Page 16 of Mister Prick

7

Jessica

I rereadthe message from Vince.

I’ll pick you up for lunch at 12:00. Wear a dress. No panties. No excuses. No alcohol. No argument.

Although fucking Vince seemed like a great idea when I was drunk, doing so when I was sober allowed my conscience to come into play. I wasn’t convinced it was professional or practical.

It would, however, be fun. After my last breakup and subsequent plummet into sexual nothingness, it could be a one-time treat to myself. I could add to my list of notable life experiences. If nothing else, it would put an end to my sexual dry spell.

I gazed at the contents of my overstuffed closet. I had many options, some of which would look fabulous. If he wanted me sans panties, I could rock a form-fitting dress that would make his eyes bulge.

Or, I could wear something a little more practical.

After a lengthy struggle which included trying on everything in my closet, I made my decision and drove to work.

In anticipation of my lunch date, I spent the entire morning pantiless and excessively horny. Wet, wondering, and little worried, I checked the clock on fifteen-minute intervals until 11:45. Then, I stood gazing through my office window and into the parking lot, hoping that his message wasn’t a drunken late-night text that he later regretted.

At 11:58, a silver AMG Mercedes G-Wagon eased through the lot and came to a stop in the customer parking area. Through the tinted windows, I noticed the outline of Vince’s adorable – and slightly unruly – mop of hair.

Dressed in a pair of ass-hugging jeans, black boots, and a black tee-shirt, he looked different than normal.

Fantastically so.

The shirt clung to his broad chest, all but advertising his athletic physique. In his slow predictable pace, he made his way toward the front door. Focusing on the slightly exaggerated movements of his hips and shoulders made my nether region ache, but my eyes remained stuck to him like glue, nonetheless. At the moment he reached the entrance, I rushed to my desk and sat down.

In no time, he was at my door.

“Ready?” he asked.

With a week-old contract in hand, I looked up. Feigning surprise, I met his gaze, and then gave a few overstated blinks.

“Is it noon already?”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s a minute past.”

“Oh.” I tossed the documents aside. “This morning was a disaster. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Excitedly, I grabbed my purse. As my mouth curled into a giddy grin, I fought to conceal it and act indifferent to my lunch date.

“How long do you get for lunch?” he asked.

“An hour. Give or take.”

He stepped to the side and motioned toward the door. “After you.”

Without looking back, I walked past him and across the showroom, trying my best to demonstrate a Victoria’s Secret runway strut. Upon reaching the front door, I paused and glanced over my shoulder.

His eyes were fixed on my ass.

So far, everything seemed to be working in my favor.

He stepped around me and opened the door. I started to walk toward the SUV he was driving, but quickly decided I didn’t want him to know I was eagerly peering out the window as he drove into the dealership.

I looked the parking lot over, and then glanced at him. “Where’s your car?”

His gaze shot from my ass to my eyes. “I’m driving the silver Mercedes wagon.”