Page 42 of Until You're Breathless

“I’ll be right out.” I grab my purse and open the door.

Jagger is wearing a suit and he’s freshly showered. But it’s not his sexy attire that worries me, it’s the look on his face when he sees me. I’m wearing a little black dress with black heels, and I’ve got my hair tied up in a bun. The dress is open backed, with a decorative panel to hide my bra. The dress is silk. “Holy....wow.”

I go for cute. “I know.”

“Dang...if we didn’t have the account, which I think we do...it’s in the bag now, if Wesley’s got as much of a crush on you as I think he does.”

I tease him. “Are you using me?”

“Yes.” He smiles.

“Good. Because I’m using you, too. I secretly need you to get to Wesley. I have a penchant for middle-aged married British men.”

“Then you better hope that Mrs. Hopkins doesn’t show tonight, or she’s going to kick your ass.”

I lift my leg, like in a rom-com and he’s kissing me. “With these heels...no contest.”

Chapter 12

Jagger

Iamsoupshit’screek without a paddle. Bowie looks fucking amazing all decked out in her killer black dress. The second that I see her calves, her chest, her ass, I thank Christ that I’m wearing a double-breasted suit, covering my zippered area. She’s so fucking beautiful it’s painful. And what’s worse, once we get to the restaurant, Wesley starts feeding her wine. Like, the most expensive wine available, so she can’t say no to him. They’re talking it up so much so that it’s like nobody else is here. No, I’m not jealous, I’m absolutely intrigued by this woman that seems to have at least two men at this table completely under her spell.

“More wine, please.” Wesley says, after ordering a round of desserts, even though we’re so full of the beef wellington and other various delicacies he’s taken the liberty of ordering. Bowie is very drunk, but thankfully she’s just a giggly drunk, not a rude, lame-brained or a horny one.

“I need to go to the ladies’ room.” She says, and I take this as my opportunity to go along with her and make sure that she’s okay. Nonchalantly, I grab her elbow to steady her. “God, what do I do, Jagger? I’m ploughed.” She almost cries, as soon as we're out of earshot.

“It’s okay, Bowie. You’re handling yourself so well.”

“God, what if I puke all over him?”

“You won’t. I tell you what. I’ll order us some coffee.”

“It may be too late for that, Jagger. All my limbs are numb. God, I wish Jinny were here. She’d know exactly what to do.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got this.” I assure, as we arrive at the washroom. She can barely walk in the heels, so I have her lean on me while I remove them, so she can at least steady herself. “I’m sure this place has the cleanest floors in the world. We’ll wash your feet when we get back to the hotel.”

“Jagger...I don’t think I can walk by myself.” She all but cries.

I look to my left and to my right. There is nobody coming to use the washroom. “Come on.”

As I get into the ladies’ room, I see that the handicapped stall is free. In fact, we’re the only ones in here, so I guide her into the bathroom, letting her hold me from around the neck. Toilet seat covers are available, so I put on one and sit her down, dress still on, while I close the door. “Just hang on.”

Wrapping her arms around my neck, I help her lift, as she pulls her panties down. “God, this is humiliating.”

“It’ll be more humiliating if you fall on your ass. At least this way, you won’t piss yourself, too.”

I listen to her pee while I hold her dress up, not looking anywhere else but at the wall. When she’s done, I get her toilet paper and hold her steady so she can wipe herself. “I can’t go back there, Jagger. I’m too far gone.”

“Listen, we’re going to splash your face with some water, and get you a coffee. You’ll sit by me, and we’ll act like we’re getting a little too friendly. Wesley’s tanked anyway so he won’t pick up on it. And all the other guys are pretty much wasted, so it’s in the bag.” I advise, feeling like it wouldn’t be difficult to act like we’re really friendly, but with how drunk she is, it wouldn’t be right.

“How come you’re not drunk, too?”

“Because I’ve had half a glass. And I’ve been talking shop with his head engineer, who’s a recovered alcoholic.”

“And you’re not mad at me for getting plastered in front of these guys? I mean, we’re supposed to be doing business with them.”

I grunt as I help her off the toilet. “How could I be angry at you? Thanks to you, I think that we got this deal.”

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