Although he did not lack for female companionship, he found assignations with paramours particularly unfulfilling; they were more a matter of swift gratification with no lasting warmth.
Blair desired a relationship with a real woman, not a paid companion.
A clever spider, he spun his web tighter and tighter, careful to always behave as a gentleman should. Fenella and Fiona often met with him to discuss the latest contracts involving Paragon Productions.
“Fenella, sit here by me. I need you to explain this portion of the contract.” Gerald would place his chair just a little too close to suit Fenella, be overly solicitous when he seated her, and pat her back as he did so. When she pointed to a sentence in the document, he took the opportunity to lightly touch her hand, another action he’d repeated far too many times for her comfort.
It’s just your imagination she tried to tell herself. Gerald—he had insisted they call him by his given name—is a remarkably generous benefactor, and goes out of his way to introduce both Fiona and me to those we might find supportive or entertaining.
She was wary of men here in the city at any rate. Fenella remembered the ugly incident that changed her life so dramatically as though it were happening all over again...
One evening she labored over a particularly complex contract. An unusual noise interrupted her intense concentration.
“What now?”
Annoyed, Fenella marked the section of contract on which she was working. She lifted her head expecting to see an associate, or perhaps her secretary, only to observe that everyone else had gone home and she was alone in the quiet office—except for a large man who stood just inside her office door.
“Why, what are you doing here?”
“My dear girl, I simply needed to see you.” The man inched toward her desk.
Fenella could not recall any outstanding contract issues for this particular client and her apprehension grew as she rose to meet him. Not until he drew closer did she notice the gleam in his eyes. As quick as a snake strikes its prey, the man seized her arms and pressed his lips to hers.
“Ah, Fenella,” he murmured against her mouth, “you have no idea how often I think of you, how often I dream of you at night. I want you; I want to feel your skin next to mine, to feel myself inside you.”
Panic at the man’s actions and words filled Fenella, and she twisted her head to escape his kiss. “No, don’t say that. You cannot possibly mean what you are saying!”
Fenella struggled against the large man’s grasp but her small frame was no match for the man’s bulk. Her resistance only inflamed his senses, and she was shoved against the desk and bent backwards until she feared her spine would snap.
Cloth ripped as her blouse was torn and the lacy bra beneath it destroyed. Through a haze of terror and revulsion, Fenella felt the man alternately caress, kiss and suckle her breasts. She pounded her small fists against his bulk with no result. Tears began to fall as she pled with him.
“Please stop! You simply don’t know what you’re doing; stop!”