Page 60 of Mr. Bentley

I dial the concierge on a whim.

“Mr. Bentley, how may I assist you?”

“Please send a dozen red roses to Ariana Michaels in suite five zero four.”

“Certainly sir. Did you wish to leave a note?”

I ponder that for a moment.

“Yes, let it read: I’d like to see you again.”

“Will we let her know who the flowers are from, sir?”

“Add Mr. B at the bottom, please.”

“Very good, sir.”

I hang up.

Then I dial him back.

“Mr. Bentley?”

“I need the retail manager, or a woman in that department.”

“Very good, sir. Connecting you now.”

He connects me, and a few moments later, a woman’s voice greets me on the other end of the phone.

“Good evening, Mr. Bentley, how can I assist you?”

“I’d like to order a lingerie set, the very best you have, elegant but sexy.”

“La Perla, sir?”

“Excellent.”

“What cup size?”

I think for a second. “D cup, I think.”

“And brief size?”

“About a six.”

“Any color in particular, Mr. Bentley?”

I think about her skin tone, and how good she looked in that white bikini.

“White and see-through.”

“Excellent choice. I’ll have it to your room within the hour.”

I hang up wondering what the fuck I’m doing.

I can’t deliver it to her room because then her friends will want to see what’s inside, so I can only hope she’ll like the flowers and realize I’m not trying to be a fucking prick.

I like her.

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