The Arrangement

3: Tuesday Night. . .

I had woken up feeling nervous that morning. My stomach was flipping and churning. My schedule for the day was not the usual Wake up, Handle PR and Media, and sleep. Instead I had a list of things to do, all in preparation for my date.

"First, you need to get your hair done," said Amethyst, as she drove into the city. "What's wrong with my hair now?" I asked refering to my tight, high bun. She laughed, "Oh nothing really, it just kind of screams Fuck off." I hadn't known that at all and personally thought that my hair was appealing and attractive. "You also need some new clothes."
"Why? It's just dinner at his place."
"Exactly. You need to look comfortable, like you're not trying too hard. Last time I checked you didn't have many clothes that looked simple and comfortable, but still mature and attractive." I wasn't going to argue there. Most of my clothes were formal for work purposes. I didn't really spend much time lounging around, so I didn't have the clothes for that particular activity. "I also think you shouldn't wear makeup."
"Isn't a date supposed to be the one time you really impress?"
"Baby sister you are beautiful. He'll be impressed with your natural beauty. And you have great teeth, it's just a shame that you're never happy enough to show them." Ouch. She layed it down hard and cold. Her statement had me thinking though. . .I was never happy.

The dress

At 6 I already had my hair up in a cute messy bun with some hair falling at the sides. My white bodycon dress with spaghetti straps was on me, hugging every (surprising) curve. I wore my YSL strappy sandals, took my D&G handbag purse and jacket, then hit the road.

The drive to his house wasn't long, but felt like an eternity, because of my nerves. When I arrived the huge wrought iron gate slowly opened, as if someone had been waiting for me to arrive. The driveway seemed like a road itself, with vast areas of green grass on either side. Is this all his? I wondered a I got closer to a large regal looking house.

Adrian's house

A valet took my keys as I headed up the steps to the front door. I assumed it would be okay to enter without knocking. . .we were kind of engaged anyway. The foyer was massive, with high ceilings and bright lights. "Adrian?" I called out, glued to my spot at the door. After a few seconds, he popped up to welcome me. He looked effortlessly stunning in black pants that hugged his long lean legs and a white button down shirt, with the top button undone. I noticed that he was wearing grey socks instead of shoes.
"I'm glad you could make it, Miss Weston," he said after kissing the back of my hand. I smiled and looked at his feet again. "Oh, I have a thing about shoes in my house. Would you mind?" Now he looked at my feet. I did as he asked, without paying much attention to it, then dropped my shoes on the shoe rack next to the door.

He led me through the house for what seemed like ages before we reached our destination. He opened the double doors to the room and allowed me to walk in first. Wait. . . This a BEDROOM. I turned to face, in shock. Did he invite me here to sleep with him!? At noticing my expression, he furrowed his brows, in confusion. I started to stomp away, not caring about getting lost in his mansion. "Miss Weston?" He called after me, I would not be fooled by his fake respect. "Amelia!" He caught up with me and grabbed my hand to stop me. I was waiting for an explanation but instead got a booming laughter that had him clutching his stomach and bending over. "Mr Reed, I do not understand your sense of humour! How dare you try to take me to bed-"
He silenced me by gently putting a finger over my lip. "Miss Weston, I would never take advantage of you in that way. I'm sorry it even came across as. . .that. Please follow me, to the actual destination." He held his hand out to me and reluctantly, I took it.

We walked through, what I assumed was the master bedroom and stepped out of the large French doors, onto a terrace. It was absolutely stunning. A table for two was set up in the middle, decorated with rose petals and candles. The was a waiter standing quietly on one side and a violinist on the other. He pulled my chair out for me and I sat down as gracefully as I could, still dumbstruck from the beauty of the set up against the night.
"Well, do you like it?" He probably thought I would run out on him again. "It's beautiful. I love it." His smile melted my heart. It was a genuine, beautiful that looked nothing like the cocky smiles he'd been giving me all along. The waiter came to get our drinks order. Adrian asked for an imported wine, that I loved. . . weirdly. "Did you stalk me, before you asked to marry me, that is?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry if I offended you but, you seem to know a lot about me."
"All I know about you is that your name is Amelia Weston and you're 19 years of age."
"Nothing else?" He smiled, "No, nothing else."
"I thought you were one of those weird pervs who target teenagers." He nodded his head as if, thinking about something. "What?"
"You still think of yourself as a teenager?"
"Yes, I mean, the word teen is still in my age, so, why not."
"That's funny, because you act like a 24 year old. At your age I was caught up in girls and parties."
"I think you're still caught up in that."
He looked at me curiously, "I googled you."
"Who's the stalker now?"
I smiled. . . Ame's words came into my head, You're never happy enough to smile. "I had to know who my 'fiancee' was."
"I'm sure he would've told you if you asked, oh, wait, you kept running away from him."
"I wasn't running away!" I said in mock defence. "That's what it looked like from where I was standing."
"Yeah, well you were practically on top of me the last time we met."
"What?It isn't my fault that I'm drawn to you."
We fell into a comfortable silence with smiles on our face.

"Thank you for dinner, I had a great time," I said as he walked me to the door. "The pleasure was all mine, Miss Weston."
I grabbed my shoes, as he opened the door. "Uhm, goodbye, then."
I walked out and stopped in my tracks when I heard him say, "Amelia. . .you don't have to leave."
I looked up at him, then skimmed my eyes down his body as he leaned on the door frame. He glided towards me. "It's late. Stay," he whispered drawing small circles on my arm. . .

I should have left. I should have declined his offer and gone home. I should have been strong, but I fell into the ocean that was his eyes, I fell into his strong arms, filled with lust. A minute later we were slowly making our way to his bed, stopping to make out on almost every surface in the house. My favourite was the chef's kitchen's counter tops. He had me on the kitchen island moaning like crazy while he kissed my neck. His grip was tight around my thighs making realise how big his hands actually were. Feeling the bulge in his pants had me grinding against him, suddenly wanting him. . . inside me. "Bed," I whispered between kisses,"now."

"Please," I wailed, surprised at my own voice, lying half naked on his bed, "What do you want, Miss Weston?" I moaned softly as he planted soft kisses below my bellybutton. "You, please, Adrian." He slowly pulled my lace panties off, leaving me completely exposed in front of him, I wanted him badly, but he wouldn't give in. . .he wanted me to beg. He moved further down with the kisses, "Yes! Please." What was happening to me!? I'd never heard myself scream like that. It was. . . refreshing. "Oh my!" I screamed when I felt his tongue on my clitoris. He was good at this. His tongue darted relentlessly on me and I cried out as he slid two thick fingers into me. "Like that, do you," he said torturing me with pleasure I hadn't known was possible. I couldn't get proper words out so I moaned. He licked and sucked until my body started to shake violently. I went into uncontrollable spasms and dug my hands into his hair in attempt to come back to my senses. "Yes! Oh, Adrian!" I screamed as an overwhelming pleasure, I was unfamiliar with, overtook me. He rose, smiling. "You enjoying my game, princess?" I didn't like being called princess but when he said it, I was suddenly aroused anew, now wanting him. . .all of him.