Ordering Olivia Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Ordering Olivia

  ISBN # 978-0-85715-192-6

  ©Copyright Allie Standifer 2010

  Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright July 2010

  Edited by Jess Bimberg

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom

  .

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  Club Botticelli

  ORDERING OLIVIA

  Allie Standifer

  Dedication

  This one’s for Desiree Holt. For being my teacher, guide, support, and most of all, friend.

  I’d be nowhere without you to stalk.

  Chapter One

  He made her panties damp when their eyes met and Olivia Paisley knew she should look away. After all, she was a respectable business owner, and respectable business owners did not fall into hormone-driven lust fits after strangers in their favourite sushi bars.

  But there was something about him she couldn’t look away from. His looks were compelling, but that wasn’t what had her heart racing and her breath catching from just one heated look. With him sitting, she couldn’t quite measure his height, but the way he sat in the small chair had her putting him at over six feet.

  His eyes were equally hard to determine. They looked brown from across the room, but somehow her mystery man didn’t feel like the brown-eyed type. Not that she knew what a brown-eyed type was, but still she felt his eyes would be more…

  Then he slowly lowered one eyelid before flicking it back up.

  He winked at her.

  Livia shifted her gaze back to her meal, heat creeping up her cheeks. How embarrassing to be caught gawking at a good-looking man like she was fifteen years old. Feeling foolish and not a little bit horny, she turned her attention to her food, determined to keep her mind and other body parts off the handsome stranger across the room from her.

  When she could endure it no longer, Livia slid her gaze over to the corner where the mysteriously hot stranger sat, only to find him gone. She let out a little disappointed breath.

  “What did I expect?” she muttered to herself and gathered up the remnants of her lunch. “A declaration of undying love?”

  With a shrug, Livia dismissed the entire thing from her mind. It wasn’t as though she would ever see the man again.

  * * * *

  Two days later

  “Ticket, please”

  Music teased Livia’s ears from behind the thick oak doors as she handed the requested paper to the geriatric usher.

  With a mumbled “enjoy the show”, the red-capped employee crossed his arms over his concave chest, closed his wrinkle heavy eyes and proceeded to fall asleep.

  “Thanks,” Livia whispered back and moved to the two massive doors. A slight tickle on her neck stopped all movement.

  Without giving herself a chance to think, she turned her head and felt all the air rush out of her lungs.

  He stood ahead of her, leaning casually against the wall. Wicked brandy-coloured eyes met hers and she flushed. There he was. The same man she’d gone giddy over two days ago. And that pissed her off more than anything else. Hardly a virgin, Livia had taken men to her bed before, but somehow looking into this man’s heady gaze made her forget all that, forget the successes in her life and all the accomplishments. This stranger’s melt-your-panty stare reduced her to the state of an untried girl.

  Livia wouldn’t stand for it. She’d fought too hard and too long to get where she was. No man, regardless of how handsome and sexy, would be allowed to negate the woman she’d become.

  So instead of smiling back as she was sure Mr. Stud expected, Livia turned her back and hurried into the darkened theatre.

  * * * *

  One week later

  “It’s got to be in here somewhere.” Sighing, Livia dug further into her bag, looking for her missing dry cleaner’s receipt. If she didn’t need that dress for tonight’s date, she’d forget about it all together.

  Sensing someone behind her, she scooted off to the side with a murmured, “Go ahead, please. My receipt seems to be hiding from me.”

  Then she felt his presence.

  “I don’t think anything is foolish enough to hide from you.” The dark, husky whisper sent a sensuous shiver down her spine.

  Bam. Her not-quite lover or stalker once again stood close enough for her to touch. How and why did they continue running into each other?

  “I…ah… Thank you?” She felt like a fool. What had the man said that he deserved to be thanked? Too lost in the colour of his eyes, Livia forgot what she’d been searching for and just stared.

  She’d been right. His eyes weren’t an ordinary brown. They were the perfect colour of aged brandy, something she’d noticed before, but now they seemed so much more vivid. She wanted to drown in the intoxicating depths.

  When the teenaged clerk cleared her throat, Livia’s head jerked. “I’m sorry, I seem to have misplaced my ticket.”

  The girl gave her a bored look. “Why didn’t you just say so?” She turned her back to them dismissively. “What’s the number?” The clerk pulled out an ancient keyboard and waited, fingers poised, for the information.

  Without thinking, Livia rattled off her cell number and waited for the rude teen to pull up her information. Why hadn’t the little twerp offered to do that in the first place?

  “Got it.” She smirked and the black lip ring pulled tightly. Livia wanted to wince in sympathy, but managed to remain still. “Be back,” the clerk said, disappearing into the depths of the store.

  “Think she came in head of her class at charm school?” the stranger asked, still too close for Livia’s comfort.

  She muffled a laugh. “I’m sure she was the reigning queen of comportment.”

  A tawny brow rose. “I’m almost afraid to tell her I lost my ticket,” he whispered in a conspiratorial manner.

  “Blame it on me. She already thinks I’m the lowest of the low.”

  She shouldn’t be talking with this man like this. Like they shared a secret or were close enough to share more than secrets. Maybe it was the way he made her feel, sexy and desired, without being cheap and tawdry.

  What was she thinking? Didn’t she have a date that night with a very pleasant engineer? He was, after all, the sole reason Livia hadn’t given up on wrestling her clothes from the irritating child clerk.

  “Don’t think I won’t,” he replied while his peppermint-scented breath wafted across her face. “But then you’ll have to let me make it up to you.”

  “I—”

  Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as the cranky clerk came back, Livia’s clothes with her.

  “Here ya go.�
�� The girl shoved the bundle at her, leaving Livia no choice but to grab the garment bags or have them end up on the floor.

  “Claim check?” The girl had turned her black-lined gaze to the man and Livia took it as her chance to escape.

  She whispered a quick, “Good luck,” before bolting out the door like some nineteenth century virgin miss. Colour flushed her cheeks as raced past the other customers waiting in line.

  Chapter Two

  Music thumped throughout the refurbished warehouse as Livia skilfully charmed and greeted the patrons of Club Botticelli. Normally being seen and seeing those who patronised her club gave her a lift, but not tonight. Even with the summer decorations swirling happily in the recessed lighting, she felt out of sorts.

  And that pissed her off. Livia loved her end-of-summer party—the cute sandals, the yummy icy drinks, all that barbeque and homemade ice-cream. Not to mention the shiny commercial margarita machine glinting under the lights. But none of that helped boost her out of the funk.

  She knew exactly where to place the blame for her end-of-the-summer blues.

  Tonight Club B, as it was better known to the locals, would have its first ever play-or-pay meeting. Livia didn’t look forward to it. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she knew what it meant. Recee smiled at Livia over her lusty martini from her customary spot at the bar. A specialty drink made exclusively at and for Club B for Recee’s pleasure.

  Caprice Williams, Recee to those who knew enough to be afraid of her, Trinity Mailer, Emma Flintock and Briley Evans, were Club B’s co-owners, and co-conspirators of the play-or-pay game.

  Exactly one year ago tonight, the five of them had celebrated the club’s opening. After way more than one too many glasses of champagne, Trinity and Recee had the brain stroke of all brain strokes.

  They would write down their deepest sexual desires, the man they wanted to act it out with and how long they wanted to play in the fantasy. They each had a year from the club’s opening to scope out the man or men of their dreams and refine the details.

  A year for all five of them to come up with the perfect man fantasy and lover. Granted, most of them had forgotten the silly game until Recee’s announcement last week, but how Livia pulled the short straw in going first she’d never know.

  Tonight, under the auspicious gazes of her so-called friends, Livia needed a name and body to throw out to them. If she couldn’t produce either then the pay part of the game came into play:

  A one-hour interview with Mindy Monique, the world’s answer to Tammie Faye Baker crossed with a pissed off Mary Kaye rep.

  Mindy’s Internet show reached millions of viewers each week, and she’d been hounding the five women for personal interviews since the club opened.

  Not wanting to spend one second, much less one full hour, with the bloodthirsty bottled blonde, Livia racked her brain to come up with someone suitable enough to fool her friends.

  She didn’t mind doing interviews in general. In her ten years of runway modelling then the past five as a real-size model, Livia’d had plenty of time to hone her skills. But Mindy took the cake every time. There was nothing too personal the woman wouldn’t ask, nothing she wouldn’t question, but most of all, Livia couldn’t stand the other woman’s attitude.

  With her bony hips, skeleton legs, silicone-inflated boobs, collagen-injected lips, capped teeth, highlighted hair and slightly too perfect nose, Mindy reminded Livia of a mentally off Barbie. Mostly she felt sorry for the other woman, and Mindy knew it. In turn, Mindy did everything she could to make Livia’s life a living hell.

  As comfortable as she felt with her two-digit clothes size, Livia knew other women would never understand. It had taken years of self abuse for Livia to throw herself out of the zero-size rat race.

  She’d never felt better or looked better. When she’d come up with the Club B idea, Livia had no doubts it would work. A real club for real-sized people. Where someone wearing something larger than a two wouldn’t stand out like in the places she’d frequented before she wised up. Club B allowed those men and women society deemed ‘ugly and unattractive’ to relax, be themselves and maybe find someone special to share their lives with.

  No other club in the city specialised in the type of clientele Club Botticelli catered to. Men and women with real lives and real bodies found a place to unwind, dance and meet others like themselves.

  She just wished someplace like Club B had been around when she’d needed a place to feel comfortable.

  “And none of that matters to Mental Mindy,” Livia reminded herself in a low voice. “Time to get busy, find a man and get on with the rest of your life.”

  Not that she had plans for the next seventy years of her existence, but still, at thirty, she didn’t want to take a single minute of life or her hard-earned success for granted.

  Through the flashing lights, Livia scoped out tonight’s prospects and dismissed them with no more than a look.

  The men were either too young, too old or didn’t hit the lust-o-metre between her thighs. Every man here was successful in his own right, most owned their own companies or were just a step or two away from the top of the ladder. They were good looking, rich and bored her to tears.

  Resolved to give up the search and start buying Valium and double D batteries by the truckload, Livia turned her back to the door. On her way to the private stairs guarded by M, their head of security and friend, a flash of light caught her eye.

  “Hey, sugar.” M, or Marion, shot her a wide smile. The diamond winking in his front tooth glimmered in the pulsing light. Muscle-defined arms crossed a wide chest covered with a black and amethyst polo shirt. Two classical curved outlines swept down one side of the shirt while the club’s name lay over his left pectoral muscle.

  “Hey, M.” She always called him M, never Marion. The last fool who tried that trick remained at Downtown Memorial in traction. Though that could have more to do with the roofie the fool had tried to slip in a woman’s drink.

  As M had told her himself during their first and last employment interview, “There are three things in this world I can’t abide. Number one is a liar. Number two is a fool, and number three is any foolish liar that tries to take advantage of women, children or animals. Puts me in a bad mood.” This said as he’d cracked his knuckles on his platter-sized hands.

  Livia hadn’t taken into account how fiercely he meant those words until the night that patron ended up peeing through a tube in the local E.R.

  A glimpse of movement had her gaze and thoughts turning away from her head of security. There in the corner, with a beer bottle in one hand and the other lazily shoved in his jeans pocket, stood the man she’d been waiting for. The man she’d been panting after since her first embarrassing glimpse.

  Well, she hadn’t known she’d been waiting on him until she saw him, but now everything seemed to fall into place.

  Everything about him made her uncomfortable and unsettled. At least six foot two with tawny brown-blond hair, the man looked relaxed and easy, but his eyes spoke a different story. She wanted to know every page.

  Strength had been her first impression of him when their eyes met across the room at the sushi place. His body screamed sex and satisfaction on her second glimpse while picking up at the theatre. By their third run in at a local dry cleaner’s, Livia wanted to accuse him of stalking then jump him, but her sexy stranger always arrived ahead of her, except for the embarrassing dry cleaners incident. So no stalking charges and no jumping his too-sexy-for-his-clothes body.

  But oh, she could imagine. Especially at the old-fashioned theatre with all its dark nooks and crannies perfect for illicit actions. Their eyes would meet again, something hot and unspoken communicated through that simple gaze.

  Caught up in her fantasy, Livia leaned against the aged wood stair railing and let her libido go. Mentally picturing herself and the hottie at the vintage theatre where they’d run into each other several weeks ago…

  Oh, how she wanted this man, desperately
needed him to fill the empty ache inside her. With a quick look around the almost empty lobby, Livia darted behind the over-sized palms, slipped her hands under the bright peasant skirt she wore and slid her pink silk underwear down her thighs and over her shoes.

  Another fast peek assured her no one noticed her absence or actions, save the man she had plans for. Balling her still warm panties in her hand, she strolled out from behind the plant and casually made her way to where he stood.

  “The popcorn’s great here. They put just the right amount of butter on it,” she said in a casual tone, right before slipping the small pink silk ball in his coat pocket.

  One honey-coloured eyebrow shot up. “Really, too bad I’m in the mood for something on the sweeter side.” He pushed his hand into the pocket with her naughty secret. “Got any idea where I can find something like that?”

  “One or two.” She moved away from him and strolled down the dimly lit hallway until she came to a door marked ‘employees only’.

  A quick glance over her shoulder assured her tall, dark and nicely bulging against the material of his jeans followed just as casually behind her.

  In the way of daydreams, Livia knew the metal stairway would lead to the projection room. The empty projection room—nice, dark and perfect for her purposes.

  There was no chance to ask his name, and since this was her erotic vision, she didn’t care. He took another step to her then kissed her. Deep and hard. The equivalent of the sex she wanted to have with his erection buried deep inside her and his hands all over her.

  Holding her tight, he lifted her up and moved them fast against the nearest bare wall, all the while still kissing her. One hard hand reached under the skirt to stroke the tender skin of her inner thigh. It felt so good to have his hands on her finally. To feel the heat and strength of his touch. With her eyes closed, Livia stretched up and opened her mouth fully, taking everything he gave and demanding more. She teased his tongue with her own, slipping, and nipping with her teeth as the heat built in her veins.