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I’m gonna do like I normally do, have a nice dinner with her and then go home and jerk off to images of her in this simple red dress.
“I have a confession,” she says, leaning over to tell me her secret and I hold my breath, waiting. “This dress isn’t the same one.”
I lean back, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah it is.” Come on, I think I remember the dress. It’s been the star of so many of my late-night fantasies it’s not even funny.
She smiles conspiratorially. “I had a new one made when I had a mishap with the old one.”
“Mishap?” I raise a brow. Now here’s a story I want to hear.
She giggles and it fills my ears like music. “It was destroyed at a Hibachi restaurant.” She sighs, and waves her hand like she doesn’t think I’d be interested to hear anymore. “Long story.”
Here’s the thing. Most people would laugh it off, not wanting to be saddled down with a long story of how she ruined her dress, but not me. I find myself on the edge of my seat, wanting, no needing, more of this woman’s stories. “I have to know.”
She thinks about it for a second, placing a red-tipped nail to her mouth. Her lips. I wish she wouldn’t keep my focus there. I love staring at her lips. Soft, pink, full. I can only imagine they’re soft, but I’m pretty sure they are.
“Ok, well it was right after you discovered me. My family took me out to celebrate.” She waggles her eyebrows. “I was going to be a huge movie star thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me, you are.”
She clinks her glass against mine in a cheers. “Well, the Hibachi chef was a little handsy, and asked me to come up and do a little trick. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew he had sliced my dress in half.”
I grit my teeth just knowing someone else got handsy with this woman. “Like completely in half?”
“Yes, those knives they use are no joke.”
“I believe it. So, what happened after that?”
“Well, my dress was hanging together by threads. And my father rushed me out of there, but not after fighting with the chef.”
“Now that is something I would have liked to see.”
She laughs, sipping her soda. “I was a small fry back then. You wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me.”
I wish I could tell her how wrong she is. That I thought about her a lot after our first meeting. At the time, I was just getting out of a relationship with my long-time girlfriend, Cassie. I wasn’t looking for anything but a bottle of whiskey to drown my sorrows in. Yeah, it was a bad breakup, and now I’m stronger and smarter from it.
But, I can’t let Abby sit here and think I’m some sort of prick who only hangs out with people who are on the same level as me. “I would have hung out with you. And honestly, I’m offended I wasn’t invited to the family soiree.”
She full out laughs. And it’s so cute. “Now that’s something I would have liked to see.”
I straighten my tie, my phone dinging in my pocket. “Why? You don’t think I could have hung out with your family?” All I know of the Carmichaels is they weren’t from a lot of money, and now that Abby has enough of it, she’s paid off much of their debts and bought them a house in Malibu.
“I think you would have scared them off.”
I lean in closer, but only to get my phone from my pocket and nothing more. It isn’t to sneak a peek down the front of her dress. No. It’s not that.
She freezes, her glass halfway to her mouth.
“Do I scare you?”
She sucks in a breath, giving me my answer, but whispers a lie, “No, not at all.” She sets her glass down and does this little giggle thing that sends a zing of energy straight down to my dick.
I don’t mind her lying to me, because honestly I need to get this whole conversation on the fast track to deletion. We shouldn’t be making googly eyes at one another in a darkened nightclub.
I check my phone. Warren. “I have to take this really quick. Keep your eyes peeled for our man.”
She nods and I step away to answer the call.
“Warren, this better be good.” He’d better not be telling me that Karl Devon thing isn’t going to be here. Because if I have to set up another night of being tempted by Abby, I may just lose it.
No, this has to happen tonight.
“He’ll still be there, but I need to talk to you about something. It’s important, but you’re busy.” He brushes it under the rug, and I breathe in deep. I hate playing mind reader. “Tell me, Warren.”
