Satisfied that her guest was not going anywhere for the time being, Taryn returned to the dining room. She noticed Lisa was gone, and so were Laurie and Susan. She walked over and sat down beside Taylor.
"Looks like you've been abandoned," she said.
Taylor stared at the single rose sitting in the center of the table. "I should get to work myself," she said, her voice a shaky whisper.
Amused with her young protege, Taryn stood and pulled Taylor up beside her. "Come," she said. "I need to go downtown and run a couple of errands. I'd like you to drive, if you would." She gave Taylor a questioning look, implying that the choice was hers to make.
"Yes, I'll be glad to take you," Taylor replied. "When do you want to leave?"
"Let me change into something a little warmer and I'll meet you out front. Say fifteen minutes?"
Taylor nodded. "I'll be there," she replied. She watched as Taryn strode down the hall to her private quarters. She left the dining room and made her way to the garage. It was several degrees warmer inside the heated garage than it was outside. She started the Bentley that Taryn preferred for winter outings. When it had warmed sufficiently, she drove to the front of the house and waited for her.
Taryn chose her outfit very carefully. She wanted her appearance to say it all. First, she selected pants, black leather with a lace-up fly.
Next, she chose a shirt, a cotton Henley that she knew would fit nicely underneath her leather jacket. She smiled at herself in the mirror.
"Okay, Mark, let's see what you have to say when a tough dyke claims your girlfriend." Her black leather boots were polished to perfection, the silver tips shiny and pointed. Zipping her jacket, she hurried out to meet Taylor.
Taylor eyed Taryn's outfit and wondered what she might possibly be up to. Knowing better than to ask, she sat quietly while Taryn settled in the back seat. Although she liked to be chauffeured sometimes, Taryn refused to let anyone open a door for her. Taylor had learned to sit patiently, waiting. When Taryn finally gave her the go-ahead to leave, Taylor asked, "Where are we going?"
"I have a visit to make," she replied.
The twinkle in her eyes hinted that this would be no ordinary outing. "What's the address?" Taylor asked very politely.
"The office of Sands, Kaufman and Nord," Taryn informed her.
Taylor smiled, for she recognized the name immediately. It was the law firm where Mark worked. Making a quick reference to the street locator on the dashboard, she requested directions.
Traffic was unusually light, so it didn't take long to drive downtown. Taylor was thankful for the calm because Taryn seemed very edgy. Taylor likened her to a frisky colt ready to bolt out of the stable at the first opportunity. There was so much tension inside the car that Taylor breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived and Taryn got out.
Taryn was so intent on her mission that she almost forgot to tell Taylor when to pick her up. She strode around to the driver's side of the car and bent down so she was eye-level with Taylor "Give me twenty minutes," she told her.
Just as abruptly as she appeared, Taryn turned and walked away.
Taylor watched as she strode past a gray-haired man wearing a doorman's uniform. Anyone observing the scene would have found it very comical. Here was Taryn, a leather-clad dyke, strutting into a prestigious office building past a doorman who seemed ready to say something but couldn't quite get it out. By the time he did, Taryn was already inside the building. Taylor laughed, wishing she could be a spider on the wall when Taryn entered the reception area of Sands, Kaufman and Nord law offices.
Sands, Kaufman amp; Nord was a very old firm in Chicago. They catered to a select group of men and women. The bottom line was money – old money. When Taryn strode into the office, all eyes were fixed upon her. She smiled and offered the receptionist her business card. "I'm here to see Mark Clayton," she informed the woman sitting at the desk.
Her styled hair and carefully layered make-up giving her the appearance of a fashion model, the receptionist could not disguise her look of disdain. "Is he expecting you?" she asked.
Her voice was so cold and icy that Taryn was tempted to check her for a pulse. "Just tell him I'm here regarding my client, Kimberly Justin. I'm sure he'll find time to meet with me for a few moments."
The woman lifted the receiver and pressed a button on the console.
"Mr. Clayton, there's a woman here asking to speak to you."
Taryn watched as the woman paused to look at an open schedule book on her desk.
"Uh, no. She doesn't have an appointment. But she said it's about Kimberly." There was another pause. "Yes, sir."
Taryn smiled. "He'll see me now?" she asked very innocently. She would have loved to plant a big wet kiss on the woman's mouth just to see her reaction.
Mark appeared in the doorway, interrupting Taryn's speculations about the stuffy receptionist. He looked first at Taryn, then the receptionist, then back to Taryn. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, a quizzical expression on his face.
Taryn couldn't tell if he looked puzzled, embarrassed or both.
"Yes, Mr. Clayton. Shall we go into your office?" Taryn swished past the receptionist and offered her hand demurely for Mark to shake.
Surprised by her forwardness, Mark became very nervous. His hand was trembling so much that he wished he didn't have to shake hands with her. Whatever could this woman want? And what did it have to do with Kimberly? Mark grasped her hand very lightly, then turned to the door and said, "My office is this way."
Taryn followed Mark down the hall and into his office. When he closed the door, she turned and faced him. Without asking, she lit a cigarette and blew a puff of smoke in his face. "Kimberly Justin has engaged my company to provide a service for her over the next few weeks. Although I cannot give you any details, I can tell you that she will not be in touch with you during that time. If you have any questions or need to contact her for any reason, you may call me at this number." She handed him a copy of her card, suspecting that the receptionist had tossed hers in the wastebasket as soon as Taryn was out of sight.
"Wh… Whatever are you talking about?" Mark asked. He shook his head, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but I think you've got the wrong office. The Kimberly Justin I know is my fiancee. You can't possibly mean her. Why, she'd never do something like this – whatever it is you're doing – without consulting me!" He started for the door, wanting to get rid of this silly woman as quickly as possible.
Taryn inhaled a large mouthful of smoke and blew smoke circles, one after another. "Whatever you say, Mark. However, I must warn you. If you disregard this request, you must answer to Kimberly yourself." Dropping her cigarette in his coffee cup, she gave Mark a steely stare. Her eyes never wavering, she glared at him for a moment, then opened the door and left. A cloud of smoke billowed behind her.
Mark eyed his coffee cup. "It takes all kinds," he muttered. When he thought about it, this whole thing was so outlandish; he knew it must be some crazy mix-up or someone's idea of a joke. His concentration gone, he decided to call Kimberly and meet her for an early lunch. He lifted the receiver and punched in the code for her home number.
While Mark was calling Kimberly, Taryn was looking for the receptionist. She found her standing at a copying machine located a few feet past his door. Walking very quietly, Taryn sneaked up behind her and gave her ass a quick squeeze.
The woman jerked around so fast she sent the papers spinning from the copier tray. "Oh!" she exclaimed, a look of utter disbelief on her face.
Taryn winked and continued on to the waiting area. She had no doubt Mark Clayton was on the telephone trying to get in touch with Kimberly Justin. It would be interesting to see how the next scenario played out. She chuckled and punched the elevator button. Taylor was waiting when she exited the building "Let's go to Larry's Place,"
Taryn said as she got into the back seat. "I don't know about you, but I could use a good stiff drink."
Taylor shifted the car into gear and pulled into traffic. She watched Taryn through the rearview mirror. Although Taryn was turned away from her, Taylor could see the cellular phone in her hand. She suspected she was calling Morgan Estates to check on Kimberly.
Back inside the office building, Mark Clayton rested his six-foot frame against the edge of his desk and waited for Kimberly to answer.
His dark, perfectly styled hair was tousled from running his hands through it. He stroked his mustache and thought about his recent visitor. Must be a mistake, he kept telling himself.
Kimberly had seemed a little distant of late, but she was under a lot of pressure. He chuckled at himself for worrying about it. Kimberly's phone rang several times before her answering machine came on.
Mark was disappointed but not really surprised. She'd been working so hard lately, how could he expect her to actually take a Saturday morning off from her job? "Hi, babe. It's Mark. Just calling to see if you were free to meet me for lunch. I'm at work. Call me when you get home so we can decide what we want to do tonight. If I'm not at work, call me on my cellular phone. Love you. Bye."
Mark sighed and glanced at the gold clock on his desk. Even though it was a gift from Kimberly, he felt like throwing it. For some reason, he felt very angry. This day was going to be interminably long. One regret Mark had about working for Sands, Kaufman amp; Nord were the incredibly long hours they demanded. For Mark, that meant Saturdays at the office and more often than not, Sundays. He sighed and returned to his desk. Mrs. Martin was having her will revised for the umpteenth time. Mark sighed and opened her file.
Mark lost track of the time as he poured over Mrs. Martin's latest request for changes. The next time he glanced at his watch, it was almost six o'clock. "Oh, shit!" he muttered. He hadn't heard from Kimberly. Would she have gone to visit her parents? He couldn't remember her saying anything about it. Thinking she might have tried him at home, he called and checked his messages. There were three, one from his brother asking him over for dinner, another from his mother asking him for dinner and the last call was a hang-up.
"Hmm." Mark started to call Kimberly again, then changed his mind. He reached for his coat and hurried out of the office. If she wasn't home yet, he figured she would be by the time he got there.