Just a Little Love Story

Chapter Two

Marco

I laughed at her direct question. "No, not usually."

Never.

I had never done anything even remotely close to asking a woman I hadn't met before to have dinner with me. Since I was sixteen, women had courted me and paid me for the pleasure of my company. I had not wanted for sex in a very long time. With my clients, it was always enjoyable, and I made sure they would feel beautiful throughout the whole experience, but I hadn't feel the stir of sexual interest in a while.

To me, it was a job. A highly paid, very pleasant, often exciting job, but work nevertheless. My body was my business card, and I had to maintain myself in perfect shape. My charms and my wit alone wouldn't keep food on my plate or the bills paid.

The ghost of poverty was always hovering in a corner of my mind. When you are homeless once, you remember forever what it means to beg for a fast-food meal.

"So you really are hungry and don't want to wait in line longer than necessary." Lilian talked fast. She was nervous, and her chest rose and fell, pushing a pale pink bra against the white shirt. Her lips disclosed enough to show the pearly points of her teeth.

Her cheeks subtly blushed, the pink spreading down to her white throat and disappearing under the collar of her shirt. Just a hint of color warming the porcelain texture of her skin, but what a difference it made.

"I heard those dumplings are good." I'd heard nothing of it.

Half an hour earlier, on my way to Nordstrom to pick up my new Armani suit, I saw her. Wandering around the mall, stopping in front of windows, she moved with a ballerina-grace. Her long legs, restrained by the pencil skirt she wore, were balanced over stiletto heels that should have hampered her stride. Instead, she walked with the confidence I had seen in runaway models.

One of the activities I liked the most when I was a kid was people-watching. Observing people and imagining their stories kept me entertained for hours, and it kept at bay the hunger. I still enjoyed it from time to time.

One look at that brunette with her long hair tied in a high cue, and my interest was immediately picked.

At first, I thought she was just passing time, maybe waiting for someone, her date to pick her up, a friend she would spend her Friday night with. Then I noted how she would only stop before shops for men, eyeing an item or two, only to move to the next window and start the process again. She never entered the shop. At that point, curiosity had won over caution and I was following her.

I never followed the people I watched. Once they walked past me, I would keep my eyes on them until the next, more interesting person grabbed my attention.

"Well, there're better dumpling places around, but this is the fanciest of them all," she said, lowering her tone to a hush.

"I agree, the ambiance of this one is enchanting." I smiled, as I usually did with my clients after flattering them with my charm, but this time I felt the act affecting me as well.

"So, Marco, what brings you here all alone on a Friday night?" She lowered her eyes, her blush more accented and her breathing irregular.

I liked the way she pronounced my name. She rolled the "r" the way it was supposed, giving it the importance the letter deserved. "I have a job appointment nearby, and since I don't enjoy crossing the 520 Bridge if not absolutely necessary I decided to kill two birds with one stone—" Only then I realized I hadn't picked up my suit. "Actually, do you mind walking with me to Nordstrom?" I pointed at the hallway leading back inside the mall proper.

Lilian nodded. "Sure. I haven't reached my ten thousand mark today." With a smirk, she raised her wrist to show him her step counter, an otherwise unimpressive black band that she tapped and came alive with four luminous dots, the last one blinking.

Raising one finger, I tilted my chin toward the waitress at the restaurant's entrance. "Let me take care of something first."

"Okay," she said as her cell phone rang again, and her pretty smile morphed into a grimace.

While I walked away from her, I saw her opening her bag and reach inside for her phone. As soon as she looked at the screen, her expression darkened and she shook her head. I decided she was in need of some privacy and turned to face the restaurant.

The waitress's eyes lit with unabashed desire when she realized I was heading her way.

"Hey, beautiful, do you mind holding my table for a few minutes longer? I should be back in ten minutes, but just in case..." With a wink, I let my eyes drop for a moment to her black blouse. She had left the garment slightly open so that the lace of her black bra showed. The corner of my upper lip turned up, then I looked back at her.

"No worries." The girl batted her long, very fake eyelashes at me. "Just don't take too long."

It always worked. Make a woman feel good about herself and the world is yours. A lesson I learned early in life, when I discovered that paying compliments to older ladies paid back with interest.

"I won't." Before turning, I gave her a subtle once-over, then stopped at the nametag she kept dangling from a long chain. "Thank you, Niva."

The girl shivered, and I gifted her with one last lopsided smile before leaving. Hours of practice before a mirror, and I mastered the art of the many smiles. One for every occasion. The lopsided brought out the dimple and made me look approachable.

Sometimes, I wondered about the morality of going through life the way I did, using women to reach my goals. A lifetime ago, after my first session of lovemaking, my teacher told me I was a natural in bed, and that if I only refined my manners I could have made a living out of my manhood.

"Did you bribe her?" Lilian asked when I was back at her side.

Holding my arm out, I waited for her to start walking. "No need too. I asked politely."

My answer solicited a raised eyebrow and a snort from Lilian. "Does it work with men too?"

Of course it worked with men. "You'd be surprised how much you can accomplish when you're nice to people." With a purposeful stride, I led her back inside the mall, pleased to see how her long legs matched my pace.

My mind concocted a few images of Lilian walking while wearing nothing else but those heels and a long strand of pearls. Iridescent black pearls that trailed down her creamy-white small breasts. Her nipples were pink buttons, fully erected. My thoughts focused lower, to the apex of her legs. She had shaved for me earlier in the morning, and her skin was silky, calling my hand for a soft touch.

Beside me, the object of my desire commented on something I didn't catch, then she asked, "Do you live in Seattle?" Before I could answer, she added, "I assumed since you made that comment about the bridge."

"Yes, I do."

"Do you like living in the city?"

"I love it."

We had arrived at Nordstrom, and I made a beeline for the men's floor where I asked for Pierre, my friend, tailor, and shopper consultant. A moment later, he came to greet me with a garment bag draped over his bent arm.

"Marco, I just finished stitching the hem. You'll make a grand entrance tonight." Pierre noted Lilian by my side and tilted his head while reaching for her hand. "Enchanté, madame."

Lilian smiled and her skin reddened again.

Pierre did nothing more than what I had done only a few minutes earlier, but his mere brushing her hand unnerved me. As if I was the only one with the right to make her blush, which was completely irrational.

And that was another first for me..zKGKdO