Part 31 (2/2)

He lifted his drink and smelled the bourbon, waving the gla.s.s under his nose and then closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the scent. I nearly sighed when he did, as if I'd been released from a magic spell. A moment later he stared at me again as he took his first sip.

He nodded, as if satisfied, and set the gla.s.s down. ”How did you choose which bourbon to give me this time? This isn't the same one.”

”Well, you seem in the mood to try new things tonight,” I explained. ”Plus I figured you for the type that wouldn't go down in quality, so I went up.”

He nodded again, approvingly, as if I'd answered a particularly tricky test question.

”Do I get my wish now?” I asked jokingly.

His face remained stern as he laid his hand on the tabletop, fingers curled as if he were holding a live moth. ”Think very hard about what you want, then close your eyes.”

I did as he asked, without hesitating. Well, I closed my eyes, anyway. But what did I want? What should I wish for? I supposed this was like making a birthday wish before blowing out the candles. Wis.h.i.+ng for happiness seemed way too general. Wis.h.i.+ng for money felt wrong. Wis.h.i.+ng to graduate... I shouldn't have to wish for that, d.a.m.n it. I deserved to finish and move on with my life. Wis.h.i.+ng for that job I'd interviewed for? That was like wis.h.i.+ng for money. And I wasn't even sure I wanted to work for Philip Hale. Something about him creeped me out a little.

”Make your wish,” he whispered, and yet I heard him perfectly clearly. ”Then take the wish out of my hand.”

I want to know what love is, I thought, and opened my eyes. He was grinning as he opened his hand and there was nothing there, but I played along by s.n.a.t.c.hing up a bit of air and pretending to shove it into the breast pocket on my b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt.

He startled me then by standing up, very close to me. I didn't back away. Instead, I looked up at him, wondering if he was feeling the effects of the alcohol. He was tall and he looked down to meet my eyes, his now shadowed, hawkish and intense.

”Thank you for playing this game with me,” he said, voice low. I heard gla.s.s clink as he held up the marble, glistening with booze. He licked it clean, his tongue long and sinuous like a cat's, and I imagined what it would feel like licking me instead of the piece of gla.s.s. ”You're very rare, Ashley. I would like to play another round with you sometime.”

”I, um, okay,” I said, hardly able to speak. I felt more like I was the one who had downed a shot, fueled with liquid courage.

He handed me a card with his other hand. ”Call the number on that card if you're interested.”

”Could we, um, play another round right now?” I heard myself ask. He was mesmerizing. He was different. I'd never met a man who made me feel like this: turned on and intrigued and challenged, and yet I felt safe, like he was someone I could trust.

He chuckled very low in his throat. ”Desire is good,” he said. ”Being pushy is not.”

”Oh. I'm sorry.”

He closed his eyes a moment, as if he were thinking it over, and that helped. We were still standing far too close for far too long in a public place. I wanted to lick the s.h.i.+ne of bourbon from the edge of his lip. He'd used the word desire, which made it clear what we were talking about, didn't it?

What he said next surely did. ”Very well. One more round. Take the marble, and put it into your panties. You'll keep it there the rest of your s.h.i.+ft. When you get off, call the number on the card to get your next instructions.”

My heart was beating in triple time. ”Okay,” I said, sounding a bit breathless.

He handed me the marble and then raised his eyebrow.

”Right now?” I squeaked.

He nodded. The couple had stood to leave and were paying us no mind.

Under the front knot of my ap.r.o.n, I reached inside the waistband of my jeans, sucking in my stomach to make room for my hand. From there I dug my fingertips under the elastic of my panties and let the marble drop. I held in a gasp as it slid straight down the seam of my body, to where it found a pool of dampness I hadn't realized had gathered there.

I hadn't been this turned on in months. Possibly I hadn't been this turned on ever.

He leaned in to whisper, ”Good girl,” and I felt like I had won another prize. The feeling only deepened when he ran one finger along my jaw, such a light touch I barely felt it. ”If you don't call, I'll know you decided you didn't want to play after all. I won't be-No, that's a lie. I will be disappointed if you don't. However, I'll respect your wishes.”

”I'll earn another wish from you,” I said in return. In the back of my head I was already thinking that if I wanted to back out, it would be easy. My name wasn't even Ashley, and this wasn't my actual job. But in the front of my mind all I could think of was how much I wanted to keep playing... with him.

He grinned. ”Excellent.” He nodded, then stepped back to put his topcoat on and walked out without looking back at me.

I stood there for a few more breathless seconds, until he was out of sight. Then I looked down and saw that the two twenty-dollar bills I thought he'd left on the table to cover his tab were actually fifties.

I shoved them into my ap.r.o.n pocket and collected the gla.s.ses from all the tables before heading down the stairs, carrying the tray over my shoulder. With each step I took, the marble rubbed back and forth in my panties, inflaming me. I wondered if anyone would be able to tell how turned on I was and was thankful for the amber and red lights in the place.

This was by far the kinkiest thing I had ever done. If Jill knew I had flirted with a customer like that, or with anyone for that matter, she'd freak. So it was imperative that I keep our secret. I suddenly realized I didn't even know his name. I looked at the card. All it had on it was a phone number. I slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans, wondering what his hand would feel like there.

I was so wrapped up in thinking about him that I almost dropped the gla.s.ses I was holding when someone grabbed me by the arm.

”Karina Casper! You told me you were too sick to get out of bed! What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was Professor Renault. And I was plain caught.

end.

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