“All right, my lovelies, now it’s time to get a little freaky!” She winks at the group and stands behind her chair.
While the music plays, Martina does a subtle but ultrasexy routine using the chair. It’s mostly a combination of sitting, spreading her legs out, bending over the back, the side. At one point she puts her foot on the seat and arches her back, then swivels into straddling the chair the reverse direction. She instructs each woman to follow along and repeats the same twelve moves until they’ve all got it.
“Holy shit,” Bo says as we walk around and watch our ladies do the routine, looking more and more confident and, most important, enjoying every minute. They like what they see in the mirror as they move, which is a powerful motive for a woman.
“Don’t forget to work your face and hair. Men love a little sway in the hips, a pucker or a pout of the lips, along with some wild hair.”
As I watch in awe, many of the girls pull their hair out of their sedate ponytails and roll their necks, running their hands into their hair, shaking it around, getting into the role.
“That’s it, ladies, you’re playing a role. Exactly as you will on the runway. You’re showing the audience a fantasy, a beautiful woman wearing cutting-edge, made-to-fit lingerie to empower you as much as excite the special person getting to see it. Embrace your sexy!” I state while the women continue their routine.
Bo smiles watching the women in the chairs do their thing. It’s inspiring to see them transform from the sweet girl next door to smokin’ hot sex kittens.
“Keep it up, ladies. You’re doing amazing. Now give it your all. My girls and I are going to come around and work with you individually in case there’s something you need more help with.” Martina’s voice is strong and direct, which seems to garner the respect and attention of each woman here.
“Damn good idea, brother.” Bo claps me on the shoulder. “Saved our asses with these gals. They were having a rough time of it.”
“Yeah. I figured if they had a woman to look up to as a role model, she might be able to bring out their sexy side. As you well know, it’s all about unlocking that part inside them. These women felt backed into a corner and uncomfortable. Now look at them. Sexy as hell and loving every second of what they see in the mirror.”
“Too true.” He grins.
“Perception is key. Now we can have these ladies help us work with the models on walking back and forth and striking poses. Instead of learning it from a man, they can get the feedback direct from a woman whose job it is to be sexy. There’s something more legit about it, I think.”
Bo nods. “Makes sense. Should we leave them and go have a chat with T-Bone about what we discussed for the night of the show?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
As we’re heading out, my cell phone rings. The name SoSo pops up on the display, and I smile.
“It’s Sophie. Take ten and we’ll head over to T-Bone’s?” I suggest to Bo.
“Sure, man. Tell Sophie I said hello.”
“You got it.”
Bo walks out the door and down the street to where I know there’s a little café. I follow his direction only a lot slower as I take the call.
“Bonjour, SoSo!”
“Bonjour, mon cher.”
“How are you? We haven’t spoken since Copenhagen, over a week ago.”
“Oui. I have been quite busy. And you? Where are you now?”
“Milan actually.”
“Really? I’m heading there this weekend for a fashion show. What are the gains?” She laughs sweetly.
I chuckle at her misuse of American colloquialisms. “I believe you mean what are the odds?”
“Oh yes. I get that one mixed up,” she says.
Still, I balk at the fact my Sophie is going to be in Milan. Those are some damn incredible odds. “SoSo, are you going to T-Bone’s fashion show by any chance?”
“Oui, among others. Rolland Group is partnering with different designers for combined perfume and clothing campaigns to reach women across Europe. How would you know about T-Bone and his designs?”
I grin. “I’m working with the guy and his models.”
“Mon Dieu! C’est merveilleux. Though I understand he can be quite the pill to eat. Will you still be in Milan on Friday night before the show on Saturday?”
“It’s pill to swallow, and yes, absolutely we’ll be here. Bo is with me too. He sends his love as usual.”
“Oh, send the dear my kisses.”
I grin. “I think Bo would like that too much, sweetheart.”
She hums. “I suspect you are right. Would you have time to meet for dinner on Wednesday evening? I’ll set my travel plans accordingly. I know a great place we can eat wonderful Italian food. My father took me there as a girl. The rest of the nights I’ll be working until the show on Saturday.”
“Sure. Should I invite Bo?”
“Of course. I’m looking forward to catching up with you. We did not have near enough time in Copenhagen, and you had Ms. Paige with you. Have you settled things with her yet?”
Her tone is friendly yet inquisitive, which I’m used to with my Sophie. She’s nothing if not direct in all things.
“We have. And you may be surprised to note we’ve agreed to being in a relationship. A committed, romantic, couple-type relationship.” I smile, enjoying the way the admission rolls off my tongue.
Her gasp sounds loud through the phone. “Really? Mon cher, c’est magnifique. I hate to say . . . I tell you everything.”
I burst out laughing. “SoSo, it’s I told you so.”
“Yes, I did tell you so. Which is why I am correct, non?”
“No . . . uh . . .” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“Are you happy, mon cher? She seems very beautiful and kind. I liked her very much.”
I think about the question for a minute. Sophie doesn’t say anything, giving me the quiet time I need to pull my thoughts together.
“Sophie, I’ve never been happier. The time you and I were together was probably the closest I’d felt to a woman in what seemed like forever . . . until Skyler. I’m starting to wonder if my time with you helped me see what it could be like to have a beautiful woman in my life.”
“I am in your life, oui?”
“Oui, SoSo, but it’s different, and you know what I mean.”
She clucks her tongue. “Yes, it is. I will admit I am seeing a man too.” She slips the bomb into the conversation, shocking me where I stand.
My eyes widen, and I stop where I am and lean against the building closest to me. “Who, where, what does he do?” I’m a little flabbergasted because she didn’t mention anything of the sort in Copenhagen.
Sophie laughs, and it sounds exactly as I remember: lovely. “He’s one of our scientists actually. I had not seen him before because I did not usually go down to the lab unless I was working with the scent mixologist. He is a new hire in the last couple of years and has flown under my head space.”
“It’s radar, sweetheart. Flown under your radar.”
“Oui, he did. And I’ve since allowed him to take me on two dates. The second one we had sex, and Parker, it was amazing. He did things to me I had never had done. Even by you!”
“TMI, SoSo. TMI.” I frown and see Bo walking toward me, a couple of white paper cups in his hands.
“TMI? I do not know this.” Her French accent makes the question sound sultry when it’s anything but.
“It means too much information. As in, you probably shouldn’t discuss your sex life with your past hookup.”
Her tone is lilting with her question. “Why not? Sex is a matter of life. The two of us had wonderful relations. Why should we not discuss them?”
I groan and run my hand through my hair as I recall that a lot of Europeans, especially the French in general—Parisians in particular—are far more sexually intellectual, free, and open. Many see sex as a normal, basic human need. Which it definitely is, but Americans only talk freely about it be
hind closed doors and with their closest confidants. I personally would never talk about my sex life with Skyler to Sophie. It’d be weird and leave me open for all kinds of problems.
“Call it a cultural difference if you will. Americans aren’t necessarily shy about bedroom discussions, but we don’t have those conversations so open and freely and absolutely not with a former bedmate.”
“Hmm. This seems like a missed opportunity. The best people to discuss such things with are those you have already experienced it with.”
“Maybe for you, sweetheart, but it’s weird for a guy.”
“Oh, all right. Then I shall take my leave. I have a million things to do today, but I wanted to touch in with you.”
“Touch in?” I snicker. “Sophie, it’s touch base with you. Like in baseball. You touch bases.”
“What does baseball have to do with our discussion or friendship?”
I smile and sigh.
“SoSo, we’ll talk more over dinner on Wednesday. I’ve got to go, but I’m looking forward to hearing more about your new guy. Text me the details on where Bo and I should meet you on Wednesday.”
“Oui. Au revoir, mon cher.”
“Au revoir, SoSo.”
Sophie steps into the restaurant looking like all class and sultriness. Her hair is down in long brown waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing a royal-blue cocktail dress with gold strappy sandals. It’s one of my favorites Bo picked out during our time in Paris.
Bo and I stand up as she approaches. She air-kisses my cheek twice before moving to Bo.
I hold out her chair for her to sit at the quaint table for three in the packed Italian restaurant. Thank God Sophie made reservations, or we’d have never gotten a table.
“How goes it, beautiful?” Bo asks when the waiter comes over and fills Sophie’s wineglass with the wine we’d decided on prior to her arrival.
“I am going very well, Bogart. How is the female population of Milan handling your stay?” She grins and finishes with a saucy wink.
That’s my Sophie, cutting him right at the dick.
Bo tilts his head back and laughs heartily. “You know me well. Though I’ve slowed down this trip. Only banged one of the models on the campaign and one of the cabaret teachers.” He waggles his brows.
“A slow spell for you, I take it?” She pauses dramatically.
“I love you, Sophie,” Bo states flatly, enjoying every minute of Sophie’s quick wit and pinpoint accuracy when it comes to Bo and his debauchery.
“I know, Bogart. I know.”
“Sophie, tell me more about this scientist. Which one is it?” I thought I’d met them all, but perhaps I hadn’t if Sophie is dating one of them, which would mean he would have to be a bit younger than the other two men, who are in their fifties.
“He’s the son of one of our chief scientists. The department hired him a couple of years ago. His name is Gabriel Jeroux. And he is brilliant in and out of the bag.”
Bo bursts into raucous laughter. So much so the patrons at the other tables look our way and offer up their best dirty looks. Bo’s definitely fitting the brash-and-loud American stereotype I’ve come to find Europeans think about our culture.
“Sophie, it’s in and out of the sack!” Bo corrects her before I have a chance.
“Oui.” She waves her hand nonchalantly.
I put my hand over hers on top of the table and wait until she focuses her gaze on mine. “Is he treating you right?”
“Yeah, if he’s not, I know three Americans who will have your back in a heartbeat, precious,” Bo adds.
She closes her eyes and pats my hand in return, then flicks her gaze between Bo and me. “He is. Probably more than I deserve since I’ve worked them hard after my father passed. Then, of course, you know about the issue with the team using expired products. How do you say . . . I had to smack the whip?”
“Crack the whip,” I correct instantly, and her eyes light up.
“Oooh, that sounds even better. And yes, I’ve been doing this.”
I nod. “It had to be done. The department lead could have caused serious problems for your company. I know they were following orders, but there’s really no excuse for it to have gone on so long.”
“Oui, my problem exactly. Therefore, I have been tough on them, but so far, they have all risen to the challenge. I think I’m gaining more respect from them every day.”
“Amazing, sweetheart. I want that for you. For your father’s legacy to be sound and resonate alongside your leadership.”
The waiter comes over and takes our orders while we sip our wine. So far so good.
“Mon cher, it is now the time where you bestow upon me the plan with you and Ms. Paige,” Sophie prompts, her lips curling into a coy smile.
“First, you can call her Skyler. And second, I don’t know. We have no plan, per se.”
“Right now, they’re bumping uglies with no one but each other,” Bo tosses in, grinning.
“I will shoot you if you don’t shut up!” I threaten.
“With what gun?” he fires back.
He’s got me there. I don’t own a gun. Never had the need for one.
“I haven’t thought through that part yet, but getting a gun can’t be that difficult, can it?” I grit my teeth while Bo nonchalantly sidles closer to Sophie. He’d never go there even if he pretends to be sweet on her. It’s one of our firm rules of the brotherhood. Never date or bed a woman your brother has already bedded. Ever. That shit causes problems we don’t need or want.
Sophie smiles while we toss barbs and insults left and right.
“My, you are both very much brothers in every sense of the word, aside from blood, oui?”
We nod.
“In answer to your question, though, Skyler and I have basically decided to be exclusive to one another. Monogamous.”
Sophie sips her drink as her eyes widen. “This is a big step for you, non?”
“It is, but there’s something about her, SoSo. Something long lasting, and right now, I’ve got the desire in me to explore it, so I’m going to.”
She nods. “I think the two of you will be very happy . . . as long as you can get past your possessive nature when it comes to people you care about.”
I sigh. “Yeah, we had a little chat about that. Knowing she’s on the set right now sucking face with Rick the Prick Pettington does not have me feeling the warm fuzzies. Though she did admit he has a constant case of onion breath, which makes me feel a little better.”
“Onion breath?” Bo shakes his head. “Dude is making the brotherhood look bad. He needs to keep his shit in check. Chew on some gum, pop a mint. Damn, does the guy have no friends or what?”
I chuckle. “I prefer to think about him as not having friends. Or a woman. Or my woman.”
“Oh boy,” Sophie remarks. “You are jealous of Skyler’s acting partner?”
“No!” I say at the same time Bo says, “Yes!”
“Shut up, man!” I growl low from deep within my chest.
“He’s gaga over the chick. Can’t think straight. Gets possessive and jealous at the smallest things. Which, if you ask me, does not bode well for your long-term goals, brother.”
“Who asked you? Sure as hell not me!” I lob his way.
He shrugs. “Just lookin’ out.”
“Well, how’s about you look somewhere else. Say, in a mirror at your own face and lack of relationship in the last decade!” I lay it out for him.
“Touché.” He lifts his wineglass and sucks back the entire thing.
“Boys, boys. Let us have a good evening and speak on something else. How is Royce and the new assistant?”
“Roy’s great as usual. Talking about finding his own woman to settle down with.” I knock on the table, letting the admission fly between the two of them for discussion.
Sophie nods. “This I see. He is the type to commit. Royce will worship a woman forever if she is the right one.”
Bo grumbles, “Not sure w
hy all of you are leaving the single life. Man, I can’t imagine committing to one woman when there are so many women I haven’t yet had.” He plucks at his goatee thoughtfully.
I roll my eyes, and Sophie laughs. “Bogart, when you find the one, you will change your mind.”
“I don’t think so. She’d have to be one in a billion.”
“As she should be before you commit to her,” Sophie agrees.
And all I can think about while they discuss women is that Skyler Paige could very well be my one in a billion. Or one in seven billion.
7
T-Bone is bent over his writing desk when I enter his workroom the next day.
“Hey, T-Bone.” I lift my hand in a wave.
“Just the man I need to see.” His words are rushed and spastic. “We have to discuss Anna-Maria. She will not wear the thong that goes with the piece I’ve assigned her. She has the ideal body for the style, and it has to be her. I saw it in my dream last night. You must speak to her!” He prattles on while moving from one piece he has hanging on a mannequin to another, tweaking things, adding pins, and doing whatever else a designer does to make something fit their vision.
Anna-Maria, a mother of two, is one of the more prim and proper models in the lineup. The epitome of a soccer mom or what everyone in almost every country, aside from the US, calls soccer, which is football, or calcio here in Italy.
“I’ll have a chat with her. It’s not uncommon for a woman of her age and station in life to not want to show her ass cheeks in public. I know it doesn’t compute for you because you have a vision, but I have to remind you again . . . these are not your everyday fashion models.”
T-Bone purses his pudgy lips, making his jowls jiggle unpleasantly. He’s wearing a Hugh Hefner–style smoking jacket with loose pants, which scream smarmy porn director. I fear whatever he may or may not be wearing under the pants. I shiver on instinct.
“Look, I came here because I have another idea for the show that could really work with the ladies and show off your lingerie even more.”
His furry eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “I am all ears.”
International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 7
