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Flor
The next evening
I arrive in the Delano hotel lobby once again. But this time it's not to meet up with a suspect, but instead...him, the man I've wanted since I first knew what desire is.
Even though I've passed through the front door before, I'm struck by the opulence, but care less for the architecture and more for the man waiting for me.
Moving across the hardwood floor I follow the path between the towering white pillars on either side and make my way to the concierge.
"Mr. Friday is waiting for you in the Rose Bar," the woman says, pointing me in the right direction.
I make my way there, the moment I step inside I take in the dim light from the rose-colored walls which makes the entire room look as though it's on fire.
Under that same light, I make my way to the man I've been thinking about for the last two days.
"Frank," I say, catching him reading something in a corner of the bar, at a table all by himself.
He quickly stands to greet me, and it's interesting to see him out of his cop uniform. Instead today he wears a tailored dark suit and open collar white dress shirt that makes his eyes seem even bluer.
"Hello, beautiful," he says, holding out his hand.
I take it and he pulls me in for a hug.
"It's good to see you," he whispers, his breath on my neck sending a shiver down my spine.
"You too," I manage to say, pulling away.
"Would you like a drink?" he asks, motioning to the empty seat next to him.
"Yes, I would," I say, sitting.
He orders an aptly named and apparently Miami staple, a hurricane, for me and a beer for himself before settling back in his chair.
We sit in silence for a few moments, both of us looking around the room, taking in the absence of others.
"So, what brings you here, officer?" I ask coyly.
"I wanted to see you," he says, simply.
His beer arrives along with my peachish-red colored drink, an umbrella, and two cherry's bisected with a toothpick on top.
"You sure you're not here to arrest me for underage drinking?"
He raises his beer and we clink glasses.
"You'd already be in jail for breaking and entering, if I wanted you behind bars."
"I notice you didn't say burglary this time." I raise an eyebrow and take a sip. This thing tastes so sweet and delicious it's easy to see how I could wind up pounding about three of these and winding flat on my back for about three days.
"I took a look at the police report a bit more. Noticed nothing was actually missing."
"So you're saying I'm not as naughty as I look?" I purr, taking another sip and leaving the glass in front of my face so he can't see my smile.
"Oh, you're naughty all right. But maybe that doesn't always have to be a bad thing."
"It definitely doesn't, but then again I doubt you called me here to discuss my behavioral choices."
"I did, but not those," he smirks, before reaching down underneath the seat next to him, his eyes never leaving mine before his hand reappears with a manila folder, which he slides over to me.
