by Ryli Jordan
“No water, thank you.” She was leaning against the table, her head in her hands with her wavy hair covering one eye. She was real, frazzle, raw and she had an attitude that could be felt all the way across the room, so I decided to tease her a bit, unbutton my collar and take a seat next to her. She was startled, I could tell, so I used that.
“One question.”
“Just one?” She laughed bitterly. “After four hours. You're giving me an exclusive.”
“It's more than everyone else got.”
“How did he treat you when he was alive.”
I smiled, inhaled sharply through my teeth and shook my head slowly. “I never said you were the one that got to ask the question.”
“What are you trying to pull?”
“You want your question or not?”
“Of course I want it. This in the interview of my life.”
“What's your favorite restaurant?”
“Come on,” she baulked. “You've gotta give me something.”
“What do you look like under your clothes?”
“Alright.” She got up. “I'm leaving.”
“That's two questions.”
“Bye.” She walked towards the door.
“You need me.”
“Not like that I don't.”
I hopped up of my chair to open up the door for her. “What's your name?”
“Julia Glass.”
“Julia would you like to do an exclusive with me.” I looked down at her trembling hands then back at her petrified expression.
“Here's my card. The second your pants come off, the second I call the police.”
“Who are you kidding?” I laughed. She blushed.
Chapter 4
Julia was shaking when she left. That's what I do. It starts with a touch, or maybe a well placed one liner, and then they melt. I had her. She didn't want to accept it, of course, no gazelle wants to admit when a lion is about to make the kill, but I had her. I was going to play with her a little bit, make her think she was going to get what he wanted and take everything she had to offer.
That night, I drank nothing but water, sports drinks and ate a small meal with fish and kale. I wanted my head to be as clear as possible for the next day. When I woke up, I felt amazing. I could've swam in my pool for hours without getting tired, and I very much wanted to, but I had to suit up for the board room.
I pulled out a pair of ridiculous sunglasses again and buttoned up my shirt wrong, leaving it untucked on one side. Then I stumbled into the building and added a spritz of water on my face before I walked into the board room to make it look like I was sweating. When I walked in, fifteen minutes late, Regis was red in the face.
“Where have you been? If you want a place in this room,” he stormed up to me, “You need to start taking some responsibility. This isn't a fraternity Mr. Valenti. This is a place of business.”
I decided not to answer. Instead, I pulled out a vodka shooter that I'd filled with water, downed the whole thing and threw it on the ground. “Oh, you think you could pick that up for me?”
“What!?”
The other board members stifled their laughter.
“I will not be demeaned like this. Get out of here.” He pointed at the door.
I held my position and waited while he kept that ridiculous look on his bright red face, with his black toupee askew. Then I started tapping my foot softly, staring at him. His face got redder and redder while his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk. We were at a stalemate, but he had no idea who he was talking to. I was smarter than him. I'd been groomed for this since I was a kid.
“Are we having a meeting?” The head of marketing asked.
“I was thinking the same thing.” The head of engineering asked. Then he got up to turn on the lights, leaving Regis standing there in the dark still staring directly at me with his eyes so wide they looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. When the glare of the projector illuminated his sweat stained white shirt, he turned around and walked back to his place at the other side of the table.
I let my eyes droop again, took another fake shot and leaned back with my sunglasses falling down my face to reveal my half open eyes.
“This has to stop!” Regis got up. “I want a vote and I want it now.”
“Regis sit down.” The head of marketing hissed.
“I—
The rest of the room stared at him until he slumped down in his chair with his tail between his legs. The head of engineering took out his laptop and opened his presentation. It was a picture of one of the golden edition 5.0 Smartphone models.
“Now, the main selling point of this phone is its removable hardware.” He clicked a button, opening the battery cover. “This is the battery port,” he clicked and the battery came out. “The company will sell three types of batteries, our basic battery, which has a lifespan of 36 hours in it dormant state; our extended life battery, which has a lifespan of 72 hours in its dormant state; and our premium battery, which lasts for nearly four days when used properly.”
“Uh,” Regis raised his hand.
“Now you see there's a black release button in the upper right corner. Once you press that, the metal case folds open revealing the hardware. There's the ram here. There are three separate slots for that.”
“Excuse me.”
“Then there's the antenna which can be switched out for a highly sensitive fractal antenna...”
“Hello-o-o!”
“Aw shutup, will ya.” The head of marketing said. “He's trying to make a presentation.”
“Well, why don't we just sell the best technology.”
“We're offering the phone for $5000 to start. That's nothing, but it already comes with high quality tech on roll out—the best processor, some of the best ram and one of the best antennas on the market. By the time customers purchase our add-ons, the device will cost 15,000. That makes it reasonably affordable for anyone wanting a basic model, and just bad enough that our customers are going to want to purchase add-ons.”
As they went on, going over the technical specifications, I tried to understand what Regis was really looking for. It sounded like he couldn't be satisfied no matter what. I've met people like that plenty of times. He wasn't looking for the perfect phone, or for profits for the company. He was looking for control. He wasn't satisfied with the phone because he didn't make it. He as furious with me, not because I was incompetent, or at least because I was pretending to be, but because I was the major shareholder, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about.
A man like that would be consumed with anger, because there was no way he could control every single variable in his life, and unless he did, something would always be getting his skin.
“He's sleeping!” Regis yelled once the presentation ended.
I threw my head back. “What? What?” I kept my eyes half closed while I looked around, trying my best to make my voice sound hoarse.
“You have to stay awake during board meetings,” Regis said.
“Whatever.” I got up and staggered out of the room to go chat up the receptionist at Regis's office. She had a mouth the size of Texas and she wasn't too bad to look at. Maybe I could get her to tell me what he'd been working on. He certainly wasn't involved with development or marketing.
Chapter 5
Most people think that pheromones are something that animals use, like these slimy secretions that cover their bodies to lure a mate into a grotesque ritual that includes eating your mate at the end of the festivities. They're a natural part of an animal’s body, kind of like fur, and like fur they serve a purpose. Humans don't have fur, and they don't have pheromones either because humans don't need to use their personal biology to get things done. We enhance our bodies with things we make ourselves. We add clothes to conceal who we are and attract mates. We cut our hair to show off, and we use cologne as a natural pheromone to pull in women.
I prefer something dark with a touch of refinement. My favor
ite cologne smells like gold and leather. It's rich and sensual and it always works. I drive back to my house, added a touch of cologne and changed into a casual t-shirt and jeans. This wasn't a casual encounter. I just wanted to make it seem like one.
Julia wasn't the kind of woman that would be impressed by a nice suit and a bouquet of roses. She'd see right through that. Well, she was going to see right through me anyway, but I decided that the less threatening I seemed the easier it would be to pierce through her inhibitions and dig deep into the heart of the matter.
I couldn't help it. Halfway there and my cock was already flapping up and down the side of my leg. Everything about Julia was perfect. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders and just barely caressed her neck. Her fragrance was soft and gentle, raw and intoxicating. Whatever she was doing to me, on purpose or not, it was working like a curse. I had to fight to stay in control. No matter how hard my heart was racing, I was going to stay on the defensive or else this woman was going to get a chance to toy with me, and if she got her way, she was going to give me blue balls and walk off with every secret I had. I couldn't allow myself to get attached too soon.
I drove slowly, avoiding the thrill this time. I didn't need a thrill. I needed a calm mind and a casual smile. This was the exclusive she wanted, just not the way she wanted it. She worked for the Daily Star, a small time print publication that made a killing online. Their office was located downtown in a single story complex of offices. I parked across the street next to a coffee shop, added one more dose of pheromones and strode into the office like I owned the place.
The receptionist was busy checking her profile at the front desk, so I walked right past her. By the time she noticed what had happened, I was already walking down the hall looking at the monikers on the doors. Most of them were cheesy pen names like Chance Pennington and Forrester Glenn—things you'd find in bad soap operas.
I was starting to feel the excitement of the hunt creeping in. She had no idea I was coming. I never told her I would. She didn't even tell me where she worked, I had security show me. This woman was going to lose her mind when I walked up.
There was her door. I lifted my hand to knock. Then it sprung wide open and she was standing there, taking in the full force of my form as I leaned casually against the doorframe. It worked. She stepped back and clutched her heart like she thought I was going to kill her.
“Hello.” I stepped forward.
“What are you doing here? This is my office. Ge—
I backed her into the desk. “Don't you want an exclusive?”
“Oh, I...”
I met her eyes and cocked my head to the side. “Come on. We'll get a beer and I'll tell you all about my father's infidelity and his Quaalude induced fugue states.”
She laughed. “A beer? You want me to get a beer with you?” She was flushed and her breath was moving fast.
“I never gave you a choice.” I turned around and walked back down the hall through the front door.
“Hey.” She followed him out. “You think you can just come in here and tell me what to do?”
“You want your exclusive, don't you?”
She didn't answer.
“Come on.” I walked across the street with her following behind me then got into my convertible. I chose the red one this time.
She hopped into the passenger seat. “You are one screwed up guy, you know that?”
“You can leave if you want. I'm not forcing you to do anything.” That pissed her off so bad, she didn't say a thing, because she didn't want to leave. “Just a beer, You got that?”
I laughed. Then I turned to her with a cocky smile. “You're the one making the assumptions. It's not like I asked you to lift your dress and bend over. I just want an exclusive.” She went white. I let my arm graze against hers when I put the car in reverse and peeled out of the lot.
“Hey!”
I threw my car into the street, hit the gas and twisted in and out of traffic, laughing while she held on for dear life, screaming like a banshee. I turned to her and smiled. “It's OK. I won't let anything happen to you. She didn't ease up, not until we hit a red light and I stopped the car.
“Are you trying to kill us?”
“I have been driving like this for 15 years, and I have never been in an accident in my entire life. You've got nothing to worry about.”
She turned to me, looked back at the road and took my hand. “Don't kill me.”
“I'll try.” I put the car in first and sped up. There was nobody in front of us, so I sped up as fast as I could and hung a right, squealing the tires.
“Whoo!”
“I told you.”
“That was amazing. More.” It was like she'd just had her first taste of heroin and she had to have more, so I gave in, and pushed the car to its limit, bursting through a neighborhood onto an abandoned coastal straightaway.
“Faster,” she said excitedly.
I shook my head and sped down.
“Oh, come on.”
“You want me to go faster?” I asked, watching her blond hair stream behind her.
“Yes!”
“Yeah?” I pressed down on the brake until we had slowed down to a crawl.
“Come on! Please!”
“No.” We were going just a few miles an hour at that point.
“Do it!”
I slammed down on the gas and pushed the car to sixty, making full use of my supercharged engine. She threw her hands up in the air and screamed. I hit the brake hard, made a right and pulled into a beach-side dive overlooking the ocean.
“Is that it?”
“Well now that I have you melting in my hand, yes.”
“I can't believe I fell for that.”
“I can. Come on.”
We walked in and took a seat at a booth. Then she pulled a tape recorder out of her purse.
“Nope.” I snatched it up and set it on the seat next to me.
“You have to give that back when we're done.”
“No.” I hopped up. “You're having a shot of tequila and a dark beer,” I ordered the drinks and walked back to the booth.
She took the beer and chugged half of it then, slammed it down on the table. “I'm impressed.”
“I was in a sorority.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Unless you have a vagina,” she laughed. “All those women in one place,” she scoffed.
“Where'd you go to school?”
“UCLA. “
“Nice.” I lifted my shot glass and she lifted hers.
The shot went down hot and settled deep in my gut. “Did you always want to be a journalist?”
“Yes.” She took a sip of her beer.
“Why?” I wanted to find out what was underneath her clothes.
“Because everyone puts up a facade and I want to know what's behind it. I want to know if old ladies with roller sets have sexual fetishes or if soccer moms want to secretly kill their children. I don't care so much about secrets, though. I wanna find out what people are really like.”
“That's why I asked you what's underneath your clothes.” I took a sip of my beer.
“No it wasn't.” She laughed and took a drink.
“No,” I laughed. “I swear. It really was. I'm a private nudist. I think that people are constantly walking around hiding who they really are because they're ashamed of themselves. My life's mission is to undress as many people as I can.”
“Metaphorically?”
“Uh?” I rubbed my chin pensively. “Well, that depends on upon who the person is.”
“Yeah?”
I leaned in. “Yeah.”
'Hmm.” The low light cast a glare that fell down her face. “Would you like to undress me?”
“Yes.” I crashed my lips against hers, relishing in the warmth of her breath pouring down my lips. Then when she pulled away, a tingling feeling spread down my body. I was caught off guard. She was staring at me innocently, with a wide-eyed expression so open
that I thought I could see inside her. I was going to undress her, slam into her and make her scream until her whole body was shaking.
“Let's go.” I motioned towards the door.
“No.” She sat back and drank her beer.
“You said I could have an interview.”
“You did. I interviewed you.” I got up to hand the bartender and walked back to the booth where an infuriated Julia was shooting me daggers.
“You used me.”
“No, I did not. You didn't do a single thing you wanted to do.”
“No. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
I dipped down, inches from her face and watched her cheeks go red. Then I said, “You want it and you're going to get exactly what you deserve.”
She slapped me in the face, then balked at my resulting smile.
“Honestly, Julia, I don't know whether or not I can trust you enough to give me an interview until I know what's underneath your clothes. It's not pressure. It's not a game to get you in bed. You can walk away, but I want to really know you before I start telling you my most intimate secrets. Is that too much to ask?”
“Take me back to my car.”
“No problem.” I offered her my hand before I let her up. Then we walked back to my car. Before I dropped her off, I turned to her and said, “Don't write about me until I agree. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I really felt something, you know. I know you did too.”
She sighed and walked off.
Chapter 6
I hopped in the shower as soon as I got home and let off every bit of steam my body could produce. Julia had taken over her. I needed it bad, and I don't need women. Women need me. They go crazy over me. Every single time I walk into the room, there's one girl that just can't stop staring. They throw themselves at me, play power games with one another and go into fits of jealousy if one gets a chance to talk to me more than another.
I have been forced, time and time again to isolate myself from women, and surround myself with nothing but straight men simply because I can't handle the drama. I've become jaded. I've had many of lovers. Why lie? I enjoy sex, and I thought I'd tried everything, every race, women of all sizes, shapes, and nationalities. They all melt when I walk into a room.
