Page 48 of Beneath the Flames
I am an ambitious woman who wants to prove herself in the business world. But it’s not just success I am looking for. I want to show every single person who ever doubted me that they were wrong—so fucking wrong—about me.
It’s the reason I have accepted every project that comes my way, and why I will stop at nothing to make sure I succeed where others have failed. But I am beginning to realize something—there is a sinister side to being so driven.
I have ignored my needs as a sexual being.
By pouring all my energy to further my career, I have nothingleft to give to myself when I have rare moments of downtime. Rather than invest energy in human interaction, I’ve relegated myself to a dependence on sex toys to satisfy my needs.
As gratifying as it is to orgasm on demand, my body longs for physical connection. I have an insatiable desire for it which grows with each passing day.
To honor those needs, I’ve chosen to do something radical.
I just turned down an opportunity with incredible potential. I now realize a sacrifice must be made if I am serious about putting my needs first.
I am well aware of the shocked expressions on my colleagues’ faces when I choose to leave the office at five on the dot, rather than just before midnight.
Once I set my eyes on something, I am laser focused.
For the first time in a long while, I take time to pamper myself with a long, relaxing bath before I set about putting on makeup and styling my hair. I look through my closet and laugh as I stare at my office attire. None of it makes me feel like a woman, and I’m forced to dig deep into the back of my closet to find anything I feel sexy wearing.
My closet is a testament to how long I’ve been ignoring myself.
Donning a black cocktail dress that hugs my curves, I stare into the mirror. Running my hands over my body, I imagine the sensual touch of a stranger. Just thinking about it has my pussy growing wet.
As I gaze at my reflection, I feel increasingly like a lioness on the prowl for a lion strong enough to tame my raging sexual desire.
I take a cab, not wanting to deal with the hassle of a car, and tell the driver to take me to the Drake Hotel. The hotel is high-class and the perfect place for a discreet encounter. My excitement grows as we pull up to the grand entrance. Handing the driver ahandsome tip, I step out of the vehicle, ready to conquer—and be conquered.
I can feel the gaze of every man on me as I make my way through the hotel foyer and leisurely head to the bar. I am in complete control as I sway my hips enticingly, inviting their lustful stares.
Sidling up to the bar counter, I take a seat and lay my clutch purse down. To my amusement, the bartender noticed me the moment I entered the bar and ignores his other patrons so that he can attend to me.
“What would you like to drink, pretty lady?” He then adds with a wink, “I know every drink in the book.”
Wanting to make it a challenge for him, I tell him I’d like a Red Seal of Shimoda, curious to see if he can make the drink.
His eyes twinkle when he tells me, “You happen to be in luck, I have Suntory Toki Whisky in the back.”
I nod to him, impressed.
While he mixes my drink, I scan the other men in the bar. Most seem to be here with colleagues, so I immediately dismiss them. But there are a few gentlemen who catch my eye, and one in particular who stands out from the rest.
He sits alone at a table, nursing a martini. When our eyes meet, I instantly feel a connection, but I quickly glance away. The game is not to appear overly eager. Eagerness equates to desperation, and I am not a desperate woman.
I have high standards that must be met. I want a man who is confident, but not arrogant. One who respects a successful woman but who is also not intimidated by her. Nothing is more disappointing than thinking you’ve found a lion only to have a puppy dog at your feet. I want to feed off his confidence in the bedroom and fully explore his desires as well as mine.
There are not many men who can meet my high standards, and I will not waste my time or share my body with anyone less.
My eyes drift over to him again. He’s clean-cut but has an aura of mystery about him which intrigues me. Because he’s piqued my curiosity, I give him a slight smile when I catch him staring again. The fire I see in his eyes leaves no doubt that we share a mutual attraction, but the question of whether or not we are compatible remains uncertain.
Another man enters the bar and takes a seat on the opposite side of the bar. I find his rough five-o’clock shadow and easy smile attractive. The man exudes an animal magnetism that is hard for me to resist. However, I’ve learned with experience that I need to be particularly careful with men like him. They can either be one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, or a complete disaster in bed.
It doesn’t matter how attractive a man is, any man who concentrates on his own satisfaction over mine is a waste of my valuable energy.
A gentleman who is not on my radar buys me a drink and lifts his glass to me when the bartender tells me, “Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar” while sliding a margarita toward me.
I catch the man with the easy smile, who is sitting beside the guy, shaking his head in disgust. At least he understands…
Such a cliché gesture is lost on someone like me because I have zero interest in getting drunk tonight. I want to be sober when I decide who I am going to spend the night with. I quietly decline the drink and watch the disappointment on the guy’s face as the bartender takes it away.
