The keys of the typewriter clacked, the smell of smoke filled the small office, it clouded the windows and the vision of the man sitting at the desk. Reporter Loyd Laufison had a cigar in his mouth and his small eyes were focused on the paper that was inserted in the writing machine. He typed vigorously, determined to finish his latest piece about the wealthy oilbaron's daughter, Lady Serafina Herrington.
Oh Lady Serafina, she was quite the dame. He chuckled through his cigar and shook his head as his fingers scarred the page with letters, leaving neat words ready for print. His mind swarmed with thoughts of Lady Serafina, he'd never thought that he'd be able to sway her attentions from Thomas Otison, the tall handsome business partner of Lord Herrington. Loyd could have gone on for hours about how he felt about Mr. Otison, the man was arrogant and all the women swooned over him, but he only had eyes for Jane Foster, a mere stockbroker's daughter who had no money.
He sighed as he typed the last few words of his article. Lady Herrington currently resides in New York with her father, she rarely goes into public and based on her recent dismissal of Freddie Lapine's affections we won't be hearing wedding bells anytime soon.
Loyd smiled to himself, he was happy to hear that Lady Serafina had refused Freddie's hand, he was weaselly and chased skirts of all kinds. The smoke that puffed out of his cigar clung to the inside of his throat, but he didn't think twice about it, he'd been smoking since he was 14.
He removed the sheet from the paper fingers and laid it down on the stack of other pages. He always felt satisfied when he finished an article, so he leaned back and steepled his long pale fingers, they were spindly like spikes and it was worrying that they didn't puncture holes in the keys of his typewriter.
He heard a light knock on the doorway and he turned to look at the open door to see Lady Serafina, she was looking glorious in a red satin dress that had a long wide skirt, it was radiating against her skin. Her heather grey wool coat was draped over her right arm, which was securely held against her stomach so the coat wouldn't drop to the ground.
He grinned at her and overlapped his hands behind his head. "And what did I do to deserve this lovely visit, Lady Herrington?" he asked.
She smiled, it made her glow. "It's Valentine's Day, Mr. Laufison," she spoke lightly. "I assumed you'd be alone, so I thought I might stop in and check on you."
He chuckled. "I'm luckier than I thought," he sat forwards and dragged a chair over next to him. "I just finished your article, but I can't think why you'd join me and not Mr. Otison."
She shook her head, her shiny black tresses moving like shadows framing her head, she moved to the chair and lowered herself into it. "You don't understand, do you?" she said quietly.
His eyebrows creased together, this woman was speaking in riddles for all he knew. He found one more amused smile in his arsenal and used it in an award winning manner.
"I'm done with Thomas, he's nothing but a cold yuck who's got the hots for some other dish. That's why I'm here," she said, reaching out and smoothing Loyd's tie. She was staring at him with her narrow olive-hazel eyes, her eyelashes slowly moved up and down as her gaze locked onto his.
He smirked uncomfortably and slid back in his chair, he didn't understand how someone so elegant and beautiful could talk like one of the dancers at Jamie Stewart's club. She smiled at him, then stood up. "I probably shouldn't stay, my father has dinner planned for tonight," she said, the rogue on her cheeks accentuating her complexion perfectly.
A smoldering grin rose on his face and he aimed it at her, making a light laugh escape her throat. She knelt in front of him, grasping his faced in her hands and bringing his lips to hers. She held him there for several seconds, then she stood up and left.
It snatched up his breath and yanked it out of him, most people found him to be moody and brooding and avoided him, but this woman, this gorgeous woman, showing feelings towards him was something he'd never imagined happening.
He chuckled to himself and turned to his desk, his fingers resting on the keys, not pressing any of them. He stared at the swirling oak of his desk and chuckled again, shaking his head. Loyd you are one lucky jerk, he thought, fingering his tie.
