It's tempting. Not just because of the extra money I'd find in my pocket. "I don't follow rules, Gabriel. If you want a private show, I can come to your office after work."
His brow cocks with the suggestion. "Is that something you offer to customers often, Isla?"
I've never offered it before. "I only offer it to the ones who peak my interest."
"I'll give you my card." His hand dips into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
I take it from his long, elegant fingers and look down at it. I don't have time to read the details before my boss is upon us.
I turn to look at her but she's staring at Gabriel. Her hand leaps to his shoulder.
"Mr. Foster," she says slowly. "I see that you've met our newest girl. Isla, you're explaining everything we offer to Mr. Foster, yes?"
I look down at the card of Mr. Gabriel Foster, the CEO of Foster Enterprises and the man who owns this boutique.
"Isla has been very cordial." He reaches to brush his hand over my forearm. "She's coming by my office today. I'll expect you at four, Isla."
"At four," I repeat back. "I'll be there at four, Sir."
His eyes skim slowly over my body before they stop on my face. "Don't be late and bring those samples we spoke of."
I freeze as his hand runs up my arm before he brushes past me towards the front of the shop.
Ember - A Three Part Series
"If you're coming back to my place I need to buy some condoms."
The fork in my hand stops in mid-air. I don't look up. I can't. I've barely taken one bite of the roasted squash salad the waiter brought me not more than four minutes ago. This is New York City. This is the place where I thought I'd find the love of my life. What the hell was I thinking?
"You're up for coming back, right?"
My head darts up and I study him. This might actually be the first time I've seriously looked right at him. I'm on a blind date. Maybe the term itself holds more meaning than the literal. Obviously, I had no idea what Larry looked like before I walked through the doors of Axel NY a half hour ago. More than that, I couldn't have predicted that we'd be talking about sex before I'd finished my first glass of wine.
"I don't know you," I say bluntly. "Why would I go home with you?"
It's a question that borders heavily on rhetorical. I don't think that Larry's bright enough to weave those tangled pieces of subtly together. He's an assistant to a paralegal. That says a lot about his drive in life considering he looks like he's in his mid-forties. He's also dying to be fucked. He's not shy about it at all.
"We're on a date, Bridget …" The words linger there on his thin, smug lips. He doesn't add to them because why would he? Those words have clearly and succinctly spelled out every intention that he has. They aren't masked in anything but the truth. Larry wants his dick to see some action tonight and I'm apparently the main attraction in that circus.
"It's just a date," I explain. "I'd like to get to know you first."
"Why?" He pushes the food from his fork into his mouth and chews.
"I'm not interested in a quick fuck."
His unruly brow cocks. "I heard you were up for just about anything."
Fuck you, Zoe Beck. Fuck you for whatever the hell you said to him when you arranged this date.
"I have no idea what my friend told you about me," I pause while I contemplate how to put this delicately. I stare at him. The wayward piece of kale that is stuck between his front teeth is only adding to the allure that is Larry.
He leans forward on the table. The patch on the elbow of his inexpensive suit jacket brushes against the linen tablecloth. "This place isn't cheap. I brought you here because I thought you were a sure thing."
A sure thing? A fucking sure thing?
I wince at the words. "The only sure thing tonight is that you're going home alone."
It's obvious immediately that Larry is contemplating those words with all the grace of a pack of wild dogs. His hand slams heavily against the spotless white linen tablecloth. "I didn't buy you that expensive salad for nothing. The least you can do is blow me."
No, the least I can do is tell him to fuck right off. "I am not interested in you."
"I'm not interested in you either." He flings his napkin at me and it lands squarely in my squash salad. I was actually going to have another bite of that. "I like brunettes."
Touché. "I like men with hair."
Ouch. I can feel Larry's pain from across the table. Obviously no one, including all the brunettes he's been with, has pointed out the bad comb over that's happening on the top of his odd shaped head.
'We're leaving now."
I actually look to the right and the left to see who Larry is talking to. I'm gathering that he's still engaged in a conversation with me even though I'm trying desperately to ignore him. People are starting to stare and I have no aversion to a little extra attention, but tonight, I don't want to be the main attraction in Larry's sideshow.
"Get up." He grabs tightly to my bare bicep and yanks hard.
I cry out sharply. Considering the fact that most of my body is still stuck next to this table in a chair my arm can't leave with Larry. "Let go of me."