“Jérôme, shall I call Mrs. du Tautou and see if she has any tickets for moi?”
“Pardon? I don’t follow.”
“You’ll follow me all right.” It was no surprise that when Taddy brought this Dupree oversight to Monsieur Jérôme’s attention, he’d secure Kiki’s first-class round-trip airfare. In addition to an all-accommodations stay at Hôtel du France, a Warner Truman Property, he gifted Kiki and DJ Dejon with two VIP tickets to attend Vanity Fair’s Cannes Party on the French Riviera.
Au revoir, Jérôme du Tautou… avec amour, Kiki et Dejon!
Determined to get her virgin assistant laid, Taddy reflected after the call on her own Candy Land and what was holding her back from having a little more fun in the love department. She hadn’t felt like playing Princess Lolly since St. Barth’s.
Chapter Nine
Rubies Return
May 15
St. Barth’s, French West Indies
St. Barth’s elite moved on to the Mediterranean and the South of France when the Caribbean winter and spring seasons came to an end. Warner returned to the Secrète de St. Barth, supervising the closeout with his executive team. Kip Von Scott had succeeded with a record-breaking year in room occupancy. Warner promoted him to Hôtel du France, a higher-profile property on the French Riviera. Secrète de St. Barth slowed down in the summer, staffing a skeletal crew for maintenance. Then the property ramped back up for the winter to repeat the cycle yet again.
He’d taken the remainder of the day off to relax and enjoy his free time.
Out by the pool, he walked into the spa. “Bonjour, Brigitte, comment allez-vous?” he greeted the spa manager as he closed the glass door behind him.
“Je suis bien. Et vous?” Brigitte replied from the reception desk.
“I’m having back spasms.” Warner strength trained, dropping the weight from high to low after each set. His goal wasn’t to get any bigger. He just wanted to maintain his build. At times, his workout caused his back and shoulders to contract.
“A deep tissue massage, monsieur?” She held out her hands at the empty spa. “We have many openings today.”
“Would you mind?” He rubbed his tight neck. “I just worked out.”
“Take treatment room nombre deux. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Going into the eight-by-ten, dimly lit treatment room, he closed the door. He inhaled a sedative aroma; the lavender helped him relax. His muscle tension started to subside. New Age music drifted from the walls’ speakers. Angelic tunes narrated Celtic legends. He felt as if a mythical fairy might fly out at any minute. All that New Age mumbo jumbo was one reason why he didn’t get massages very often.
He turned off the waterfall noisemaker plugged into the far wall. The machines made him want to piss. After undressing, he grabbed a terry cloth robe from behind the door and slipped it on. It was too short at the arms and legs. Warner walked over to the massage table, wondering why they made them so short. Spa tables never came long enough for tall people. He owned the joint, yet his legs still hung off the edge. He sat and lifted his foot to remove his gym socks.
“What the hell?” Half a dozen miniature ruby gemstones were stuck to his sock and shimmered at him. He’d seen them before. He pulled the crimson sparkles off his white cotton feet.
Warner rubbed the crystals between his fingers and placed them on his palm. Closing his hand into a fist, he’d seen these gems before. They came from Red.
Beauty. Warmth. Lust.
The words they’d exchanged to one another danced in his mind. He’d reflected on Privé Extreme, wondering if he’d hallucinated and Red hadn’t occurred at all. If not for the surveillance tapes, he might’ve believed he’d gone into a trance due to the holiday stress.
“I’m Red…I’d like to have whatever juice you’re serving…I do love intensity…You may…Dom Perignon Rosé…Back to your place.”
He’d checked with each hotel on the island. No resort confirmed the redhead. He never thought to check his own. Wasn’t that always the case?
Last January, Privé Extreme ran the entrance surveillance tapes showing Red arriving with a skinny blonde and leaving with him. The video confirmed he hadn’t lost his mind. The membership card Red had used to obtain club access was reported stolen, perhaps resold without her knowing.
Looking on the spa’s floor, he saw a gem trail that led to the side cabinet. He opened the cabinet. A colorful tray stared back at him in various blue, purple, green and yellow shades. But it was the red that spoke to him and echoed, “Hello, Big Daddy.”
Brigitte knocked on the door. “Monsieur Warner, you ready?”
“Entrez.”
“Prêt?” Brigitte’s face twisted in confusion. He wasn’t disrobed facedown under the sheet as expected.
He held his hand out, showing her the rubies. “What are these?
“Monsieur, those are vajazzling.” She laughed, removing the crystals from his hands, closing the cupboard and shaking her head.
“Vajazz—what?”
“We are the exclusive spa in St. Barth’s offering vajazzling.” She explained the service women booked to decorate their private area with luxurious beaded jewels.
Unreal! He didn’t know such luxuries existed. “Could you please pull your client logs for New Year’s Eve weekend, say December 30?”
“Oui, is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“You mean…anyone. A woman who received the red crystal application to her…whatever you call it.” Warner hoped he finally found Red.
“Un moment.” She slipped out from the room.
Excitement charged through him. He sat down to control his breathing and closed his eyes. Relax, Warner, you’ll find Red. Inhaling the herbs, he listened to the pixie-like music and waited.
Anytime he’d seen a long-legged woman with red hair, he’d approached, hoping to find her. Wherever his travels took him, Warner’s mind wandered to Red.
I can taste you, Red. The tuberose smell in her wavy hair, her velvet tongue kissing his while he cupped those breasts. Her sensitive nipples responsive to his every touch—he looked forward to nibbling on them.
Warner imagined himself carrying Red to his bedroom and unzipping her from the dress. The sheer fabric, a second skin between them, dropped to the floor. He’d kneel, remove each shoe and admire her calves then kiss her inner thighs. She’d twirl her figure in his face.