his eyes flittered about her carefully poised expression for a few moments and a soft breath escaped his lips. though things were moving along just as he had wanted —- she was seeming to want to run away any second and he couldn’t let that happen. Jim couldn’t let himself get sucked into this, he needed to keep his head above the water. she was supposed to be the one begging in the end, not him, not him.
❝and why not? you’re i hope i’m nice. i don’t see the problem.❞
—-A laugh slipped past her lips at his befuddled bravado. How it seemed so easy to fluster him she’d never understand. Yet, nonetheless she’d just grin, repeating the statement with a little more suave. ’ Could you take me home, Mr. Kirk? I think I had too much to drink. ’
he opened his mouth to reply only to have it gape for a few moments before he finally willed it to shut. damn, this girl definitely knew how to play people into her little traps. Jim smiled, hoping to buy some time to find a well thought out reply to her question.
❝can’t friends go out for dinner? i mean —- that’s what we are, right?❞
yes of course, blame it on her.
’ Oh Jim—- ’ —-She wore that delinquent smile, stretching deviously to her pretty gold eyes. Chewing on her bottom lip in silent anticipation. ’ —-We’re not gonna be f r i e n d s. ’ —-She was pretty positive that was impossible now.
❝maybe i’ll give you a tour of my office sometime.❞
{ and maybe fuck her on his desk for stress relief - god - that would be just perfect. straightening his posture and adjusting his suit jacket, the blonde sends her a look from across the table. }
❝but only if you show me yours. ❞
’ Will you? What a lovely idea. ’ —-A knowing smirk, of course. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him alone. Even worse was the fact that there was hardly going to be a time for that. ’ So tell me, Jim. Why on Earth did you invite me to dinner when you can just take your pretty wife out? ’ —-She already knew the answer, but she wanted to make him squirm, listen to him as he, hopefully, tripped over his own words. Trying to cover his true intentions. She enjoyed the game just as much as anybody.
❝what? you gonna make an honest, good man out of me, Miss Rosalie? i think i could try a bit harder but just for you.❞
{ a small thank you passes his lips as the waitress pours two glasses of red wine. nodding to the blonde across from him, he takes a small sip, enjoying how the tangy liquid flows down his throat. now —— let’s see just how tipsy he can get her. }
’ If that’s what you want, —-Mr. Kirk. Then perhaps I can pull a couple strings. ’ —-Plump lips would sip on her wine as eyes of gold continued to gaze at him. Clearly he was analyzing her just as much as she was him. Peculiar. Considering his relationship status was the exact opposite of what was appropriate. Call her a home wrecker, but what was the fault in a little fun?
❝well - you know - i’ve been getting along just fine. though i am kind of pissed that i’m two million short of making a million a week, but what can you do?❞
{ grinning, he slides into the chair across from her and motions for the waitress to fetch some wine. }
’ Oh? Only a million. Is that all? ’ —-She could only laugh at the look upon his devilishly handsome face. ’ Seems to me you just aren’t working hard enough then. ’ —-And she gave him a smile. Dripping in sweet charisma and tastefully flirty glances. She wasn’t knew to this whole political game. Oh she was well versed in the arts actually. Unhappily married, well, it seemed more of a one sided unhappiness to her when she’d met his wife. Innocently still devoted to the man who was surely no longer present. In fact, she made her goal to relieve that stress from her shoulders. However, he seemed to be playing it cool, despite the acts of sin swimming around his, too blue to be real, eyes.
❝you think so? ———- i must say that you look tragically gorgeous as always.❞
he pressed a quick, chaste peck to her cheek as he helped her devest of her peacoat. still smiling, Jim pulled her chair out and gestured for the young woman to take a seat.
❝how have you been, Rosalie?❞
—-And her cheeks puffed under the sweet sensation of his lips. A gentleman in his own right. Begrudgingly so. For how long could one deny themselves a taste of such an intoxicating figure. A sigh released from plump pink lips and she sits, folding her dress underneath her gently. ’ I’ve been just fine, Jim. I expect you’ve been the same? ’
❝and you shouldn’t expect anything else, sweetheart. you deserve a certain kind of man.❞
as he speaks, Jim pulls his pen from his suit jacket pocket to scribble across the stark white napkin. in black ink ‘(24) 814 - 9234’. from the corner of his eye, the young man catches sight of his wife making her way over (already looking more than tipsy)
❝give me a ring.❞
And a week would pass~ Surely a man would act in a timely manner. After all, her time was well sought after and a man such as he would realize such a thing. Right? However, when his call did ring through, and her schedule wasn’t busy she agreed to meet him for dinner. As was the original plan. Of course he was buying. In her world the man always bought. ’ Well, you’re looking dapper tonight —-Mr. Kirk. ’
so she is easy? not that Jim doesn’t like a challenge, but…. it’s been a hell hole of a week to be honest. grinning wolfishly, he leans in closer to brush a strand of golden hair from her glowing face.
”how ‘bout we start with something simple. care to go to dinner?”
—-All but a smirk, for the woman with the blonde curls and curvaceous silhouette wasn’t at all surprised. For these questions, these meager grasps for her attention, her affection were just the thing she was looking for. With all the gracefulness she could muster she let out a slow nod.
’ You got a pen? ’
And she grabs a napkin from the counter, awaiting the utensil with mild patience. ’ Of course– You’re buying. And I only accept the best. ’
never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to, not that he was quite expecting her to lie as much as stretch the truth. the women he had encountered in New York thus far often attempted to put up the front that they didn’t need a man - that they were independent and self-sufficient. now - a woman who actually knew what she was doing was even better. and besides if his wife looked good in her brand then he couldn’t even imagine how Rosalie looked.
”and i’m guessing you don’t do private shows?”
he laughed softly, his bright blue eyes sparkling in amusement. taking another drink, Jim glanced over to see his friend - Leonard - already passed out on the couch with beer dribbling down his chin. pleasant as always…
’ Not particularly– ’ —-A smirk written upon her face. For she knew exactly what he wanted, just from that statement… It wasn’t like she minded all that much. It was a beauty of self confidence, and while she knew some disconcerting information about him and his ‘status’ it seemed she hardly cared. Call her a wench, she had always been a little self involved and who said self indulgence was a bad thing.
”————- i try. really, i do. you should see me during happy hour.”
he sends a smirk her way as he leans up against the high countertop, letting the sharp marble digging into his biceps keep him grounded so he could keep the upper hand in this conversation.
“so… i’ve got to ask what do you do for a living?”
—-Thick blonde curls bounced when she rotated in her spot. For he’d shocked her, though she should hardly be surprised. Most men wanted to talk about themselves, flaunt their riches and good looks. Apparently to them being self-centered was attractive. Or they thought of her as some sleazy gold digging hooker. Which neither, of course, were true. For Rosalie could support herself just fine. However, a man with power, that was where she’d fallen flat. Rosalie Hale was a sucker for men who held a higher power and knew it. That was what she looked for. Perhaps it was her inner desires that led to such follies. Though, it ne'er mattered before. And soon enough she’d noticed she’d gotten off track. Her thoughts were nilly little things.
’ I design lingerie. You know, panties, bras, bustiers depends on the style—- However, modeling is what I live off of. ’
-❀-
