Zaza was tired and felt in desperate need of a nip of something more potent than the six cups of espresso she had throughout the day. It had been twenty-two hours since she managed a quick power nap on her office sofa; that wasn’t enough to get her through the three a.m. conference call from Berlin. It just never seemed to stop coming.

Life was running her ragged. She had a business palm pilot full of obligations just waiting for her to manage. She had an assistant to take care of a few of it but the majority needed her special expertise in the field of ass-kissing. Mainly, the show promoters were her entrepreneurial beast of burden. She personally spent all morning rearranging her friend and invaluable client Selby Mason's future sold-out concert dates around her upcoming nuptials.

Once you stir in the tasks of being the maid of honor for that said wedding and heighten it with the persistent calls from a possessive ex-lover, you have the beginning of craziness.

Za's motive for having her drink at this exact location wasn't spur-of-the-moment. She never made a step without a primary purpose. She continued dropping by here in hopes of conferring with the seemingly-reclusive owner. No one she questioned even knew his name. They knew him only by his initials and that he dropped in from time to time to perform with the house band. Otherwise, there was not much else to tell.

Well, she decided this would be the last effort on her part. The man didn't even have the courtesy to acknowledge any of the messages or free show passes she'd left here for him. At this point, Za wasn't certain she still wanted book her clients in this place anymore. She sighed heavily. All and all, this had been a fucked-up week.

Now, what was she going to do about Selby? Za was still was having a hard time believing her friend was marrying a man she met and made out with in a local hotel lobby men's room.

That had to be one of the most buck-wild crazy moves anyone could make. Especially someone as well known as Selby was in the entertainment field. Her friend used to be one of the most levelheaded women she knew, but lately, since Selby had met Darius it was as if she was dealing with an entirely new person. She couldn’t say it was a bad thing because she’d never seen her happier. Selby was absolutely glowing and, admittedly, in a way Za envied finding that kind of love.

Of course, on the down-low, she had to reasonably ensure her friend wasn't being deluded again, as her first husband had managed to do to her. That lying bastard had the nerve to sue Selby for half of everything she possessed. It was as if breaking her heart hadn’t been enough.

Zaza independently took it upon herself to find out all that she could about Selby’s new fiancée, Darius Andros, before they exchanged their vows. This time she would be a true friend and do a better job of looking after Selby's interests.

However, it surprised her that Darius hadn't wanted a prenuptial agreement of his own. After all, he was the first-born son of a wealthy and well-known Greek family who established the Satyrs’ Wine Empire. His portfolio was impressive, but finances didn't say much for his personality; that was something that only time would tell.

She couldn't help wonder about a man that proposed to a woman he only knew from a one-night escapade in a public bathroom. Something else was going on here and she just couldn't fathom what he was after. It could be just basic simple love, she surmised-at least for some people.

In particular, Za pondered about Darius's platinum-blond sidekick. Sylus appeared to be more then a friend to Darius and he was constantly with Selby and Darius. Selby appeared to like him, but Za didn't care for his pompous attitude.

The last few times she’d visited Selby, either he was there with Darius, or sometimes he was there alone with Selby. He should respect Darius and not hang around at his fiancée's house when he was out.

Za felt relieved when she saw the pair at her favorite table get up and leave in the rear of the bar. When she didn't wish to be disturbed, she would always opt for sitting in the left-hand back corner of the room.

Diamond Blue was the hottest blues bar in Vegas. It was far enough off the beaten path of the strip so that tourists didn’t bombard it. It was more of a secret watering hole for the locals and a hideaway where entertainers could frequent it and not be disturbed by the press. You had to go through a metal detector and leave your phone at the coat desk in the lobby of the club because it was a place to find peace of mind. A little place to get lost in a busy town, it also stopped the mishaps of cameras coming inside.

Za sighed aloud, smiling at the bartender who motioned he was on his way. Her thoughts returned to Selby’s reckless behavior and constant need for wine. She didn’t know if this was a good thing or not. It didn’t seem to affect her performance in any way. In fact, her new stuff was better than anything she’d written in the past. It was different from her original style, but these days’ entertainers needed different and bold material just to keep up.

Slowly she leaned back, resting her head against the back cushion of the booth. Her eyes took in the surroundings for lack of anything else to do; she wasn’t used to being without her electronic toys and she felt uncomfortable sitting there alone.

Her honey-brown eyes took in the mellow romantic atmosphere. The decor was masculine with basic shades of navy and cream surrounded by redwood tables and paneling. There were no TVs to take away from people tuning into each other instead. A medium-size stage was awaiting the live entertainment that was to come: usually solo individuals or an occasional quartet.

This place made some of the greatest careers in the music business and it has been around so long no one was sure when it originated. She tried for years to get Selby a sit-in with the house band but they had always been booked years in advance. Even her pull wasn’t good enough to get a meeting with the reclusive owner of the establishment.

He even had the nerve to leave a message with the bartender that if she wished to meet with him, she would have to be around on the nights he chose to stop in and perform. When she asked the bartender when that would be, he politely told her, "S.D. said you would probably ask that and he told me to tell you, to have faith." Now what kind of screwy nonsense way was that to conduct business?

Za learned early in her business pursuits that if you wanted to get on top and stay on top you had to be structured. She would warrant this man never wanted for anything. If he had to struggle half as hard as a black woman did while trying to make it in an industry that catered to men, he wouldn’t be making a simple meeting so difficult.

In the initial days of getting Selby’s career off the ground, Za scratched and struggled her way to make the right connections to get Selby gigs that weren’t normally offered to novices. Before she knew it, she had created her own business and now she was a corporation with several other entertainment agents working for her.

Draper’s Entertainment Incorporated was her baby, but Selby’s career was the only one she continued to maintain personally. Selby had kept her promise and put her career in Za’s hands, and she made Selby a household name, making seven-figure album deals. Selby was the superstar and she was her manager.

Soft instrumental jazz played through the surround speakers and Zaza Draper, businesswoman extraordinaire, was oblivious to the many men gazing at her petite figure.

Still, they weren’t foolish enough to approach any woman while in Diamond Blue unless she approached first. This was a "ladies’ choice" bar and it could get a man blackballed from the joint forever. If you approached and risked insulting a woman in this establishment, you risked losing your Carte Blanche.

"If it isn’t the too fine for sunshine Zaza Draper. I can die now for all is right in the world. It’s good to see you again. It’s been awhile." Bartender Ed smiled and kissed her proffered cheek as he placed her regular apple martini in front of her.

"Hello, Eddie. I see you’re busy tonight; it usually don’t take me twenty minutes to get my much-needed martini," she teased.

"Yah well, word got out on the streets that the boss was playing tonight and the horny babes been creeping up in here like bees on a hive." He beamed a smile that was flawless against his dark handsome face. "I take it that’s why you picked tonight to stop in."

"No, I actually needed this drink." She took a sip and released a deep sigh. She crossed her shapely legs. The black skirt didn’t do anything to hide her lean, naked thighs.

Za didn’t miss the appreciation in Ed’s eyes, nor did she care.

"I’m delighted. I finally picked a night the infamous mysterious owner of Diamond ‘B’ is up in the house. Must be my lucky day after all."

Ed licked his lips and cleared his throat as he lifted his eyes. He realized she had his number. "Huh…I don’t know what it is about S.D., but every time he comes up in here the entire night is off the hook. It’s as if someone turned on a sign that says ‘Party ova heah’, yanno."

"I hear ya." Za put on her best come-hither smile on her lips and crossed her arms beneath her breasts until they peaked into a prominent cleavage. Her white georgette beaded button-front blouse opened wider as she leaned forward. "So Eddie, tell me, did you do that little favor I asked of you? Did you check upstairs in his office to see if he had anything with his full name on it?"

Ed’s eyes drifted to the cleavage. "Yeah, his name is-"

"Ed, I need you at the bar right now. That asshole trying to say he gave me a fifty and it was a twenty," the frantic waitress interrupted.

"Damn, not another idiot." The bartender’s irritation was apparent on his face; he glanced at Za’s breasts once more and cursed. "Za, baby, I will check back on ya in a piece. I must get this handled. I can’t have no shit going down tonight, with the boss comin’. "

"Wait, Eddie! Just-" she sighed and cursed softly.

Za turned her attention to her martini, taking a couple of more tiny sips. On crowded nights like this, Za learned to consume slowly, because it would probably take another hour or so before a server worked his or her way back to her secluded corner.

She looked around with curious eyes; there were plenty of sexy women and men up in here. If she decided she wanted to get rid of some of this stress with some sexual therapy, she saw she wouldn't have any difficulties getting action tonight.

Was she honestly in the mood for company? With her luck, she'd probably find someone who wanted to snuggle, talk, and draw out the night afterwards. Za definitely wasn’t in the state of mind for anyone’s emotional baggage. She had overstuffed luggage of her own to deal with. A shadow of sadness came across her face and she shrugged it off. Tonight she wanted to not talk or think any more for at least four hours.

As Za took another sip and enjoyed the smoothing burning sensation in her chest as the liquid ease down, the lights grew dimmer and a hush fell over the room. She felt her heart thump against her chest, feeling foolish to be experiencing a rush of excitement. So, am I about to finally know who you are?

Za was about to get her first glimpse of this S.D character. For some reason she felt tense and excited at the same time as she waited for the owner of Diamond Blue to make his grand entrance. She was more then curious to see and hear the enigma that made women come to the club by the masses just to see him.

***

Blood coursed through his body and he could feel each heartbeat fall into calm unison as his tall frame lowered onto the awaiting barstool. One long muscular leg rested upon the stage as the other braced against the footrest of the stool and he supported the feminine curve of the René Vaboam classical guitar on his leg. He adored this guitar; it was a gift from one of his lovers, made especially for him in seventeenth-century Paris after a very delightful two-month stay.

They knew not to turn on the spotlight until the song began; in order to appreciate the full effect of music, one must experience it in complete darkness. His elder brother Quintan taught him how to become one with the music and close out his surroundings.

His hearing was always acute, but humans had become desensitized by the constant noise about them and they failed to appreciate that music was more than just a song they heard on the radio or the TV for background noise. Music is like a piece of art, a fine wine, or good sex; it needed total avoidance of distractions for one to appreciate it. Sounds became more acute for humans when they could not rely on what they could see.

He wanted to heighten their senses with the anticipation of waiting before seeing who created the music that caused them to feel.

Music, melodious and haunting, filled the sizeable bar with a longing for all that was wonderful and glorious as his long, deft fingers played the guitar’s strings with expertise.

In the darkness, he could hear their breathing released in tiny puffs and sighs as if they were in the throes of passion and his nostrils flared as a familiar scent of arousal wafted against them, nearly causing him to tighten his hold and ruin the flow.

He knew that scent. Was she here? Was it an accident or had she finally come to him on her own accord?

His penis hardened and he shifted on the stool, closing his eyes, concentrating on the music, not the woman that had haunted his thoughts since the moment he had seen her in his mind through Darius’s bond with his mate as she made love with her friend Selby Maison over a month ago. Nevertheless, he found Zaza Draper an impossible shrew of a woman. Darius said the woman hadn’t even been with a man for over three years. She only slept with women.

I do not need a man-hating woman in my life. She will be nothing but trouble, Sylus thought with growing agitation.

"Sylus, my friend, do you need me?"

The masculine voice in his head chuckled and faded.

***

As the song vibrated through Za’s body in the darkness, she ran her fingers over her bare thighs, pushing the black linen pleated miniskirt up as she went along.

Her fingers trembled. Her pussy was already wet with desire. She ached to feel the touch of those wonderful fingers tickling the strings of the guitar. She didn’t care what he looked like or what his name was as long as he didn’t stop playing.

Slowly her sling-pumped feet slid apart, causing her thighs to spread wide; she scooted down in her seat. She was so heated she didn’t even have to wet her fingers with the moistness of her mouth. Achingly, Za slid her wandering fingers though the lace-scalloped edging of her black Victoria’s Secret underwear and felt the thick lips of her Brazilian-waxed pussy. With deep need, she pushed two fingers between her labia, pushing until the flat of her palm pressed against her clitoris.

She enjoyed the feel of molten inner heat consuming her as she felt her juices seep between the cheeks of her ass. She was thankful for the leather booth seating and her underwear for she knew from the raging build up inside her body she would leave a wet spot.

Even though she could swear mixed in the music she heard the sounds of people fucking like one big orgy, she bit down on her back teeth to keep her need to moan and scream silent.

She rolled halfway on her side, lifting a leg until it hit beneath the top of the table, she started fucking herself to the rhythm of the guitar…faster…faster as he continuously encouraged her to follow him. Her heart was beating faster and quick little spasms rippled against her fingers.

The smell of her sex seemed to permeate her nostrils…but it didn’t matter…nothing mattered but this guitar-playing man. Her eyes were clenched tightly and she didn’t even care if the lights had come on and everyone could see her…she was so close to sweet relief.

Her cheeks and upper body grew flushed and sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip as it curled back off her teeth in a guttural sound as she thrust against one…two…three fingers.

As the room remained in the dark, a solo spotlight appeared on the musician on stage.

As if sensing a change in the room, Zaza manage to open her eyes. Gazing straight at her, as if he could see through the darkness and all the way to the back of the room, was none other then the man she had been doing her best to avoid.

Za’s release came upon her; she cried out his name.

"Sylus…Sylus…" Spasm after spasm seized her in a sweet, glorious release that seemed to go on as long as he continued to play that guitar.

After what felt like a two-minute orgasm, Zaza finally felt freed from the magical melody as he concluded the melody. She damned him more for making her feel wildly uninhibited.

"Damn you, Sylus de Gauls," Za murmured as she picked up her purse and hurried from the room, hoping it was only in her imagination that he was watching her in the shadows of the darkness.

Za would have been even more mortified if she had known for sure Sylus had appreciated every minute of ecstasy on her face. She would undoubtedly deny this event had ever happened. No, she wouldn’t deny for one defining moment, she was delighted to see the mysterious S.D. was Darius’s friend, Sylus de Gauls.

CHAPTER THREE