Can I Have You For Lunch?

“What are you wearing today?” He called her from the Hotel lobby. It was quiet in the middle of a Wednesday.

“You ask me that everyday? Why do you want to know? If you’re putting me in one of your stories I need to see a check.” She laughed knowing she was going to tell him, she just liked playing this game.

“Just tell me and stop being difficult.” He smiled to himself; he hadn’t heard her laugh in a couple of days.

“Leopard and black lace underwear, black bra, grey slacks, purple camisole, grey purple and white cardigan sweater and drum roll… Four inch purple suede pumps.” She looked at her pumps sitting on the floor next to her desk. They were made for modeling, not working. She touched up her lip gloss.

“Can you work in four inch pumps?” Her tone changed, she lowered her voice before she answered.

“I can put in more work than you can imagine in these pumps.” He adjusted the way he was sitting, he didn’t want people to see his erection.

“Take an extended lunch and meet me at Hotel Granduca in Uptown Park.” There was a silence, she wanted him as much as he wanted her but there was a silence.

“I have a lot of work to do.” He knew she wanted him to need her; to stop showing his representative, to stop being so cool and be real.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks. My attorney, my publishers, my grandparents. I’m dealing with a lot and the only time my mind has peace is when I’m inside of you. There’s no place in the world as calm as your body on top of mine. I need you, please.” He gave her what she needed, what he feared. Access to what no one else saw.

“Don’t game me author. Don’t use that million dollar imagination to get in my head and between my legs if you don’t mean this shit.” She needed to know this was real because she was falling whether he knew it or not.

“I’ll be waiting.” He smiled and checked into the hotel.

She hung up the phone and smiled at what was to come.

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