"Jen, I think I need a tailor for my slacks? Any opinions?"
Arthur's voice is rich like honey mingled with soft creamy butter drenching a slice of lightly toasted bread. You place it in your mouth; a sinful sweetness creates a delicate sensation of pleasure in your mind, chewing slowly in an effort to a delay satisfying your base need, hunger, just to savor it a bit more. Closing my eyes, his words floated in my psyche, igniting attraction in my woman bits. Then, it dawned on me that he rambled "Jen", and your nametag beams, Gwen. Adrenaline destroyed your burgeoning attraction as it's reborn as disdain. I stood questioning my sense of desire; goose bumps sink back into my skin to return another day. When's lunch? I need to eat something.
Okay, I love Sefa. Dropped everything to rush over and collect my weekly orders for my internet fashion show, and chat over a cup of tea. I should have walked in; grabbed my bags; and rushed off. Not me, Friend of the Year. Something in Sefa's eyes caught my attention. Friends don't leave friends behind. Toy Story taught me a lot of great things. The boys needed their Woody and Buzz time. Jessie came in second to Woody and Buzz's bromance. She was loved, but they make it work somehow. Anyway, Sefa's my Mr. Potato head, always falling apart, and she doesn't get left behind.
Sefa's personal shopper staff was down and out by an unexpected arrival of a massive flu bug. Really, these people didn't get a flu shot or pop a few Vitamin C pills during winter? Darling Sefa with sweet nervous ways stood in full zombie mode in her office, strands of brown hair spiking on her head like a sunflower. She kept muttering," The Dragon and Wizard are coming. What am I going to do?" I swallowed my snarky quip that she sounded like a cross between Paul Revere and that rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. She mumbled," Father will strangle me if I displease the Dragon and Wizard."
Open a dictionary, you could find Sefa's dad located under intense, and downright mean to his only child. Yet, she adored her dad. I spent four marvelous; yet, fearful summers interning for HIM. Sefa's death was pending, slow and painful. Her father was in the building, a Sefa meltdown was not on anyone's calendar. A few hours working as a personal shopper, what could it hurt? Daddy dearest implemented a strict, almost hookerish, dress code for personal shoppers. Hey, free clothes! No, free high fashion clothing!
Play dress up with the Dragon and Wizard. Foolishly, I assumed strange geeky men who played Dungeons and Dragons.
I didn't realize that the Dragon was Arthur Pendragon, billionaire playboy and gamer; he put Bruce Wayne to shame in every aspect except someone crowned him King of the Nitwits.
My eyes focused on a wall, my nose scrunched as I silently mouthed bad words at the Dragon. Pasting a smile on my face, I turned to greet my client. Is this how hookers feel, you have to do it when you really want to run and scream? It was on the tip of my tongue to mention that my name is Gwen. He stood before me like … well, words didn't enter my mind. He was undeniably glorious in every physical aspect of manhood. He spent too much time in the handsome line during creation, and not enough in the good old-fashioned manners line.
A perfect set of thighs and legs made a common pair of black pants resembled clothes of the gods. It might be the pants… they do cost 500 pounds. His belt buckle glittered around his waist… wait, am I looking at his male parts? I'm checking him out as he calmly fiddled with his, what are those things at the end of a shirt? Oh yes, his cuffs, long tapered fingers folded his cuffs back to reveal strong wrists and a slight glimpse of hard flesh near a bicep. Lowering my eyes, I dug my shoes in Hermans' deep plush gray carpeting. He didn't button his shirt; his chest was slightly tanned like he just flew in from Greece, sprinkled with just a trace of golden hair.
"Jen, did you not hear my request?"
Oh, yes it speaks. Those butterflies in my stomach accidentally touched the light and died a quick horrifying death as I awakened from my fog.
"Mr. Pendragon, my name is Gwen, not Jen. I heard you the first time. I thought perhaps someone else arrived to assist you because you bellowed for Jen."
"Sorry," he replied carelessly. "About my clothing for an upcoming charity event, I expect perfection from Hermans' staff."
"Hermans' staff is a world class leader in providing discriminating services for our spectrum of clients."
You have to memorize that bullshit line. Honestly, I didn't sprout it correctly. Yanking someone's measuring tape from a desk; I stomped over to my waiting beast, nothing like Beauty's.
"Legs apart. I need to measure you inseam."
I thought about bunnies, hawks, and other silly things as I took King Moron's measurement. I ignored the hardness of his thighs while his blue eyes gazed down at my busy hands. He smelled really good, outdoors and sunshine. He's a bottle of liquid temptation until he opens that mouth.
Just speak Mr. Pendragon… say something else.
"I have an appointment in 40 minutes. Can you work a little faster?"
See, he never disappoints me. He's my soul mate in a different less warped reality.
"Maybe, you should think of others before you double book," I snapped, writing down his measurements.
"Excuse me."
"Nothing." Don't upset him. Sefa's father would grow a third head, if I displease the Dragon.
"No, you have something to say. I can see it in those large brown eyes."
"So, you notice the eyes of the mere peasant selected to do your bidding, Mr. Pendragon. " He noticed my eyes? Stop it!
"Oh, so you do have something on your chest."
"It's not important."
He chuckled slightly. "Just like everyone else. So much anger for me. Yet, not woman enough to say it to my face. Will I find a little tidbit in the gossip section? Arthur Pendragon rude to petite gophers at Hermans."
Okay, since he asked. No, he baited me for a reaction. I'm not a doll. This isn't my job. Hell, Sefa needs to cut the cord with her dad.
"You're freaking jackass. I'm wearing a name tag marked Gwen. You called me Jen twice. You were late for your appointment. You have extraordinary nerve to tell me to work quickly. You're selfish and demanding. Call Hermans' management, I don't give a damn."
Clicking heels echoed around us.
"Well, Miss Guinevere Leogrance. I know exactly how you are my dear. So, charming on the internet… ninety seconds with Gwen…. fashion made simple. That tag line isn't very original or snappy. People have lives, and I did call before I arrived for my fitting. My assistant's puppy was sick; she needed a ride to her animal hospital. I might be a bit rude and cocky. Wealth is nothing without hard work. I'm a worker like you. So, don't write me off as you stomp out of here in those killer stilettos with equally inappropriate tight jeans with a lace tank top. You move your arms slightly… soft flesh, a feast for my eyes. How many men purchased Hermans' overpriced clothing to catch a glimpse of you? "
"Your pants will arrive tailored and pressed next week, Mr. Pendragon."
His lips were much too full, soft pink. Downright irresistibly sensual when he tugged them into a smile revealing perfect white teeth. Can I think of another word besides perfect? Sapphire blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he met my gaze; his smile made him young and handsome like a school boy.
"Yes, they need to be perfect, Guinevere."
The door slammed loudly behind me before I huffed away. His rich laughter haunted my movements down Hermans corridor.
I'm sticking to my thesis; he's perfection until he opens his mouth. That blasted word again!
8*8
A steaming bowl of Wonton soup paired with tasty eggroll dipped in Duck sauce can chase away any lingering attractions and place a girl's feet firmly back on the ground. Arthur Pendragon dates skinny panty models… it wasn't flirting. Images of Arthur's face floating behind my eyelids; it was that dammed smile. Don't worry; we don't mingle in the same crowd. He's out of my league. His type leaves of trail of cardiac arrest patients. I don't date guys like Arthur Pendragon anymore. Won't do that again, ever. Worst pain of my life. A knock broke me out of a 500 plus invitee pity party.
"I'm a bit early," a male voice began politely," Could we possible select my clothing right now? I was bored and needed an escape from everything and nothing."
Merlin Emrys arrived at Hermans for his pants fitting. His blue eyes gleamed with a strange mixture of kindness and sorrow. It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers, but after a few moments with Arthur, my mind is a blank slate. Merlin Emrys founded Freya's Garden after his wife died when she was stricken by Breast Cancer in her late teens. Freya was one of the youngest people ever to be diagnosed with Breast Cancer. With all of his money, Merlin couldn't find a treatment to save her. Every year, Freya's Garden held a magnificent garden theme charity function with a silent auction and performances.
"I'm Gwen."
"Are you sure it isn't Jen," Merlin teased.
Our hands enclosed securely," So, you spoke to him?" Not that I care. Merlin's clasp was warm and firm, he blushed slightly as he offered me a sheepishly look.
"Arthur has an amazing heart. He's a good friend. He's a Tootsie Roll pop. Crack his pretty shell to find a gooey sweet center."
Like I needed an image of Arthur Pendragon as a lollipop as I sucked him until he was soft and gooey.
"If you say so," I choked. A tingling feeling in my fingers wanted to brush dark hair from his eyes and angular cheek bones. His lips were curved in a lopsided grin. I needed to check what Mithian tossed in our morning smoothies. I've lost my mind today.
"So I say, Gwen. Can I call you Gwen?"
"Gwen is what they call me. Now, to get you out of your young billionaires' uniform. What did all of you go to the same summer camp for young internet pioneers? You're required to wear a hoodie, jeans, tee, and canvas trainers?"
Merlin scoffed indignantly," I'm a gamer, not Internet person. Avalon Games creates hours of mindless pleasure for people, not the internet. Arthur and I put a lot of effort into Avalon Games… Internet, never."
"Okay, does Arthur own a hoddie?"
"He hides them in his closet and under his pillow. Maybe, you can find out the rest of his secrets?"
"I think you have a few too."
8*8
Merlin trailed behind me as I selected a pants, shirts, jackets, and ties. You would have thought I told him that Father Christmas was fake when we stopped in the shoe department. An arched eyebrow silenced his complaints.
Merlin admitted he was bit nervous about trying on my selected attire. He wore the same tux every year since he hosted his first Freya ball. Somehow, someone at his cleaners shrunk his tux.
"It was a bit tight."
"Trust me," I urged.
I knew Merlin was a man after my heart when he unzipped his hoodie to reveal a Ten t-shirt.
"You like David Tennant," I inquired skeptically.
"Who can resist Ten's bumbling rambling mess and his unorthodox, unapologetic cleanup methods."
"Ten is my favorite modern Doctor, favorite before Ten?"
"Tom Baker."
"We're kindred souls," I gushed. "Favorite companion?"
"K-9."
"Agreed, but I expected a human," I admonished.
"Human? Let me think, and you?" Merlin's eyebrows knitted together.
"Rory, he knew how to wait."
"Amy, she could be ruthless when it was necessary. She was able to manage Rory and Eleven in her heart. It was so obvious in retrospect that River Song was Rory and Amy's daughter. River was never jealous of Eleven needing Amy in his life," Merlin mused.
"So, you can deal with another in your relationship, another loved one?" Sometimes, we need other things with different people to be whole, functional and alive. Eleven adores River, but he needs Amy in his life. A part of his heart belongs to Amy; I would deny my loved one happiness, Merlin. Now, change!"
"You're mighty evolved."
"I don't have time for a Big Bang discussion."
"Okay," he waved his hands in defeat.