L.A. Fire

by Sarah Bailey

  I looked at him in desperation. “How much more ready can I be?” I asked.

  He pulled me up, did up the clasp of my bra, and started buttoning up my shirt. “You’ve shown me you’re willing to surrender your body to me, but I want all of you. I’m going to tear down those emotional defenses of yours, Sarah. Piece by piece, if I have to. And then I’ll have all of you. That’s what I want.”

  His eyes were intense, and glittering with determination. “Tonight,” he began. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

  I shot him a questioning look. “You mean like a real date?”

  “Yes, exactly,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  I hesitated. “You said you wanted all of me. So what does that mean? You’re going to ask more embarrassing questions about my past?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, smiling slightly. “Just be ready at eight.” I fixed myself up quickly, and walked over the door.

  “Are you going to let me out now so I can get back to work?” I asked accusingly.

  He gave me a swift slap across the ass, then squeezed it. “Ouch, what was that for?” I asked, peering up at him.

  “For driving me so fucking crazy I can’t even concentrate at work.”

  Then he walked over to his desk and clicked a button. “There,” he said, winking at me. “You’re free to go. I’ll see you tonight at 8pm sharp. Don’t be late again Sarah, or there will be consequences.”

  My mouth dropped open, and then his eyes crinkled a bit and he winked at me. I shook my head, chuckled to myself, and headed quickly back to my desk.

  Chapter 7

  That night I raced home as soon as I was finished with work. Paul kept me super busy until 6:30, and by the time I got home, it was 7:30, leaving half an hour to get ready for my date with Julian. The moment I got in the door, I raced to my room and started rummaging in my closet, looking for something to wear.

  Nothing I found was the least bit acceptable. Angela was right. My wardrobe needed a serious update. Then I remembered Ange had this seriously gorgeous black lace Ferragamo dress. It was off the shoulder, showed a hint of flesh through the lace, and had a high slit. I smiled, remembering how aroused Julian got every time he saw a flash of my thigh, and decided I’d get him back for this afternoon’s tease in his office by wearing a dress with a slit that showed some leg.

  I bounded out into the living room, and was about to knock on Angela’s door when I noticed a ripped condom pack on the floor. Gross. Then I looked over and noticed a pizza box on the kitchen counter, and a huge stack of dirty dishes piled up in the sink. I groaned out loud. Ziggy was over. Ange and Ziggy had likely gotten high last night, and when they woke up, ordered take out and had sex all over the apartment.

  I was desperate for that dress, but I had no desire to run into Ziggy, or wake Angela up. Then again, she had to be at work in an hour, so maybe it was a perfect time to act as her human alarm clock. Cringing, I knocked softly, then a little louder. I heard some rustling inside, and then clothes being put on, and then the door creaked and there was Angela, sleepy eyed, her hair a rats nest, a tell tale sign of an afternoon of hard banging.

  “Hey Ser,” she said, “I’m kinda trying to catch up on my beauty sleep.” She sounded grumpy, and I didn’t blame her.

  “I’m so sorry, Ange, but I’ve got a date coming in twenty minutes. I have nothing to wear, and the apartment is a complete mess. Plus, I thought you had to be at work in an hour.”

  She looked at her watch, and then groaned. “You’re right,” she said. Just then Ziggy came to the door, wearing just boxers, no t-shirt. He yawned and stretched his arms, making the chain link tattoo around his bicep ripple with the flexing of his muscles. “Hi there ladybug,” he said in a singsong voice, leaning provocatively against the doorframe. I cringed. Ladybug had been Rob’s nickname for me. “We missed you last night. You disappeared with that suit. I thought you were into bad boys, baby cakes.”

  “You have no idea what I’m into,” I said.

  “Looks like the suit was a big roller, too. Buying you a retardedly expensive bottle of bubbles. Is he your new sugar daddy?”

  Since I broke up with Rob, there had been tension between me and Ziggy, but he’d never been so directly aggressive with me. “Some guys like to treat a girl well, instead of getting her all coked up and then just banging her senseless. But, you know, to each their own.”

  Angela’s jaw dropped open. She looked back and forth between the two of us, and then turned to glare at me. “Watch it, Ser. You’re totally crossing the line.”

  I instantly felt awful. Angela knew what I thought about Ziggy; she knew I thought he was a bad influence, and that she could do so much better, but calling him out on his bad behavior right in front of her was totally stepping over my bounds. I put my hands up, and said “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not my place.”

  Then she turned to Ziggy and said, “I think you better go.”

  He looked irritated. “You’re siding with her, babe?”

  She shrugged noncommittally.

  “Are you pissed at me?” he asked, his voice full of disbelief.

  “No,” she said in a flat tone. “I just need to get ready for work. I’ll see you later at the bar.”

  He nodded, apparently satisfied. Then he disappeared into the room, and a few moments later, he returned fully clothed. He gave Angela a long, possessive kiss, then glared at me and pushed past me, heading for the door. I watched him walk through the front door, and then slam it behind him.

  Angela crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a pissy look. “Seriously?” she said, “You drag me out of bed, and then you insult my boyfriend in front of me?”

  “I’m sorry, Ange. He really pissed me off.”

  She nodded, then shrugged. “This date really better be worth it,” she said, her eyes softening. “Come on, she said, “Let’s go get you that dress.”

  When we emerged into the living room, she looked around, then shot me an apologetic look. “I know how much you hate my messiness. And, you’re right. This place looks like a total hellhole right now, but I don’t have time to clean up.”

  I stared down at a condom wrapper and wrinkled my nose. “Could you at least get rid of these?” I asked, pointing to the ripped foil packet lying on the ground.

  She looked sheepish, then nodded. “I’ll also get rid of the pizza boxes, and hide the dirty dishes under the sink.”

  I nodded. “Gross. But It works.” We both started laughing.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If you hurry up and get dressed, I might even have time to do your makeup.”

  Angela was such a skilled makeup artist. She took lessons back when she used to model, because she often found herself working in low budget photo shoots where she had to do her hair and makeup herself. I looked at her gratefully. “I love you,” I said. “You’re the best.”

  She smirked at me and said, “I love you too, bitch,” then disappeared into the kitchen to hide the dirty dishes.

  ***

  At 7:58, I was sitting in front of my full length mirror, letting Angela finish with the final touches to my hair. Then she stepped back and admired her handiwork. “God, Ser. You look absolutely gorgeous. This guy is going have a hard on the moment he lays eyes on you.”

  I glanced at her appreciatively, stood up, and examined myself from all angles. Angela had really outdone herself. The dress was beautiful. It was long-sleeved, but off the shoulder. It scooped down low enough to hint at a little cleavage, and my tan skin peeked suggestively through all of the lace. I had on a chunky onyx necklace, which hung in the dip between my collarbones, calling attention to the subtle rises and dips of my neckline. The dress was long, but the slit ran to mid-thigh, so when I took a step my leg was exposed. Angela had tied my hair up into an elegant chignon, leaving a few strands down to frame my face. My lips were painted scarlet, and with all the smoky eye shadow, my green eyes looked fierce and catlike. I’d rummaged into
the back of my closet, and found a pair of black suede Vera Wang, with a bold, chunky, three inch heel that gave a well needed boost to my height.

  Just then the buzzer rang, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Oh my god, he’s here.” My pulse pounded in my temples, and I started having second thoughts. There was no question Julian McGregor knew how to drive me wild, and even from the small taste of his sexual prowess I’d experienced, I knew he’d be mind-blowing in bed. But he said he wanted all of me, not just my body, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it to him. Rob had shattered my heart into pieces, and ever since I’d recovered from his betrayal, a wall had gone up in me. A wall I didn’t think any man would ever be able to tear down.

  My needs, my wants, my secrets, my deepest thoughts, those were mine to keep, only to be shared with a few good friends. Friends were easier. They shared things with you, but you didn’t need to meld your life with theirs. You still had your own, separate life, never so entwined with them that you didn’t know where you ended and they began. Rob and I had shared our dreams, until our separate dreams became one dream, and somehow I lost myself in him in a way I never wanted to lose myself in another person ever again. I’d invested so much in Rob’s success; promoting his shows, handing out flyers, sending his demos out to radio stations, attending all of his shows. I got so wrapped up in his dream, that I forgot my own, barely investing any time in my school work, even though I knew that keeping up my GPA was crucial for landing my dream job. I was smart. I was able to put in a minimum amount of maintenance work and still manage to achieve top grades. But somehow, I’d lost myself. When I caught him cheating, I was so angry at him, but I was even angrier at myself. I’d told myself I’d never turn into my mother, never be the kind of woman who sacrificed her dreams for a man, but that’s exactly what I’d done.

  I took a deep breath. It was just a date. And if I ended up in bed with him, fine. But there’s no way I’d let this man wiggle his way into my heart. I just couldn’t take that chance. I’d fought hard to get myself back. I wasn’t going to give myself up again.

  “Ser?” Angela was looking at me with concern etched all over her face. “Are you going to get that?”

  I sighed, then nodded.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m taking off in fifteen minutes, but I’m heading to my room now. You know, to give you guys some privacy. I can meet him some other time.”

  Once again, I felt grateful. Introducing him to Angela would make him more real, and I wasn’t ready to have him be more than a private fantasy. I buzzed him up, and a minute later, he was knocking on my door.

  I took another deep breath and opened the door. “Hey Julian,” I said, giving him a tight, nervous smile. He slowly raked his eyes over my body, and as they passed over my chest, and then the slit of my dress, it was like a fire was lit in them. He looked ready to devour me then and there. He snapped his gaze back to mine, his eyes still flaring. “You look so delicious it’s obscene,” he said, in a mock accusing tone. “Every man in the restaurant will be fantasizing about undressing you. You’re going to make grown men weep, knowing they can look all they want, but only I can touch.” And as if to prove his point, he ran a finger along my cheek, then through the peach fuzz on the back of my neck. My belly started to flutter, and I shivered with pleasure.

  I was already putty in his hands. I had to get a grip. I cleared my throat, and stilled his talented finger with my hand. “Careful, Mr. McGregor. You may have had me begging for more this afternoon, but that doesn’t mean you have extended exclusive rights to my body.” He looked at me curiously. “I’m not your possession, or your sexual slave.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Not yet, but you will be.”

  I shot him a haughty, challenging look, and then took in the perfection that was standing in front of me. God, he looked amazing tonight. He had on a navy silk Armani suit, perfectly tailored to showcase his tall, powerful frame, with a cream linen dress shirt underneath. The top two buttons were left open, showing a hint of his tan skin. I realized that though I’d felt his hard muscles pressed up against me, I hadn’t yet seen his upper body in all its naked glory. I had a sudden flash of me underneath him, pressed against his naked chest, my nails digging hard into his back.

  He was right. I was done for. But that was fine with me. He’d have my body, maybe even full command over it in bed. I had to admit the thought of that turned me on. But he’d only have my body. The most intimate parts of me I’d keep safely locked up.

  “You sure are a cocky one, aren’t you Mr. McGregor,” I finally said, my voice steady and matter-of-fact.

  He looked pensive for an instant. “Not cocky,” he said. “Just confident.”

  “Think you have me all figured out, do you?”

  His eyes became soft. “No, Sarah. I have an idea of you sketched out, but I’m still missing a great deal.”

  He leaned in so his mouth was next to my ear. “You can try to hide, Ms. Stevens. But I promise you, you won’t be successful. I’ll draw you out, eventually. I’m a very persuasive and patient man.”

  As he pulled back, he brushed his lips against my cheek, so lightly, so sensuously, I felt another thrilling shiver pass through my frame, and my lower lip began to quiver. When he saw it, his eyes glimmered momentarily with unabashed desire, but then he gained control over his expression; his eyes became still and unreadable, and his face became impassive and neutral. “Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “Our reservation is for eight-thirty.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “West Bistro,” he said, naming an outrageously exquisite restaurant serving five course meals at four hundred dollars a plate. I only knew this because one of my dad’s clients took him there when they were closing a business deal, and my dad raved about it afterward, saying it was by far the best meal he had ever eaten.

  I raised an eyebrow at him as I was locking up my apartment. “Isn’t that a little . . . extravagant?”

  “I told you,” he said. “I like to spoil my women. Now come,” he said, reaching for my hand. “We don’t want to be late.”

  ***

  When we pulled up to West Bistro twenty minutes later, all eyes on the street were on us. And the reason was obvious. Julian had decided to pull out his silver Ferrari this evening, and during the whole ride to the restaurant I literally felt like I was in the bat mobile. People were rubber necking on every street we drove down, and even though the windows were tinted, I still felt self-conscious.

  Julian opened my door for me, helped me out of my seat, and then gave the valet his keys. A group of guys in their early twenties, probably heading to a nearby club, literally stopped to stare, their mouths falling open. I looked at Julian slyly. “You don’t believe in being inconspicuous do you?”

  He put his arm around my shoulders, and guided me to the red carpeted steps leading to the restaurant. “I do like to put on a good show,” he said, “But they’d be staring without the car. They’d be ogling you. Your beauty could literally stop traffic.”

  I felt embarrassed for a moment, but also deeply flattered. “Are you trying to charm my pants off, Julian?”

  His eyes glimmered down at me. “Is it working?” he asked. I let out a small laugh, and elbowed him gently in the ribs.

  The maitre d’, dressed in black tie, gave us a quick respectful nod as we approached him. “Mr. McGregor,” he said. “You’re table is ready. Please follow me.”

  The décor in the restaurant was spectacular. The walls were oak paneled, and the ceilings were gold coffered and very high, giving the place an airy feel. Chinese silk curtains, tied back with gold rope, framed the large windows facing down onto the street. All of the tables were square, and covered in fine white linen. Old-fashioned amber-glassed lanterns, strategically placed, gave the restaurant a warm, intimate feel, and the long, smoked-glass mirror on one of the walls made the restaurant look bigger by reflecting everything back to the customers, and provided a chic 1930s Parisian touch.


  As we made our way to the table, eyes, not too discretely, flicked to Julian and me. One man with coal black eyes, straight black hair, looking slightly burly in his beige suit, ran his eyes over every inch of me. Julian gave him the death stare, then put a possessive hand around my waist and pulled me close. The man shrugged his shoulders at Julian, then looked back to his date, a woman in a rose sheath dress who was now glaring at him, with her fists clenched on the table. I instantly felt a pang of sympathy for her. Rob had had a habit of ogling other women in front of me. He always said he was just looking, but he didn’t seem to understand that it was humiliating for me when I was sitting right there with him. It made me look like the boring old ball and chain, and gave the object of his attention a smug sense of superiority over me.