by Kandi Kayne
The waiter clearing his throat beside me made me jump once more, snapping me out of my sex fantasy as sharply as if he’d poured the ice from the champagne bucket over my head. I put my hand over my heart to try and calm it as he placed a delicious-looking salad in front of me.
“Bon appetit,” said Alexander, taking his fork in hand and looking down at his salad. If it hadn’t been for the small quirk at the corner of his mouth, I would have thought this mind-spinning distraction was all me alone.
“You are evil,” I whispered-shouted at him, taking my fork and stabbing some greens. “You can’t say that kind of stuff in a restaurant.”
“Seems I can,” he said, shoving a forkful of a spiky lettuce into his mouth, crunching away at it. Even the way he chewed was sexy, the way it made his strong jaw bulge out, the oil from the dressing leaving a shiny streak on his full lower lip.
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” I tossed the lettuce around carelessly with my fork. “How am I supposed to eat now?”
He put his fork down and reached over to lay his hand over mine on the table. “I’m sorry. I do want you to enjoy this meal and relax. I’ll stop teasing you. For now, anyway.” He winked, withdrawing his hand.
I sighed heavily, my heart slowly coming under control again, the heat leaving my face and other regions. “Good. Because I seem to be on some sort of hair-trigger right now. It’s not going to take much to send me over the edge.”
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” he said, using his knife to cut a piece of toast with melted cheese on it.
“I’m not. It’s embarrassing.”
His fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Embarrassing? Why?” He sounded angry.
“Because. I feel like a total ho-bag. Loose. Easy. Gah, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” I put my fork down and tangled my fingers in my napkin. The champagne was making me stupid.
He put his uneaten bite of food down on the side of is plate slowly, his expression softening. “You’re not a bad person because you enjoy sex, Rose. On the contrary … you’re fun to be around, interesting to talk to, and yes, great in bed.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “How would you know? You’ve never had me in bed.”
He laughed. “Oh, but I plan to.”
I picked up my utensils to eat my salad. “Don’t count any chickens until their hatched. I’m not that easy.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Alexander, doubling up his cheesy bread bite and putting the whole thing in his mouth at once.
We ate in companionable silence, enjoying not only the fresh greens and delicate dressing but also the creamy goat cheese on garlicky toast points that I learned were the ‘chevre chaud’ part of our salad.
Once the plates were cleared away, Alexander got all business-like on me again. “So, tell me … what would you do with my campaign if you were in charge of it?”
“How much longer do you have before the election?”
“Two months.”
“That’s not a lot of time.”
“No, it’s not.”
I sighed heavily, thinking seriously for the first time what I’d do with a dying campaign in its last days. “What kind of budget do you have?”
“A few million, give or take.”
I swallowed hard, considering what it would be like, working with that kind of money for real.
“Do you have an email mailing list?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“What are you doing with it now?”
“Nothing really. Sending out a monthly update.”
I shook my head. “That’s your first mistake … not taking advantage of the assets and resources you already have.” I sat up straighter, feeling like there might be a glimmer of hope here. Maybe there were other things they hadn’t done that could turn the tide.
“What about grassroots organizations? Street teams? What do you have there?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not much, to be honest. I always thought not doing something with those things was a mistake too.”
“It is. Why did you wait so long to do anything about it if you knew things weren’t working?”
His nostrils flared before he seemed to collect himself and answer. “A fair question - one I wish I could answer better. But to be honest, I was so busy just following someone else’s plan, someone who allegedly knew what he was doing, that I didn’t think too hard about it. Especially when all the people around me kept nodding their heads and smiling, telling me everything was great.”
“But the polls … the numbers …”
He closed his eyes and first nodded, then shook his head. “I know.” He opened his eyes back up and fixed me with a penetrating gaze. “I need someone to get in there and shake things up … take the bull by the horns and bring it to its knees. Bring some new life to the whole thing. Will you do that for me?”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I have … school.” It sounded totally lame, even to my own ears, but it wasn’t entirely a lie. I did have classes, but the main reason I was saying no wasn’t school - it was him. But he didn’t need to know that.
“I can work around your schedule. I’ll talk to the school administrators, to your professors … whatever I need to do.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I said a little loudly, worried about him coming into my life and bulldozing right through it.
“Fine, I won’t. But I’ll accommodate you however you need me to. All of my team will.”
I shook my head incredulously at him. “Why on earth would you do that? For me?”
“Because, I just have this feeling in my gut that you’re exactly what I … what my campaign needs. Someone young, vibrant, intelligent, current with the latest techniques and tools. And I never ignore my gut. It’s what’s gotten me this far in life.” He reached out and took my hand in his large, warm one. “Come on, Rose, say you’ll do it.”
Hearing him say my name and feeling him touch my skin at the same time was almost like a drug. I mentally shook off its effects so I could stay strong, pulling my hand back. “No. It’s not going to work.”
“I will pay you one hundred thousand dollars for three months of work and write you a reference letter and make a phone call that will get you a job at the Hanley Dickens PR Agency in New York City.”
My jaw dropped open and didn’t seem to want to work anymore. I moved it from side to side a little, on the brink of having to use my hand to push it back closed when it finally started moving of its own accord again.
“I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “I think this champagne has been drugged or something.”
“No, it hasn’t, and you know it hasn’t. You heard what I said. I’m dead serious. Take the offer, Rose. You won’t get another one like it.”
“I might get another one,” I said, a little offended, although I don’t know why. He was right.
“Are you worth it? Yes. I believe so. But how many people are going to give you this kind of chance? Take a risk with someone so inexperienced, so unknown in the world of business?”
“Which begs the question … why are you?” I asked, jutting my jaw out a little, challenging him to admit it was all about the sex.
“I’ve already said why.”
“No sex,” I said, the words flying out of my mouth before I could really think them through.
“Come again?” he said.
“I said, if I take this job, there will be no sex involved. It would be strictly business.” I was feeling stronger and more confident already. This opportunity was a once in a lifetime thing, something I probably shouldn’t pass up. I’d be stupid to. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would never have been given to me without the back-office sexy time we’d shared at that party, and the against-the-door-sex we’d had since. I had to know that I’d be working with a team who would respect me for my brains, not my ass.
“If that’s the way you want it.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal.
“Starting when?”
“What do you mean?” I was confused.
“Well, does the no-sex clause in our agreement start now or on your first day at work - tomorrow?”
I thought about it for a second. It was time to be professional and put brains and ambition before pleasure. “Starting now. I’ve already discussed some campaign issues with you, so as far as I’m concerned this is a work meeting.” It was only then that I realized I was going to take his job offer. A hundred thousand dollars could pay off all my student debt and set me up in an apartment with food for a long, long time. I could live frugally and make it stretch; and if I got that job in New York City that he suggested he had connections to, well, the sky was the limit for me. All I needed was a way in, and I would work my butt off to take it from there. And I would do it without sleeping my way to the top, too.
The hint of a smile ghosted his face before he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Fair enough.” He reached into the champagne bucket, taking out the bottle and topping off our glasses. He put the bottle back and raised his flute up into the space between us. “To a new, refreshed, and revitalized campaign,” he toasted.
“To me using my brain and not the hootchie to get ahead in life.”
He laughed as he clinked his glass against mine, tossing back its contents and fixing me with a gaze that I knew meant I was going to have a hard time with a certain part of our business arrangement.
I put my napkin on the table, not too full from dinner because of the reasonable portion sizes but completely satisfied nonetheless. It was the tastiest dish I’d ever eaten.
“Dessert?” asked the waiter, after our dishes had been taken away.
Alexander looked at me. “Will you allow me to order for us again?”
“Are you sure you want to do dessert?” I asked.
“Trust me, I’m sure.” He looked at the waiter and ordered a crème brulée and something that sounded like chocolate.
After the waiter left, I asked him, “What was that chocolate thing you ordered?”
“A very simple dessert - the chocolat liégeois maison. If you like chocolate, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“I trust you. That dinner was excellent … the best I’ve ever had.”
“Good. I’m happy you liked it. It’s decent French food, as close to home as I have found over here.”
“Do you consider France your home?”
He shrugged. “I have two homes. One here, one there. It’s always been that way for me, so I haven’t thought about it much.”
Our desserts arrived after some more conversation about France, and I couldn’t help but smile from ear-to-ear over the dessert placed in front of me. “It’s an ice cream sundae!” It was my favorite thing to have after dinner. I rarely allowed myself to indulge in it, though.
“With a French twist. Here. Let me show you.” He took the long-handled tea spoon and dipped it into the tall glass, pulling out a lump of ice cream dripping with deep, dark chocolate and topped off with some whipped cream. “Try.”
He held out the spoon for me, watching my every move. I leaned in, parting my lips, trying to ignore the sensual feelings that crawled over and through me at the idea of him feeding me this sinful treat.
The minute it hit my tongue I was in heaven. This was like no ice cream sundae I’d ever eaten - and I’d eaten plenty of them.
“My god …” I said, moaning my delight, “mmmmm…”
He nodded. “House-made chocolate, bits of praline, home-made ice cream churned earlier today, and genuine whipped cream. You can’t beat it.”
I shook my head. “No, you cannot. Mmmm-mmmm-mmmm …” I rolled my eyes as he fed me another bite. “I am in heaven right now.” I smiled, feeling like a little kid at an old-fashioned ice cream shop. I took the spoon from him and dug in for another bite.
“I like to watch you enjoy yourself,” he said, his voice raspy, his gaze serious again.
A bit of whipped cream was on the corner of my lip, and I flicked my tongue out to retrieve it.
He leaned forward and grabbed my wrist, halting the spoon’s progress upwards. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to fulfill the terms of your contract.”
My eyes widened. “Are you firing me already?”
“Firing you? Hell no!” He dropped my wrist. “I’m getting a fucking hard-on watching you eat ice cream. I’m a goddamn mess over here.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. “Maybe you should eat some of this. Maybe it would cool you down.”
He glared at me, but not unkindly. “I’m willing to give it a shot. Give me that spoon,” he demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.
“Ah, ah, ahhhh. Just open your mouth,” I said, scooping out a generous spoonful.
He leaned forward, dropping his strong jaw open, exposing his perfect white teeth. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tongue. I only got the spoon partway to his mouth before I lost concentration, remembering what it felt like to have his wide, wet tongue in my mouth, on my neck and my breasts, lapping up the juices between my legs.
He took my hand gently, guiding the spoon that was in danger of dropping to the table, over to his mouth, closing his lips around it and shutting his eyes for a second to signal his enjoyment.
“Mmmmmm,” he said, nearly growling. It sent a pulse of electric shock through my thighs and into my crotch.
“Good, huh?” I asked, my voice coming out a weak and trembling mess.
“I can think of something I like the taste of better,” he said.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The innuendo, the gorgeous face, the tongue … I had to get out of there, if only for a few minutes so I could collect myself.
I stood, bumping the edge of the table and causing the glasses to hit plates and make a tinkling sound. “I have to use the ladies room,” I said, unceremoniously dropping my napkin to my seat.
He smiled knowingly. “It’s that way, through those plants and down that hall.”
“Thanks,” I said, hurrying away.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I chanted in my head all the way there. I ignored the stares of the other diners, people who were probably looking at me because I was nearly running. I was on fire, every part of me tingling with unmet desire. A totally crazy, nutty part of me wished I’d brought a stupid vibrator in my purse so I could do something about this ridiculous amount of arousal. It was impossible to concentrate or say anything even reasonably intelligent with so much need and desire running through my system.
I went into the bathroom, a group of totally closed off private little rooms, to try and get a grip on myself. I hung my purse on the hook to the side of the door, putting my hands on the door itself and hanging my head down between them. Okay, Rose. Get a grip on yourself. You are here on a business meeting! You are making a huge career move, and you cannot mess this up. Any minute he could decide to change his mind, fuck you, and leave you in the dust. I thought about that for a second and then argued with myself. Would that be so bad, though? To be fucked like that and then left? It’s not like you have a future together or anything. Why not just enjoy it while it lasts? That’s what Jessica would do. And that’s what it took to get me to my next thought. I need to get rid of this energy. I looked around the large stall, its walls going from the ceiling to the floor. It was completely private - no one could hear me or see any part of me. I made a quick decision and shimmied out of my underwear. One quick little bit of my own handiwork and I’d be once again as cool as a cucumber and under complete control of my libido. Just one teeny, tiny orgasm and I’ll be as good as gold. I pulled my dress up to my hips and spread my legs, putting my fingers down to my slit to begin stroking myself there.
A knock came at the door.
I froze in place, my face instantly going hot pink. My eyes darted around, looking for the hidden camera I was sure was there, now that a manager or someone was coming to kick me out of the bathroom.
Oh the humiliation! How can I escape?!
A voice came through the thick wood. “Rose. Let me in.”
“Alexander?” I asked, pushing my dress down. “What’s the matter?” I unlocked the door and peeked through the crack to see him standing just inches away from me.
“What’s the matter? This is the matter,” he said, pointing down at his pants.
I looked down, thinking maybe he’d spilled ice cream there or something. But there was nothing wrong with his clothes.
“What? I don’t see anything.”
He took my fingers from the edge of the door and used them to pull my arm out of the stall, placing my hand on his crotch. “Please. I’m desperate. I need you now. Let me in there with you.”
I jerked my hand back. “What?!” I whisper-yelled. “Are you kidding me? You can’t come in here!”
He pushed on the door a little. “Why not? No one will even know.”
My eyes darted around the space, and it was true … there was no one around, and all of the stalls were separate and very private.
He continued to push on the door gently and the juices that had already started flowing between my legs now doubled, as my mind and eyes strayed back to the bulge in his pants.
I stopped putting up a fight, and opened the door far enough to let Alexander all the way in. He turned to lock it and then looked up at my purse. The edge of my thong was hanging out of the top of it. As soon as his hand went up touch them, I knew I was done for.
He pulled them out slowly and held them up in front of me as he turned. “You were already on your way, weren’t you … before I got here?”
I dropped my head in shame. “I was very distracted.” I stomped my foot in frustration. “You’re very distracting. I was trying to get control of myself.”
He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me tight up against him. “Why? Why be in control all the time. Why not just let go?”
