“A bit much, huh?” I said as I picked up the cards and walked toward my box.
“I’d say so,” Riley sighed.
Well, I love it.
I slid the top drawer open and dropped the cards beside my key fob. As I closed the drawer, the back door opened and Blake walked in.
“Holy fucking shit it smells good in here,” he said.
“What’s up, dork?” I said as he walked past.
He glanced down at Riley’s leg, shifted his eyes toward me, and shrugged his shoulders.
“I though you two were going to be done before we opened shop?” he asked as he lowered his eyes toward the half-complete outline of Riley’s tattoo.
“Well, we were, but…” She paused and waved her arms around the shop.
His eyes widened and he chuckled. “You went and bought flowers instead?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and sighed heavily. “Uhhm. No. No, we didn’t. We were interrupted for almost an hour by the delivery guy.”
“Well, they smell good,” Blake said as he turned toward his work station.
“Can you believe he sent this many?” Riley asked as she waved her arms in the air.
Without turning around, Blake shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know what that guy thinks we’re doing here, but this is a tattoo shop, not a funeral home or a florist,” Riley said.
Riley was obviously upset, jealous, or maybe a little of both. I was truly enjoying seeing her act the way she was, it made me feel like the gesture on Wilson’s part was a little more extreme than I already thought it was. For once in my life I didn’t feel like an object; I felt like a beautiful woman, and I had Wilson to thank for it.
“I like it,” Blake said. “It fills the place with warmth.”
Men and women alike had always described me as being a bitch. I never really disagreed with them, because it seemed to come naturally, and very little effort was required for me to do or say something uncivilized. As Riley slowly pivoted in a circle and continued to survey the flowers, I pointed down at her thigh.
“Let’s get that leg piece done,” I said. “Probably be the only flower you’ll get today.”
Riley spun around and glared at me. I shrugged my shoulders and patted the edge of the chair with the palm of my hand. “Don’t be mad. Blake will see how much you like them, and maybe he’ll get you some.”
“Personally, I think this guy is trouble. You need to be careful, Stevie,” she said as she sat down.
There was no doubt Wilson was wealthy. I realized I hadn’t spent a tremendous amount of time with him, but after what little time we had spent together, I sure wouldn’t describe him as arrogant or overbearing. If anything, he was more down to earth than the majority of the bikers I had been with.
“I will,” I said as I glanced at the clock.
We had roughly forty minutes until the shop was scheduled to open. If I hurried, I could still get the outline of the piece done.
The buzzer from the door reminded me once again that we had left it unlocked. Incapable of hiding my excitement, I smiled so much it hurt as Wilson walked in the shop.
Dressed in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath but not wearing a tie, the unbuttoned collar seemed to add to his already handsome appearance. His hair was almost perfectly brushed back – with the exception of one stray section which draped down onto his forehead. I studied him as he stood behind the desk with both hands behind his back, which seemed rather odd.
“Help you?” Blake asked as he walked toward the reception desk.
“Name’s Wilson,” Wilson said as he ran his free hand through his hair. “I stopped in to see Stevie for a moment if it’s alright.”
“Fine with me,” Blake said as he extended his hand. “I’m Blake.”
As they shook hands Riley spun around in her chair and stared. After a short moment, she turned toward me and cupped her hand to her mouth.
“That’s him?” she whispered.
I nodded my head and grinned.
She glanced at Wilson, held her gaze for a moment, and eventually turned around.
“Holy shit, he is pretty,” she said.
“Told you,” I said as Wilson walked past the receptionist desk.
Still holding his hands behind his back, his face was covered in a full-blown grin as he approached us. Upon stepping in front of Riley’s stool, she stood and turned toward him.
“You must be Riley,” he said.
“Uh huh,” she murmured.
He pulled his hand from behind his back and produced a mixed bouquet of flowers.
“Here, these are for you,” he said as he handed Riley the flowers.
You are just fucking sweet, aren’t you?
“For me?” she gasped as she alternated glances between Blake and Wilson.
“Yes, for you. Don’t worry, I asked your boyfriend if it was alright. And I apologize for being so insensitive and sending all of these here, but as late as Stevie works, I couldn’t very well send them to her home,” he said.
“They’re beautiful,” Riley said as she accepted the arrangement.
“Well, that’s all I needed,” he said. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Uhhm, thank you. And it was nice to meet you, too.” Riley said as she buried her nose in the flowers.
“See you tonight,” Wilson said as he turned away. “And, just so you know, I like the new hair color.”
“It’s not new,” I said. “I do purple all the time.”
Riley lifted her nose from the flowers for long enough to produce a tooth-filled smile.
“Yeah, he’s trouble for sure,” I said sarcastically.
But as I looked around the shop, I believed the exact opposite to be true.
WILSON
I sat at my desk with my chair facing the window. Gazing through the glass out over the city in a dream-like state instead of working had become commonplace for me, and although I realized I needed to work, I felt very little guilt for not doing so. For now at least, it seemed, my focus was far from work. As I watched Andrew’s reflection in the glass, I swiveled my chair toward the door.
“The best place to buy someone clothes online?” I asked.
After a few seconds he appeared in the door opening. “Someone being a woman in, oh, let’s say a size two?”
“Yes,” I said.
“That would be Net-a-Porter dot com, Sir,” he responded. “It’s hyphenated.”
“Come in,” I said. “You may as well guide me through this. It should only take a moment.”
“Jil Sander, Jason Wu, Givenchy, Marc Jacobs, they have it all,” he said as he walked into my office.
Andrew was my assistant, business partner of sorts, and had become a close friend. Most of all, he was a blessing. He was twenty-seven years old, an Ivy League graduate from Columbia, and had majored in Business Management. Luring him to the Midwest took considerable money and quite an imagination on my part, but now that he had been with me for almost four years, I couldn’t imagine being without him. Somewhat of a know-it-all, he was a wealth of information on any subject, life included.
I moved my chair in front of my desk and logged onto the internet. After typing the name into Google and clicking on the link, it took only a few moments to realize although the online store was a top tier place, it was not what I was looking for.
“I was thinking of a more contemporary line,” I said. “Something a little more in tune with her personality.”
He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Neiman Marcus?”
“Let’s try it,” I said as I typed the name into the browser.
“That’s better,” I said as the web site opened.
He walked to my side and peered over my shoulder at the monitor. “Here, click “Lifestyles”, and then “Contemporary”, that should get you to something suitable.”
As Andrew stood at my side assisting me, we chose several outfits, and many individual items. After choosing each a
rticle of clothing, a “complete the look” banner opened, displaying suggestions for shoes and purses to complement the purchase. Thirty minutes and almost $22,000 later, I had completed my order and was promised two day shipping to my door.
“Thank you,” I said as I logged off the web site.
He took a step away from my desk and nodded his head once. “Certainly.”
He slowly walked toward the door but there was hesitation in his step. Halfway to the hallway he turned to face me.
“Yes?” I asked.
“She pleases you?”
“Immensely,” I responded.
He pursed his lips and nodded his head. “That’s all a man can hope for.”
“You know, I’ve lived my entire life worrying how my parents were going to react to my each and every move. Every decision I made was preceded by a moment of reflection regarding their anticipated reaction. I’m thirty years old, Andrew, it’s time I live my life for me,” I said.
His mouth curled into a slight smile. “I couldn’t agree more, Sir.”
“One other thing,” I said as he began to walk away.
He paused, turned around, and widened his eyes slightly.
“Certainly,” he said.
“Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?” I asked.
“Can’t say that I do, Sir. Are you interested in learning?” he asked.
“Possibly,” I responded.
“It’s a dangerous hobby, and quite seasonal here, you know. If you’re dead set on it, the Harley dealership has a course, and my understanding is it’s geared toward the beginner,” he said.
“Interesting, I’ll look into it,” I said.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“An artsy place to eat dinner?” I asked.
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “Arsty?”
“An interesting place. Something different, but I don’t want it to be so loud we can’t speak. Any ideas?” I asked.
“Casting the diet aside for the night?” he asked.
“For the night, yes,” I responded.
He gazed down at the floor for a moment, apparently in deep thought. After a short pause, he glanced upward. “Public at the Brickyard. It’s in Old Town. I suspect you’ll both enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod.
“If she has a sweet tooth, I recommend the bread pudding with ice cream afterward. It’s not on the menu, but always available to those who ask,” he said.
I grinned at the idea of eating donuts for dinner. As my mind wandered to thoughts of her sucking my cock for the jelly donut, I cleared my throat.
“Yes, she has a sweet tooth,” I said with a laugh.
He nodded his head and smiled. “One would never know, she’s rather petite.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. “Not that I can think of.”
“Very well,” he said as he turned away.
As he disappeared into the hallway, I stood from my seat and quickly called him back.
“One more thing,” I shouted.
Apparently standing at the edge of the door in wait, he leaned into the doorway and smiled.
“Do you think this is a mistake?” I asked as I walked around the edge of my desk.
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants and walked toward me. Stopping a few feet shy of the front of my desk, he gazed up at the ceiling before shifting his eyes to meet mine.
“Close your eyes and think of the time you have spent with her. After a moment, tell me how you feel when you think of spending time with her again tonight, but do so in one word,” he said.
I closed my eyes and recalled meeting her at the store. Standing and staring out at the rain, she defined beauty. After meeting her, her attitude was immediately apparent, and although a personality like hers would normally cause me to turn away, I couldn’t imagine her being any other way. The combination of her natural beauty and tattoos promptly demanded my attention, and prying my eyes from her soon became impossible. Casting her appearance aside, she had a certain hint of innocence about her which I found to be beautiful in itself. Meeting her at her home before our date made me feel nervous, and seeing her in the black dress was nothing short of breathtaking. Our donut date was something I would never forget, and provided further proof of her innocence.
In summation, Stevie caused me to feel as if I was living life from the beginning again.
I opened my eyes. “Innocent.”
“Pure, simple, incorruptible, and childlike?” Andrew asked.
“Yes,” I responded. “All of those things.”
“Such a woman is priceless,” he responded. “A mistake? I’m afraid not.”
“Thank you,” I said as I sat down.
“Anything else, Sir?” he asked.
“Not that I can think of,” I responded.
“Very well,” he said as he turned away.
After what seemed like an eternity, I glanced at my watch. Somehow, it was still mid-afternoon. It appeared time was standing still, and if the past two days were indicative of how I could expect time to pass with Stevie in my life, she would certainly be the death of me. I turned my chair to the side, stood, and walked into the hallway.
“I’ll be taking the remainder of the afternoon off,” I said as I poked my head into Andrew’s office.
“Very well. I’m close to finished with the quarterly reports, I’ll have them on your desk in the morning,” he said.
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I turned away.
“Enjoy yourself,” he said.
“I’m taking the Porsche to my house and getting a car,” I said over my shoulder.
“Tonight, Sir,” he responded. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
I hesitated, turned around, and leaned into the doorway again. “One more thing. In your opinion, as an honorable man, how long should one wait for sex?”
I had been in a sexual relationship before, but it was almost ten years prior. My parents set me up with the daughter of one of my father’s wealthy coworkers, and although the time we spent together was filled with sex, she interested me very little as a person. As my parents prepared for a wedding they believed was imminent, I prepared for the life of a bachelor. Our breakup caused my father to question my sexuality and my mother to question my sanity.
Since then, my focus had been work. Excluding my mother, the only woman in my life was a girl from my childhood who I held dear to my heart as nothing more than a friend.
“My only advice in that respect would be to proceed when the time is right. Follow her lead and you’ll never be perceived as being forward,” he said.
“Thank you, Andrew,” I said.
He nodded his head and grinned. “Anytime, Sir.”
As I walked to the elevator, I considered his response.
Follow her lead.
I like that.
STEVIE
My recent experiences with men were limited to being told what to do, doing it, or dealing with the aftermath if I chose otherwise. Sex was a requirement, but only when my partner wanted, and never when I felt it was necessary. There were rarely meaningful discussions, meals shared, or quality time spent together. I could count on one hand how many times I had been out to eat with my boyfriends, and as far as I could remember, I hadn’t been to a movie with a man since I was in high school.
In two days with Wilson, I had been out to eat twice, seen one movie, and sucked his cock because I wanted to, not because he demanded it.
When he arrived to take me on our date earlier, he gave me a card. Inside were no poems, Hallmark sayings, or funny quotes; only a hand written paragraph describing his feelings of what I provided him.
As he continued to drive through the neighborhood, I didn’t thank God for allowing our paths to cross, wonder what I had done to deserve him, or allow my mind to drift into thoughts of actually having a meaningful relationship with him.
Instead, I sat and stared out the window of his car guessing how many days it would be until he transformed into the monster that every other man in my past had eventually become. For me to think for one minute he would be any different would be to cast my experiences and the memories associated with them aside. As far as I was concerned, they were lessons learned. And my past would certainly return as my future unless I learned from it and made adjustments to how I was living my life. Until that day came, however, I wanted to enjoy how Wilson made me feel.
As the car came to a stop inside the garage, I realized I hadn’t even been paying attention to where we had driven. In a slight mental fog, frustrated with how life seemed to always come full circle and eventually drop me off right where I had started, I had allowed the drive to Wilson’s home to go unnoticed.
“Well, here we are,” he said as he turned off the engine. “Are you alright?”
I smiled and nodded my head as I glanced in his direction. Truth be told, I was slightly embarrassed for how I had been feeling, and for thinking the ill thoughts of what I expected was to come from Wilson. He had done nothing to deserve my slight attitude, or be the unknowing recipient of the thoughts which had filled my mind.
He opened the car door and hesitated before he got out. “You were pretty quiet all the way here.”
“Just thinking,” I said over my shoulder as I opened the door.
I stepped from the car and attempted to clear my mind. As I walked around the rear of the vehicle, I noticed not only how large the garage was, but that there were no less than five cars in it, four of which appeared to be BMWs.
“How many cars do you have?” I asked as I peered past him at the line of vehicles.
“Five,” he responded.
“I like the one we drove tonight,” I said.
“It’s similar to yours, only a sedan,” he said. “It has two more doors. Funny when I think about it, I know I’ll never even use them.”
I nodded my head, making note that all of the cars were white, and the Porsche SUV was a dark grey.
“Follow me?” he asked as he walked past the line of cars.
I did just that, watching him walk as I followed him toward the door which I suspected led into the house. His walk was unique, and seemed to be more of a saunter than an actual walk, as if he really didn’t have a care in the world. As I watched his butt wiggle back and forth in his tight jeans, I wondered what I would walk like if I were rich.
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