to smile to herself when she reached her bedroom door and she heard the front door close softly. It might be nice to have a little company for awhile. It was later when she found out that Cammy was fourteen, it was a given she was a runaway.

  That was how it was with them.  A lot of conversation was never necessary. Cammy was always a self contained little survival capsule.  She did what must be done.  No arguing, no questions, no dithering-just complete commitment to the task at hand. Whatever she had to learn she did it with that scarily, amazing mind of hers.  The kid was pure class.  Someone must have instilled it in her before she found Anjae, but the kid was all about the polish and she sure didn’t find that in Anjae.

 Camille was the authority on all things elegant. She even upgraded Anjae, gone was the spandex and the high heeled Timberlands.  Anjae had to draw the line at the hair.  Her motto had always been, “If it’s was good for Mary J., then it was good enough for me”. She had rocked with MJB since her What’s the 411 days, and she had worked every urban style nuance since then to now.  Just like her idol, stylish shades and platinum hair were always in affect.

Damn she missed the days of some black spandex leggings, combat boots and a Cross Colors Jacket. Doin’ dates had never been so easy.  Anjae took a look at the unreasonably high stilettos she was currently wearing and shook her head with profound regret.

 Her background was strictly John’s, Pimps and Ho’s.  Camille refined their business by renaming everything, clients, date managers and the talent. She even supported it with a high tech computerized system that included intricate checks along the process.  The days of having a car ride up next to you and a girl doing a split second feel for whether he, was a crazies, or worse cop, was long behind them.  That’s her Cammy, turnin’ something as gritty as fucking people for money into something that sounded like they organized debutante fuckin’ cotillions.  It was silly, but the numbers didn’t lie.  Cammy took a thousand dollar a night business to one where Anjae would never have to worry where the rent money was coming from for the rest of her life.  Her girl could give the mafia tips on loyalty. Camille was pure gold.

That’s how the FBI got her.  Not because anything that Cammy did, but because Anjae had a past and Cammy was willing to pay the price.  That was something more that loyalty.  That was some Three Musketeers shit.

Anjae smile wryly to herself. Over the years she had constantly and systematically took Cammy for granted, but she would be damned if she fell into that easy pattern again. She caught her reflection in the huge ornately framed mirror to her right, she was forty and she didn’t mind saying she had held up pretty good. The years hadn’t necessarily been kind, but time and she had more of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” type relationship. Another thing she had thank Camille for. Left to her own devices she would probably be another old, overweight, strung out piece of tail with her best years behind her.  As always, Cammy protected her from that.  Cammy quietly and commandingly protected her from everything. She was really Cammy’s child.

 At this particular moment, Anjae was more than a little freaked out by the call she received earlier that day and by the behavior she was witnessing from her usually calm, cool and collected girl.

 “Anjae?”

 “Yes?”

 “I need you.”

 “I’ll be right there.”

Yea she had known where Camille was the whole time, but she had struck a deal with Carrick.  If she stayed out the way he would do his best to protect her girl. Everything had a price.

 Camille had never expressed a need for anything from Anjae in all the time together.  She had never asked for the roof over her head that Anjae provided.  They just had a silent gentleman’s handshake. All and all, Cammy seemed to have gotten the short end of the stick in that deal anyhow.
 
 Anjae let her head fall back and braced herself against the table she was sitting, as if to brace herself against her failures.  Anjae had been neglectful in attempting to pay back the favor. She was here now and that had to count...hopefully.

 Anjae raised her head and looked at her girl.  She had been there for about an hour and half.  Part of that time Cammy had been practicing with her teacher. Anjae didn’t mind waiting while Camille took her lesson, but was shocked when she heard the old lady fussing at Camille about the session. Apparently Cammy had sucked and was inattentive.  Anjae was stunned, Cammy didn’t bother wasting her time on any activity unless she was reasonably sure she would be pitch perfect and her attention to detail was the kind that would make Leonardo da Vinci weep.

Now, for the last thirty minutes she had been watching Cammy do some form of pacing. Cammy was obviously worked up about something.  She positively vibrated with nervous energy. She looked…agitated.

Camille didn’t do agitated.
 
Camille was usually so still and could be so quiet; that Anjae had often thought it was unnatural. Even when she was smaller, her girl had a pair of eyes that seemed to read others motivation as if they came with a user manual. Her brown irises could be so cold sometimes that it seemed that they had seen so many ugly things that they could only repel light. More times than not she wondered at how Cammy choose her.

Since she been lead into the room, Cammy had barely said two words to her.  Usually Cammy was so far up her ass about the office and her private business she was considering endoscopic surgery to remove her.  This clearly irritated, mumbling, agitated person was so far from her Cammy, she was almost a stranger. Apparently her girl was spinning and now was the time to figure out why.

 Anjae’s eyes continued to follow Camille while she circled the room for yet another lap and muttered something under her breath.

Anjae narrowed her eyes.  Cammy  would never be caught dead muttering.  It wasn’t classy.

As she watched, Cammy abruptly change directions and seemed confused about how to go in a circle in the opposite direction, Anjae heaved a huge sigh.  She had enough of this weird Cammy, it was time to put a stop to her using this gorgeous bedroom as a track field.

 “Cam, you called me.  I came and went through a lot of Mission Impossible gyrations to make it through the front damn door.  Isn’t it about time to tell me whasup?

 Camille suddenly stood still as if she just realized someone was in the room with her.  A crease appeared along her forehead as she turned toward the older woman in the room, and her eyes lowered into slivers. Bad sign.

 Camille crossed her arms against her chest, “You knew I have been here this whole time. Didn’t you? I get into real trouble and you let me rot here?” She accused.

 Anjae her eyes widened at the woman who seemed to be doing an extemporaneous scene from Sixteen Candles. “ Dramatic much?

“Well first of all, you are hardly rotting.” She paused to acknowledge the extravagance around them. The guys at Riker’s Island could give you a little tutorial about what rotting really looks like.

Cammy rolled her eyes at her.  Her Cammy never rolled her eyes. She chose to ignore it.

“Second, Yes I knew where you were.  When you disappeared in Florida I was frantic.  I was used every contact I had to get a lead on what happened.” Anjae knew her next words would get a reaction, “I even called “E”.  Then Carrick Caudwell stepped into my office.”

A sudden stillness descended on the room. “You called Ettore” Camille asked.

Anjae tried to hide her annoyance, she hated that hitch in Camille’s voice whenever Ettore Leonardo Marone was the topic of conversation.  Anjae was also indebted to him, but he was Camille’s other Achilles heel.  He was a snake, with the whole Garden o f Eden at his disposal.  One had to give him credit though; he was smart enough to always have a ripe, red apple to lead anyone into all manner of nonsense. 

She watched Camille turn and head to the enormous windows that framed the room. Anjae knew what Camille was staring at did not exist in the view she was appreciating. Camille was like the Pied Piper when it came to men, they were always instantly intrigued by her. It was great for business and Cammy always worked it to her advantage.  But it was always only Ettore that she had eyes for.

“He knew I was missing?” Camille asked quietly, still staring through the mirror.

Anjae slid off the table she was sitting on and took two steps to her friend.  “Please tell me you are not still hung up on the gangster? Besides being way too old for you,’E’ is incapable of giving you the love you deserve.”

This was an age old argument of theirs.  Camille turned from the window and regarded her old friend with tear filled eyes. “I don’t love him.” Camille pursed her lips at Anjae looks of complete disbelief and tried to be more precise. “I mean not like that.” She smiled at her silliness.  “But I always thought if I was in any real trouble, he would be there.  I thought he would be my fail safe.”

Ettore was worse than a pimp in Anjae’s estimation. Unlike any pimp she ever knew, his nature was camouflaged with a thick layer of patience and calculation.  When Camille came into her life she didn’t know what to do with her, but Ettore did. At the time Anjae was grateful, he did for Camille things that she could not conceive of. As a child, he put Cammy into expensive schools and made sure that she did not suffer any disadvantage.   But years later Anjae understood that he was just designing an intricate web.  A web that was so silken, Camille didn’t understand its durability and strength. Ettore bided the years in his efforts to seduce Camille into the ultimate belief that her best interests were served by satisfying his greed and ambition. But there is a price to be paid for generosity. Camille was still paying, whether she had finally figured it out or not.

Anjae moved so that she could draw Camille into her arms, while she whispered in her ear.  “I’m on to some real estate that’s for sale.  It’s in Brooklyn.  It’s a bridge, but it has possibilities.” She’d waited for this day to dawn, but she didn’t believe it for a moment.

Camille laughed. “No, really, I’m over my crush on Ettore, I managed to find even bigger problems.” She wiped the tears from her face. “You said Carrick came to the office? You knew who he was?”

She must be joking. “Camille I might not read five newspapers a day like you, but you can best believe when one of the richest men in the world walks into my office …I’m going to recognize him.  You can bet cash money on that.” Her blond weave waving in assurance. “He is one that doesn’t play any games.” She gave a wry look as she remembered the intensity he immediately brought to the meeting. His flickering golden eyes seemed to look through her.

Camille stepped out of Anjae arms, snorted and mumbled, “Little do you know, he is a virtual Hasbro factory.”

   Anjae was again startled by the unladylike sound uttered by her friend but continued. “He made a deal, if I would stop calling attention to the situation by calling every low life I knew to figure out what happened to you and stayed away, he would make sure that you were protected. 

She looked at her friend, sister, daughter as a bevy of emotion filled her chest. “Honey, it was pretty obvious he didn’t care for me much, but I made a call…I believed he could keep you safe.  Something in his eyes told me he was invested in making sure you were okay.”  She added a self depreciation laugh as she touched a thin line that skirted the edges of Camille’s hair line. Four weeks ago that scar didn’t exist. “God knows I haven’t had a great track record in protecting you, but maybe that’s the trick.  If I stayed away, someone else could do better.”

Camille smiled, her eyes softening and tearing again. “When I hand no one in the world, you stepped up. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Then you’re a fool.” Anjae replied a bit too sharply.  What kind of woman leads a fourteen old into this life?” the older woman replied.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Camille asked impatiently. “I made a choice, at the age of consent, I may add.”Camille quickly shook her head as if to dismiss the topic and let her finger run along the line of foot board, finally grasping the bedpost and allowing her head to rest against it. “It wasn’t all bad.  It just got crazy near the end.”

“God, your blind loyalty just doesn’t stop does it?” Anjae continue to argue. “ I knew what was waiting for you on the streets. You probably should have tried your luck at another foster home. You could have found a decent family and you could be a teacher, or playing that piano at Lincoln Center…something other than almost getting killed protecting me.

Camille almost got whiplash trying to turn to Anjae.

“Yea, I know about that.  Carrick made sure I knew that you almost got killed because of me. “It wasn’t just a date gone bad, was it?”

“That son of a bitch!” Camille bit out. Anjae dodged Camille as the young woman began to stalk out another turn around her invisible track.  “Carrick has a bigger mouth than…” Suddenly Camille stopped again and looked around like she was trying to gather inspiration. “You know what, no one has a bigger mouth that Carrick-he’s got a bigger mouth than anybody or anything in this world.”

Uh Oh…

Now Anjae could figure out what has been bothering her about Camille. This was more emotion that she had seen Camille show in all the years she had known her. She asked Cammy slowly, “What the hell has been going on?”

She was prepared to wait her girl out. Cammy could stonewall someone better than the Pentagon.  So she was completely taken by surprise when Cammy just let it all spill out, from when she first meet Malcolm, to when to she was introduced to Carrick following with what happened between Cammy and Carrick just a few hours earlier. Well, Damnit! Maybe Camille was actually over Ettore’s old ass.  Anjae smiled wide.

As Camille and Anjae were commiserating together, Carrick was in this office, the house’s library, pretending like he was getting some work done.  He was really trying to figure out, for the thousandth time, how he had gotten into this mess. It was her.  Just when he thought they were coming to some quiet understanding, some type mutually beneficial coexistence had been established-her multiple personality disorder reared its ugly head.

He had to grin to himself as he recalled the look on her face as he left her in the hallway, earlier in the day. He had to admit it was exhilarating going head to head with her and deliver an unmistakable message that he would not be played or handled. He was pretty confident that she had gotten the point.

He gave up on work as he pushed his chair away from the desk. 

Until today they had really been getting along so well.

Mal had been gone for almost a month.  The separation was killing Carrick, but he and Camille had fallen in to a fairly comfortable pattern.  Over the weeks she had gained much of her strength in her legs, she could get around pretty well. He usually worked during the day in the library and she developed her own routine around the house. They sometimes had lunch together where she would find him and they would talk over the meal. Sometimes they talked about a book she found in the library, world politics, or history. She seemed to know a bit about everything.  Her remarks were always well thought out and when she debated with him she looked him in the eye, defended her points to the end, giving no ground, but was willing to listen to another point of view. 

Carrick slightly shifted his position in his chair as he recalled Camille and that look of quiet intensity she gave when she was making a point.  Carrick caught himself often not having clue what she was saying because he was staring at her lips so intently.

Once, he had even founding her reading some notes Mal sent him on improving Stanley’s recent marketing campaign. Carrick hadn’t realized that he had left the documents on his desk. He was annoyed at her snooping, but she completely ignored his pique and asked such pointed questions about the marketing strategy that she improved upon Mal’s suggestions and gave Carrick ideas about what his company was looking for in the future. During their daily conversations, he learned that she had studied within some of the most prestigious schools in the world and knew several languages. She was an astounding woman with a sharp mind.  He was beginning to understand better why Mal was so entranced.

Then sometimes she let him get a glimpse into her soul.

The music room was her haven. He had never spent that much time in that particular room as a child, but watching her play made that room come alive.  After the first week she had convinced him to call Jake so that he could remove her cast and replace a more maneuverable solution. The replacement gave her the stability she needed for her broken forearm, but allowed her more range of motion for her wrist and fingers. She played as if each note was a string to her heart. Camille bent and molded each note so that the melody was at her command calling forth emotion that was only hinted at on the sheet paper. Within that room he saw other facets of her personality.  She was tenacious, patient, a workhorse, and almost unbearably poignant.

He knew she played pretty well, that first dinner at the Jazz club had proved that, but watching her coax notes from the piano pulled at the deepest places inside him, humbled him.  There began another ritual between them.  In the evening, after dinner with the lights turned low, he would quietly find his usual seat while he watched the halo of light that seemed to surround her. Camille would obviously become lost in her own world. After a few evenings of his quiet observance, she turned directly to him with a shy smile, and asked for a request. The simplicity of the moment almost blew him away.  She had seemed for a moment young, shy and unsure. The moment seemed charged with a kaleidoscope of varying emotions as racked his brain for an appropriate song. It came to him suddenly. She gave him a small smile before she turned to the piano and began to play the melody, with a measured pace, putting emphasis in places that he had never considered, she began to sing:

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you...
And the way you look tonight.

She was broke his heart by just playing the bare notes.  Her musicality was astonishing and her voice was tender. Some time, soon after she finished his selection, he felt the need to leave, let her have the time to herself.  Something about her playing seemed a little too much like opening someone’s private journal and reading it.  But he would never forget what she looked like and how he felt, that evening… in her halo.

But that didn’t stop her from attempting to do whatever the hell she wanted.

Just when he thought that they had come to a quiet understanding-she would follow his rules-she blew that all apart when he was introduced to the Russian piano master.   The older woman was as slight as a wafer and had midnight colored hair retrained in a tight bun. Her skin was devoid of enhancement, except for dark mascara and a harsh line color to define blood red lips. The added color wasn’t a concession toward attractiveness, but seemed more like a political statement.

Throughout their introduction, the woman kept her lips pursed, as if she smelled something that was slightly off, but was too well bred to remark upon it. The older lady looked at him from the piano bench coldly while he lead Camille several steps away to question her regarding whether it was a good idea bringing outsiders into the house, especially without getting his permission first. He could have sworn that the severe looking teacher had sucked her teeth at him while he waited for Camille’s response. He chose to ignore the old lady-she would be on her way out soon enough.

 Camille looked at him, with a stark honesty, a look he was beginning to associate with her whenever a piano was involved.

“I need this.”Her eyes plead for his understanding.

Carrick was about to respond when he was abruptly cutoff. Apparently the instructor’s ears were as sharp as child’s.

The woman didn’t bother to pretend that she wasn’t eavesdropping or even consider the courtesy of standing while she began her rant. “Have you ever heard her play?” The woman didn’t bother waiting for his response. “She is brilliant! One of the best students I have.  And you want to what? Lock her up? For how long?” The woman sniffed with an expression of disgust.  “It is bad enough that she has completely gone off schedule with her practice and she has broken her arm, but you want to…what?  Cut out her heart?

Would anybody like a bottle of Rude with a chaser of Melodramatic? Carrick thought he might be able to get a word in edgewise.  He tried to respond to at least one of her questions.
 
Wrong again.

The old lady seemed to just have worked up a good lather. “You would think a smart man would know what a jewel he has, but you just want her for what-some kind of sexy games? I will stay.  Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 does not learn itself.”  She nodded to herself in agreement. The woman beckoned Camille to sit next to her on the piano bench, but with her words she seemed to plant herself even farther into the seat.  It was clear if he tried to move this steel magnolia, he better find an army. The instructor continued, throwing a carless arm at the piano. “She has much ground to recover.” The master had a steely glint in her eye, as she looked at him contemplatively. “Even if she has only one hand to do it with.”

Luckily, his money could buy armies, and mouthy little old ladies…he ate them for dinner.  Carrick was just about to provide some clarification regarding the revocation of the teacher’s guest status in his house, when Camille again looked at him from the piano bench, as demure as a school girl, with no trace of guile, and uttered the words that cut him to the quick.

 “Please Carrick.”

It was a sucker’s punch.  Her looking at him like that made him want to give her anything she needed, wanted, or cared for. After that look, all he could manage was a quick nod and he left knowing that he would probably regret it later.

It looked like this was later.

He looked out one of the windows of his office into the burgeoning evening.
 
Clearly, she had been pushing her advantage ever since.  The personal trainer/dance instructor arrived soon after the piano lessons began.  He didn’t bother to try to put an end to that. Besides he would’ve had to hire a physical therapist to help regain her full range of motion anyway.  She actually saved him a few steps.  He just dutifully made sure that the requisite background checks were performed.

One thing he would say about Camille is that she paid and worked with the best. The Russian piano master, or mad woman, had the reputation of only working with the most accomplished musicians in the country and Camille had her coming to the house every day for the past two weeks like she was the local keyboard teacher from around the way. The personal trainer worked with some of the hottest entertainment acts in the country, still these people seemed to be at her beck and call and devoted to her.

Carrick shook his head  in wonder and allowed himself a little sigh as he tried to contemplate how he lost control of the situation with her, again. It just brought home how his quiet little life with Mal had just been perfect.

The final straw was what happened between him and Camille today.

He would be the first to admit that dealing with the situation in store rooms housed in the estate’s cellars was a bit tricky.  It would be best if the Federal authorities didn’t know that the guests currently gracing his basement were in the United States,so he might be a bit on edge. There was also the minor point that he had a company to run and he wanted to make a quick check on Camille, since he was an early riser and always left her in the bed before he started his morning workout. So he was rushing up the stairs to get on a conference about a company he was in the final stages of taking over when he  emerged onto the first floor of the house and had the misfortune of running right into Camille Carrick wasn’t very good at covert; “in your face” was much more his style. Thank the gods John had remembered handed him some cover, a bottle of wine.

As he managed a smooth side-step to avoid impact, she asked, “Are you an alcoholic?” She squinted up at him as if she was looking for evidence of red rimmed eyes.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I’ve caught you at this door at least three times this week, each time with a bottle in your hand. “ She eyes seemed to run over his body, stopping at his hard pecs, directly in her line of site. “You always seemed like, ‘my body is my temple’ type of guy.”

As usual, she wasn’t making any sense, but she was beautiful while she talked absolute rubbish. Wait a minute. In one glance he took in her long, asymmetrical skirt, which provided a little more than the mere suggestion of the long legs that it covered. Of course she was in her basic black, still the outfit was set off by highly polished, gleaming, high heeled riding styled boots.  She looked like she was ready to go out and the three inch, heeled boots weren’t doing her injured legs any favors. Carrick’s eyes narrowed. “Camille, why are you dressed like that?”
 
“Carrick?” She warned as she gently pulled at her black, cashmere, tightly fitted sweater. “I thought I would upgrade today from sweats.”  She stepped from him and moved to turn and walk away, as if the matter was resolved.

Au Contraire Mamacita. “Hold up right there. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

The change in her was instantaneous and dramatic. Her eyes glittered with sensuous heat and her body suddenly seemed loose limbed as she turned back and slowly moved closer to him, everything about her promised all the ways that she could be a gentleman’s playground. She practically purred when she responded to him. “You certainly don’t look like you were born yesterday.” She stopped when she was about a foot away from him and she let her hand rest so that it lightly cupped his left pectoral.

Carrick could almost imagine that they were at a taping of one of those late night talk shows and the sign above Camille’s heard read “Playing You” instead of “Applause.”  She was getting sloppy and just  plain obvious.

But  feigned sexual stimulation was still stimulation, and Mal had been gone way too long. Carrick couldn’t help himself but bend his head, as his eyes tracked her thumb while she naughtily traced her thumb across and around his nipple. With her every brush of his pebbled protrusion, he felt an answering construction in his chest. He leaned into her hand to increase the rough play of the fabric of his shirt against his chest. Before he tried to speak, he fought to curb the answering throb in his groin that also kept rhythm to exquisite play of her fingers. Suddenly he felt her fingers brush his chin, then pull him in closer.

“Wow, I really am not going to like whatever is on your mind, if you are willing to act like you would fuck me to get it.” He whispered into the inches that separated their lips.

He had to give it to her. Once he called her out on her act, he expected her give it up, or at least look a little sheepish.  Instead she stared at his lips for a moment and seemed to calculate her chances if she continued with the farce. For a moment he would have sworn that she had concluded that she a chance of beating the house when she stepped closer, letting her lips skimmed the edges of his.

“I have to leave the house tonight.  Do me a favor and don’t be difficult.” She whispered against his mouth.

As big as the house surrounding  them was, in that moment the universe existed of the millimeters that were separating their bodies.

It was evident that their interaction with each other was always going to have some control issues.  So Carrick through it was best that he made his standards clear, in a language with which she was clearly adept. He pulled her roughly against him, while still holding the bottle of wine.  Somewhere in his consciousness, he knew he had let the swell of the bottle lay against the depression between the globes of her ass. Just to show her who’s boss, he let the bottle slide, firmly, slowly up and down a time, or two, maybe three-just to make sure she was picking up what he was laying down.   He watched her eyes widen with surprise and felt her body push against his, with every pull against her body. He knew the moment she felt every inch of his desire.  Despite their clothes he could imagine the lips of her pussy cradling his cock.  Her eyes suddenly fluttered closed, then flashed wide again.

Good, he hoped she was sopping wet.  It would serve her right if that hot little channel between her legs was weeping for him.

  Carrick didn’t want to give her a moment to collect herself; in a strange, taunting tango styled step he walked her backward until her back was pushed against the wall. He pressed her there, so she had no room to move. He managed to put the oblong bottle on a side table before he slid his hands against the sides of her face and pulled her into a bruising kiss. 

It was so easy, he almost felt silly when her mouth seemed to fall open.  At first he nipped at her lips and the sides of her mouth silently cautioning her about playing with fire.  When he felt her arms grab at the material against his waist, he was almost undone.  His tongue began to berate her, licking and lapping at the moist heat of that orifice, admonishing her that her feminine wiles and games will never, ever, work on him. Then his tongue found hers, and he sucked it, as he dreamt about sucking another protrusion that existed between another set of hidden lips on her body. 

Carefully, deliberately, willfully, he explained how this thing would be between them and that her paltry attempts at sexual manipulation had no place with him. It felt so good to finally be able to freely touch her.  He had reigned in his desire for her for a long time and now he let loose.  He let he hands drag themselves through her hair, busily pulling out the pins that held it up from her neck. By the time he was through acquainting himself with its texture and fragrance, her loose chignon was hanging like a drunken sailor. But since she’d offered her considerable assets, he didn’t mind taking full advantage. Finally, he decided to end his little training session with a brief synopsis of all his previous points and then he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around this waist and allowed his long, thick length to grind against her soft center. It was an afterthought, but she really needed to be warned that, while she slept, if she kept pushing her ass right up against his damned cock at night, like it was the last heat source in the surrounding area… Well, she might just get fucked.

Silently, he stared into her eyes while he delivered each point of his soundless sermon. Carefully, he released her legs and smirked as they dropped listless from his firm grip. Camille looked a little dazed as he pulled himself from her body and leaned heavily against her. His chest seemed to trace the outline of her breast as he grabbed the wine bottle.  He let loose a little chuckle as she moaned, when he reached between them, with his free hand and pointedly allowed her nipple to roll between his fingers, giving it a pull for good measure. He bent down as if to take yearning piece of flesh into his mouth, through her clothing.  Then he abruptly stopped as her body bowed into his mouth and looked into her eyes as if to say…Psyche!

Camille groaned in frustration as she clutched at the wall to try to keep herself upright.  At that moment her body had a mind of its own and her shameless breasts fairly tried to rip themselves out of their confinement to make more contact with his body.  He had deliberately rubbed against her body to pick up that damn bottle of wine…he was just wrong for that.  At that particular moment she couldn’t talk, but she was still had a little sign language left in her.  Camille gave him the single finger salute.

Carrick looked down at her. “I know you want to fuck me.  Too bad I’m just not that into you.”

Carrick laughed as he turned to walk toward the library.  Finally, he got around to responding to her earlier statement. “NO. FUCKING. WAY-you stay here!” Despite turning her out, he was clearly pissed. She watched his back as he waved the bottle at her.  The ass had the nerve to whistle as he made his way down the hall.

*
Now, hours later, there she was baring her soul to Anjae in a way she never had before. The thought had never occurred to her to release in front of Anj before.  Frankly, Anj needed more caring for than she did.  But Camille needed someone.  Someone who knew her well enough.

 She felt out of control and she needed someone’s help to reign herself back in. She had no idea why she baited Carrick earlier today.  That was stupid. After she finished talking she waited for Anj to say something.

In the silence Anjae made her pronouncement.  “So you tried tricks. Now, why don’t you try truth.?”

While Cammy had relayed all the twist and turns that had been taken in her life since she had met Malcolm and Carrick, Camille finally ended her walking tour of the room and settled in a chair.  Unconsciously, as she told her story, she alternated with playing with her fingers.  A few times Anjae watched as the Cammy knees seemed to turn into themselves, like a young woman uncomfortable with the new assets suddenly sprung from her body, seemingly overnight. The change in Cammy was remarkable, she was never awkward, even at the age when she should have been.

 “Anjae, what are you talking about?”Camille asked with irritation.  She needed advice not riddles.

“You are falling for them.  Hell, you’ve probably fell already. I know that any woman in her right mind would’ve already. But you, “Ms. Control Freak” has decided to run scared.”

Camille ran her hand tiredly through her hair. “You don’t know what you are talking about”

“Honey, I might not be able to spend long evenings talking to men about the futures market and how pork bellies will rise in the next quarter, but I know a little something about loving someone.” A little nostalgic smile played upon Anjae lips.

Camille looked up a little more interested.

“And No, this is not an opportunity for you to try to get all up in my business.  Honey you’ve got to finally stop running. You can build the biggest business possible, continue to have relationships with men that are really just financial transaction, and you can keep hiding from yourself, and make sure that everyone you care about only depend on you, yet never expect the same loyalty in retrun. But that won’t keep you safe, it won’t protect you. Anjae walked over to Cammy, sat on the arm of the chair and put an arm around her.

These guys are finally people who you can depend on.  Who are willing to take care of you, but the exchange is that you are going to have to let them in.

Camille shook her head trying to dismissing what Anjae was trying to get her to admit. “Carrick’s not in love with me.  He barely tolerates me.”

“Why are smart people always so stupid.” Anjae seemed to ask the room. 

Not waiting for it, or its ghosts, to answer she continued. “If he isn’t half way in love with you, he would be the first male specimen who has managed immunity to you that I’ve ever met.  The difference with him is that he is unwilling to put up with your bullshit and he probably also wants to protect Malcolm from getting hurt.”

“I would never hurt Malcolm. I’ve told already told him that.”

Anjae was really trying to work with her girl.  But Really!  “I’m sure your word is bond, but how the hell would he know that? Based on what you have told me this afternoon, you all have pretty much been all over the map.”

Just whose side was she on anyway? Camille cast Anj a dirty look.

Anjae caught it, but again decided to ignore it. “I am always on your side. But this is too important for me to fluff it up for you.”

Anjae turned to make sure Camille was looking at her and brushed the younger woman’s hair from her face. “From what you have told me y’all have been all over the place.  Now, when you had some time to get to know each other you actually let him in a bit.  But today you decided to remind him exactly what you do. Why?”

Camille’s eyes veered somewhere to the left of Anjae face, “I wanted to see the kids. Tonight is their opening and I wanted to make sure that I was there.  Carrick has been controlling every move I make so I thought I could change his mind about me leaving the house.”

“You better get real really quick.” Anjae didn’t believe that explanation for a minute. “Cammy, you’ve had people in and out of here.  Hell, I’m here! From what you have told me it’s like Grand Central Station, and now you are suddenly worried about him saying ‘no’ now.  You have already proven, when asked properly he will pretty much do anything you want.  Maybe the question you should be asking is why you came at him like he was a John earlier today? If you were looking for an excuse to turn him into the big bad wolf, and he indulged you, why are you still here?

“I…”Anjae didn’t bother to wait for her to finish.

“Let me clear it up for you. You don’t want to go, but you are too scared to stay because you are falling in love with him. Unlike every other man you know, he’s not going to let you have control and he ain’t going to follow you around like puppy.

“Congrats Camille you didn’t just get yourself just one man, you found two…now whatcha gonna do?”

Camille seemed lost. “I can’t be in love with him.  I barely know him.”

“Anjae took pity on her.  “When the right people meet it doesn’t take some complicated formula, or any prescribe period of time for the love to be there.  Cammy they saved your life. He has been by your side ever since.  Yes, he may be fulfilling an obligation to Mal, but he could have put you in some private hospital somewhere.  You forced the issue with the nurse and he took up the slack, calmed your fears at night, became your companion and had your back.  That’s a pretty heady mix.” She looked at Camille intently.

“So Whatcha gonna do?” Anjae looked into terrified eyes.

Smart people are just so slow.  Anjae swung in front of Cammy and took hand in hers, then gave her the answer.

“Stop the tricks and try the truth.”