"I'll be in the lobby at seven thirty, from there we'll take a car to the gala, this will be a social, so I hope you packed something nice to wear," Evan said to Amelia as he watched her nod in agreement and disappear through the door. She was three doors down from him and as he let himself into the room. From there he headed to the cabinet and took out a bottle of water and took a long swig. He took off his blazer, set his watch for six o'clock and as soon as his head touched the pillow he was out like a light.
It was the lightest of kisses as it fanned his cheek and he woke up to see Amelia dressed in nothing but patent black heels... fuck me heels. She wore a wicked smile on her face and her luchious brown hair was spun in ringlets and all he wanted was to thread his fingers through the mass of it. She leaned forward and undid the buckle of his belt, licking her lips simultaneously and as she undid the top button and drew the zipper down, his engorged penis sprung free... she leaned forward, her mouth descending to the head...
Evan's eyes sprang open, his breathing ragged. He looked at his watch and turned it off, it was five to six. He never dreamed and when he did, he hardly remembered it. But it wasn't a dream, it was a fantasy, a meagre of images with Amelia in the starring role. He looked down to see his engorged penis and he knew that no amount of images was going to diminish the length and strength of it. He headed straight to the shower and relieved himself. He didn't masturbate like this, he had a long line of women he could choose from this was just absurd.
He stood by the pillar in the lobby watching the bustle of people milling around, some sitting on the couches drinking champagne, some eating nibbles at a table by the large windows and the bar was packed with workers drinking cocktails and flirting with their co-workers. He wore an Armani suit, black with a skinny black tie and a white crisp shirt. It wasn't often he got dressed up and when he did, he made a sure effort of it. If the admiring lustful looks of the women nearby were an indication of how well he dressed, then he knew he succeeded.
A frisson of awareness caught him off guard and as he glanced up from his thoughts to see every man in the vicinity sit up and pay attention. He turned around and he was not mistaken. He touched his lapel, because suddenly he needed something to do with his hands. The images of his 'wet dream' coming back to haunt him. Her dress was exquisite, it was floor length and it looked like brushed on metal, hugging her figure like a second skin, her hair had been put in an up do and though her make up was simple, her eyes were laden with black khol. The whole outfit was simple, sexy and understated. She was every man's wet dream.
"You look beautiful," it was out before he could stop his mouth from saying it.
"Thank you Mr Hunter, but I'm trying to be a professional," she stated, smoothing down her dress.
"Then you should have worn a different dress," he teased as he guided her out of the hotel. His hand at her back, he noticed the men taking more then a glance at her and the women were green with envy. Suddenly he found himself in a position were he was possessive. He diminished the thought from his mind and opened the door for her and got in beside her. The chauffeur was taking them to a gala, so they could schmooze with top executives, business minded people and the high earners. Why did he suddenly just want to be alone with her?
"Do they have food there?" Amelia asked.
"Of course, are you hungry?" he asked.
"Starving," with her answer her stomach rumbled.
"Why didn't you order room service?" he asked.
"I don't like eating alone... I eat alone all the time at home and then for me to eat alone in one of the most amazing cities, it's like loneliness follows me or something and besides I was nervous and I don't think I could have eaten something, even if I wanted to."
"Why are you alone? Don't you have a boyfriend? Friends even?"
She looked out the window, "I have friends but after a certain age, everyone does their own thing, they settle down, they move on. And boyfriends? I'm not exactly raking them in and besides I really shouldn't be talking to you about this stuff. You're my boss."
"Can't I be your friend?" he looked at her.
"Us being friends would not work... besides, you're my boss I'm your PA, there's boundaries," she said matter-of-fact.
Evan was about to reply when the chauffeur announced their arrival at the MET Museum, as the chaffeur got out and opened the door for Amelia, he grabbed her hand and stroked it, "Then as your boss, I'm telling you to call me Evan."
She glanced at him and took her hand away from his. Something had definitely changed, what, he didn't know but he was going to find out.