by Cs Jacobs
As a kid, my mother dragged me around to all kinds of parties thrown by wealthy families and the men always treated the women like shit. Fuck that! I promised myself early on I would not be like those women who are more like trophies on display. I can pay my own bills, but it’s nice to know there are actually nice men in the city. While again stuck in my own thoughts about our team, the men start to enter the conference room. I smooth my pencil skirt, square my shoulders, and then make my way to shake hands with the three men, when low and behold, McHottie walks through the door.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” The words slip out of my mouth before I have time to filter myself. I slap my mouth shut in embarrassment as Bill looks at me with a mortified face. McHottie simply laughs as he stares right at me. He walks straight past Bill.
“Hello, so our paths cross yet again. Maybe this time you will be kind enough to give me your name.” He says this in such arrogance that I instantly become pissed. Here comes my inner bitch, right on cue. I stare at him for a minute, observing him in professional mode. He is dressed in a name brand suit, clearly altered to fit him perfectly. The dress pants fit his thighs like gloves; how did I miss his thighs this morning when he ran into me? His dress shoes are large, very large. His suit is a midnight blue, which emphasizes the color of his eyes. His hair is perfectly in place, gelled to perfection and still waiting to be pulled. I shake the naughty thoughts out of my head.
Instead of responding, I walk past him and greet the other men. “Please forgive me for my language. Welcome to W.H. Advertising. My name is Angelica Cane. I am the lead of this advertising team. Please come in and have a seat and we will get started with our presentation.” I plaster on my Price is Right smile as Joey calls it, and I shake both of their hands. I have to say, wow, what is with this company? Must their employees look like male models? The man closest to me introduces himself as Brendon Waltman, the lead marketing director. The second man who shakes my hand ever so lightly, perhaps too lightly, maybe I’m just overanalyzing, introduces himself as Jon Harper, the owner of I.P. Vodka Company and tells me the man standing behind me is his investor, Blake Harper. They must be brothers because their features are strikingly similar. He is very good looking, I’ll give him that, but he has nothing on his brother. I turn, smile and nod at my stranger who now has a name – Blake. Did his name have to be a sexy one too? Can I catch a break with him please?
Blake looks at me with a lopsided smile, clearly amused by my little introduction. I turn my back to him yet again and ask Jon and Brendon to take their seats at the head of the table. I quickly turn around and walk right past Blake with my head held high and smile.
Bill starts our meeting by introducing himself and the rest of the team, and then gives his little speech about our company and the many high profile clients we already have under our belt. After that, Rosie enters and asks the men if they would like to order in lunch, which they all politely decline but accept her offer of water. Once she leaves the room to retrieve our waters, Bill hands the mic over to me and I begin. I start our presentation on the projector on the far wall of the room. While I wait for it to open, I sense Blake’s eyes on me. Chills travel down my spine just thinking about him staring at me, undressing me with his eyes. I turn to confirm my theory, and there he is staring at me; now with a cocky smile on his face. I stare at the other men at the table and grin, which results in a frown from Blake.
Mission accomplished.
Why I feel the need to be so mean to this man is beyond me, but he walked in the room like I owed him something and I don’t owe people anything. I quickly snap out of my thoughts and begin my presentation. I talk enthusiastically and confidently for twenty minutes straight, telling the men what we would do if we had their business; how we would advertise their vodka, and so on. After I finish my portion, Greg and Allen stand to finish off their portion of the presentation. I calmly sit down in my seat next to Bill and watch my co-workers talk. I don’t hear a word they’re saying. I can’t. I’m too busy trying to calm my nerves, and Blake is still blatantly staring at me. Throughout my whole presentation, his eyes never left mine; the intensity was palpable. Almost intimate the way he was looking at me, the way he is looking at me. I can see him in my peripheral vision staring. I need this to be over so I can go home and take another shower.
Greg and Allen wrap up their portion of the presentation after which they resume their seats next to me. Bill starts up a conversation about the potential with Brendon and Jon. Blake is very absent minded during this whole presentation, so it is very clear what is on his mind, and I’m wet just thinking about it. As Brendon mentions their four o’clock meeting with another advertising company, Blake loudly states, “NO.”
We all look at him in surprise. He seems to have surprised himself as well. He doesn’t stop though. After a beat, he continues, “We will not be attending the next meeting. Ms. Cane and her team have presented an amazing advertising plan for I.P. Vodka, which I would like to see through. We have made our decision. You have our contract.” The whole time he speaks, he is looking right into my eyes. It is like no one is in the room but him and me. The thought makes my nipples harden to peaks. How can I be so turned on by just a man’s stare?
Jon clears his throat and asks to have the conference room for a minute to discuss the proposal with his investor and marketing director. We nod and hastily make our retreat. Once in the hallway, we walk to my office, as it is the closest to the conference room. “What the hell was that about?” Greg says to me upon entering. “Blake never took his eyes off you in there. He didn’t know your name, so I know you’re not seeing one another, but care to tell us why you didn’t mention you knew the investor of this company?”
I stand by my desk angry at his tone and accusations. “You have no right to talk to me that way Greg. No, I am not seeing him. I didn’t even know who he was until he walked into that conference room.”
Bill tells us both to calm down and he asks me what my little explosion was about. I explain to him what happened when I went running this morning and he laughs. He full-on belly laughs at me.
“Pray tell, what’s so funny, Bill? That was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.” I’m now pacing my office. Not only did I run into the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on this morning, but he just happens to be an investor to a company W.H. desperately wants. I have the worst fucking luck.
He looks at me with tears in his eyes, yes, tears. “Oh, Ang, you can’t tell me this isn’t funny. What are the odds? The same man who plowed you down on the streets you thought was just some random man, just happens to be Blake Harper, a large business investor in New York. An investor with whom we would like to do business with.” He looks at me with his happy eyes.
I sigh and shake my head at him. Yep, Bill has just confirmed every fear I just thought to myself. No more being a bitch to this guy. I have to be nice.
Allen laughs a little as well. “You clearly made an impression on him, Ang. No one has ever just agreed on the spot like that before. They usually take a week or so to get back to us.” A very good point made, because I’ve never seen that happen before. I wonder what’s going on in the conference room now.
As if someone was reading my mind, we hear the door open and we all turn just as the men walk down the hall and see us all in my office. Blake is the first to talk. “Thank you all for your amazing presentation. We will in fact be using your company as our advertising firm from here on out. We will have Brendon sort out all the paperwork with your team.” He smiles at me. I melt at his words. His voice is so fucking sexy; I could listen to him talk about calculus and get turned on. The other men smile, nod their agreement, and start to say their goodbyes. When it is time for me to shake Blake’s hand, he doesn’t let go.
We stand there awkwardly until he speaks. “Ms. Cane, might I be able to treat you to lunch?” I look at him dumbfounded. Why would he want to take me to lunch? I mean look at him. He’s handsome. His eye
s – what they do to me, and his smile –I don’t think I’ve ever seen such perfect teeth. He clears his throat and smiles at me. I realize I have just been checking him out while he is still holding my hand. I quickly pull my hand out from his.
“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Harper, but unfortunately, my schedule will not allow that today.” Bill looks at me like I’m crazy because he knows I’m done with work after this meeting. Blake doesn’t buy it.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What about dinner?” His tone is more persistent this time.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, no. Perhaps a group meal this weekend to celebrate our companies coming together?” I don’t know why I just said that. Well, actually, yes I do. I said it because I want to see him again, because I want to be close enough to him to smell him. Geez, I sound like a stalker. At least this way I can stalk him in public with others so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.
Blake gives me a full megawatt smile. “A group celebratory meal, yes, let’s do that. I’ll have it set up. Until then, Ms.Cane.” He lingers on my name. It is almost a challenge. I smile in return and watch as the three men walk down the hall to the elevators. When they step in and turn around, Blake and I lock eyes. Shit, I’m in trouble.
Joey is over for dinner and I just finished explaining my crazy-ass day to him. “Wow, Blake sounds like an arrogant bastard. Albeit a hot, arrogant bastard,” Joey says with a mouthful of enchiladas.
“You have no idea.” I sigh.
We sit and eat our dinner, talking about our week. Joey usually has dinner over here a few times a week; it’s our thing. We usually have some good conversations over the dinner table, but tonight my mind is elsewhere. Getting lost in a sea of light blue eyes. And perfect two-day stubble on his face – did I mention those thighs?
“Why don’t we look this Blake man up and do some research? Get the 411 on him,” Joey says after we have finished our meals. He rushes upstairs to retrieve my laptop from my room.
I wait for him in the living room with our margaritas. When he returns, we make ourselves comfortable. Roger follows and sits at my feet. Once the laptop starts, he opens up the internet and begins his search. While he is typing away, I wonder to myself what it is about Blake that draws me to him. God knows; I’m just fighting the inevitable. He rubbed me the wrong way when he walked into the conference room, and for some reason, I want him to pay. I want him to realize he might snap his fingers and get what he wants elsewhere, but that’s not how I work. I’m sick of rich men thinking they are owed, or can have what they want.
Wealthy men have surrounded me all my life; it gets old and tiring. I come from money, old money many call it. I’ve lived a very nice life. One I am immensely grateful for, but I don’t act like I have a large bank account. I don’t live off the money Grandpa TJ has given me. Though I could live a good life off the bank, I live off my own income. I’m perfectly content in my life. I don’t need some rich asshole trying to woo me – not going to happen. Then again, is that what Blake is trying to do? Fuck, he asked me to dinner, not to court me. But why was he so persistent? Hell, he’s a client now, obviously that’s not going to happen. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here lost in my thoughts, but I notice Joey is staring at me. I blush and take a big gulp of my margarita. Joey laughs, “Well, AP, I think you’re completely smitten over this McHottie who has literally fallen into your life.”
I laugh at the old nickname he coined back in college. Ugh, maybe he’s right. “I don’t know what it is, Joey. The way he looked at me, those weren’t hello eyes, nor where they sex eyes. They were just so fucking intense I wanted to crawl in him!”
I blush thinking about those eyes all over my body. Joey nods. “I’m looking at his eyes right now, and damn, I can see what you mean.” I snap my head over and look at the screen. There he is, Blake Harper, staring at me through the computer screen. God, he is even more handsome than I remember. How is that even possible? Usually my mind turns a hot guy even hotter, but fuck, my memory did not do him any justice. “Should I leave you and the screen alone, AP?” I punch him and he jokingly rubs his arm.
“Enough!” I yell as I stand. “I don’t want to creepily stalk him. He’ll probably forget me by tomorrow. Let’s get ready and go out.” I tilt my head to the right and pout just a little. The look in Joey’s eyes tells me I won and we are hitting up the clubs tonight.
I love going out with Joey, mainly because he picks my outfit and does my hair and makeup while we drink and talk. These are his secret skills he doesn’t like to tell people about, but I don’t care as long as he fixes me up. Who doesn’t like to be pampered by a hot man? He is the best friend I could have ever asked for. I met him freshman year at NYU. We happened to have the same English class and were wearing the same sweatshirt and dark jeans. Even our Converse shoes matched. We had a good laugh and haven’t stopped laughing since. We only shared that one class, but that’s all it took for our bond to be made. We were part of a dance group on campus as well; it brought us closer. He would always play the guitar for me when I would sing in the quad to get people to show up at our dance events. A history of unpleasant upbringings also contributed to our closeness. Before I knew it, Joey became the brother I never had. I’m blessed to have him in my life. Joey likes to think he’s gay. Not that it matters to me who he sleeps with. After all it’s nice to talk to a man about men, one of his many perks. However, on very rare occasions he does sleep with a woman, but it’s few and far between. He’s a gorgeous horny man who can only resist so many of the beautiful women he’s constantly surrounded by. Joey is a model as well as a part-time photographer. He truly is great at both. His physique is impeccable. The man spends too much time at the gym; although, I think it has more to do with the eye candy he finds there than the equipment. He is 6’3 with short dirty blond hair, which is always styled just right. He has beautiful hazel eyes and fair skin. He really is the typical “All-American Boy.”
His photography is something we actually do together. He’s a landscape photographer and I go with him to random locations. It’s fun. We usually hike until he finds just what he’s looking for. After turning his photos into canvases, a small shop in Manhattan puts them on display in their gallery. He always signs the pictures simply JL, not wanting people to know his identity. He says that will cause them to sell without merit and he wants people to actually appreciate the art and not his name. I love him for that. Yes, he is that famous. Joey Livingston is an underwear model for various brands. I normally see him grabbing his dick daily on billboards throughout the city. I think it’s funny and he loves it, the cocky bastard. He was noticed in college and did small jobs here and there until we graduated, and then he went at it hard. Being such a fine specimen of a man, he has worked with so many top designers I’ve lost count. I don’t blame everyone for wanting him in their clothes, or most of the time, lack thereof.
Once he has finished working his magic on me, we grab a cab to his apartment so he can get ready. He lives in a beautiful loft in Midtown. It’s very new age and clean, just like him. It takes him almost as long as I did to get ready, so I pour myself wine and watch. Turning on his stereo system, I hit shuffle on his iPod and Santana’s “Maria Maria” starts. God, I love this song. I dance all the way to his bed. “So, what’s going on with you and Kenneth?” I ask him. He walks out of his bathroom with a towel around his waist. We’ve known each other so long we have no issue being nearly nude, or completely nude, on occasion, around one another.
“It’s not. The man is a needy bitch, and you know I don’t have time for that shit. The sex is amazing though; might ride that out for a while.” He winks and walks past me to his huge walk-in closet. It almost rivals mine.
“My God, JoJo, you have no fucking shame! Literally!” I say as we both break out into hysterics.
“Oh, please, AP, like you haven’t stayed with a man merely for the sex. Need I say Nick?” I scowl at him from the bed. He knows I don’t like to talk about Nick, but he
makes a valid point.
I sigh, “Fine, fine, you’re right. I was with Nick for his big dick, but I told him that from the start. It’s not my fault he wanted more. I’m not ready for all that nonsense yet. I’m too selfish to be with anyone right now.” He walks out of his closet fully dressed, in designer jeans and a button-up with the top three buttons open.
“Damn, you’re looking fine tonight.”
“We both are, doll,” he replies.
I look at myself and he is right. In a miniscule little black dress and sky high Louboutins, I look good tonight. Standing together, we take our Polaroid – yes, those still exist, and yes we take one every time we go out. I shake the picture before adding it to our collage we have going on his wall. The first picture we took was that very day we met in college and we went to a party. It became a tradition. The wall now holds thousands of pictures. It’s fun to look back and see how far we’ve come. Joey throws his arm over my shoulders and admires the wall with me. He starts to serenade me along with Sam Smith on the stereo.
“I’ll always hold your hand, JoJo.” I smile up at him. He grabs my hand and we head off to the club.
I have no idea which club we are going to; I rarely do. The only times I go to clubs are with Joey, so he is the one who keeps up with what’s hot and what’s not. We arrive at Club Next and the line is around the corner, but of course, we walk right in. Joey seldom has to wait for anything. The bouncer and a girl in thigh-high black boots, a mini skirt, and a purple crop top greet us. She says her name is Becky. She gives Joey the double-cheek kiss then just nods and smiles at me, the bitch. Joey laughs and squeezes my hand as we follow Becky through the loud club and into a VIP booth. Once we arrive, Joey lets me sit before him, ever the gentleman. Becky introduces us to Ashley, our waitress, and then saunters away. Ashley, whom is in the same outfit as Becky, tells Joey she is a big fan of his work before taking our order. I laugh aloud once she walks away.