Mr. President 1(156)

Right fucking now.

I need to put a name to a fucking face.

I leave my spot in the back of the club and walk toward the bar, and to the mystery woman. I pull up a barstool and sit up right next to her.

"Let me guess, Sex on the Beach?"

"Excuse me?" she asks, turning in my direction.

"Your drink," I say, pointing to the rose-tinted cocktail in her glass. "It's fucking surprising, that's all."

"Oh yeah?” she asks, raising her eyebrow but playing along. “And why's that?"

Good. I definitely have her attention.

"Because it's so fucking typical," I say with a smirk as I look at her, "and you're anything but."

"You wanna know what's really typical?" she asks me, a smirk on her lips. "Is flirting with women at a bar."

"I'm just making an observation," I say, smiling and shrugging my shoulders. If I'm honest, I'm fucking enjoying this game. "Ordering a Sex on the Beach is a stereotypical girly thing to do, that's all."

She smiles and thinks for a moment before responding.

"And how would you know anything about women?” she asks me, turning to me. I can see her eyes fucking twinkle.

“Seems to me like you don't hire enough in this place," she says. "It's all men. Like someone likes the sausage."

"That's kind of the point," I laugh. “A fucking sausage fest is what the females want.”

“What goes well with sausage?” she asks me, a coy smile.

“Mayonnaise and buns,” I reply back and she gives me a nasty grin that seriously leaves my knees fucking weak.

Fuck, I’ve never been like this before with a girl.

But I’m still cool. I still got my swagger. Not done with this rodeo just yet. "So how did you know I run this place?" I ask.

"I have my ways," she says coyly. She notices the confused look on my face and continues, "I'm kidding. Your picture and title are hanging on the wall behind the bar. It doesn't take a genius to put the two together."

Not sure what her angle is, but I’ll go along for now.

"Well played," I smile. "What's your name?"

"I'm Destiny," she says, extending her hand to mine. It's warm and slender and I notice her fingernails match the color of her lipstick. Her petite hand makes mine look massive, which brings a smile to my lips … and makes my fucking cock twitch.

"So Destiny … you looking for a job?" I ask.#p#分页标题#e#

"What, here? In this place?"

"You just called me out for not hiring enough women … and if I'm honest, this place could use a woman like you. Come join our team as a manager."

That’s right.

You fucking heard me. Sure, it’s a snap decision. But I never get this far without not trusting my gut and making snap decisions.

Besides, I'm in rare form tonight. Fuck. Here I am offering a manager position to a woman I've never met in my life. I don't even know if she's qualified. But something tells me she's fucking worth it.

"I don't know … I'd be awfully outnumbered," she hedges playfully.

"Which is exactly why you should accept," I say, making my point further.

"I'll consider your offer," she says, grabbing her leather jacket from the back of her stool and slipping it on. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Wait,” I say, not letting her leave without a commitment. I know better. Besides, I know she’s feeling this. She wants to ride. “Let's do brunch tomorrow. 10 am. I'm making this easy for you. All you have to do is say yes, doll face."

She's now standing and slings her purse over one shoulder.

She looks at me for a moment without saying anything, and for the first time in my life, I think a fucking woman might actually say no.

But instead she smiles and the first thing out of her lips is, "You've got yourself a date then, Python."

That’s all she says before she turns and without looking back walks out.

I can’t move.

I’m staring at that ass sway back and forth. Back and forth.

Fucking juicy ass. Makes me want to grab it. Squeeze it.

Python, eh?

She has no idea.





65





Destiny





There’s a slight breeze in the air but the way the morning sun falls on my skin makes it worth it. I lay back against my seat, taking in the New York atmosphere as people around me engage in idle conversation. To my left, a couple is talking quietly, sipping lattes and nibbling at bagels while exchanging quiet looks of shy complicity.

I always liked the 230 Fifth bar because of this. There’s an inviting atmosphere, and it almost seems like you’re sitting inside a magic bubble while the true grit of New York stays outside. Not to mention the view—the bar sits on the 29th floor, right on the rooftop, and it stands right in front of the Empire State Building. That's why I chose this bar as the place for my ‘date’ with Austin…no, sorry, I meant to say Mr. Python himself. I could've settled for neutral ground, but why do something like that when I can have the home advantage?