I grin like an imbecile, and do as requested. It’s so dark in here, I use the flash. The photo ends up being nothing but my shoes against an indiscernible black background.
The dots dance and I eagerly anticipate his message.
That’s not fair… I see nothing but the shoes. It doesn’t help at all.
—
The place is not that big. Come and look for me. I’m upstairs,I lie, sending him on a goose chase.
I smile as I lean back in the chair, and study the coffered ceiling. I work out a plan to deal with Mom after it all goes down. I’ll need a good plan. What makes Mom happy? Shopping… books… food…movies.
I’m suddenly filled with inspiration. I pull my feet off the desk and rummage through the drawers for a notepad and pen. As soon as I find what I’m looking for, I scribble away.
shopping (not sure where exactly)
Movie
Books (Shakespeare & Company)
Bateaux-Mouches
Chocolate (lots of chocolates and those macarons she likes)
Wine (lots of red wine)
My phone pings again.
You are not upstairs,Oscar writes.
Another ping. It’s from Corrie.
We have been flirting like crazy. That Nicole is GOOD!!!! She’s all over him. I think Mark has a huge hard-on.
I smile and wince. Corrie has the keen ability to make me smile and wince at the same time.
Ewww… spare me the details, please. What is my mom doing?
—
She’s chatting with her friends, completely oblivious. She will definitely need a nudge. We’ve just refilled our glasses, and Mark is a little tipsy… losing his inhibitions.
—
Good work… keep at it, my little worker bee.
—
Yep… gotta go. Back to the shameless slutty flirting.
I reply to Oscar,Nope. I’m not upstairs. Come and find me.
I stand,fold my list in four, and tuck it into my clutch. I leave my empty glass on the desk and walk over to the loveseat. I sit back comfortably, my stomach unsettled. I play with the lace hem of my pretty sheer pink dress, and study the shiny sheen of the black ribbons on my ankles. It’s dark in here. The soft glow of a Tiffany lamp in the corner and the doorway are the only sources of light.
When Oscar appears at the door, he is a vision. He’s breathtaking in his dark outfit. The curls of his dark hair brush the collar of his shirt, and he has a sexy smile and a sparkle in his eye. He walks slowly over to me, purposely. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. And I don’t take mine off him.
Damn, boy.
“I found you,” he says softly, not in his usual tone. This is something else all together — this is anI want to fuck you, and nowtone.
