Andrea looked at the woman stretching languidly against him. He was aware of what she was doing, but he could not help himself. His body was already responding to her deliberate movements. He had an appointment in the next one hour, and he should be on his way. That was what his brain told him, but deep down, in the V-junction of his anatomy, no thinking was going on at all. If anything was happening, it was a rushing of blood to his veins. He was hard all over again. He had just finished a round with her, and it seems as if his body was ready to go on the journey once more. The lady rounded herself in a move she must have practiced and mastered over time to fit her firm buttocks against his crotch. He swallowed the groan deep in his throat while his penis poked her behind of its accord. Slowly and seductively, the lady moved herself to and fro in a dance as ancient as time itself.
With a great self-control that was almost painful, Andrea pushed her away gently and stood up. He was stark naked. He did not even to use the sheets to cover himself. There was nothing to cause him shame. He was aware of his sensuality almost as he knew his figures. The evidence of his arousal stood pointedly in front of him as if to beckon him to return to the bed. The lady looked eyed him seductively with a sexy pout. Her hands were still outstretched. Her fingers lightly rested on his thighs; the nails trailed a path down to where the arousal was. He closed his eyes in sweet agony as she clasped her hands around it, pulling it towards her mouth. It was almost inside the promising encasement when he drew back ever slightly. Her closed eyes flew opened at that. She looked at him with many questions on her face, but he did not bother to answer. He only gave her an almost imperceptible nod. With a disappointed look, she let go of him. He was stiff, but he knew that he would be better in time.
Agonizingly, his brain willed his body to move to the bathroom in the master room. It was a slow walk to the place of relief. He could feel her eyes all over him. It was better to let her feed till her heart got contented. She would soon start missing all of it. Andrea walked away from her, from whom he has come to name ‘Poison Ivy,’ another name for Anna Marco.
Andrea Giuseppe checked his time for the hundredth-plus time. He has lost count of how many times he has looked at his Gucci. He tried to go discreetly about it, but it made no difference. He was not just losing the grip on his discreetness; his temper was also going down the drain. The woman has touched him on his grouchy spot. He dislikes it when people do not keep their appointments. It was not his habit to wait for people. It could not have developed at all since he rarely finds himself in such circumstances. Instead, it would happen the other way, and he was not the type to keep people waiting. People bow at his feet to do his bidding.
The more he thought it, the angrier he became. He had suggested meeting Miss McPherson in his office, which was more than comfortable but she had preferred the noisy restaurant, far below his standards. Ordinarily, he would have pressed it but decided to humor her. He has never seen her before, but he believed she would be the matronly kind. Now, not only had she suffered him, but it was beginning to look like the appointment will not be honored. He should have known better! If not because he wanted a change of hands, he would never have called her. He had a class. Which Giuseppe would not have? He would have preferred if Luke worked on it, but there was no way he would turn over the assignment to his best friend. How will one give a detective work to the suspect?
Andrea decided for the umpteenth time to take a stroll to the curb. It was a busy one, and it would keep his mind to the late detective. He downed the contents of his glass. Surprisingly, they had some good stuff to serve in the restaurant. It was not what he would opt for on a good day, but it was also way above his expectations. He stood up and was almost thrown off balance back into his seat by the lady who flew at him. For a fraction of a second, his mouth hung opened without any response. Then, he regained his composure and gave his best cold stare.
“Look at where you are heading next time ma’am,” he said curtly.
“I am sorry Mister…,” the young lady looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to supply his name. When he did not budge, she smiled sweetly and went on with her sentence. “…I am sorry again. I was not looking at where I was going…”
“You were not,” Andrea interrupted her rudely. He knew he was behaving impossible but he did not care, and he did not owe the lady an apology. He was not acting fair to her, but he needed someone on whom he would vent his anger and frustration. If the young woman in front of him turned out to be his victim, so be it. He cared less.
Nevertheless, the lady continued as if he never spoke and it irked him seriously. No one talked to him that way, not especially when they are apparently at fault. “…I have an appointment with a client, and I am very late for it. Excuse my rush.” She concluded her explanation.