by E. J. Adams
He looked at me with determination. Our eyes locked and I his gaze entranced me. His gorgeous eyes sparkled as moonlight seemed to reflect off of them. His mouth turned up into a smile.
“Ashley, I can't explain it all to you tonight. But I am captivated by what little I know about you. When I saw your picture . . .”
He could see my raised eyebrow. He let out a nervous laugh. A slight chink in the armor.
“Oh that . . . I checked out your Facebook page,” he admitted with some reluctance.
I'm not sure why he was hesitant to admit that. Many employers were now searching Facebook and other social media sites. A girl Chelsea and I knew had a job offer until HR found her tagged in pictures from a drunken orgy one Spring Break.
My Facebook wall was pretty lame, so no concerns there. A few selfies of Chelsea and me in bikinis at the beach was as racy as it got. I don't know why, but I blushed at the thought that Brandon saw a picture of me in a bikini.
He picked up on my slight embarrassment.
“Don't worry, there was nothing disqualifying there. In fact, you are the exact person that I need working with me. But I don't have time to discuss details with you this evening.”
He took my hand in his. Another wave of desire washed over me. My knees began to feel like jello.
“Ashley, what I wanted you to know tonight is that I have an amazing position in mind for you at Jacqueline. I can explain it all to you tomorrow night.” Seems he had already decided on another meeting.
He continued, “And the job offer will have nothing to do with anything else. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good. Because I also want you to know that my interest in you extends beyond a job offer.”
He reached for my other hand. His skin was soft, yet firm. A refined masculinity. Hands of a man who worked behind a desk, but who was also athletic. I wasn't sure how much more of his touch I could take.
He hadn't even touched me in an intimate way and I was already a little wet.
“Ashley, . . . ” The way he said my name was breathy and sensual.
“I am attracted to you. I was from the moment I saw your picture. When I saw you tonight . . . when I saw you tonight, you took my breath away. You are stunning.”
Beautiful. Stunning. Okay, we are now a healthy distance north of zero.
“Mr. Mitchell, –”
“Brandon,” he reminded me.
“Brandon, I don't know what to say.”
“Say that you will have dinner with me tomorrow night at Francesca's.”
Francesca's was one of the finest restaurants in Santa Barbara. Very expensive and romantic. Or so I have heard.
“Yes. I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow night.”
“Excellent! How is seven o'clock?”
“Perfect.”
“Ashley, everything will become clearer tomorrow night. Are you still at the address on your application?”
“Yes. The apartment complex just off campus.”
“Then I will pick you up at seven. Now, I should get you back to Chelsea. I'm sure she is anxious to know what we have been talking about.”
“You have no idea. Oh, by the way, what should I do about the interview I have scheduled for tomorrow afternoon?”
“Don't worry about that. I'll have my executive assistant call HR and let them know that you are interviewing for another position. And that your interview will be with me.”
He smiled. It was both warm and, dare I think it, seductive.
As he opened the door for me, he paused. “By the way, I just thought you should know, not only do you look amazing in that evening gown, but you rock a bikini.”
I just smiled. Silence is golden. And my head was spinning.
What just happened? It seemed that my whole future changed just like that. Brandon had already stirred passionate desire. Where will he take me next?
Chapter 3
“I have nothing to wear,” I said as I flipped through the outfits in my closet. I could sense Chelsea rolling her eyes as she sat on my bed.
“Chels, don't roll your eyes at me.”
“Who says that I did?”
“Seriously?”
“Okay, okay. But, Ashley, Mr. Sexy CEO already has the hots for you. There are a dozen sexy little numbers in your closet.” She hopped off my bed and began flipping through my dresses.
“Normal sexy. For a normal date. With a normal guy. Not Brandon Mitchell sexy. Not for a date with him,” I exclaimed.
“Do you even hear yourself? Ash, you are beautiful. What did he say? . . . Stunning!”
“Stunning in the 'Getting into Mischief Gown'.”
“What about this one?” Chelsea asked as she held up one of my best “date night” dresses.
“I wore that for Phil's birthday last year. Bad karma. I should give it away.”
It had been six months since I broke up with my asshole ex-boyfriend, Phil. For me, that meant it had been six months since I last had sex.
I dated in high school, but never felt the desire to lose my virginity with any of the guys I went out with. That was a major disappointment for my date to senior prom. “Come on, Ashley, everybody else is doing it tonight.” I knew that was false, because I was not having sex with him.
I lost my virginity to Stephen Mills my freshman year of college. He was my first college boyfriend. He was smart, nice, and good looking.
The sex was okay, but not mind-blowing. Not that I had anything to compare it to. We dated for a little over a year. He did a semester abroad our Sophomore year and found a new girlfriend. I was crushed. Chelsea was there to help pick up the pieces.
Junior year I started dating Phil. He was a bit of a bad boy. I don't know why bad boys can be so damn attractive. But, he was – especially after Phil.
The one upside was that the sex was pretty good. The downside, I wasn't enough to satisfy his libido. He was fucking every girl who would let him.
Six months ago I caught him cheating on me with a freshman – a freshman! I walked in on him screwing the little bitch.
Chelsea took me out drinking that night and tried to get me laid. I was in the mood for a few drinks, but wasn't ready to have sex just to get back at Phil. In all honesty, I was ready to move on from him. I knew we had no future.
I've heard that people named Ashley have a deep inner desire for a stable, loving family or community. I think that is true of me. I had that growing up in my small town just outside of Austin, Texas. I knew that I wanted to get married and have a family. I also wanted a career in fashion media. A modern woman who would have it all.
“How about about this?” Chelsea's voice snapped me back from my thoughts.
“Nope. Nothing in here will do. We need to make another trip to Maria's. We need to return our gowns from last night anyway,” I stated.
“Are you crazy? You can't afford to rent a dress from Maria's every night. Besides, you don't need some fancy designer dress to impress anybody.”
“First, it's not every night. Just last night and tonight. Second, with my employee's discount it is affordable.”
Chelsea thought of protesting more, but I was already heading out of my bedroom. Last night's gowns in hand, I grabbed my car keys and purse off the kitchen counter.
“You coming?” I asked Chelsea.
“Yes,” she replied, with some reluctance.
***
Fifteen minutes later we were at Maria's. Maria was a beautiful woman in her early 60's. She grew up in Italy and had been a model. Maria opened her dress shop over thirty years ago and has been a big part of the Santa Barbara community since.
“Ciao!” Maria greeted us as we entered the store.
“Ciao, Maria!” Chelsea and I replied.
“The gowns worked well for you two girls?” asked Maria as we handed the dresses to her.
“Yes. Thank you,” I said.
“Worked great for Ashley. She has a date with Brandon Mitche
ll tonight,” offered Chelsea.
“Well, part date and part business,” I said.
“The Brandon Mitchell?” quizzed Maria, not seeming to hear what I had just said.
“Yes. Hard to believe, huh?” I answered.
“Lui è un playboy, no?!”
“If you're asking if he is a bit of a playboy, I would have to answer yes. But, he seems nice. And he is so handsome. Plus, I think he wants to offer me a job.”
“I think maybe he is a little like 'he who shall not be named',” said Maria. She was focusing like a laser beam on the date part and completely ignoring the job offer part.
“Maria, really?” I pleaded.
She grunted. Maria had become like a second mother to me. She knew all about Phil. Well, not everything. But enough. She was so disgusted by him that she liked to refer to him like he was Voldemort from the Harry Potter books.
“Not like Phil at all, Maria,” I protested. Okay, Maria had a slight point. But there was something about Brandon that was different from Phil. And not just his money and success.
“Believe me, I learned my lesson. I'm more cautious now,” I said as I looked at Chelsea for some back-up.
She looked at me like 'What do you want me to say?'
What? Now she has nothing to say?
“Look, I know Brandon's reputation. He's admitted some of it is true. He also said he is looking for something more now.”
Maria just grunted again. Louder that time.
“I think this will be good for Ashley,” volunteered Chelsea. Finally. Thank you.
“Until last night she had no relationship prospect on the horizon. Now she has a date with a rich and handsome man. It also sounds like she has an amazing job offer coming her way,” she said.
“I at least want to explore all my options,” I concluded.
“Bene, bene. Alright, alright. I can see that this is important to you. Besides, it is none of my business,” said Maria.
“Oh, Maria. You know I love you and I value your opinion. You've been wonderful to me these past four years. But, yes, it is important to me,” I said.
In that moment, Maria's expression changed. She even smiled.
“If you are happy about this, then I say 'Che meraviglia' . . . 'how wonderful.'”
I was relieved. Not that Maria was going to talk me out of dinner, and whatever else might happen. But I didn't want her upset either.
I took the opening she gave me.
“I was hoping you could help me find something for dinner at Francesca's.”
“That is where Richie Rich is taking you?” Okay, so maybe Maria wasn't ready to drop it.
“Maria . . .” I whined.
“Va bene, okay, I'll let it go,” she relented.
“So, if Ash is going on this date, let's make sure she blows his pants off,” interjected Chelsea. Thanks, Chels, lets get Maria thinking about this date leading to nudity.
Maria glanced at Chelsea and shook her head.
“Bad expression,” Chelsea said, but gave me a look that said otherwise.
Maria walked over to her Runway Rental dress rack.
“Honey, I have just the dress. Now, it is not a dress that costs thousands like the ones that Mr. Mitchell's heiresses and starlets wear, but it looks like it. An exceptional dress,” said Maria, now with a sense of conspiratorial satisfaction.
“Besides, you are a pretty young woman. You don't even need an expensive designer dress to impress,” she continued.
“That's what I said,” Chelsea chimed in.
“Let's see the dress,” I said as I pushed past Chelsea.
“It is a Parker Reina Dress. It retails for about $300, but rents for $40 a night. So, $20 for you. Just remember my little shop when you make it big in the fashion world.”
“Oh, Maria, thank you!” I was giddy with excitement.
“Now, go try it on,” said Maria as she pulled the dress off the rack and handed it to me.
I took the dress into the changing room and tried it on. I looked at myself in the mirror and beamed.
The silver metallic lace dress was the perfect mix of feminine and flirty. A sleeveless, V-neckline, racerback, pencil skirt. Fitted at the bust, I was showing an enticing amount of cleavage. With a mid-thigh cut, I was showing a lot of my legs. The rear was tight fitting enough to show off my ass.
“Come out. Let's see!” shouted Chelsea. She couldn't help herself. Chelsea had resigned herself to the fact that I was renting this dress. Besides, she couldn't argue that $20 was a great deal.
I swung open the changing room door and strutted across the store like a runway model. I did a twirl and giggled.
“Magnifico. Molto sexy!” exclaimed Maria.
“What she said,” commented Chelsea.
“I'll take it!” I said.
I felt sophisticated and sexy. I felt ready for a date with Brandon Mitchell. I was ready for more. . . much more.
Chapter 4
Oh shit! It's almost seven o'clock!
I put on a Cleopatra inspired gold-plated necklace with crystal detailing. It complimented the dress perfectly. Maria threw in the necklace rental for free. I'm not sure that our deal helped her bottom line, but it sure helped me. Despite her little protest, Maria was fabulous.
I checked myself in the mirror. I was wearing a strapless lace push-up bra that gave serious cleavage and lift. The matching pair of lace panties were a reminder to show my sexiest side tonight.
“Very sexy!” said Chelsea as she walked into my room.
“You really think so?”
“I know so. Ash, you are smokin' hot. He will not be able to keep his hands off of you.”
“I hope you're right. Chels, I've never been so attracted and sexually charged around a guy before.”
“Well, it has been a while for you.”
“No. It's not that. Well, I guess it is partly that. But, I've never been so turned on before.”
“Really? He gets you going that much?”
“Like you wouldn't believe.”
“Wow. Well, if he noticed how stunning you were in the evening gown last night, wait until he sees you in that dress. You don't have the longest legs in the world, but you are showing them girl. A complete package. I almost want to ravage you.” Chelsea, my BFF.
“I bet that would rev Brandon's engine,” she added.
“What? You think it is every guy's fantasy to see two women go at it?” I asked.
She didn't have a chance to answer. Right at 7:00 the doorbell rang. Punctual.
I headed for the front door and peered out of the peep hole. My pulse quickened as I saw those unmistakable gorgeous blue eyes looking straight ahead. I unlatched the locks and opened the door.
“Good evening,” said Brandon as he handed me a dozen red roses and kissed me on the cheek.
“Hi. Thank you. They're beautiful,” I said as my cheeks turned the color of the roses.
“You're welcome. And they fail in comparison to the beauty before me. Ashley, you are gorgeous.”
“Um, thanks.” Okay, now I was two shades of red darker than the roses. “You look dashing.”
That was the understatement of the century. Brandon looked sexier than the night before. I hadn't thought that was even possible.
He was wearing an Armani suit. His broad shoulders were strong and confident. His bronze skin was smooth and clean shaven. He smelled delicious.
He exuded a masculine sexuality that was intoxicating. I was ready to give myself to him. I was ready to be the last woman he ever needed to be with. Ashley, slow down.
“Let me just put these in some water,” I said carrying the bouquet into the kitchen.
“Here, let me take care of those,” said Chelsea walking into the living room. “Hello Mr. Mitchell. Nice to see you.”
“Hi Chelsea. Please, call me Brandon.”
“Thanks, Chels,” I said as I handed the roses to her.
“Now, you kids have fun,” Chelsea said.
&nb
sp; “Okay. We will. What time is her curfew?” asked Brandon.
“She's a big girl. I'll let her decide what her curfew is. Or, if she has one at all.”
“Are you two finished?” I asked.
“Yes, ma'am,” said Brandon. “Shall we go?”
He held out his arm. I looped my arm through and we left. I could feel Chelsea's smile that stretched ear to ear. I knew how she felt. I was anticipating an evening to remember.
Brandon escorted me to a luxury sports car. One of those two-seaters. Even the car he drove exuded masculine sexuality. He opened the passenger door and I slid into the soft leather seat.
“It's a great night. After dinner maybe we'll put the top down,” he said just before he shut the door. He climbed in on the driver's side and started the car. The engine hummed and we were off.
“Nice car,” I said. I realized it was an understatement.
“Thanks. It's an Aston Martin DB8. It's my California cruising car,” he said with boyish enthusiasm. It was cute that he thought an Aston Martin DB8 meant something to me. I'm pretty girly. I didn't know the difference between an Aston Martin and Dean Martin.
Wait! Doesn't James Bond drive an Aston Martin? Yes. I think so. That little nugget of information got stored somewhere in the recesses of my mind. My dad loved the James Bond movies. I'd seen every one of them with him, at least once. I'm pretty sure about this. Let's find out.
“Hmm. Doesn't James Bond drive an Aston Martin?”
I thought Brandon was going to wet himself with excitement at my question. It must be a universal guy thing. I hadn't met a man yet who doesn't love James Bond. James Bond, and the Three Stooges.
“Yes. An Aston Martin DB5. Built between 1963 and 1965. I'd love to pick one up at an auction someday,” he said.
“Any DB5? Or one used in the James Bond movies?” I asked.
“Any DB5 would be nice to have in a car collection. But I'd love one from the movies. That would make it extra special.” He glanced over at me and smiled again. He had an exquisite smile. It was friendly and smoldering hot at the same time.
