“Your eleven o’clock is rescheduled for one-thirty and your lunch appointment is moved up to twelve.”
I nod and check my electronic calendar on Outlook with a click. “Got it.”
“You’ll be cutting it close to get back in time, so don’t linger over lunch.”
I smile at the added instructions from the ultra-organized woman. “Yes, Deidra. I can handle it.”
She clicks off the speaker function and my mind trails back to my recent preoccupation of last night. Who was Heather? How can I see her again? Where can I find her?
Frustration boils in my gut as I realize I have no way of contacting her. Maybe she’ll call? The indignity of having to wait on a woman, any woman, feels maddening…and, if I’m honest—quite arousing. She was so sexy when she took control. The power wasn’t mine for a change and, I have to admit, I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
As I scroll through the recent figures for tomorrow’s acquisition, it occurs to me this mysterious woman might be exactly what I need in my life. Someone to keep me on my toes, keep me guessing—someone else who calls the shots for a change.
A thrill spikes through me as I recall my painfully aroused state twelve hours ago. Last night’s shock when she sauntered back into the bistro was unprecedented. No woman I’ve ever been with would deny my release, especially after I made sure she was pleased first.
I wanted to thrust into her and barrel toward my own relief—to hell with the consequences. I waited a moment after she left, watching, hoping she’d turn and come back with a smile on her face. When she didn’t, my heart beat even faster. Blood pounded through my body and my aching cock wept, not ready to give up on fulfillment.
I’d never felt so alive in my life. Her smell on my fingers lingered for hours, driving me slowly insane with the remembrance of her release. The slim woman peaked on a restaurant’s patio—practically in public—showing an abandon and freedom I’ve never experienced. She was stunning in her sexuality. Confident and completely in control of the situation…and me.
My cock hardens behind my fly. I’ve got to get this woman out of my head. I’ve work to do. I glance at the flat screen on my desk, not really knowing where to start my day.
Who am I kidding? I need to find her.
I reach for the phone.
The phone rings an inordinate amount of times before I hear a voice. “Match Made in Heaven, this is Linda.”
“Hi Linda. It’s Anthony Carmine.” I’m this close to finding her. Warmth steals over me, coating me from head to foot. “I attended your event last night at Manhattan Wine.”
“Ah, yes. Nice to hear from you Mr. Carmine. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Immediately I see Heather in my mind, leaning up against the brick wall, lips parted, breathing shallow as she comes. I clear my throat. “Umm, yes. I had a great time.”
“Good! That’s what I like to hear.”
“I’m actually calling to get the name of one of the ladies I chatted with.”
“A personalized email went out today with everyone’s prospects.”
I recall the email I opened this morning on my way to work. Heather’s name was not in it. “Well…she wouldn’t have put my name down, I don’t think.”
A silence meets me on the other end of the line. “Oh dear. You mean you’d like the name of someone who didn’t check off to meet you?”
Thinking back to the darn clipboard we were all saddled with, I realize there’s no way Heather marked hers and handed it in. After our…encounter…on the secluded patio, she made a beeline for the exit. “Yes, someone who maybe forgot to hand in her form.”
“I collected all the clipboards when the event ended. All forms were accounted for.”
Damn. I know she couldn’t have filled hers regarding me. I never saw her lift a pen when I sat with her. “We…chatted…outside for a while. But I didn’t get her last name.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Carmine. I can’t reveal anyone’s name without permission.”
Anger spikes through my calm façade. This is not going as well as I planned. “Can you make an exception?”
“No sir, I cannot.”
“What if I promised to donate a large sum of money to your favorite charity?”
A distinct iciness creeps into her voice. “No.”
A sigh escapes me and my shoulders slump. Money won’t buy me out of this one. I’ll have to try another avenue. “Okay, thanks for your time.”
We end the call and I shift in my seat. The sensitive helmet of my cock rubs against my underwear, driving me to further distraction. I reach down to move myself, hoping to find a comfortable position.