We’re both silent for a bit too long. While it’s a tad awkward, it does give me an opportunity to check out her dress. It’s a little plain. Yellow with tiny dots of something all over it. Flowers, maybe. Skinny straps lead down to a top that’s nice and snug, causing her tits to press against the fabric. I get a glimpse of cleavage too.
Okay, forget what I said before. That dress is far from plain, since imagining what’s beneath is making my cock hard. My eyes skim downward to a fuller skirt. Her legs are shapely and look like they’d be smooth to the touch. Her wound from her bicycle accident the other day is still evident, but it’s healing. I wouldn’t mind giving that little injury a kiss or two. Maybe lick behind her knee and keep right on running my tongue up until I get to the good stuff.
I decide to break the stalemate. “You need something, Prudence?”
“Yes.” She lifts the purse she’s carrying that matches her shoes, opens it, and pulls out an envelope.
What the fuck? She serving me with papers or some bullshit?
“Here.” She steps up to my desk and places the white rectangle down onto my desk.
“What’s that?”
“Money.”
“For what?”
“For fixing my bike.”
I push the envelope away. “That was on the house.” I told her that the day I fixed her rim. Believe me, I rarely do work for free. When I do, it means something. She should respect that.
“No.” She leans down and slides it right back my way. “I can’t let you do that for free.”
“Why the fuck not, honey?”
The glare she gives me is fierce. It’s sexy as fuck. “I believe I asked you to stop referring to me as ‘honey’.”
Laura snickers.
“You did.” But I like it for her. It fits. I bet she tastes all sorts of sweet. Especially under that frilly skirt. “Would you prefer a different term of endearment?”
I swear to you, she chokes. “Excuse me?” Her hand goes up to her throat, and I’d like to see mine there instead. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Ignoring her question, I stand and step to the side of my desk. I sit on it with half my ass and part of my thigh. Leaning closer to her, I get a whiff of her perfume. It’s the same flowery scent as before. I wonder if that’s perfume or her soap. A question I’d like answered. Soon. “Tell you what…” I pick up the envelope. “You can pay me back by eating with me.”
“Eating…?” Her voice is more of a squeak, then she shakes her head like it’s on fire. “No.”
“Why not?”
Her friend moves next to Prudence, throws her arm over her shoulder, and says, “Are you asking my friend on a date?”
“Sure.” I shrug. What I meant was I wanted her to come to my place. I’d feed her, then fuck her every which way, but if I’ve got to do that date bullshit first, I’m game. But let me see if I can finagle things my way. “A date. Sure. Or you could come over to my place. I’ll cook us a couple of steaks.”
She’s shaking her pretty head before I even get to the part about the steaks. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” She furrows her brow. “You’re a jerk, that’s why.”
“Am not. I’m a nice guy.” Unless you cross me or put off paying your bill. Then I’m a royal pain in the ass.
I’m lookin’ at you, Jeff Klingensmith.
“You most certainly are. You’ve insulted me on numerous occasions and…”
What the hell is she goin’ on about? “When?”
Prudence places her hands on her hips and I wish those were my hands. Raising one of them up, she holds up her finger. “You told me my music was bad.” A second finger pops up. “You said I wouldn’t be a good parent.” I watch as a third finger meets up with the other two. “You—you…”
