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“Do you mind ushering Mister Delgado to the lounge on my behalf, Amy?” The tall Asian woman donning a deep blue power pantsuit started a week ago.
She agrees. “Should I offer a beverage while you grab what you selected after he met with Elias?”
As I explained to Amy, this isn’t how we usually roll. Normally, I’d interview the client to ascertain their needs, lifestyle, and body type. Most importantly, this initial appointment enables me to determine whether our collaboration would be a good fit. If not, there’s no point. For some reason, this new client booked his initial appointment with my colleague before specifically requesting my expertise.
In the blink of an eye, I’m knocking on the door of the private lounge area. I hear a “Come in” and open the door to push the rolling garment rack into the space. The smell of freshly brewed coffee that my client is sipping welcomes me, his back to me.
I wonder where Amy has disappeared to; she should have waited for my arrival to leave. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence from the leather seat on the other side of the large mahogany desk. Odd… Even from behind, his hairstyle reminds me of Don Draper from the TV seriesMad Men.
Everything about his demeanor and clothes implies that he’s much younger than my regular clients, who are typically in their fifties. Despite the fact thatsummer starts in a couple of days, he’s wearing a fitted dress shirt that showcases his V-shaped body.
Could he be Mike’s age?
I step further into the modern, elegant room that resembles a trendy high-end hotel suite, flanked by an expansive dressing room. Before I’m able to greet him, he sits straighter, still fumbling with his phone. “I took the liberty of dismissing your assistant for more privacy.”
“Good afternoon, sir.”
Amy’s not my assistant, but whatever. Not sure why his demeanor is unsettling. I, again, neglect to introduce myself.
“Good afternoon indeed.” His confirmation makes me frown.
Why am I just now registering the deep timbre of his assertive voice?
There’s a hint of disdain; he sounds like a piece of work! Disturbed by his peculiar attitude, I approach him, unsure of my next move.
My overthinking mind jumps to the conclusion that he might be disfigured since he still hasn’t shown his face. It’s a private lounge, a safe place where he shouldn’t have to worry. I would never judge him… unless he’s plain rude and sees me as “the help.”
I give myself a silent pep talk. My steps halt before crossing into his personal space.
Rubbing my hands together, I timidly wait until he’s ready and blurt out, “Sir?”
His shoulders jump as they did before, then his powerful body swivels in a swift move. The man pins me with his dark stare, an impassive expression on his face.
My heart skips a beat, and my jaw quite literally drops as he turns around. It’s impossible for me to hide the shock.
“Hello, Ashton.”
“Silas?” Willing myself to calm the fuck down, I grind my molars and repeat my new mantra…
I can’t collapse. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose it. This can’t be happening. I can’t throw up. This can’t be happening…
My mind and body freeze at the same time. Nausea rises and my head pounds. Closing my gaping mouth, I breathe through my nose.
I put on a brave face, but inside, I’m a raging mess. A twisted part of me rejoices at the view that I can’t be imagining. His oh-so familiar scent overwhelms me, unfurling asickening heat throughout my numb body. It roars it back to life.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You’ve grown into a fine-looking young man.” Why is he talking down to me as though he’s way older than me? As though he has the right to make such a personal comment. As though his presence in my Santa Monica store makes sense.
He remains seated, his eyes searching mine. I feel compelled to meet them, dismissing my embarrassment at the growing erection I can’t conceal.
Haven’t I learned my lesson already? I can’t believe I’m like Pavlov’s dog when it comes to him. Traitorous body!
I take a deep breath to try to relax… and fail miserably.
“How have you been?”
“Fine.”
