be lovely, Amanda,” said Raphael. “Meanwhile, just make an inventory today and I’ll send my guys with a truck to pick everything up tomorrow. And maybe you can visit me on your next day off and help me decide where to put all of this.”
“I would adore that,” she murmured, remembering what he had said about the path to the beach through the woods behind his house.
They were standing in one of the side rooms of the shop, a long, narrow room, rather on the dark side, and crammed with heavy wooden chests of drawers topped with ornate mirrors on either side of the aisle. Perfectly alone in this secluded nook when the rain started to pound on the roof, they found themselves staring into each other’s eyes and shyly, softly smiling. Raphael put out his hand and Amanda put hers into it. Then he surprised her by bringing it to his lips.
“You’re a Venus,” he said, sinking to his knees before her. Amanda looked down at his upturned face in wonder and he looked up at her, wonderstruck. For a long moment, she didn’t move, keeping her arms relaxed but close to her sides as her brain raced to interpret his actions. Was he simply a romantic or had she found her first slave? Either way, he was still the most beautiful young man she had ever seen and she imagined that they would be waking up together sooner or later.
Now Raphael dropped his head to her feet and placed one reverential kiss on each high, leather strapped instep. She reached down and pulled him back up to a kneeling position and pulled him against her, so that his chest was level with her thighs. She placed one hand on each side of his head and stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around her hips and she pressed his head against her flat stomach. With only her thin cotton dress and a scrap of panty between his jaw line and her Venus mound, Amanda shuddered with a sudden thrill.
Then the bell tinkled on the outer door of the shop and Raphael sprang agilely to his feet.
“That’ll be another customer,” she said in a rush. “I have to go and greet them.”
“Do that,” he encouraged her. “While I think of some way to make this hard-on go down.”
Amanda grinned at him and said, “Save it for Sunday afternoon. On the beach.”
Raphael had to get back to his own shop and departed a few moments later, leaving Amanda to number and record all his purchases, then arrive at a preliminary total. According to her calculations, which she checked and rechecked four times, her customer had spent over nineteen thousand dollars in less than one hour.
Amanda went back to Hugo’s computer and Googled international time to find out if it was a decent hour to phone her father in Italy. She found it was still early enough in the evening to place a call and opened the desktop file with his itinerary. He and Laura were in Florence that night, staying at The Grand Hotel Cavour. Amanda found its website and phone number and punched in the number. In a few minutes she was connected with Hugo’s suite and he answered the phone himself.
“Hugo, I’m so glad I found you in,” Amanda said in a rush.
“Is everything okay, Amanda?” Hugo asked with concern, for she was not the type to casually phone him.
“Everything is fantastic. Hugo, you’ll never guess what happened. I just made a huge sale.”
“Really?” he replied. She could envision his face breaking into a wide smile. “What did you sell?”
“I sold almost twenty thousand dollars worth of your best furniture. To a Raphael Price.”
“No kidding! That would be Randy Price’s nephew. He just opened an art gallery in Woodbridge, right?”
“Yes. I brought Mr. Newton over there for the opening and Mr. Newton bought graphics from him last night.”
“So, you’ve attracted Anthony Newton’s attention too, have you? How many millionaires do you plan to collect before sophomore year?” he laughed.
“He knelt down to me and kissed my insteps.”
“Wow.”
“Do you think he’s submissive?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Should he get some sort of discount for spending so much?” asked this child of several shopkeepers.
“Sounds like he’s more interested in you than a discount.”
“At first I thought he was just returning my favor from last night, bringing him Mr. Newton. But now I think he’s interested in me.”
“Yes. I’m sure he is. I hear he’s a nice young man. Well educated. Cornell, I think. As far as the discount goes, cash gets him 20% off,” said Hugo.
“Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know.”
“By the way, you also get a five percent commission on the sale, Amanda. So you’ll have some extra pocket money for Europe next month.”
“I don’t need that. You’re already paying me to work here,” she protested, ever mindful of the large tuition bills Hugo was coping with. He had insisted on paying her to working in the shop that month and had arranged for her to charge all her groceries at the local food coop, which her mother had adored and had situated her original psychic shop opposite so many years ago.
Laura emerged from the consummately modern Italian bathroom, clad in a sumptuously embroidered white cotton eyelet batiste gown set that clove to her curvaceous bosom and small waist and swirled romantically about her legs. She came and sat on his knee, stretching out her graceful legs to show off the white satin pearl sewn slippers they had chosen to match the gown. He put down the phone receiver and locked his arms around her waist.
“In 20 years of doing business I never sold twenty thousand dollars worth of wood off the floor in one day, and Amanda does it her first week at the shop,” he revealed with wonder.
“Oh how wonderful! How did she manage it?” she demanded, unconsciously bouncing on Hugo’s lap with the shared euphoria of the big sale.
“I guess Raphael Price is pretty taken with Amanda.”
“I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard he’s very good looking,” Laura said, winding her arms around Hugo’s neck and breathing in the scent of expensive Italian soap. “Does she like him?”
“If he’s that good looking, I’m sure she likes him.”
“It sounds like poor Colby is getting cut out,” said Laura.
“Oh, I don’t think he’s in any real danger,” Hugo laughed. “He’ll have her to himself in Europe and then they’ll go back to school together. And if she’s as good at keeping secrets as her mother, he’ll never be the wiser about Mr. Millionaire.”
Chapter Four
Pascal Punishes Amanda for Cutting Her Hair
“Amanda, how could you?” Pascal Robbins accused her, striding into the shop mid-afternoon and arousing her from a Lord Byron induced reverie she had been indulging in while curled up in a comfortable rocker in the main room of
