by Chloe Maddox
I nodded back and said, “Yeah, I do. Not sure if I miss it so much that I need you to match me up with some old fuck. I’ll give it a try, though, for you.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “I just want you to be happy.”
I could only smile back. I was going to ask about what to wear and all but Matt came walking down the stairs with his phone in his hand.
“He’s coming,” Matt announced before he took a seat beside Ysa. He planted a kiss on her cheek and then flicked her shoulder with his finger, motioning for her to come back and sit on his lap. As soon as she was on top he dug his hand underneath her blouse and I saw him cup her breast. Fucking perverts but it made me giggle.
She kissed him back then asked, “Well, are we going to watch TV or get ready? What time are we going, babe?”
“Can we go before nine?” I wanted to go out early so we could get home early. The last time they tried to set me up it was almost midnight and the guy I was with tried so hard to get into my pants, saying it was only logical for me to sleep at his place since we were a little drunk at the time. “I just want to get home before midnight.”
Matt nodded, “Yeah, me too. I don’t think I can handle staying up so late anymore. Maybe I just need to exercise a little more. How ‘bout we go by eight-thirty so we can bowl and eat by nine?”
Ysabel and I both agreed to those terms. That meant we had around forty minutes to get ready and I had absolutely no fucking idea what to wear. While I was in the shower I could only think about what this guy might look like. Matt said he was around forty-nine or forty-eight and was a well-respected guy in the business industry. In my head, however, that only painted the image of a balding billionaire and not exactly someone I would want to hang out with, much less be romantically involved with.
I spent even more time making a mess out of my closet. I tried on something pink, something hanging, something black and leather but none of it seemed to give the impression I wanted. I was a small girl for someone my age - I’m twenty-five, by the way - standing only five-feet-two. I had green eyes, long, light brown hair that went down to my hips and a very petite, firm body build. Most men I dated said I’d make a fortune as a porn star but the idea never latched on to me. Maybe when I’m thirty and still broke as fuck.
Ysabel came rattling on my door about ten minutes before we had to leave.
“Hey, what the fuck’s taking so long?” she asked as she barged into my room. I turned around and stood there in front of her, naked and bedazzled with confusion. She took one quick look at me and burst out laughing.
“What?”
She smiled and raised an eyebrow then said, “Why not that red dress we bought last Christmas? It looks good on you if you wear those heels.”
I remembered that dress. It was really tight, especially around the waist. Might make me look like a muffin if I’m not fit enough. Fuck. That got me a little worried. What if I gained weight or something?
“I can’t wear that,” I told her as I put my hands around my waist. “It won’t fit, I’ll look like a fucking walrus.”
She looked at me like I was the craziest person in the world. “You got a tiny body. Stop complaining and get into that dress.”
I could only roll my eyes and move along as she pushed me towards the closet. I looked over some of the clothes I had and for a moment I figured I should just go with the green backless top and a mini-skirt but then I remembered it had a freaking hole that could expose my nipples if I’m not careful with it. The red dress, I guess, was the evening’s choice.
The damn thing was tight but when I tried it on and looked into the mirror I found it accentuated my ass and breasts more. I guess that was a good thing. It was also pretty high so I decided to go with a nice lacey thong.
When I reached for a bra Ysabel slapped my hand away.
“Hey, my tits aren’t exactly bombshell size,” I tried to reason out. Truth be told, I had fairly large breasts but I was never really comfortable with them. Maybe spending so much time with really liberated people like Ysa has gotten me to question my opinion about my own body… or maybe I was just being a crazy idiot.
“You’re boobs are fine,” she answered and pointed at how my nipples were pressing against the tight fabric of the dress. “And besides, just look at how your nipples are showing. If you get turned on by this guy he’ll know.”
I felt the blood rushing in my cheeks as I blushed.
“Well, hurry up,” she said nonchalantly when she noticed. Ysa walked out of the room and yelled out “Put on some heels. We’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Wait!”
She paused and looked back, “Yeah?”
“What’s his name?”
She grinned then answered, “Dylan.”
***
“Okay, I look fucking ridiculous.”
Matt looked at me as we got out of the car. The look on his face was the exact opposite of how I felt. It was like he was stripping me naked with his eyes. I wanted to drill my fingers into his skull and then slap him silly with his own eyeballs. Okay, I was getting a bit morbid but there’s no denying he made me feel uncomfortable.
At least he thought I was hot or maybe he just saw me like any other girl: a piece of meat to strip and fuck. I wonder how he made Ysa feel. I knew she had feelings for him but even she admitted to me before she only married him to stay financially stable. He was her bank, lover and sexual partner so why’d she ever look elsewhere?
Matt didn’t know Ysa was on birth control every three months. He always figured she just couldn’t have children. She never brought it up and so I never told him either. I guess he’d find out one day but it’s not like they were in a rush to build a family. I hear them every night fucking wildly in the other room and a kid might disturb that ongoing routine.
Ysa stepped out of the car, looked at me once, then laughed. “Girl, you’re fine. Come on, let’s go. He’s already in and he’s got us a table.”
“He should, I think he owns this place,” Matt commented as we began walking across the parking lot and into the restaurant.
It was a very lavish type of establishment too. From the red and gold colors it appeared to be some kind of Chinese restaurant but I couldn’t really spot any Chinese decorations. I did see some green jade decorations and an abundance of roses so I presumed my guess to be right. It had to be Asian of some sort.
The interiors also did not resemble that of a traditional restaurant. Every table had its own little room. It was like every customer stepping in had to be some sort of VIP. There were large flat-screen televisions in each “room” and the tables varied in sizes. Some were designed for ten or twelve people and others were just small enough for a group of four. Each table had the same basic design though: white tablecloth and a lazy Susan in the middle. I guess this would make it easier for food to be passed around for a table of ten people.
A lot of people were bustling in and around the place as well. I saw a lot of Asian folk, further emphasizing my guess, and it made me wonder if Dylan was half-Asian by any means. Well, Matt also said he was a successful businessman so he could just be as white and Caucasian as I was and just happened to own this restaurant.
We passed by a few tables and I smelled the aroma of fish and soup. It got me worried a bit - soup, noodles and fish were like the worst kind of food to eat on a first date. I didn’t want this Dylan to kiss me and taste fish instead of my flavored lip gloss.
After what seemed like forever we turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs. This took us all the way to the third floor and the usher led us to a VIP room in the furthest corner. It was small, fit for about six people, and was designed just like all the rest except it had far more elaborate leather seats.
Waiting for us, seated in this room, was Dylan Blackthorn.
Ysa and Matt casually walked up to him and greeted with a shake of hands but I stood there, just outside the VIP room, and like an idiot I stared at h
im. He must have been the most handsome specimen of a man I had ever laid eyes on. Even though he was probably twice my age, he looked like a younger man. The only hint was the grey hiding in his hair and trimmed beard but otherwise he looked much younger for his age.
He stood nearly six-feet-two inches, a whole foot higher than I was, and had on this elegant couture grey suit. Dylan had jet black hair that was ruffled up and yet organized at the same time, like one of those vampire hairstyles popular on TV these days and he had the most gorgeous pairs of deep brown eyes. He was a living, breathing example of human perfection.
“Olivia?”
My attention snapped and I heard Ysa calling out my name over and over.
“Olivia, Olivia, Oh-lee-vee-yah,” she went on like a lifeless drone. She was waving at me. “Hey, wake up. Stop staring at Dylan.”
Ah fuck. Did I really just stare at him like a fucking moron?
“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry,” I tried to excuse myself and walked into the room. I was going to shake Dylan’s hand but he reached out with both arms and gave me a tight hug. Oh God, and he smelled so good too. I wish he didn’t have to let go.
“It’s fine,” Dylan told me as he let go (to my dismay). He then looked down at me and smiled before saying “As long as it’s someone as hot as you looking my way.”
What the fuck do I say to something like that?
“Uhm, thanks,” I mumbled out.
Dylan took a seat and he gestured for me to sit beside him. Opposite of our side of the table was Ysa and Matt. She was looking at me with a wicked grin and her husband was already too busy looking at the menu.
I took my seat and tried to avoid looking up to my side. I could feel Dylan looking in my direction so I simply bit my lip and tried to ignore it.
“I ordered an appetizer,” Dylan told Matt. “I got us some pork dumplings and crab rangoon.”
“Oh good,” Matt exclaimed. “I was going to get the dumplings too. All righty then, I’ll just go over the main courses. I’m definitely getting us some beer, what about you babe?”
Ysa shrugged, “Just get me anything but soup and no lite beer. I want something heavy babe.”
I looked over and saw Ysa’s hand dive underneath the table and towards Matt’s crotch. This was a VIP room, after all, and with the curtains closed it was unlikely anyone would disturb her from jerking him off other than the waiters coming in to give us our food. I then looked up at Dylan, wondering if he knew what they were up to, and discovered he was still looking my way.
“Hey,” he greeted in such a casual manner it kind of caught me off-guard. “You want some naan bread?”
“Naan?” I have never even heard of it in my life.
He smiled, “It’s a kind of Indian bread, just really thin. You can use it and dip it in sauces or in all sorts of curry.”
“Thought this was a Chinese place?”
He nodded and explained, “Yeah, but a lot of Chinese culture was influenced by the Indians. Just think about Buddhism - that’s actually a part of Indian mythology and lore but it’s worshipped all over China, Japan and other Asian nations. Naan is also a big thing outside of Indian.”
Wow, he just lectured me about Indian bread appetizers. That was one sign he was much older than I was. He’s had more time to read about the non-essentials like freaking bread appetizers. It was quite amusing though.
“Hmm, I never knew that,” I told him and tore my attention away from the damn menu. I instead focused all my time on him now. “Let’s have some and then you can tell me more about you.”
That got the old hunk into a good mood. He pressed a button that called in the waiter. As soon as the waiter peeked through the curtains, Ysa withdrew her hand from Matt’s open zipper. She bit her lip and looked at me and we both tried to keep ourselves from laughing.
While we were getting all giddy like kids, Matt and Dylan ordered the food and drinks. Dylan then turned on the television in the room and Matt flipped through the channels until he found a sports channel.
After the food came in and we were eating, I was starting to get a little more comfortable. I completely forgot about how exposed I looked in this red dress and just spent the hour chit-chatting with Dylan about everything and nothing.
Turns out we had a lot of things in common. He and I had no love for baseball, we both loved to swim and he had this extreme fascination with movies. That last one really got my attention and I felt my whole body light up like a bulb when he told me he tried making his own short films in the past.
“So you didn’t go to film school?” I had to ask while we were munching down on prawn dipped in some kind of sweet and sour sauce.
He shook his head, “I couldn’t. Back then I just had to go to a business school because my brother died and the company fell into my hands. Turns out I’m good with numbers.”
“Sorry about your brother,” I felt compelled to say.
He shrugged like it was nothing, “Nah, it’s nothing. That was like twenty years ago. I bet you were probably four or five years old at the time.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and nod. “Yeah, I do hope it’s okay that I’m much younger than you.”
“I don’t mind,” he answered. He glanced at Matt and then back at me and said, “To be honest, I was hoping Matt was going to bring in someone nice and young. I mean, look at him and Ysa - they’re really happy.”
“So you want a young girl too to call you ‘daddy’ while you fuck?” I said and almost instantly I wanted to slap myself. Why the fuck did I just say that?
Oddly enough, he didn’t seem offended.
“Sure,” he answered me. I couldn’t tell if he was being snarky or just telling the truth. “Every old man wants to feel some young gal’s lips around his cock. That’s the American Dream right there.”
I burst out laughing and asked “Isn’t the American Dream all about reaching your goals and succeeding in life regardless of birth and station?”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled, “That’s quite deep from such a cute, petite little person. Well, you got to look at it from an old guy’s perspective, like mine. I’ve already lived a life, had my ups and downs. At this point all I really want is to feel alive.”
“And fucking a young hot chick makes you feel alive?”
Dylan smiled, “Doesn’t it make you alive, regardless of how young or old you are?”
He had a point. I couldn’t really argue with that.
“Hey,” Ysa suddenly butt in. “Dessert’s here.”
The curtains opened and another set of plates came in. Dylan and I changed topics as Matt and Ysa were no longer distracted. While the boys were talking business and football, all I could think about was how true Dylan’s words were. All my life I didn’t like it whenever I saw old men and young ladies going out but this brought on a new perspective. Maybe they were just enjoying life.
If that was the case, what the fuck was I doing with my life?
“Mind if I call you tomorrow? How about tonight?” Dylan suddenly asked just as we were getting ready to get up and leave. “They already gave me your number, just so you know.”
My jaw dropped and I looked at Ysa accusingly. She only looked back with a devilish smile across her face. I then looked up to Dylan and nodded, “Uh sure. Anytime, I guess.”
“What time’s best? I don’t want to end up bugging you at work.”
I thought about it for a second and then figured the timing didn’t really matter. Work was slow at the HR department and wasting ten minutes on a call wouldn’t really affect anything. There were times where I literally spent almost an hour playing silly video games on my phone just to pass the time.
“Any time after eleven,” I told him. At least by then I’d be halfway through my shift and ready for my lunch break.
“What time do you get off?”
“Three-thirty,” I rolled my eyes. “Means I got way too much fucking time afterwards.”
&n
bsp; He read the message behind my words and asked, “Want to hang out tomorrow?”
“As long as you’re paying,” I had to be brutally honest. I mean, why else would I go out with an old guy, no matter how fucking handsome he was?
Dylan didn’t seem to find an issue, “Yeah, sure. I’ll call you tomorrow and pick you up.”
That sealed the deal. We parted with him at the parking lot and he waved good-bye as the valet brought in his car. It was a damn Lamborghini and a red one at that. I mouthed an impressed whistle as he drove off.
Ysa was still busy chit-chatting with Matt while we headed to our car (it was technically Matt’s), leaving me alone to my thoughts. All I could think about was the look on Dylan’s face when he first saw me and the things he said over dinner. His face and that wicked smile he had on was the very last thought I had before crashing onto my bed and falling asleep.
Chapter Two
“Olivia, you got those insurance papers for the new trainees up at fourth?”
I snapped back to reality and looked up from my desk to see my supervisor, Victoria, leaning on my table. I had to fight back the urge to vomit; everybody in the office hated her. She was a class-A kind of bitch. Maybe it was because she was getting old and single with no kids. She was almost thirty-five and not a single guy could stand going out with her. Last I heard, her longest relationship only lasted two months and that was with one of our former officemates.
“Huh?” I had to think about it twice and process what she was saying. “Papers? Oh, yeah! I got those done yesterday.”
I scrambled through the documents on my desk and looked for a short, brown envelope. After a few seconds I found it lying underneath a stack of salary quotes. I gave the envelope to Vicky and watched as she opened it, peered inside and peeked at the papers inside.
“All right,” she told me as she got off my desk. “I’ll be taking these over to Arnold. You done with the salary quotes? I need those today.”