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Equally seductive.
Suddenly, my mind was conjuring up visions of a perfectly round bottom, full breasts, and a tiny waist I could wrap my large hands around as I fucked her senseless. “Destiny, interesting. Are you short or tall?”
“I beg your pardon?” There was a note of irritation in her voice. “What does my height have to do with anything?”
“I like working with petite women. I’m tall, but I like my women to be petite.”
My body was turning to steel, muscles were tightening and tensing in preparation for a night of passion. The shirt I wore was far too stiff, so I ripped off the tie and tore off the shirt in one swoop.
“Ah, that’s better.” Kicking off my shoes, I sat on the couch.
“Yourwomen?” There it was again, that note of annoyance.
We would need to have a conversation about what I expected of my employees, even the temporary ones. “Yes, the women who work with me.”
“Really, well, if you must know, I’m kind of in between, not too tall or too short. If that doesn't work for you, I’m not sure what to say since Martie contacted me. She informed me you were desperate for help.”
Desperate! I’m going to kill that little vixen when I get my hands around her slender neck and fuck that word out of her!
The thought was highly erotic, and mentally, I ran with it. “Well, I wouldn’t say desperate. I have a few ladies in the office I can call on if I need to, but you being so close by is a bonus. Especially since you have experience.”
Questions were running through my head, and I needed a few of them answered. “So, tell me, how did you find yourself out of work? And is this a common theme for you?”
“Excuse me! I don’t think you should be talking to me like that.”
I heard dead silence after that.
“Hello?” Glancing at the phone, I saw it was dead.
“Damn it all to hell!” My fingers fumbled as I tried very hard to control my anger and call her back.
“Hello.” That sweet songbird voice.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
Silence again. Fury ripped through me. I threw my phone across the room, and it landed in the closet.
“Damn women! Damn, Martie! Damn Gwen!”
My blood boiled for a good fifteen minutes. I fixed myself a drink, downed it, and debated calling one of the simpering, underqualified women in my office. The alcohol took effect after shot number two.
At that point, I grabbed my phone. There was a text message waiting for me from her number.
If you want me to work with you, you will need to be more respectful. The women in your office might tolerate that, but I don’t have to help you. I could use the money so I can get home to Connecticut, but I won’t tolerate being disrespected.
It was hard to not tell this little vixen off; the last thing I needed on my hands was a diva. When I replied, I had to type it twice.
My apologies. When can you be here?
I’m already here. I’m in the lobby. What room?
Ninety-seven.
The room was a mess. I’d tossed a few things around in my frustration, so I stuffed them in places hoping she wouldn’t notice. The last thing I wanted was a woman deciding whether or not she’d work with me or sleep with me based on how neat or messy I was in life.
A knock sounded at the door. The reflection in the mirror looked good, I was not at my best, but good enough considering the late hour and the fact that I didn’t know this woman. For all I knew, she could look like the wicked witch of the West.
A groan escaped my lips. I did my best to stifle it and prayed she was a goddess. Quickly, I swung the door wide and was met with the most sultry, mysterious brown eyes I’d ever seen. Her red hair hung to her shoulders in wisps and feathers of curls.
