“I’m not spreading my legs for you again.” She crosses them for emphasis.
“You’ve said that before and we know how that turned out.” Is that smug satisfaction in my voice? Well, yes. It certainly is.
She waves her hands in front of her. “I won’t repeat the same mistakes.”
Conquering her resistance will be extremely rewarding. The tangy victory is almost teasing my tongue as we speak. “I’d prefer if you keep an open mind.”
She leans against the plum couch behind her. The scale weighing her options practically pings in the silence. “You shouldn’t go into business with someone you’re interested in.”
“Is that advice for me or you? Just wondering which one of us would actually allow such limitations to guide our decisions.”
She huffs at my obvious manipulation tactic. Getting a rise from her is too tempting. “I’ll sleep on it and get back to you.”
“I’d prefer you sleep on me.”
Vannah shoves my arm, steering me toward the door. “Don’t test my generosity, Lannie.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.” I wink at her over my shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
My Aston Martin hugs the curb like a long-lost lover. I returned the rental a few days ago and bought my own. It’s more rewarding to drive this way.
After throwing the car in park, I slip on my aviators and stride to the sidewalk. The sun is shining on full blast, but there’s a slight bite in the air nipping at my ass. That breeze makes the summer heat docile and friendly, like getting an unsolicited blowjob in the back of a limousine.
And now I’m thinking about Vannah’s tongue lapping at my dick lollipop-style. I wonder if she’s into giving road head. That gets added to the stack of questions to ask once she’s done hating me.
Focusing on the temperature is less likely to cause blue balls. August in Minnesota is a frigid bitch compared to Illinois. I bet Chicago is still humping a hundred degrees with no plan of slowing down. At least I’m not drowning in sweat standing outside for longer than two minutes. This weather doesn’t make wearing a suit feel like a prison sentence. Even so, I’m tempted to forgo the layered attire. That’s a habit I’m not looking to break, though. Keeping up appearances to a certain extent is expected.
I sidle up next to a meter machine and dig out my phone. I text Vannah, we banter for several minutes, I narrow in on her location, and pause for the inevitable clash. This routine is beginning to settle in as a pattern. She makes the task easy by being extremely predictable. The woman who’s still refusing my affections has a lady boner for this frou-frou coffee shop off Hennepin Avenue.
Me: Good morning, sugar. What’s on your agenda for today?
Savannah: Cold calling old clients. Same as usual.
Me: I’m glad you took my freelance suggestion seriously.
Savannah: I’ll admit you have decent ideas every now and then.
Me: Such as partnering with me? You could accept my offer.
Savannah: I’m not that desperate yet.
Me: I’ll wear you down.
Savannah: And I look forward to watching you try.
It’s been a week since I dropped the bomb about opening a Minneapolis branch for Global Winters. Vannah has yet to swallow the juicy bait I’m dangling like a limp dick. That thought stops me short. Maybe I should improve my presentation.
In the meantime, I’ve been chasing her sexy ass to no avail. The term stalking has such a negative connotation. I’m merely trying to drop myself in her path whenever possible. That makes it harder for her to pretend I don’t exist and escape my semi-sweet advances. Years of sitting on top of the food chain have inflated my confidence to the brim. Through my skewed sense of reality, it would appear impossible for her to forget about me. I know better, though. Vannah will continue to ignore me simply out of spite.
I catch sight of her at the end of the block and jog to catch up. Her ass is held captive in a pencil skirt that’s tight enough to reveal zero panty lines. She sways her hips in a hypnotic strut that has my feet tripping over themselves. An overhead awning casts shadows across her red hair, setting the strands on fire. The sight has me completely enamored. As if I wasn’t far enough gone already. I have no doubt my tongue is dragging across the concrete as I eliminate the remaining distance between us.