The Pleasure Planner

Chapter One
Brianna Hendricks, professional lesbian matchmaker, wheeled her Lotus Elise into the drive leading up to the colonnaded entrance of the Golden Mirage, arguably the best hotel in all of San Francisco. The valet was there a heartbeat before she cut the engine and she took his hand as he assisted her out of the car.

“Thank you.” She smiled politely.

“You are most welcome, miss.” He accepted the generous tip and gave her a brief salute.

She paused and looked out over the bay while she adjusted her Bluetooth to receive an incoming call. “Bree Hendricks.”

“Bree, this is Monica. I’ve got a problem. I think…I’m sure…I screwed up my date with Carla Summers, again. She stormed out of the restaurant, calling me every name but Buttercup. I swear I was only fifteen minutes late, and even phoned ahead to arrange for a bottle of Cristal to be chilling on our reserved table.”

Bree mentally counted backward from ten, her spiked heels punctuating the countdown as she tip-tapped across the Italian marble floor of the portico toward the entrance. She’d been practicing this calming technique for months, and though it worked with some of her clients, she was beginning to lose her patience with this particular client. Monica was one of her more stubborn clients, resisting Bree’s advice every step of the way. Through their meetings and meet-n-greets with possible clientele, she’d actually begun to consider Monica a friend, thank goodness, because right now she was on the verge of going postal on her.

She slipped her BlackBerry into the pocket of her white pinstriped Armani suit jacket. “Are you fucking kidding me? What in hell’s name was Carla doing at the restaurant before you? Didn’t you listen to anything I said during our consultation meeting? Never, ever, let your date arrive before you. Ever!”

“I know…I’m sorry, Bree. Something came up at the last second.”

She took a calming breath and slipped her arm through the strap of her purse as she continued at a steady pace through the lobby. “Listen, Monica, you can’t expect a woman of her stature to sit patiently, drumming her freshly manicured nails on the table, while you take your sweet friggin’ time. Women like Carla want to make a grand entrance. They want to see the way your brow arches as your gaze sweeps down their body, the sparkle of desire in your eyes when you see their brand new designer dress, how well it snugs their curves. They want you to see their newly purchased spiked stilettos as they saunter your way as if they have nothing better to do. Do you understand me? They want all the attention focused on them, and they want that attention from you…you!”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts! You’ve placed your confidence in me, and paid me handsomely, I might add, so we’re no longer playing by your rules. We’re playing by mine. And if I’d been Carla, waiting all alone for you to get your lazy ass to my date, I’d have poured the ice bucket over your crew cut head and carried that damn bottle home with me.”

Increasing her pace, Bree left the lobby. Her heels sank into the dark burgundy carpet as she moved swiftly down the corridor toward the luxuriously appointed ballroom. However, there was no need to rush. She was never late. Tardiness was her biggest pet peeve. The auction wasn’t due to start for another thirty minutes. Besides, Bree didn’t know how to be late to anything and no excuse would overcome punctuality. “Now, this is what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to call Carla and let her know you were a jackass, that you want to apologize for your unforgivably rude behavior in person over a candlelight dinner in the darkest corner of Kuleto’s Italian restaurant, and see if I can drum you up yet another date. And if you screw this one up, I’m going to release you from your contract and wish you a good life. Am I making myself clear?”

“Bree, that’s not fair.”

“Fair? Sure it is. Your signature on the contract in my filing cabinet proves that point. Do you want the date or not? Or should I find Carla another woman who will make sure she’s not left sitting alone, and who will stare at her with star-struck eyes when she sashays across the room? In short, somebody who will be seated and waiting with bated breath for her entrance.”

Monica’s exasperated sigh drifted down the line. “Yes. Yes, dammit, I want another date with her. She looked so edible in that slinky dress, not to mention those spiked heels with sexy ribbons climbing her legs…and when she stormed across the room I—”

“Uh-huh. You didn’t forget about the little clause in your contract about no sex, did you?”

“Hell no. How could I forget about that? It’s sadistic—like cutting off a man’s dick.”

Bree chuckled. As much as Monica raked her nerves sometimes, she was a great person and meant well. “Good. I’ll set it up, but so help me God, if you fuck this one up, I’ll castrate your brassy female balls with a rusty butter knife. Got it?”

Monica laughed. “Aye, aye, sir. I’ll be on my best behavior and I’ll arrive an hour before the date. Promise.”

“You better. And make sure you have a single pink ranunculus. It’s her favorite. And you better go on and on about how beautiful she is, and what a sorry sack of shit you were for being late.”

“Anyone told you what a hard ass you are?”

Bree smiled as she spotted her personal assistant and only true friend, Sienne, tapping her red pump impatiently just inside the ballroom doors, arms crossed in that “I’m already pissed at you” posture. “Yep. I’ve been told that a time or two. But don’t forget, I’m a hard ass for your best interest. I’m the one searching for your soul mate.”

“For that, I thank you. Sorry I was late. I know you worked hard to pick out the best date for me.”

“Damn right, I did. And don’t tell me you’re sorry, tell Carla. Gotta go. Kisses.”

Bree disconnected the call and gave Sienne a toothy grin and a low whistle. She was used to seeing her in casual clothing, mainly jeans and T-shirts around the office. Tonight’s outfit, however, oozed sophistication. Her long legs were encased in silvery gray slacks topped off with a red silk top that scooped low to reveal a deep cleavage. Her short brown hair was moussed into an array of waves, making her look way younger than her thirty-six years. “Wow. You resemble someone looking for a lay. I take it someone special will be here tonight?”

Sienne gave her a cocky grin. She was dressed up for a reason, and that reason was somewhere here in this building, probably handing out her own flyers for her travel agency. Sienne had been crushing on her for months. “Don’t try to make nice with me. Why were you making business calls on your night off?” She reached for Bree’s Bluetooth and gently pulled it from her ear. “You promised tonight was going to be a laid back night. I only gave you permission to hand out cards and possibly make an appointment or four.” She pulled Bree’s purse off her shoulder.

Bree arched her brow. “Since when does an assistant tell the boss what to do?”

“Since the boss works too damn hard and her assistant is the only damn friend she has to make sure she doesn’t overwork herself. And don’t change the subject. Who were you talking to?”

“It was Monica…our pain in the ass client for way too many months now. I swear she’s trying to make my hair turn gray. She was late for her date with Carla, again.” Bree reached for the earpiece but Sienne jerked backward then held out her hand.

“That’s because she thinks it’s all about her. Now give me the phone.”

“I promise I won’t make any more calls.” Bree held her hand protectively over her pocket.

“I know you won’t, as soon as you give it to me.” Sienne nudged her hand forward, stern expression on her face. “Hand it over.”

Bree rolled her eyes, withdrew the BlackBerry from her pocket, and handed it over. “You’re a pushy little thing.”

“Yeah, well, working alongside a hard ass all day tends to rub off on people. Now lose the jacket. And unbutton that blouse. You look like a schoolmarm.”

Bree glanced down her body, taking in her silk rose pink blouse sealed against her curves. “You don’t think this is sexy?”

Sienne closed the gap between them and plucked open two buttons, pulling the material apart. “Now it is. And when you take off the jacket everyone will see that fine ass of yours.”

“Why, exactly, do I want everyone seeing my cleavage and ass?”

“Because you have a sexy body and tonight you need to unwind.”

“And my body has what to do with having a drink and drumming up more business?”

Sienne let out a breath. “Jesus, just give me the fucking jacket.”

Bree shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to Sienne. “Dammit, woman, you’re getting bossier by the second.”

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment coming from the queen bitch herself.” Sienne winked then headed for the coat closet.

Bree moved further into the ballroom, a glittering symphony of green silk-covered walls and Bavarian crystal chandeliers that shot rainbows of color in all directions. Matching crystal wall sconces added sparkle to the luxuriously set tables. She looked toward the stage where the auction would take place. On the block were ten women who’d volunteered their services to help raise money for a local homeless shelter.

Women were everywhere in small and large groups, some already seated at the round tables draped with linen cloths, but most were standing idly by, waiting for the auction to begin. Dykes, femmes, butches, all dressed to the nines, anxious to see and be seen at one of the glitziest charity events on the social calendar.

Bree scanned the throng and easily identified outfits from at least twenty of the most influential designers. She gave a satisfied smile at the array of gorgeous choices for every available woman in the room. These occasions were also the perfect opportunity to hand out her business cards. And, with the overdose of hormones pumping strong through the crowd, she had an excellent chance to add real substance to her clientele list.

“Ms. Hendricks!” Someone called from behind her.

Bree turned to find a petite auburn haired woman with striking blue eyes framed by over-long fake lashes shoving her way through a small group of women. Costume diamonds sparkled against her earlobes and throat. Bree knew instantly this woman was a gold digger. She didn’t question her natural instincts to read people. She just trusted them, and it helped tremendously when it came time to find matches for her clients.

This woman required lavish attention, so high-maintenance was a given while Bree took in her freshly French manicured nails with more bling on her fingers than should be allowed.

The woman came to a breathless halt in front of Bree, so close she invaded the invisible line of her personal territory. “I wanted to talk to you about your services.”

Bree mentally flipped her Rolodex of clients looking for a suitable match for someone who needed extra special care. She thought of one name instantly—a millionaire looking for someone to coddle with her money and not ashamed to admit those desires. “Sure. Let me give you a card.” Bree produced a business card. “Call the office tomorrow and my assistant can set you up an appointment for an interview.”

The woman extended her hand and wiggled her fingers seductively as she slowly withdrew the paper from Bree’s grasp. Bree bit back a smile as she watched the femme bat her lashes. “How long does it take you to find someone’s true love? I hear your success rate is sky high.”

Bree grinned. This woman wasn’t looking for love. She was looking for a fat bank account from a sugar mama. “That depends on what you’re looking for, and if we have available clients with those complementary requirements. If we don’t, it’s my job to go out and find what you’re looking for.”

The woman read the card. “‘Love Match…strike a flame that burns forever.’ How charming.”

Bored with this simpering, Bree switched her attention to the rest of the room, taking in the few women already gathered on the stage. The announcer stood nearby watching the event staff adjusting the wires for the sound system and microphone.

Her gaze halted abruptly on two other women talking intently to each other at the side of the stage. Bree’s heart stuttered as she studied one in particular, dressed in loose blue jeans, a gray tank top, and a sheer overshirt; she looked stunning in a casual kind of way. Her hair was feathered back on the sides, the top a mass of thick brown curls. She looked totally out of place against the prestigious crowd of sophisticated women, like she’d just wandered in from a long stroll on a windy beach without bothering with appearance afterward.

Bree assumed her to be with the set-up crew. And she couldn’t stop staring, wondering what kind of woman would dress down for such an occasion, yet still stand out like a diamond.

The woman beside her cleared her throat and Bree suddenly remembered she’d been carrying on a conversation with a possible client. She turned back, an apologetic smile on her lips. “I’m sorry. I was looking for my assistant.”

“No problem.” The woman held out a card and Bree took it, casually glancing down at the name printed in hot pink cursive letters. “I’d really like to set up a meeting at your earliest convenience.”

“Great. I’ll have my assistant get in contact with you as soon as possible.”

The woman nodded then sashayed away on pink stilettos. Bree immediately switched back to the women still chatting near the stage, letting her gaze travel down the length of the shorter one. She wanted to know her name…and, more importantly, what she’d sound like when an orgasm tore from her body.

Sienne came to stand beside Bree and nudged her with her shoulder. “Please, God, tell me you gave her a card. Helen would cream her panties over that one.”

“Sure did. Here’s her card.” Bree held out the paper and Sienne plucked it from her grasp. “This one’s a definite gold digger. Make sure you get her in early next week so I can make Helen a happy woman.”

“No problem.” Sienne grinned and they both turned back to the waiting crowd. “Now tomorrow, nine a.m. sharp, you have a meeting with Taylor—at Starbucks—about her date night before last. She said things went great. At ten, you have to meet Ms. Beechum around the corner at the sandwich shop. She’s ready to choose from the new models. I’ve already set up your home visit with her as well, for next Tuesday.”

Bree only half-listened to Sienne, her attention fixed on the woman across the room. She was smiling at the very tall woman beside her, but from the looks of their posture, they weren’t together. What was it about her? She sure didn’t resemble anything Bree normally found sexy. Hell, far from it. But there was something about her, something that screamed independent, strong-willed, and I don’t give a shit what people think about me. Bree liked that in a woman.

As if sensing her interest, the woman turned and their eyes met. Something in that hypnotic stare held Bree rooted to her spot. She felt like the woman had somehow seen deep into her soul. The woman broke eye contact first, and her gaze lazily swept down Bree’s body before she turned back to her friend.

“Excuse me. I’m trying to have my brief meeting with you so you don’t get your clients mixed up tomorrow.” Sienne waved her PDA in front of Bree’s face.

“Like I’ve ever gotten my appointments mixed up.” Bree struggled to get her breathing under control.

“Who the hell are you looking at?”

“No one. Just waiting for the auction to begin so I can build up my clientele.” Bree turned away, trying to compose herself. She felt like a teenager lusting after her first piece of ass.

“Uh huh, right.” Sienne turned to scan the crowd. “So who is it that’s stolen your undivided attention?” She gasped. “Oh my God, there’s Tawny. I have to go say hi.” Flustered, Sienne pressed down her shirt. “Do I look okay?”

Bree gave her a reassuring smile. “You look fantastic. Go talk to her.”

A hint of crimson swept across Sienne’s cheeks. “I’ll meet back up in a minute to continue our conversation.”

As soon as the crowd swallowed Sienne, Bree darted to the coat closet, feeling awkwardly naked without her BlackBerry, and her pussy in need of much attention.

*

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this shit.” Logan watched a group of four chic bitches giggle and nudge each other, no doubt part of the idiot clique who’d volunteered their time to be auctioned off for a date. Hell, she was one of those idiots this year.

How she’d let Paula talk her into this nonsense she’d never know. She could be in her loft finishing up the body art for Elise Simon instead of feeling completely out of place among these rich, designer clad women. Truly, she felt like a black panther in the middle of a room of jaguars and leopards.

Except for the woman across the room who’d just parted the crowd like the Red Sea, there wasn’t anyone here who quirked her brow. Where had she gone? Was the woman talking to her only minutes ago her date? Logan wanted to know. Had to know.

“I think you should go talk to her. You could damn well use her services.” Paula stepped back as two more women barged toward the stage.

“Who?”

“Brianna Hendricks, the professional matchmaker you’ve been drooling over for the past fifteen minutes.”

Logan turned to look up at Paula, all six foot one inches of her. Her dark eyes looked almost black against the dim lighting. “I was not drooling over her.”

“Don’t know why. She’s fucking hot as hell.”

Logan grinned. That was an understatement. The woman oozed dominance, her straight posture exuded arrogance. Logan normally avoided women like her, with their noses to the air. But that expression didn’t translate to “I’m better than everyone around me” for this woman. It said “I’m confident with myself.” Logan could live with that…and she wanted to fuck her so bad it made her head swim.

Someone stopped beside Paula and introduced herself. Logan barely heard the exchange of names, her feet were already in motion leading her across the room. She had to get close to that woman, if only for a minute, if only for one solid second. She needed to smell her.

Following the same route she was sure this Brianna had taken, Logan found herself outside the coatroom. She took a brief glance inside but didn’t see anyone. When she turned to walk away, she heard mumbled female cursing and knew her mystery goddess was making the racket.

With a moan of animalistic instinct, she stepped inside the closet and found the object of her infatuation digging in the pockets of a coat.

“Dammit, where’d she put it?” Brianna jerked the coat around and dug in the opposite pockets.

“Are you picking pockets? Don’t you know it’s against the law?”

Brianna whipped around, her hands outstretched against the hanging coats. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on people like that.” She held her hand to her heart.

Logan noticed immediately her fingers were well manicured, but lacked the stylish length she detested. A dark shade of maroon nail polish covered each nail, and there was no ring of possession on her left hand.

She took a step toward Brianna, watched in awe as those deep green eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Brianna blinked and straightened. “My assistant is determined I’m not working tonight, and took my cell phone. I’m trying to find it.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Brianna’s lips parted and her tongue snaked out to caress the corner of her mouth.

Logan wasn’t sure what possessed her, or what the hell overcame her in one second flat, but she found herself closing the gap, unable to stop herself.

Brianna didn’t even flinch, and her expression invited Logan’s kiss.

Logan hovered over her, her own breath heaving in her chest, though her nerves were abnormally calm to be acting so foolishly. “I’m going to kiss you, Brianna Hendricks, professional matchmaker.”

“You think?” Brianna stared intently at Logan’s lips and her hands fisted on both sides of her hips, gripping material of several coats.

“I know.” Logan leaned down and barely pressed her lips against Brianna’s. Her head swam for a brief second, her heart hammering in her chest. A sweet, intoxicating aroma met her nose and she inhaled, and then parted Brianna’s lips with her tongue.

Brianna moaned, the sound like a gentle caress of wings against her cheek. Logan wanted to slam her body up against a wall, wanted to grab her legs and wrap them around her hips then grind against her until she expelled an orgasm.

Instead, she tasted her, melding their tongues in a duel of exploration while she reached down and pulled Brianna’s tight grip away from the coats. She wove their fingers together and pressed her deeper against the coats.

“Bree, dammit, I knew I’d find…oh, shit, um…”

Logan pulled away from Brianna but didn’t turn around. She watched her eyes lazily flutter open, her lips moist from their kiss.

With a groan, Brianna blinked and stepped to the side, staring at Logan like she’d never set eyes on her.

“Natalie called, she just landed, and, shit…said you’re still on for tonight,” the woman behind them said.

Logan wondered who Natalie was, then remembered the woman she was kissing was a matchmaker, and it seemed she was always in work mode. No wonder her assistant had stolen her cell phone.

Brianna took a deep breath, her eyes wide with trepidation. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Shit, I, uh…fuck. Okay, thanks, Sienne.”

“I need all contestants to the stage at this time,” the PA system announced.

Logan took a step back, still staring into those hypnotic eyes. “I have to go.”

Brianna nodded, her chest rising and falling with staggered breaths. “Okay.”

Logan leaned toward her, watched Brianna’s eyes widen and her lips part as if she expected another kiss. “You taste delicious. I knew you would.” She turned away, nodded to the assistant, and then darted from the closet.