Like a Fly on the Wall Read online

  Dedication

  Like a Fly on the Wall is dedicated to my mother, Velma Gordon-Kelly. Although she is now one of heaven’s angels, I’m sure she is smiling down at me. She knew writing was my passion and always supported my creativity even as a child. I am so happy that she was alive when I first started developing this book. I read some scenes to her when it was still just a raw idea. She loved the main character, Jacques, but I left out the R-rated scenes. Ha! Mom, please don’t read those. I love and miss you so much.

  Rest in peace, Mommy.

  Also, I would like to dedicate this book to Edna Gordon, my grandma, whom I never had the pleasure to meet, but she lives on in my smile.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Jacques

  Chapter 2: Jacques

  Chapter 3: Jacques

  Chapter 4: Kylie

  Chapter 5: Jacques

  Chapter 6: Kylie

  Chapter 7: Kylie

  Chapter 8: Jacques

  Chapter 9: Kylie

  Chapter 10: Jacques

  Chapter 11: Kylie

  Chapter 12: Kylie

  Chapter 13: Jacques

  Chapter 14: Kylie

  Chapter 15: Jacques

  Chapter 16: Kylie

  Chapter 17: Jacques

  Chapter 18: Kylie

  Chapter 19: Jacques

  Chapter 20: Kylie

  Chapter 21: Jacques

  Chapter 22: Kylie

  Chapter 23: Jacques

  Chapter 24: Jacques

  Chapter 25: Kylie

  Chapter 26: Jacques

  Chapter 27: Kylie

  Chapter 28: Kylie

  Chapter 29: Jacques

  Chapter 30: Kylie

  Chapter 31: Jacques

  Chapter 32: Kylie

  Chapter 33: Jacques

  Chapter 34: Kylie

  Chapter 35: Jacques

  Chapter 36: Jacques

  Acknowledgments

  P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . . * About the Author

  About the Book

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  You would think that by now I would know how to choose the perfect one. Holding it in my hands, examining and slowly squeezing it. I wasn’t exactly sure what the guidelines were for picking pears. I looked around for a grocery store clerk who could help. The only people in my path were busy moms rushing to get dinner and two college kids with a cart full of frozen pizza and six-packs of beer. That’s when I saw her.

  Her eyes were what drew me in first—gentle yet intense. Flawless olive skin, full lips, and dark, long hair. Everyone else in the aisle disappeared from my view. All I noticed was her. She wore a mid-length pencil skirt that teased, giving me a sneak preview of her shapely legs. She had only a few items in her cart, along with a briefcase. She tossed her hair over one shoulder as we made eye contact, but to my disappointment she made a sharp turn down the paper and tissue aisle instead of cruising toward me.

  I had an inkling she would be headed my way soon, though. So I waited a few minutes while humming along with the Billy Joel song that played softly over the supermarket speakers, still stumped on the pears.

  Then there she was. I have never seen a shopping cart pushed so seductively. She forced me to watch her. She pushed the cart slowly, stopping, then turning around to read the ingredients on a bottled salad dressing. Finally, she glanced at me. I caught a slight grin across her face. She continued to play coy and bagged some Red Delicious apples and navel oranges. When she was done, she came closer and tried to pass by me in the aisle, but my cart was inconveniently in the way. Coincidence? I wasn’t going to let her get away.

  “Excuse me,” she said. Her eyes were large and light brown. Her eye makeup was soft and natural. The deep burgundy of her lips lying comfortably on top of her bright smile made her mouth inviting; they matched her wine trench coat perfectly. I smelled the delicate scent of flowers as she came closer.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, breaking from hypnosis, moving my cart out of the way. “Oh, excuse me, miss. I’m having trouble picking out pears. I can’t remember if they should be soft or firm. Do you mind telling me how I can know if it’s ripe?”

  Her drawl had a faint Spanish accent. “Oh, they’re tricky because pears ripen from the inside out, so you can’t tell by just looking at the skin. You move the stem and if it gives way, then you’ll know it’s ripe.” She lifted one to examine it. “Ah, see, this one is good.” She smiled, looking directly into my eyes. “Nice and firm, but soft on the inside.” She tossed her hair again.

  Was this woman flirting? I reached for the pear and purposely touched her hand as she passed it to me. “Thank you. I didn’t have a clue.”

  “A bachelor, huh?” I caught her glance at my cart of tea, beer, veggies, and frozen dinners.

  “Yes, is it that obvious?” I chuckled, noticing that her own cart, with the briefcase, was now filled with diapers, milk, beauty products, and baby food.

  “A working mother, eh?”

  The grating of a rattling shopping cart with a broken wheel shattered our undivided attention. “Sorry, sir, ma’am, sorry. ’Scuse me, y’all.” Her Southern accent sounded more like Alabama than Florida, and she dragged her feet. I turned around and saw a sweet, young face with deep chocolate skin framed by huge rhinestone hoop earrings. About seventeen, she wore long, fake eyelashes and what looked to be a shoulder-length wavy weave. She looked like she was desperately trying to be a twenty-five-year-old stripper and not a seventeen-year-old high school student.

  “I’m finna bring this broken piece of junk ta da back.” She looked back and forth at us and smiled at Burgundy Lips. Intuitively she could sense something was brewing in aisle 10. She shrugged at the awkwardness of it all and kept pushing her cart, while Barry Manilow sang his little heart out to “Can’t Smile Without You.”

  Burgundy Lips cleared her throat. “Well . . .”

  “I don’t mean to be forward, but you’re very attractive,” I said, extending my hand. “Mind telling me your name? I’m Robert.”

  “Ah, thank you, Robert. I’m . . . I’m Jessica.” She blushed, shaking my hand. I held on as we spoke.

  “Jessica, are you in a rush to go home to your husband?” I nodded, pointing with my eyes toward the diapers in the cart.

  Giggling nervously, she said, “My, you are a bit forward.” Ah. She knows I’m in the chase. “I’m not married, Robert . . . but I am, well, sort of involved.”

  “Oh . . . that’s too bad for me, huh?” I teased, releasing her hand. Curiously though, she didn’t move.

  I noticed her intrigued expression and that single-handedly urged me on. “What did you have in mind, Robert? Like I said, I’m not married.”

  I raised my eyebrows in delight as she continued. “I simply came to pick up some food and fruits. Not a strange man in the supermarket.” She winked.

  Oh, really now? “I’m strange to you? Must not be that strange, because you are still talking to me.” I licked my lips. She began to push her cart slowly past me.

  Our faces were close enough to kiss and she said, almost in a whisper, “Meet me outside when you’re done, Mr. Bachelor. I’m in the silver Toyota SUV parked in front of the smoothie shop.”

  The hairs on my arms rose at full attention. “Will do.” I watched her walk smoothly away, her stiletto heels making a confident clickety-clack down the linoleum aisle. The heat that exuded from her body was intense. She looked back with a mischievous light in her eyes. Blood rushed throughout my entire body, and I was glad my button-down shirt was untucked, h
iding my excitement.

  I put a few more pieces of fruit in my cart and rushed to the checkout. I looked past the cashier to the huge floor-to-ceiling window that was also the length of the store. On my right, the customer service line was long with hopeful Lotto winners and nicotine addicts, all fidgeting while they waited to get their daily fixes of Newports, Virginia Slims, or a winning scratch-off roll.

  My items seemed to be scanned slowly. It was almost unbearable. Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep. The cashier was the girl with the broken cart. Her name tag read CHARDONAY. I smiled gently, trying not to laugh. I could sense her nervousness as she moved her artificial hair behind her ears. She scanned my green tea. Beep . . .

  “She reeeeal pretty. I like her hair. So, what’s up, you get dem digits, playa?” Beep . . . She giggled and tried flirting with her three-inch eyelashes. What man finds that attractive?

  Beep . . . “No, no . . .” I laughed. “I’m working on it though.” Chardonay high-fived me between bagging my goods.

  “Shoot, if I was a little older I would go for mine right now, mister,” Chardonay said, looking directly at me.

  “Oh, no, you’d have to be older. And you wouldn’t need those,” I said, motioning toward her eyes, shaking my head in disapproval.

  “Oh, no you didn’t!” She laughed. “What’s wrong wit dem?”

  “Char-don-nay is it?”

  “Yes, you said it right, mister.”

  “You don’t need them.” I winked at her.

  Chardonay lowered her chin and smiled sheepishly. She covered her mouth, trying to hide two bottom gold teeth that I’d already seen.

  “Have a good night, sweetie.”

  “You too, mister, you too.” She waved.

  The sky had now turned a deep midnight blue and the moon peered from behind fluffy clouds. It was drizzling and we were probably headed for a serious Florida downpour.

  Finally outside in the parking lot, I saw Jessica in her SUV. I hurried to my car and put the bags in the trunk. She saw me and drove toward me, rolling down her window.

  “Hi, Robert the Bachelor. I couldn’t really talk freely in there; my fiancé comes in with me all the time. It just wouldn’t look right if I were to take your number. . . .”

  “Oh, now he’s a fiancé?”

  “Well, yeah, I thought you noticed my ring?” She held up her hand and wiggled her finger.

  “No, I didn’t, and I’m not one to break up a happy home,” I said, hoping she was going to allow me to get closer to her, at least for tonight.

  “Can you come in and let’s talk about it?” she said, beckoning softly.

  “Come in?” I was surprised at how aggressive she was. It was both ferocious and gentle, and maddening to my senses. “Don’t mind if I do.” I tried to remain cool, but the stupid grin on my face had a mind of its own.

  I closed my still-open trunk and lightly jogged around the back of her SUV, escaping the rain, which started to come down like bullets.

  Soft jazz played from her speakers and her sweet scent intensified in the close quarters. She smiled. “You are very attractive,” she said. “You have such an exotic look. What are you? I mean, where are you from?”

  “Morocco. My dad is Moroccan, my mom is European, from France. Thanks for asking though. Most people down here just assume I’m Latino and start speaking to me in Spanish.”

  “Well, we are in Florida! You could easily pass for a Roberto. I was going to guess Egyptian, with those eyes.” Jessica laughed at her own joke and reached over, rubbing her thumb beneath my eye.

  “You sure you don’t have on eyeliner?”

  “Come on, don’t start that mess,” I said, pushing her hand off playfully.

  “I didn’t really need anything in your aisle, you know? I just wanted to get a closer view. I saw you from the back in the frozen foods section.”

  “Really, so you had a plan?” Devilish, I tell you. I think I’m in love.

  “I guess you might say that,” she replied, opening her coat slowly; to my surprise her plump, creamy breasts made a special appearance. Her pink bra was in the car’s cup holder. She must have just taken it off in the car while I was still in line.

  “Wow,” I whispered with a crooked smile. “You aren’t wasting any time, huh?” She took my hands and placed them on her warm body. She was so in charge and she knew she had me. Her nipples were at full attention as I gently caressed her.

  “Damn, Viiiickyyy, oh, I mean Jessica.”

  She snickered. “Vicky? Your girlfriend?”

  We both laughed. “No, no, not at all.”

  I sucked on her neck and she tilted her head backward, inviting me in. I slid my hand between her warm thighs and squeezed her smooth skin. She didn’t resist, and I pushed her skirt up. Her pink lace panties were moist from her excitement. Her legs closed unexpectedly. “Rob . . . Robertooo, I have to go home soon. My fiancé is going to be worried.”

  I ran my fingers through her long hair. “So soon? We were just getting to know each other. You don’t really care about your fiancé, do you?” My hand pushed her thighs slightly apart. “If you did, you would have never invited me in.” I caressed her panties and traced my finger outside her center. I firmly moved my hand up and down, clouding her decision making.

  She squirmed with excitement as she bit her bottom lip. “Can you meet me somewhere tomorrow?” she begged. Words saying one thing, body saying another, she arched her back, aroused from my fingers.

  I reached over to the driver’s side, bringing her face closer to mine. I sucked on her bottom lip and started kissing her deeply. I savored her. She purred like a spoiled cat. She was definitely no amateur in the art of seduction.

  I wanted her and I was going to have her. I moved her panties to the side, exploring what possibilities lay ahead. She grabbed a mound of my hair in her hands. “Ohhh, we gotta, we gotta stop, papi . . . we should . . .”

  Leaning closely into her ear I said slowly, “Tell me to stop again. Come on, tell me.”

  Nothing.

  I moved my finger inside her, causing her to moan even louder. “Tell me to stop,” I whispered, torturing this time. I smiled at the pleasure I created. Again, nothing.

  “Let’s park over there,” I demanded, looking toward the back of the parking lot. “It’s pouring now, no one will see us.”

  The roar of the rain was peaceful even with the thunder that shuddered through the sky. She drove to the spot, looking at the backseat of the car and then again at me. Without words we scurried out and into the backseat. Cramped, I climbed on top of her as she breathed hard. I felt out of my mind, about to make love with a complete, beautiful stranger from aisle 10 in a BigMart Supermarket.

  When our mouths met this time, it felt supernatural, and she tasted of cherry candy. Leaving her coat on, I pulled her panties off. Damn, she looked good like that. I was bursting through my pants by this time, and she fumbled with my belt buckle, trying to release me.

  As I eased into her warmth, we sighed.

  “Oh, Jessica, you . . . you can’t get married now. . . . I want you for me, I want you for me. . . .”

  Her nails dug into my thighs as she pushed my pants farther down. We were connected; the sweat, the sounds, made it intense. The streetlights of the parking lot shone in on us as we performed. The rain looked like a light curtain shielding us from the world. I could see her face clearly, see her seductively smiling at me, like she loved me, like she had known me for years. She felt so good, so tight, and so wet.

  I couldn’t contain my moan. “Ohhhhhh . . . shit!” Her nails dug into my butt, making my release that much better.

  We lay there for a few minutes, crunched into the backseat, and enjoyed the moment. I asked no questions. She said nothing. We grinned, knowing we’d see each other again very soon.

  I ran my fingers through her hair while her head lay on my chest. “Thank you, Jessica.” I kissed her softly, respectfully, on her forehead and zipped my pants. I slowly exited
her SUV, and she watched me go without saying a word. I didn’t look back.

  Damn, that was good.

  I felt incredibly alive as I drove down the quiet, dark street. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into my condo driveway with a smile. I saw the mysterious silver Toyota parked in front. How clever that was.

  I opened the door and smelled the Nag Champa incense. Ah, the comforts of home. The wine trench coat was draped across the couch, and familiar shades of jade-green and beige living room walls welcomed me back.

  “Jessica, oh, Jessica?” I sang as Vicky came out of the bedroom in pink lace panties. Her dark hair flowed over her naked perky breasts.

  She held up the wall with one hand and smiled a sly grin. “Jacques, you dog! I can’t let you go to the supermarket alone again. You did that one just a little too well,” she said with a girlish chuckle.

  I embraced her and we kissed.

  “Oh, and Robert? You could use some practice. I mean, really, you picked my brother’s name, Jacques! I’m a freak, but not into incest.”

  I chuckled and started to undress down to my boxers. I removed my silver chain and ring and put them on the glass coffee table.

  “It was the first name that came into my head. But I don’t think it was disturbing you that much, when you were moaning, ‘Aye, Roberto, aye, Roberto!’ Where’d you get that Jeep from anyhow? That’s what really made it feel more mysterious.” I followed her into the bedroom.

  “I rented it at the airport.”

  “And the diapers, how clever!”

  She patted herself on the back. “Yeah, I thought so, too. I didn’t buy them though.”

  “Good, we don’t need those yet.” She cut her eyes at me as she sat on the bed and hugged a pillow. She looked very sexy, and I was ready for more.

  She paused and smiled. “But wait, what was with the exit? Thank you and then you leave? Like I’m some prostitute? What the fuck was that?”

  “You were, but for free!”

  She threw a pillow at me, and I shielded myself with my arms. “Oh, come on! You had a husband, fiancé, whatever. What did you want . . . for me to ask for your number? No thanks, I don’t want some man trying to kill me for taking advantage of his wife in a supermarket parking lot.”