Leave me your coments, and follow me.
BirdsandStars
—Gay? —this time he turns back on comentary.
He stares at me as he frowned.
Oh Shit! I think I just did something stupid. I'm mentally preparing myself for him to be angry at me for calling him gay. But he doesn't. He just smiles at me. He turns back to the front as he starts the car. He never does anything I can imagine.
—Who told you I'm gay?—he asks me as he looks at me in the rearview mirror.
—Kate. —I tell him in a whisper. I don't know where to go right now
—I think you're in for a surprise today too. —he says as he put on his seatbelt and put the car in traffic.
I've had a lot of surprises lately. More than I've ever had. I fell on my ass when I saw him shaved and dressed in clothes that fit him, seeing his hot body when he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and then all wet in the shower. What other surprise awaits me today?
—Why do you say that? —I ask him curiously.
Christian stops at a red light. He turns his face towards me and gives me a seductive smile.
—Because I'm not gay, Miss Adams.
Yeah. I definitely wasn't expecting this. Kate was wrong. And that just makes me think about what he said last night about fucking me. And I feel a strange sensation in my stomach. One I haven't felt in years.
—Please don't call me that. I don't think that's necessary.
—I'm sorry, but it's a formality.
—It's ridiculous. Why didn't you tell me you were going to be Elena's driver?
—You didn't ask anything about my new job. —he answer like it's nothing.
—You know that no one can find out that we're living together, right? —I tell him as he stares at me. —I don't want them to think that there's something between us.
—They won't find out from me. —he says with a smile as he turns to the front and continues to drive.
Christian takes me to all the interviews I have to do in Elena's place. But none of the interviewees meet the requirements that I know the magazine is looking for. They are all retired, yes, but none of them are in the best physical shape we can say. After the last interview, I say goodbye saying that I will get in touch and walk to the car. It's getting dark and we're in a remote area of the city.
I drop, exhausted, in the back seat of the Mercedes-Benz while closing the door. I take off my heels and massage my feet. I've never walked in heels as much as I did today. Christian looks at me sideways in the mirror and I look back.
—And how did this one go?—he asks me with a smile as I roll my eyes at him.
—Are you serious?
After every interview, I told Christian how it went and that it was a total fiasco. And he did nothing but laugh, start the car and drive off to the next one.
—Another waste of time. —I say defeated.
—Where to now? —he asks, looking at me in the mirror.
—To the apartment. —I say to him as I lie down on the black leather. —I need a relaxing bath, a decent meal and if possible a massage, and not necessarily in that order.
Christian laughs at my comment as he starts the car.
The list of candidates that I had for today, has been completed and I have not found anyone who fulfills the expectations. I check my cell phone, I get a message from Kate inviting me to go to dinner with her and Elliot. But I text her, I'm exhausted. I just want to get to the apartment and rest.
I'm a little distracted, but I realize we're not heading towards the apartment.
—Where are we going? —I ask him, leaning against the back of the seat.
—Dinner. —he answers as if nothing had happened.
I put on my shoes and fix my clothes while Christian turns at the next light and then stops in front of one of the best restaurants in New York. I didn't expect this.
—What are we doing here? —I ask him when I see a valet open the door and hold it open for me. Maybe he made a mistake.
—We're going to dinner. —Christian tells me as he gets out of the car.
He hands the keys to the valet and takes his place, holding the door for me and lending me a hand to help me get out. I take his hand. It's as warm as I remember.
—It's not necessary to have dinner here Christian, we can go somewhere else. —I tell him as I look in all directions.
—No way.
—I can't afford a place like this. —I say shyly.
—Don't worry about it, it's on me.
—But, I'm not dressed for this place. —I'm trying to find some excuse.
—You look beautiful like this. —he says to me solemnly as he leads me to the entrance of the restaurant.
And I don't argue with him anymore. I know he'll find some way to win the battle. But if there's one thing I know about prestigious restaurants, it's that you make reservations in advance. So I let him drive me to the entrance where the maitre d' is, with a list in hand.
—Good evening, Mr. Christian.
—Good evening, John.
—We haven't seen you here in a while. Will you be wanting your table today?
—Yes, please.
—Follow me. —the maitre d' says as he turns around.
Christian takes my hand in his. As soon as he does, I feel it. The tingle in my skin. I look up from our hands together and stare at him. He's smiling at me. I smile back at him and as he rests my hand on his forearm, I let myself be driven by him into the restaurant. I still can't believe what just happened in front of me. How do they know him here? And much more important than that. How does he has a table set aside?
We walk into the restaurant, dimly lit, to a private room. It's all glass, like a little cabin set apart in a corner from everyone else. Nothing can be seen inside because the huge glass is covered by dense black curtains. The maître d' opens the door for us and pulls the curtains back so that we can go inside.
—Shall I bring you the letter? —he asks Christian.
—No, bring me the same as the last few times for two people, a bottle of the wine you know I like and for dessert that delicious cake and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
—Right away, sir.
The maitre d' leaves by closing the door and the curtains are drawn again. Christian pulls a chair for me to sit on. Then he turns around the table and sits right in front of me. And I dwell on the details of the private room. From the corners hang simple little lamps that illuminate the room in half-light. The tablecloth as well as the curtains are black. In the center of the table there is a vase completely full of red roses, almost black.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and places it on the table. After pressing a button a music starts playing. Violins start to play and I quickly recognize the song. A few seconds later, the voice of John Legend singing Love Me Now begins to flood the small but cozy private room we are in.
As I let the lyrics of the song enter deep into my mind I start thinking about certain things. Now I'm much more curious than before. He stares at me, and before I have a chance to ask him anything, the door opens, the curtains pull back and a waiter comes in with our wine.
—Thank you, leave it, I'll open it. —he says, making the waiter leave quickly.
Christian opens the bottle of wine quickly with a masterful skill. He pours into both glasses and then puts the bottle aside. He takes his glass and takes a slight sip while closing his eyes.
—Can I ask you something? —I say to him as he opens his eyes and stares at me.
—Go ahead.
—Why does everyone know you? Why do you have a private room? Why did you bring me here? —without noticing the questions coming out of my lips in a wheelbarrow and I can't contain them.
Christian stares at me and for a moment I think he won't answer.
—I'm going to answer your questions, but first. —he says to me as he leans forward. —Promise me you won't interrupt me, or say a word until I'm finished.
—All right. —I say quickly, hoping that he will answer my questions.
I take the glass of wine he served me, and give him a drink, quite a long one. I don't know why I imagine I'll need it for the answers I'm about to receive.
—Everyone knows me here for the simple reason that I am the owner.
Luckily I don't have any wine in my mouth. Because I'm sure I'd end up spitting it in his face. I stare at him in amazement. But as I promised him, I don't comment and let him continue.
—I think that answers your first two questions. —he says to me with a smile as she takes a slight sip of his wine. —And as for the third, I think the answer is quite obvious.
—Not to me. —I say to him as he looks at me squinting.
I know he brought me to dinner, but I imagine there's more to a dinner at the best restaurant in New York. And a lot more with the music he's played that sounds in the background.
Christian takes another sip of wine before he answers me.
—You're right, I didn't just bring you to dinner.
I take another sip of wine I think I'm gonna need it. Even more than the last one.
—I wanted to enjoy your company.
—Enjoy my company? —I ask him with a raised eyebrow. —You make it sound like this is a date. —I just stare at him. —Is this a date? —I ask him curiously.
Christian just gives me a radiant smile.
—It could be. —he says to me without taking his eyes off me.
—Christian! —I warn him. —We work together, you know the rules.
—¿And?
—And nothing can exist between us. —I tell him while he smiles wickedly at me.
—I'm only working for Elena for a week, Ana. After that, I won't be her driver anymore.
—But you'll continue in the company.
—Actually, this is just a temporary contract for a week that I've been given.
—I didn't know there was a one-week contract?
—Neither did I, I only agreed to it as a favour to Elena.
—You know Elena? —I'm shocked by this unexpected turn in the conversation.
—Enough to know that she's very intimidating and strict. —says a thoughtful Christian to me.
—Yes, but when you know her, she's a completely different person.
—Back to the issue that interests us both. —he says to me with his blue, penetrating gaze on me. —It won't be a date if you don't want it to be a date, Ana. —e says very seriously as he pauses the music. —Do you want this to be a date? —he asks me without taking his eyes off me.
And I ask myself the same question. Do I want this to be a date? Do I want a date with Christian? It is undeniable that there is something between us. An invisible force that binds us together. And that I'm terribly attracted to him. The way he looks at me sometimes, like right now, makes me think he's serious, that he wants something. But I don't know what would happen if I said yes. And I don't know if I can give him everything he wants either.
—Why do you want a date with me? —I ask him while he's frowning.
—Because despite my faults, first of all, I'm a gentleman, Ana.
His faults? What he mean by that? What century has he come from?
—A gentleman? Don't tell me you don't have sex until after marriage? —I tell him as a joke while he smiles at me openly.
—No. —he says to me suddenly while I stop laughing. —At least not until after the first date.—he says to me as he looks over the glass he's bringing to his lips again.
And I stare at his lips. I mustn't look at his lips, because that only makes me wish I were the wine that passes his lips at that moment. And to wish that he would kiss me like no one has done for so long. I squeeze my thighs under the table while he smiles slightly at me. Watching him drink wine while he stares at me, is making me start to get excited.
—So? Is it a date? —asks once more hopefully.
—How about we drop him off at a business dinner? —I tell him with a smile.
If he keeps insisting on a date I don't think I has much choice. I'll end up accepting.
—You know I'll ask you again and you'll end up accepting.
—Do you always have that confidence in yourself? —I'm asking him.
But he doesn't answer, he just smiles at me. Apparently, he is that confident.
—Let's do one thing. When you ask me again, I'll say yes, but I'll warn you something. —I'll tell hi, by staring at him.
He stares at me, leaving the glass aside so he doesn't miss a single detail of what I'm about to tell him. He has his no-sex rule until the first date. And I have mine, too.
—We're not gonna have sex. —I tell him as I watch him frown slightly.
I'm not even believing what I just told him.
—All right, I'll settle for just the business dinner tonight. —he says to me with a triumphant smile.
—I don't think you understand, Christian. —I tell him by staring at him.
I think it's best if I make it clear to him. Although I haven't been very clear about it since I've moved in with him.
—I don't have relationships of any kind, romantic or sexual. —I say to him as I watch the smile disappear from his face and then he frowned.
—What happened to you? Who was the jerk who couldn't get it right the first time? —he asks me suddenly and I can see that he is a little angry.
—It has nothing to do with that. —I tell him, even though he's very close to reality. —At this point I want to focus on my career, I don't want any distractions. —I tell him lying, I just hope he doesn't notice me doing it.
I hope that with this answer he won't ask any more questions. I don't know what I'm going to answer if he asks me since when I don't have sex. But fortunately he changes the topic of conversation.
—So, will you accept a date the next time I asks? —He'll raise an eyebrow.
I smile at him. Even though I've promised myself I don't want to know about men for a while. If he asks me again in a few days, or tomorrow, I know I'll say yes. I take the glass to give him a sip, I must remember not to drink on an empty stomach.
—I felt it too, Ana. —he says, suddenly making me stare at him over the glass while the wine barely touches my lips.
—Eh! —I say to him, lost, as I lower the glass to the table. I don't know what he's talking about now.
—I felt that current run through my body when I first touched your hand. I feel the attraction that pulls my body towards yours at every moment. Like now.
I didn't expect this. I didn't expect him to feel the same, to be aware of the magnetic attraction between the two of us.
—I feel that primitive impulse to want to possess you wildly, to mark you as my own and no one else's.
His words are crude and go through my mind like a whirlwind making my breathing suddenly accelerate.
—Since you fell off the barstool I have only been able to think of one thing. —the pulse in my veins accelerates more and more with every word that comes from his lips.
—What thing? —I can't believe I'm asking him.
—To kiss you. —he says to me sensually.
And that way of looking at me right now only tells me one thing. He wants me very badly. I can tell that he wants to kiss me as intensely as I wanted to yesterday in the shower while we were wet.
—Why didn't you kiss me in the shower yesterday? —I ask him curiously.
Yesterday he had the perfect opportunity. But he didn't make the slightest attempt to bring his lips closer to mine.
—Because I'm not going to kiss you until after our first date. —he says, looking at me intently. —Our first real date.
If I had known beforehand, I would have told him this was a date. With everything he's told me, that he wants to kiss me, and possess me wildly, I'm excited. I can only think of letting him do with my body what he wants. But I know I have to stop thinking about sex right now or I'll ask him to throw all the stuff on the table and lay me down on it. And I'm not going to break my word that easily. Even though the sexual tension is killing me. Slowly.
So I decide to change the topic of conversation, because if I don't, I won't even be able to have dinner tonight. And at this hour, I won't be able to take it out on a punching bag tonight. But as I look at him, I can't help but think of different scenarios where he could make me his. I lose myself in his gaze, and make a superhuman effort to put aside my sexual fantasies of being taken on the table in a private room of New York's best restaurant.
So I divert the conversation from our obvious sexual attraction to one that is less exciting.
—Even if you own the restaurant, I imagine a dinner here must cost a fortune. —I say to him as I sip my glass.
It's the truth. I'd settle for a burger at my favorite place or a pizza. At that moment the curtain moves aside and a waiter enters with our dinner. He sets the plates and leaves quickly giving us privacy once again. I look at my plate carefully and am amazed. I look at Christian and again my plate and he shrugs it off.
—How did you know that? —I ask him intrigued that he knows what my favorite food is.
—Kate talked about you a lot, and on one occasion she said that this was your favorite food. —he says to me as if nothing had happened.
How could he remember the favorite food of someone he didn't even know until yesterday? I'm not liking this anymore. Was he a stalker and Kate didn't even know it?
—I'm not a stalker, Ana, but I do pay attention when I'm interested in something. —once again over dinner, it's caught my attention.
—I interest you? —I'm much more curious about him now than I was before.
—And you don't know how much.
—I don't understand anything. How can you be interested in me if you've only known me for 24 hours.
Christian smiles at me. That broad, radiant smile that I'm sure makes all the women he smiles at that way wet their panties. Including me.
—I met you almost a year ago, Ana.