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I got out my phone and continued the instructions to my assistant, forgetting the slight incident from some seconds ago. Although I was busy receiving reports and feedback from my assistant, I could feel the woman beside me looking at me. I tried not to think too much about it, although it felt weird that a stranger would stare for no apparent reason.
I was surprised when she asked me to look at her. She had been talking to me, and I had been replying rudely, with my eyes buried in my phone. I apologized and put my phone in my pocket, taking in the woman for the first time.
My eyes widened as I looked her up and down. Her beauty struck me like lightning. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was breathtakingly beautiful. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Her ink-black hair fell in waves down her shoulders as if some alien breeze was blowing in the elevator. She had large, green eyes like a cartoon character, and her high cheekbones and angular face made her look like something on the cover of Vogue. Her lips were full and ripe like fruit, and I felt a burning desire to kiss her as I took all of her in.
The elevator dinged open, and she turned around to walk out before me. I could swear that as she turned, a wicked smile blossomed on her face. I lost thought as she swayed out of the elevator. Her curvaceous body struck me senseless, and I almost forgot to step out of the elevator before it closed again.
I drank her in shamelessly, looking her up and down, taking in the smooth ripples of her beautiful flesh, accentuated by her sexy bikini two-piece and the flimsy kimono that did little to cover anything underneath. She was everything I loved and wanted in a woman, and I wanted her in a not-so-decent way.
“Please, would you let me buy you a drink?” she asked again.
I mulled over what I wanted. On the one hand, I had not slept in over twenty hours and desperately needed to sleep for several hours. It was not every day that one saw a woman this beautiful by chance. I narrowed my eyes and tried to tease out what game she was playing.
She found me attractive and was flirting with me. I wanted to see the game through to the end and unmask her genuine desire. Chloe, my long-time sex partner, had moved out to Washington a few months ago. She had met a hot-shot lawyer a few weeks prior and had agreed to marry him. While I thought it was irresponsible, I also couldn’t tell her how to live her life. What we had was strictly defined, and there was no room for misinterpretation.
I had abstained, unintentionally, as a result ever since not having the time nor the desire to seek another such relationship. This beautiful woman held my gaze as we stood outside the elevator; there was a spark in her eyes. She seemed excited, at the very least, and I was interested in getting to know more about her.
“Sure,” I said finally. “I will meet you at the bar.”
We said our goodbyes and parted ways, our rooms a few doors apart. I got into my suite and found they had delivered my luggage. I sorted through my clothes, eyeing the bed with a sense of longing. I shook my head and got out of my corporate clothes. I ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower, opting to push back to sleep for a few hours.
I picked out a white polo and khaki pants, going for a casual look. I styled my hair briefly and then headed for the bar. I found her already seated at a table in the corner. She had on a loose-fitting floral dress, and her hair draped over her bare shoulders.
She smiled when she saw me and waved me over. “You came,” she said as I sat down.
“I did,” I replied, stifling a yawn.
“You look like roadkill.”
“Trust me, I feel worse,” I replied, making her beam in amusement.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous she was, so I got to know her a bit more. She seemed pretty interesting, and this was as good a chance as any to unwind and finally take a breather.
“I am Michael,” I started. “Michael Gates. What’s your name? I am sorry I didn’t ask sooner.”
She chuckled, “Well, aren’t you cute? It’s Alessia. A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied. “Alessia… are you from around here? You have a beautiful name.”
“If from ‘around here,' you mean ‘am I Italian?’ then the answer is yes. I’m Italian, but I live and work in France.”
A waiter came to the table, and we ordered drinks that arrived shortly after. I watched her quietly as she sipped from her glass. She licked her lips, wiping the drink with her tongue; the action drove me wild.
She looked up and smiled as she caught me staring. I smiled back. “So, how long are you in Milan?” she asked.
“Not long, actually,” I replied. “Just two days, and then I leave. You?”
“Really?” she asked excitedly. “Well, it looks like we met for a reason. I’m also leaving Milan in two days.”
I felt the same way. What were the odds that we both stumbled into each other the way we did? Though if I am being honest, she’s the one who did the stumbling.
“So where are you from, and what do you do?” she asked between sips.
“I am American, and I am a businessman,” I replied. “Although I bet you already knew the answers to both questions.”
She guffawed loudly at that and raised her hands in mock surrender. “I won’t lie; it wasn’t difficult to find out. You Americans have a way of standing out, you see?”
“Right,” I said in a tone that dripped sarcasm. “What do you do?”
