Page 44 of Mind

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“I can’t believe you’re more beautiful in person than you are in your picture,” I stand holding out both arms. Women love to be hugged with no hint of sexual pressure. It gives them a fake sense of security. The big bad wolf won’t actually pretend to take them to grandma’s house and not eat them alive. Unfortunately for her, I am the wolf.

A huge smile beams across her face. She’s actually really pretty if I went for blondes. I don’t. Redheads are more my speed but I need this particular blonde. “Thank you, you’re too kind.”

“Have a seat, hope Italian’s okay?” Internally, I roll my eyes as she moves her long, lean body into the wooden chair across from me. I chose this place because a woman would find it charming. Gillian did. Just being here makes me miss my girl but this is a necessary step and a relationship I need to cultivate to meet the next phase of my plan.

She sits back in the chair, picks up the glass of water and takes a slow sip. It’s impressive how put together she seems yet she’s beyond nervous. One of her hands is clenched into a fist around her napkin in her lap, the other is holding the glass. “It’s fine, I love pasta. I think it’s probably the most universal food.”

I chuckle for her benefit even though what she said isn’t funny but laughing along with someone makes them feel more comfortable and less tense. When a little blush of color spreads across her cheeks, I know I’ve got her.

“So, tell me about yourself.” The goal of this date was to get as much information as possible and build a rapport that will get me closer to the ultimate prize.

“What do you want to know?” she asks coyly then licks her lips. Ah, so it’s going to be like that. Hmmm, maybe I’ll fuck the information out of her. The way she’s appraising my body over her glass as she sips, is very telling. I’ve fucked a few women since Gillian but only to fill a biological need. If she’s going to be letting that rich fucker put his puny dick in her, I may as well be getting a piece of ass of my own. Fair is fair.

“Everything of course. Family?”

“I have a sister who lives in New York. When I’m traveling to our New York office, I get time to visit her. My parents live in Florida. The typical snow birds. Flying down south for the winter.” She grins, and I try my best not to yawn and nod instead.

The waiter comes over to us, and she scrambles to pick up her menu. I can tell she’s scanning the items as quickly as possible.

“Would you like me to come back?” She looks up nervously from the menu.

“How about we get a bottle of red?” She nods and I turn back to the waiter. “Bring us something in this range that is ordered most often.” I point to the menu that shows wine between thirty and forty dollars. When I look over at her, she’s dreamily watching me. “I like to be surprised,” I shrug.

“That’s really interesting. You could end up with a horrible bottle.” Her tone is warning but still sultry.

“Or, I could find myself sitting in front of the most beautiful, mesmerizing,”—I move my hand to one of hers laying on the table and draw a finger down her forearm, along her hand and across her middle finger—“enchanting things I’m ever going to experience,” I finish and she sighs. I’ve got this woman on my hook, and I’m reeling her in with no effort at all. Piece of cake.

“Tell me about your family,” she asks.

“Well, I’m adopted. My family raised me and then moved onto the next batch of kids they chose to save.” Which is not all together far from the truth. The family I ended up with was great considering the hellhole I came from, but they were saints, and saints aren’t happy saving one. No, they have to keep saving or die trying.

The woman’s clear blue eyes soften and turn a bit sad. Oh Christ, I don’t want to deal with a sappy bitch. I need to liquor her up and fast, so she starts talking or shuts the fuck up by way of a dick shoved down her throat.

The waiter takes that moment to bring our wine. He allows me to sip it. I tell him its fine and he pours small amounts in each bulbous glass. We both try it and it’s pretty good. Most of the time if you tell someone to bring you a wine that’s popular, they’ll bring you something that’s easily palatable.

“Mmm” she says then licks her lips again.

“Good?” I ask.

With a flick of her wrist, she pushes back her long blonde hair. “It is. Thank you.”

We both order a pasta and a chicken dish. After the food arrives, she’s well into her second glass of wine and starting to feel it.

“Now that we’ve got the family stuff out of the way, how about telling me what you like to do for fun?” I grin and lean closer to her, covering one delicate, small hand with my much larger, calloused one.

Her eyes glance down at my hand as I tickle and tease the skin over the back of her hand. “N-not much I’m afraid. I work a lot, too much, most of the time.”

Could this be any easier? Right off the bat she’s going to talk about the exact information I want to know. “Is that right? What type of work are you in?”

“The company I work for does a bit of everything. Corporate, purchasing, investments, acquisitions, restaurants, nightclubs, hotels, you name it we have a hand in it.” Now that she’s feeling the liquor, she giggles and places her hand over mine. It’s warm and I imagine it has a lot to do with the desire for sex, topped with the wine pouring through her veins.

“So tell me, what it is you do in this bit of everything corporate purchasing?” I roll my hand over and over mimicking the “on and on” gesture, even though I know exactly what she does. I’ve been watching her steadily for several months now hoping Chase was taking a bit of pussy on the side, but so far, the bastard’s been loyal. Maybe I won’t feed him his balls after I cut them off and watch him bleed out. Nah…I totally will.

Her eyes light up. “I’m an executive personal assistant,” she says proudly.

“Sounds powerful and sexy at the same time,” I add with a sensual grit to my voice.

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