Hot Mahogany

30

Stone pulled into the Hotel Carlyle garage and looked around. No Carla.

The attendant approached. “Parking, sir?”

“Picking up,” Stone replied.

The attendant looked around. “Anyone in particular?”

“A lady.”

“There’s no lady, sir.”

“There will be shortly. I’m going to turn around.” Stone did a quick three-pointer, putting the passenger door close to the garage’s lobby door.

The attendant walked over. “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t park there.”

“I’m not parking, I’m waiting.”

“For the lady.”

“You’ve grasped it.”

The attendant reached into a hip pocket and produced a stack of tickets. He was about to tear one off.

“I don’t need a ticket,” Stone said.

“But you’re parked.”

“I’m just waiting.”

“Sir, after you’ve waited for a while, you’re parked. We’re busy here.”

Stone looked around. “I don’t see any other cars coming in or out.”

“Sort of like ladies,” the attendant said.

At that moment the lobby door opened, and Carla emerged carrying one of those plastic duffels with blobs all over it that cost a couple of thousand dollars. The attendant took the bag, and Stone popped the trunk for him, then he leaned over and opened the door for Carla. “Duck,” he said, pulling her down until her head rested on his thigh.

“Can’t you wait until we get to Connecticut?” she asked.

“Harlan may be having us followed.”

“So you want his people to catch us like this?” She bit him on the thigh.

“Ouch!” He put the car in gear. “I just don’t want anyone who’s watching to see you in the car.”

She bit him again, higher up. “Or doing this.”

“Exactly,” he said, “and that hurt.”

“It was supposed to.”

Stone got over to Fifth Avenue, then down to Sixty-sixth Street and turned into the park, checking his rearview mirror. “Just another minute, until I’m sure there’s no one on our tail.”

“Oh, take your time,” she said, biting him again. “I’m enjoying this.”

Stone reached the other side of the park and turned up Central Park West, then left on Seventy-second. “Okay, you can sit up now; I think we’re tailless.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said, biting him again.

“Carla, I’m going to have teeth marks from my knee to my crotch.”

“Closer to your crotch, but who’s mapping?” She sat up. “What a beautiful Sunday afternoon! I hadn’t seen it until now.”

Stone turned onto the West Side Highway and accelerated past a dozen cars, then settled in the right lane and watched his mirrors.

“Why do you think Harlan is having us followed?” Carla asked.

“Because Bill Eggers called me half an hour ago and said Harlan thought I had stolen you from him.”

“Who’s Bill Eggers?”

“Harlan’s lawyer.”

“I thought you were Harlan’s lawyer.”

“I was, ah, sort of on special assignment.”

“You didn’t perform very well, did you?”

“What do you mean? I got the prenup signed, didn’t I?”

“Among other things. But you did steal me from Harlan.”

“You had already made the decision to leave him,” Stone said.

“Well, that’s what I told you. I had to take your ethical considerations into account, didn’t I?”

Stone checked the mirror again and saw a black SUV barreling up the passing lane. “Duck,” he said, pulling her down into his lap again. She promptly unzipped his zipper and began extracting him. The SUV abruptly pulled alongside and paced him. Stone looked left and saw two beefy men through the open window: one driving, the other eyeing him suspiciously. The Hudson River flashed on the other side of the pursuing car.

Carla had achieved her objective and was entertaining Stone.

Stone was able to make small noises but couldn’t speak, because the thug in the car next to him would see his lips move and know he was talking to someone.

The black SUV suddenly accelerated and pulled ahead of him. “Now they’re checking us out in their mirrors,” he said, attempting ventriloquism.

She stopped for a moment. “Who cares?” she asked, then resumed.

Stone tried to focus on the rear of the SUV. It was a Porsche Cayenne Turbo; no wonder it was so quick. Then, without much warning, he climaxed.

Carla kept going for a minute, then pulled back and dabbed at him with a tissue. “There, dear, is that better?”

“It is incomparably better,” Stone said, panting, “but you still have to keep down.”

Then the Cayenne accelerated as if shot from a cannon and flew off at the next exit.

“I think we’re safe, now,” Stone said. “You can come up for air.”

Carla rezipped him, sat up and checked herself in the vanity mirror, dabbing at her lipstick. “You owe me one,” she said.

Stone patted her on the knee. “And you shall be repaid in full, my dear.”

“And in kind, I hope.”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

“We’re not talking about my heart.”

“Whatever the relevant part of you desires.”

“That’s more like it.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t drive into the Hudson,” Stone said. “In fact, I’m still a little woozy.”

“Oh, I knew you’d maintain control of yourself.”

“I don’t think I would have described myself as in control.”

“It’s wonderful how men can do it anywhere, like dogs.”

“You were doing the doing; I was just hanging on for dear life.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way,” she said. “How soon will you be able to do it again?”

“Not until I’m out of the car,” Stone said, “and indoors.”

“Don’t you like sex outdoors?”

“I prefer beds or bearskin rugs before fires.”

“Does your house have a bearskin rug before a fire?”

“It has a fireplace.”

She sighed. “Well, I guess that will just have to do.”