IN HIS KEEPING: TAKEN

Sylvie couldn’t wait for them to leave.  Couldn’t take another minute of their know-it-all arrogance, petty prejudices, inane conversations, posturing, and one-upmanship.  Connor’s friends had to be the shallowest, most self-absorbed, annoying people Sylvie had ever had the misfortune to meet.  She’d been counting the hours and minutes to their departure.

The open hostility the women had shown her in the morning, the dirty looks, the barbed comments, were gone.  They’d decided instead to spend the day ignoring her…giving her the cold shoulder.  They didn’t speak to her.  Didn’t look at her.  Didn’t acknowledge her in any way.  They’d passed the afternoon lying in the sun, gossiping, drinking mojitos, and getting sloshed.  They must have thought they were on the French Riviera or the beaches of Rio because the bikinis they wore left little to the imagination.  The society matrons vacationing at the nearby ‘Great Camps’ would be scandalized!  Bethany was by far the worst.  She wore a little triangular-shaped patch of cloth, which barely covered her shaven snatch.  It was held in place by a string concealed in the crack of her ass.  That was it!  No top, no wrap, no nothing!  So much for modesty!  Bethany walked around topless, jiggling her tits, hoping to attract Nathan’s attention.  But the only thing she got was a nasty sunburn.  It was pathetic really, the women tried so hard to get noticed; but the only thing they attracted were swarms of black flies and gnats, and the occasional mosquito or horse fly.  Served them right!

The men, on the other hand, definitely weren’t ignoring her.  She’d piqued their interest.  Like moose in rutting season, they hovered around her, vying for position, trying to figure out what it was about Sylvie that Connor found so enticing.  If Connor was doing her, shouldn’t they have a run at her too?  Maybe steal her away from him?  That seemed to be their logic.  It was as though they were playing Buzkashi, the Afghan game she’d seen on YouTube the other day, where a bunch of men ride around on horseback trying to steal a headless goat from each other and drag it to the goal line.  In today’s contest, Sylvie was playing the part of the headless goat.

The fact that Connor couldn’t keep his hands off her was like waving a red cape in front of a bull where his friends were concerned.  It got their attention…big time!  Connor behaved like a jerk all day.  After they came back from town he was like an octopus.  If he wasn’t kissing, stroking, or groping her, he was holding her close, grinding up against her, or patting her ass.  His behavior embarrassed her.  She repeatedly tried to push him away, get him to stop, but he was insistent.  It wasn’t about affection.  It was about ownership.  Everything he did implied that she was his property.  That she belonged to him.

Unfortunately, his buddies weren’t buying it.  They’d declared ‘open season’ on Sylvie, going out of their way to flirt with her; jokingly chiding her about Connor and his ‘shortcomings,’ insisting she could do better.  Sylvie smiled politely.  She didn’t get the joke at first.  Then it dawned on her what they meant.  How dare they?  She’d seen Connor’s package and there was nothing short about it!  Sylvie thought they were unbelievably rude, to be standing around drinking his liquor, eating his food, and enjoying his hospitality, while poking fun at him and casting aspersions on his manhood.  With friends like that, who needed enemies!  Sylvie decided to teach them a lesson.  She’d looked each man in the face then brazenly dropped her gaze to his crotch.  There were no enormous bulges.  Nothing impressive about any of their…’junk.’  She shook her head and feigned disappointment.  ‘Nope.  Don’t think so guys!’

They could hardly believe the audacity of the girl.  Where did she get off ridiculing them?  They were not amused, not amused at all!  But Connor was.  ‘Serves you assholes right!  I don’t think the lady’s impressed by your assets!’ he snorted as he busied himself lifting the hood of his new pride and joy…a huge, state-of-the-art, stainless steel, barbecue grill.  The man cooked!  Who knew?  It was part of an outdoor kitchen he’d just had installed on the patio.  It had a huge grill, a four-burner stovetop, a stainless steel sink with running water, a refrigerator, and polished stone countertops.  He was making prime rib on the rotisserie with all the trimmings: grilled shrimp and lobster tails, corn on the cob cooked in their husks, fire roasted potatoes, and a mixture of grilled mushrooms, peppers, zucchini, and sweet potatoes.

Connor continued chuckling to himself as he returned to his chef duties.  There was an awkward silence for a moment, but they weren’t about to be bested by either Connor or a snippy little snot like Sylvie.  She might be a smart-mouthed, ballsy little vixen, but she was hardly in their league.  Maybe she didn’t realize just whom it was she was talking to?  Normally they wouldn’t give someone like her the time of day, let alone a tumble; but they couldn’t help thinking there must be something really, really special about her.  Otherwise, Connor wouldn’t be wasting his time screwing her when he could be fucking some of the most beautiful, sexy, desirable women in the world; or in a pinch…Seanna.  Sylvie might be cute, but she wasn’t in Seanna’s league looks-wise.  Seanna was drop-dead gorgeous.  The kind of woman men of their stature wanted on their arm.  Someone who turned heads.  Who’d make them the envy of every male who saw them.  So why was Connor baling on Seanna?  What was it about Sylvie that made her worthy of his time and attention?  Maybe she was a complete and utter freak in the bedroom, doing anything and everything to get him off?  Bookish, intellectual type girls always had a kinky side.  Maybe she gave fantastic head, like in Deep Throat?  Or perhaps she was into Tantric sex: keeping him hard for hours at a time, making him come again and again and again till he felt like his balls would explode?  Or could be she let him do really sick shit to her, stuff a classy girl like Seanna wouldn’t allow.  That spiked their interest!  Whatever it was, they relished the challenge of trouncing Connor in the screw-the-secretary sweepstakes.  Let the games begin!

Drake, Sean, and Alex boasted and bragged, regaling her with stories of their fast sports cars, luxurious yachts, opulent homes, fantastic vacations, celebrity friends, and the important events they frequented.  State dinners in Washington.  $25,000 a plate political fundraisers.  Posh Hollywood parties.  Box seats at the Kentucky Derby, World Series, and Super Bowl.  Courtside seats for the Knicks and the Nets.  When did these people find time to work?  It was laughable how they tried to outdo each other.  Drake owned a palatial villa near Mick Jagger’s place on the island of Mustique.  While there he often hung out with vacationing European royalty.  Sean owned a ski chalet in Klosters, Switzerland.  He partied with royals too.  Alex owned a villa near Kenny Chesney’s Caribbean home on St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands.  Sylvie wasn’t sure, but thought Jagger trumped Chesney on the status meter.  Alex had actually hosted parties for the British, Belgian, Dutch, Swedish, and Saudi royal families when they visited New York.  Sylvie hadn’t realized royals were such party animals!  These guys loved to name-drop.  They knew movie stars, Broadway stars, TV stars, Dukes and Duchesses, Prince and Princesses, Counts and Countesses, Sheiks and Shahs, Prime Ministers, Presidents, Vice-Presidents, Ambassadors, Senators, Congressman, Governors, Judges.  Sylvie’s head was swimming.  She couldn’t remember who knew who.  Their rivalry was such that she was, frankly, surprised they hadn’t whipped out their dicks and measured them to see whose was biggest.  If all their puffery, bluster, and talk of wealth and social standing were supposed to impress her, it hadn’t worked.  Sylvie didn’t like braggarts or snobs, especially egotistical, narcissistic, pompous ones.

Drake was the least obnoxious of the lot.  He at least had the good sense to back off when she told him she wasn’t interested.  He’d offered to take her on their Mediterranean cruise as his guest…his ‘special’ guest.  Under normal circumstances that would be one hell of a pick-up line.  For some girls maybe, but not for her.  Sylvie would rather have her fingernails ripped out with pliers.

Sean and Alex were another story.  They thought they were God’s gift to women and that Sylvie should be grateful for their attentions.  She wasn’t, but they couldn’t seem to get that through their heads.  She tried to be polite at first; but the longer they persisted, the more aggravated she became.  They behaved like sleazy lounge lizards trying to put the moves on her.  They leered, puckering their lips and blowing her boozy kisses.  Then stuck their tongues out and showed her their licking technique.  Did these guys actually get dates this way?  Bar flies maybe.  They behaved like horny teens.  Just how many times and how many ways did she have to say no before she got through to them?  She must have said she wasn’t interested at least 30 times!  But no matter how she phrased it they continued coming on to her.  They couldn’t accept the fact that a lowly office worker wanted nothing to do with them.  It didn’t register!  She should be flattered.  They were rich!  They were handsome!  Where did she get off trying to give them the brush-off?  Who did she think she was?  Fueled by indignation and the $600 a bottle single malt scotch they were drinking, the two of them kept pressing her.  Refusing to put up with their sexual innuendos and continued harassment any longer, Sylvie turned on her heels and abruptly walked away, cutting Sean off in mid-sentence, and leaving them both shocked and sputtering.

Connor watched the goings-on with a mixture of pride and amusement.  Leave it to Sylvie to take those drunken blowhards down a peg or two.  Serves them right.  She could care less that they were two of the richest men in the country.  Their money didn’t impress her in the least.  Most women would give anything to catch the eye of a wealthy man.  They’d flatter and fawn over them, not insult and kick them to the curb like Sylvie.  It was probably the first time in their entire lives they’d been shut down and put in their place.

While the other two stood back stewing, Nathan decided to make his move.  He was drunker than the others.  Not falling-down drunk, but enough that his judgement was impaired.  He sidled up to Sylvie and put his arm around her.  She tried to politely push him away, but he was inebriated and didn’t get the hint.  The more she tried to wrench free of him, the more determined and obnoxious he became.  She eventually managed to shrug off his arm only to have him drunkenly paw her breast.  The expression on Connor’s face changed from amusement to fury.  He rushed over, grabbed his friend, and roughly pulled him away.  His face contorted in rage as he hissed something in Nathan’s ear.  She couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever it was Nathan looked suitably chastised and sheepish when Connor finished.  Sylvie thought Connor had overreacted, rushing to her rescue like some knight in shining armor.  She could take care of herself.  Nathan wasn’t the first drunk who tried to cop a feel when they were in their cups.  She’d fought off plenty of drunken louts when she waitressed.  If Nathan hadn’t stopped, Sylvie was fully prepared to introduce his nuts to her knee.  But still, it was nice that Connor had her back.

Victor was a whole other story.  He’d spent the entire day looking royally pissed.  While the other guys smiled and chatted her up, Victor glared at her.  What had she ever done to him?  Last night Seanna was on the receiving end of his ire and evil eye, today it was Sylvie.  Was it her imagination or was he upset that she was with Connor.  She’d seen the same reaction from Seanna, Bethany, Caris, and Deidre.  Was he jealous too?  Sylvie was getting a curious vibe.  Was Victor gay?  Or maybe bisexual?  Lucky her, just what she needed…more rivals for Connor’s affection!

Dinner was delicious.  Everyone complemented Connor on his culinary prowess: the special basting sauce he’d used on the prime rib, the perfectly charred potatoes.  They raved about how sweet and succulent the corn was.  How the grilled vegetables were the best they’d ever tasted.

Sylvie was shocked.  Not only could Connor cook.  He was damn good at it!  She had no idea rich people ever  prepared food.  She thought they left such things to their servants!

Connor was so different from his friends.  He was grounded.  He didn’t play their games.  There was no bullshit.  He was real!

For the most part, the conversation during dinner had been light, focused on their upcoming cruise.  Only once did the talk turn to serious stuff.  They were discussing the possibility of spending a few days in Paris at the end of the cruise, when Drake brought up the fact that Connor had been in Paris when his parents died.  Sylvie knew they were dead, but hadn’t known the circumstances.  They’d lost their lives in a tragic fire at their summer place in the Hamptons shortly after Connor graduated high school.  He and Victor were touring Europe with a bunch of their classmates before starting college that fall.  There had been a reservation mix-up and the boys had to change hotels.  When they tried to notify Connor about his folks, no one knew where he was.  It took two days before he found out they’d been killed.  All the guys were supposed to go to Europe, but Drake, Nathan, Alex, and Sean were forced to stay behind after they were arrested.  They’d gotten drunk and decided to hold a drag race on the Long Island Expressway at 4 AM.  Drake’s car spun out of control and crashed into Nathan’s.  Alex and Sean then hit them both.  They were lucky they weren’t killed.  As punishment, their parents didn’t allow them to go on the trip.

Talking about his parents upset Connor.  Especially Drake’s mentioning that they’d burned to death in the fire.  It cast a pall over what was left of the meal.  Everyone grew silent.  Drake’s comments were insensitive and cruel.  She would have thought he’d know better than to bring up such a painful memory.  Luckily, they had to leave.  Alex’s private plane, a new Gulfstream G200 jet, was waiting at the Saranac Airport to take them back to New York City.  They’d have tomorrow to pack and then early Tuesday morning they’d take off in Sean’s corporate jet for Europe and fun in the sun.  Must be nice!

A half-hour later she and Connor stood at the front door and waved goodbye to them as their rented limo pulled away.

Thank God!  They were finally gone!  Goodbye and good riddance!