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Nonetheless, I sit back in my chair, crossing my leg at the knee to give myself a little more room behind my zipper. My air screams nonchalance, even if my body’s dying to do this.
“If I agree, then what’s in it for me?” I ask casually. Of course, being with Jemima is more than enough reward for me, but I need to tease her a little. I want to see how she reacts.
Jemima’s eyes widen, and the confidence she’s been putting forth falters slightly. “Um, I guess I hadn’t really thought that part through. Well, I could pick up double shifts on weekends if you like? We always have trouble finding people to take those slots.”
I let my head fall back and laugh aloud, drawing the attention of the other guests in La Verve. But I don’t care. I grin at the beautiful woman and then lean in close.
“You are definitely something, Jemima James, but the Wilshire doesn’t need you to pick up extra shifts. We’re very well staffed, so don’t worry your pretty little head about that: someone’s going to pick up those shifts. But it’s fine. I’ll go with you tonight. This Nostradamus place sounds like the type of sex party I don’t want to miss.”
Her cheeks flare red at the words “sex party,” but she doesn’t deny it. Jemima merely swallows, hunching her shoulders, and then finally nods uncomfortably. “Thanks, Mr. Wilshire. I appreciate it.”
I shake my head, and lean closer towards her. “If we’re doing this, you’ve got to start calling me Bruce. Leave the Mr. Wilshire for my brother Peter, because he’s stuffy enough for the moniker.” Then, I pull my phone from my pocket, unlock it and slide it in front of the curvy girl. “Now put your number and address in my cell and I’ll pick you up tonight. Just let me know what time.”
The buxom brunette takes my phone and punches in a few things before handing it back to me with a shy smile and flaming cheeks. Then she gets up and nods.
“Thanks, Mr. Wilshire, I mean Bruce. Would eight work for you?”
I wink at her, and nod. “Sure thing, sweetling. I’ll be there.”
Then the curvy girl nods and leaves, her back end swaying with temptation. Meanwhile, I stay at La Verve a few minutes longer, savoring my coffee. Shit. I had hoped seeing Jemima again would take the edge off my infatuation, but if anything, it’s only gotten worse. All I’m going to be thinking about for the rest of the day is Jemima nude, her back arched and her face contorted with ecstasy as she rides me in front of a crowd. Or maybe the curvy girl will be on her hands and knees as I claim her from behind, those pink petals spread wide for my girth.
I stand, the tightness in my trousers almost unbearable, but at least it’s covered by my suit jacket. Thank god I have a shower attached to my office because I’m going to need a cold douse asap to get myself under control. I just have to make it through the rest of the day before it turns into a hell of a night at the hands of the most beautiful and intriguing woman I’ve ever met.
4
Jemima
* * *
I stop and stare at myself in front of the mirror before adjusting my boobs one more time. This dress is a barely there scrap of gold that screams for everyone to look—at my cleavage in particular, since my breasts are practically spilling out of the very low neckline. The skirt is short too, and really doesn’t even pass the fingertip test. It stops right below my cheeks, and if I’m honest, when I walk it tends to scooch up a bit, baring the bottom curves of my bum. Plus, I’m wearing a tiny white thong that disappears between my creamy orbs like floss. Of course, for what I have planned tonight, a thong would just get in the way.
But my entire body warms because I want Bruce to be turned on. I want him to see me and to become an animal, and then I want Carl to see us and to become consumed with rage and jealousy. As a result, I take special care with my make-up and hair. I put my curls in an updo, allowing a few wispy strands to frame my face. Then, I paint a smoky eye with a touch of gold shadow to really draw attention to my gaze, and finish it off with a wear-proof, and hopefully kiss-proof matte rose lipstick.
The doorbell rings and I take a breath to steady myself before shooting one last glance at my reflection in the mirror. Dang, I look good, although a little over-the-top sexy. Then I glance down at the six-inch gold heels on my feet and say a little prayer in my head that I don’t trip or fall in them tonight.
