by Tracy Reed
He sat in the large club chair across from her, staring at her legs. She may not have had the curves he was used to having in his bed, but she had beautiful legs. He crossed his legs and wondered how those legs would feel wrapped around his waist as he buried himself deep inside her. Now that she had invited him to play this game, it was just a matter of time until he would have her in his bed.
He surveyed her body, studying her language. Her body was speaking volumes. She wanted him. He sat still, observing her. She looked everywhere but at him. Finally, she looked at her watch. "I've been sitting here for five minutes and you've yet to ask me a question."
He smiled. "Why are you here?"
"Not the question I thought you'd ask."
"What did you think I was going to ask?"
”Would you like some coffee? How did I find you? How I figured out your last name? How I knew you were a therapist?"
"Why would I ask what I already know."
"So you're saying you knew I would be here?” She finally looked at him.
"Yes."
"Presumptuous of you.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of the beige wool sofa.
"Is it?"
"Don't try to analyze me."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"No. I think you're trying to figure me out."
“Isn’t that the same thing?” He was well trained and could play her game all afternoon.
She got up and walked around his office taking note of the objects detailing his history and personality. “Columbia and Brown. Interesting.”
“How so?”
“You strike me as more of a Florida State kind of guy.”
He knew she said that to get a rise out of him. Her little game was doing things to him. He was either going to take her on his sofa, or he was going to end this game and head over to La Porte Noir.
“Florida State.” He nodded. “It’s a good school, but I wanted to study, not party.”
“I see.” She looked at her watch. “Are you going to ask me out?”
“Is that what you want?” He remained cool.
She walked over to the sofa, picked up her bag and started toward the door. He jumped up and stood in front of her. “Excuse me.” She turned around and he grabbed her wrist, and felt her pulse racing. She turned around and looked him in the eye. “Let go of me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Let go of me Dr. King.”
He stepped closer and whispered. “Why did you come here?”
Her body was starting to betray her. Her heart was racing and she could barely breathe. As much as she wanted to move, she couldn’t. It was as if her feet were nailed to the bland brown carpeting.
Olivia had never been with a man like Eric. The men who chased her were very vanilla. She had grown tired of being courted by safe, rich guys. She was ready for a little fun and excitement. Eric excited her and made her feel things she had never felt.
“Let go of me.”
He smiled, tightened his grip and shook his head. “Not until you tell me why you came here.”
She slowly broke out of his grasp, tucked the large black Tom Ford leather clutch under her arm, and held her head high. “If I have to tell you, then you’re not the man I thought you were. And you’re definitely not a therapist I would recommend to my worst friend or best enemy.”
He crushed his lips against hers as he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her to his chest. Her breath caught slightly as he buried his other hand deep into her thick black hair. The heat from his fingers singed her scalp, sending a heat surge down her body that caused her to almost lose her balance. The five-inch Louboutin pumps now felt like a bad choice. He pulled her closer, forcing her to share a dangerous kiss.
She dropped her bag, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him deeper into her space. She opened her mouth slightly, giving him permission to take this passionate game to the next level. He slid his tongue deep inside her mouth, exploring and teasing her. He pulled her closer and kissed her harder. Suddenly, she broke the kiss and slapped him. He rubbed his jaw and smiled.
She picked up her bag, adjusted her clothes and stood staring at him. She wiped the sides of her mouth, put on her sunglasses and started towards the door.
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty, and we can pick up where we left off.”
She grabbed the brushed steel knob and stopped. “I won’t be ready until seven.” She opened the door and left.
Chapter 4
It was six twenty and Olivia was dressed and waiting. She just knew Eric was going to ignore her directive not to pick her up until seven and pick her up at six thirty. His adamant defiance intrigued her. She liked his backbone and found it a little sexy. However, any man dating her knew she expected certain things. If Eric knew her as well as he claimed he did, he would know she considered a man late if he wasn’t at her doorstep at the designated time. If he booked a date for six thirty, he should be ringing her doorbell at that time. Not just entering the lobby at six thirty.
Her last long term companion, Jeffrey Cameron, learned that lesson the hard way. The only reason she gave him a second chance was because she had heard he was good in bed. After a few rides on the society merry go round, she rode Jeffrey and he didn’t disappoint. They lasted about a year. Once she helped him with his career, she grew bored, and dumped him. Now he’s married to a boring woman, expecting twins.
She looked at the crystal Tiffany clock…six twenty-nine. She stood up and started toward the intercom, but a knock on the door stopped her. The nerve of Eric showing up unannounced. She walked over to the door, looked out the peep hole and then opened the door.
“Good evening, Miss Bennett. We were told not to deliver these to you until six thirty.” She stepped to the side and watched the middle aged concierge struggle with the extremely large floral fantasy. “Where would you like these?”
She was dumbfounded at the site of her favorite red French tulips en masse. She loved the way the flowers expressed themselves as they began to open. It reminded her of dancers contorting their bodies as they moved to music.
“Miss Bennett, this is heavy.”
“I’m sorry. Put them on the dining table. Thank you.” She watched the concierge put the flowers on the dark mahogany dining table and let out a deep sigh.
“Forgive me. I don’t think I’ve ever had to carry a bouquet that heavy,” he joked.
“Is there a card, Clyde?”
“Yes, Miss.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a simple black envelope and handed it to her.
She took the card out, read it and turned it over. “Is this it?”
“Yes.”
“What florist delivered these?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Excuse me?”
“It must be a new florist, or one not in the neighborhood. They were delivered by two delivery men and one driver.” She looked at the arrangement and that didn’t surprise her. If anything, it shocked her that Clyde was able to bring the arrangement up by himself.
“Two men?”
“One was carrying the flowers, and the other was holding the door. Strange thing, the one holding the door, wasn’t dressed like a delivery man.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was dressed in a nice suit. In fact, he’s the one who gave me the envelope.”
“Where is he?”
“He left.” She looked at the card again. “Should I tell the driver you’re ready?”
“I didn’t request a car for tonight.”
“Your escort did.”
“My escort? None of this makes sense.”
“The gentleman in the suit said he was here to pick you up for dinner. Once I delivered the flowers, I was to tell you he’s ready when you are. However, he said if you are not in the car at seven, he’s leaving.”
“Oh, did he?”
“Yes.”
She walked over to the credenza, reached inside the antique
porcelain jar, pulled out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to Clyde. “Thank you, Clyde.”
“Thank you, Miss. What about the driver?"
“I’ll handle him.” She escorted him out the door. “Good evening.” She closed the door.
She paced back and forth looking at her watch. Six forty. She could teach Eric a lesson and not respond to his note or flowers, but she sensed she’d regret it. She picked up her bag and jacket and went downstairs.
“Clyde, where is the driver?”
“He’s parked out front in the dark grey Maserati convertible.”
“Thank you.” She turned and headed towards the rear entrance.
She walked outside, fuming and amused at Eric’s behavior. She hated to admit he had impressed her. How he managed to find out her favorite flower was very clever. She wouldn’t have thought so, if he’d used her florist. Instead, he found one much more creative than hers. Two points so far. She was curious to see how many more points he’d score before the end of the evening.
When she turned the corner, she spotted the dark grey Maserati Gran Turismo…good choice. She walked past the car as if she didn’t recognize him, and back into her building. He shook his head and waited a few minutes before going inside.
Olivia stood next to the intercom and counted, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three…” Bzzz…bzzz…bzzz. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Miss Bennett, this is Clyde.”
“Yes.”
“Mister—“
“Doctor…” Eric interrupted.
“I’m sorry. Dr. King is here. Should I send him up?”
“Tell Dr. King, if he’s not at my door at seven, our date is off.” Click.
Chapter 5
Olivia was angry, excited, and impressed. Eric was the first man in a while to stand toe to toe with her. She had to change her approach.
The doorbell rang and she looked at her watch…seven. She waited a few seconds, walked over to the door, and looked out the peephole. She let out a deep breath and opened the door. Damn, he looked good.
“Dr. King.”
“Miss Bennett. May I come in?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Let me get my things.” She closed the door. He stood on the other side of the closed door laughing. A few seconds later, the door opened. Olivia stepped out, closed and locked the door. She didn’t say anything as they walked to the elevator.
They stood in front of the elevator and he looked her up and down. They boarded the elevator and rode in silence. This was a different kind of battle. When the elevator landed, the doors opened and he waited for her to exit first, and then followed behind her.
“Good evening, Miss Bennett,” Clyde said. “Dr. King.”
Eric walked over, shook Clyde’s hand and slipped him a fifty dollar bill. “Thank you, Clyde.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Eric quickly caught up to Olivia as she walked out onto the sidewalk. He was curious to see if she was going to go to his car or ask for directions. She walked to the dark grey Maserati, stood next to the passenger side, and waited for him to open the door.
He opened the door and watched her legs as she climbed inside. She didn’t say anything. Instead, she put on her seatbelt and looked straight ahead. He slid into the driver's side, put on his seatbelt and started the car. A huge smile covered his face. He knew he had gotten to her.
“I’m not amused at your behavior.” He looked at her, reading her body language.
They swerved in and out of traffic until they reached their destination. He pulled up in front of a nondescript building in Tribeca. He got out, handed the key to the valet, and walked around and helped Olivia out of the vehicle. She looked around. Nothing looked familiar. This was definitely not her part of town.
“After you.”
“Where are we?”
“A friend’s place.”
“I see.” She looked around, taking note so she could call a car to pick her up.
They stepped inside and it was even worse. They rode the elevator down two flights. It stopped and opened up to a vintage burlesque club. The jazzy sounds and aromas where hypnotic. She hated to admit that she was impressed.
“Eric, what’s up?” He walked over and greeted the average height honey-colored, bald man with a close cut beard.
“Hey man, thanks for taking care of me.”
“You know how we do. Thanks for helping me and the wifey.”
“You didn’t even have to ask.” Eric’s friend looked at Olivia.
“Who’s the beautiful lady?” Dwight asked as he reached for her hand.
“Dwight, this is Olivia.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Dwight looked at Eric. “I’ll show you two to your table.”
“This way.” Eric and Olivia followed Dwight.
“Here you go.” Eric helped her slide into the booth.
“Thanks, man.”
“I’ll send Avery over to take care of you.”
“Thanks,” Eric replied.
Olivia looked around the club, and then back at the table. “Where are the menus?”
“I already took care of dinner.”
“Excuse me?”
“I pre-ordered.”
“That’s very presumptuous and chauvinistic of you.” He smiled. “I’m very…”
“Good evening, Dr. King,” the server said.
“Hello, Avery.” He showed Eric a dark bottle with a cream label. “That will be fine.”
The server uncorked the bottle and filled two glasses, and placed one in front of each of them. “Your first course will be out shortly.”
“Thank you.” Once the server left, Eric lifted his glass. “Salud.” He took a sip and placed his glass back on the table.
Olivia took a sip and closed her eyes. “Smooth. Good body. Nice selection.”
“Thank you.”
She looked around the restaurant. This was not the kind of place she expected Eric to bring her. She thought they would be dining some place a little more trendy. She looked around and took note of the details. It was like dining in a Cirque de Soleil production with jazz.
“What kind of food do they…” Before she could finish her question, the server reappeared with an assortment of appetizers.
“Tonight, Mr. King has selected the Porcini mushroom caps stuffed with Prosciutto, scrambled hen egg, parmesan and chives, the Andouille sausage Pizzetti, and tomato and mozzarella kabobs with an aged balsamic dipping sauce.” He placed the plates on the table. “Will there be anything else?”
“That will be all, Avery. Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” He left.
Olivia looked at the assorted appetizers and then at Eric. “Excellent selections.”
“I thought you might like something a little different.”
The conversation was sparse over appetizers. Neither was willing to give in. Although Olivia was enjoying the meal, she refused to let Eric know.
Shortly after they finished the first course, the server reappeared pushing a serving cart. He cleared the plates, replaced the cutlery, topped off the wine in their glasses and placed a dome covered tray in the center of the table. He started to remove the tray and Eric stopped him.
“Is there a problem, sir?”
“No. I want to make sure the lady is ready for what comes next.” He looked at Olivia. “Are you ready for what comes next, or would you rather leave?”
She wasn’t sure if she was ready for what would come next. So far this evening, Eric had surprised and impressed her beyond her expectations.
“Yes, I’m ready.” She smoothed out her napkin and watched as the lid was slowly lifted. Her eyes got wide and she couldn’t believe what she saw. “I have never seen a steak that big.”
“It’s our boeuf pour deux with truffle parmesan pommes frites.”
“It looks delicious.”
“Will th
ere be anything else?”
“No, that will be all. Thank you,” Eric replied.
They managed to complete the gigantic steak with Eric eating the majority, and Olivia eating most of the pommes frites. Dessert was a very simple hot fudge sundae. But like everything else they had eaten, it was incredible. It was another item for two. The towering confection had vanilla, coffee, hazelnut and chocolate gelato sitting atop a huge brownie. The pièce de résistance, was the toppings…chocolate ganache, whipped cream with a hint of coffee liqueur, and a sprinkle of chopped almonds.
After dinner and listening to a little jazz, Eric drove Olivia back to her apartment. He was very careful in how he played his hand. He took note of the many times she made flirtatious remarks and tried not looking directly at him. He made it a point to get close, but never too close. He enjoyed watching her squirm.
He pulled up in front of her building, walked around the car, and opened the passenger door. He extended his hand to help her out, and quickly took it back. No physical contact. That was his goal. He wanted to make her want him. He followed behind her as he escorted her into her building to the elevator. He pressed the button and when the doors opened, he held them open until she stepped inside. She turned around and looked at him.
“Goodnight.”
“Excuse me?” This was a first. No man ever left her at the elevator. She figured this was just another one of Eric’s games.
“Goodnight. Dinner was nice, but I need to go.”
“You aren’t going to walk me to my apartment?”
“No.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, it’s the end of our date.” Ding…ding…ding…the elevator kept ringing.
“Is there a problem, Miss Bennett?” Clyde rushed over and saw her and Eric in discussion.
“Everything is fine, Clyde. Dr. King just got his hand caught in the door.”
“Do you want me to get some ice or the first aid kit?”