“Feel free to wear normal attire. Just don’t look hot,” I command, looking back at the paper.
“I’m not hot!”
I am about to start eating when I pause and look back at her. “You are, some.”
She should now leave, only she doesn’t.
“How?”
We exchange a look, and my eyes are darkening. I am also losing patience. “Just don’t,” I say.
“Maybe you just need to control your imagination.”
I laugh loudly at her cheek. How could I fucking not?
“What?” she asks, not even aware.
“Look, dear,” I say, crossing my legs in my navy suit trousers.
I inhale and look up at her. “I made a career with my vivid imagination, and it now pays for all this. I have created hundreds of advertising campaigns and convinced global clients to do what I thought would visually work. For car manufacturers, banks, telecom giants, even fashion brands. I also now finance media and movies with the same energy and imagination.”
“Well, if your imagination is so good, then you can control it, no?”
I inhale, finally finding calm.
She steps closer, a brow raised. “You were good at controlling things when we met.”
“Dear, that was commanding.”
Things get weird as she steps closer. “Sorry, you’re right. It was. And I liked it!”
Before I can say anything, the flirt turns and walks. “Nothing too hot!” I yell, put out and distracted.
For fuck’s sake!
Ten minutes later, after eating my poached eggs and the wicked dish she now makes me, she walks back in.
“May I have three minutes of your time, Sir?”
I close my eyes, sigh loudly, and finally look up. Here we go.
“You may,” I say, leaning back. She is now dressed in her cute denim mini skirt and a tight, black T-shirt with some retro printon it. The top shows off her perfect breasts, and she turns. Her curves are spectacular.
“Yes, no?”
I growl out a “Maybe.”
“Sorry. I didn’t expect the fashion police, so I have limited options.”
I raise a screw-you brow, and she grabs another outfit from a chair. I double-blink at her holding it up. It is tight black yoga pants and a skimpy top.
“Yoga and tank?”
“Are you serious?”
The lunatic looks miffed and quickly holds up another look. I adjust my legs and try to hide my hardening cock.
“Tight white tee and camo pants.”
