Carla watched as Frank dug into his hotpot, her eyebrow piqued as she pondered his request.
"So, what do you think?" He asked, "you up for it?"
"I don't know, Frank," she answered, leaning back against the sofa, "I'm not normally into those kind of things,"
"I remember seeing you at a few in the past," he said, plunging his fork into the bowl in front of him, "why the hesitation, now?"
"That were mostly down to Tony," she scratched her nose absentmindedly, "he just wanted me there to flirt with potential clients."
"And to show off the gorgeous woman he was engaged to," Frank winked, "I have to admit, I was incredibly envious of him the first time we met,"
"Oh please," she grinned, "I remember the woman you were with that night. She was unbelievably stunning. She was a model or sommit, wasn't she?" Frank nodded as he chewed, "it were dead awkward sitting next to her. Felt like a right hot mess."
"Hot, definitely," he said, "mess, not in the slightest." he took a sip of his pint, "Don't get me wrong, Amber was a looker to be sure, but absolutely nowt going on upstairs," he made a whistling noise, his finger making a motion around his head and rolling his eyes comically at her, and Carla couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, "I mean, why do you think I stuck with you both the whole night?" he smiled at her charmingly as he eyed her up and down, "I mean, other than the obvious of course…"
"Well, I can't fault you there," she smirked at him, "I fell for that smooth Scottish accent too…"
Frank let out a loud laugh as he dabbed his mouth with the napkin, "you see? That's what sets you apart from other women, Carla," he leaned forward, pushing his finished hotpot out of the way and resting his elbows on the table, "you've got this incredible sense of humour, you're smart, and as for looks, well," He eyed her appreciatively, "even just sitting in this pub I feel as though I don't deserve to be in your presence."
She felt her stomach flip at his compliment, a blush rising slightly to her cheeks. Foster was definitely a charmer.
"I've already given you a deal on your order, Franky" she smiled cheekily at him, "no need for the flattery."
Frank chuckled, "still can't take a compliment I see," his palms dropped to his thighs, "okay I'll back off, for now…" he leaned back against the cushions, "but seriously Carla, the event will be a great opportunity to connect with potential suppliers, clients etcetera," he reached for his pint, and clocking her hesitation he continued, "come on, it's one evening! And hey, it's at the Lowry, so it's local. I can pick you up and drop you off, and if it's utter rubbish, we can leave early. Come on, what do you say?"
"Hey, love," the smooth voice drew her attention to where Peter now stood beside the booth, a cheeky smirk on his face as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. She was so taken off guard by his boldness that she didn't get the opportunity to pull back, instead allowing him to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, his thumb stroking her cheek possessively.
Remembering herself, she raised her fingers to his jaw and gently pushed him away, offering him a smile before licking her lips, "hi, umm, wh-what are you doing here?" Carla asked the bookie, her eyes darting embarrassingly around the pub where Becky and Liz stood gawking, while Steve smiled smugly at his friend.
"Sorry to interrupt," Peter said, turning to an incensed looking Frank and smirking at him, "can't help meself, you know," he winked at him
"Not at all," Frank gritted out behind a thin smile, "can't say I blame you,"
Peter turned back to Carla, "I just wanted to stop by and give you these," he pulled his hand out from behind his back and presented her with a small but beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers.
Carla's eyes widened at the colourful arrangement, noting they were not from the corner shop and wondering when he had a chance to visit a florist.
As if reading her mind, Peter reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Carla's ear, "I had to run into town to the bank and when I saw these in the flower shop I just couldn't resist." It wasn't a complete lie; he definitely saw the flowers in the shop in town; but it happened to be the only destination he had visited after bumping into Maria.
"I uhh, I don't know what to say, really. They're beautiful, Peter."
"They're in good company then," he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before kneeling down next to the booth, "Simon wanted to know if you're free for dinner tonight?"
"Simon, eh?" she raised an eyebrow
Peter laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender, "I swear, he wants to get a pizza in town. You up for it?"
"Uhh, yeah okay, but can I call you later to finalize the time and all?" she glanced and smiled at Frank, "I'm just in the middle of a meeting…"
"Of course, I'll be at the Bookies. Give me a call when you can," he stood up, his fingers grasping Carla's chin gently and kissing her once more, "see you later," he turned to Frank, who had clocked onto Carla's obvious discomfort at the public display of affection, "my apologies again for the interruption."
"Not necessary," Frank held out his hand, grinning at the bookie as he did so, "I completely understand. Nice to see you again, and say hello to that little lad of yours."
Carla watched as Peter walked out of the pub, before turning back to Frank, "I'm so sorry about that."
"Please don't apologize, I don't blame the man in the slightest," he smiled at her, "I have to say though, I didn't realize you were off the market, as it were,"
Carla sighed, "yeah, neither did I," she mumbled in embarrassment, "so," she quickly changed the subject, "about the charity event this Friday-"
Frank leaned forward, "hey, if you need a few days to mull it over, that's alright," he took a sip of his pint, "besides, I understand if you need to run it by your 'boyfriend' first," his lips tugged into a satisfied smirk as anger danced across her features
"No, Frank," she smiled rather dangerously at him. "I don't need to think it over and I certainly don't answer to anyone…" she held his gaze for a moment, "I think you're right that it would be a missed opportunity to meet some new suppliers and potential clients; and it is for a good cause, so yeah! I'll accompany you."
Frank was genuinely thrown but delighted by her response and smiled, "well, that's fantastic! I'll confirm with them this afternoon and send you the details later."
Carla finished off her lime and soda, "sounds like a plan," she slid out of the booth, "I really should be heading back to the factory, though." She reached for the flowers and her purse as Frank rose from his seat as well, "thanks for the drink, and we'll talk soon then?"
"Absolutely," he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, "enjoy the rest of your day," he stated cheerfully as she headed towards the door, "oh, and your dinner date tonight." he called after her, smirking as she stiffened slightly before squaring her shoulders and heading out of the Rovers.
Once on the street, she glanced towards the factory, then towards the bookies.
She was ready to burst into the betting shop and have it out with Peter for that embarrassing display of his, and even took a few steps towards it before she thought better of it and halted, sharply spinning on her heels, and marching purposefully instead towards Underworld. She was too hot under the collar right now and she knew the bubbling rage would only wind up with the both of them naked, and as much as an angry fuck might be just what she needed, she simply couldn't allow it to happen right now.
No, she needed to cool off.
She would deal with him later...
Maria tepidly approached Carla after the staff left for the day. The factory boss had been in quite the mood when she wandered in after her meeting with Frank, and Maria had initially assumed he had said something to upset her. But as Carla stomped about the office, mumbling under her breath about male egos and pissing contests, Maria deduced that Peter had somehow found his way into the pub, and couldn't help but suppress the laughter she felt brewing inside at Carla's flustered demeanour.
She snickered slightly as Carla had called to Hayley, asking to bring her a vase for the bouquet she had brought in. She then stood at her desk, grabbing a pair of scissors from the drawer like a woman possessed, and cut through the plastic surrounding the flowers, before furiously snipping the ends off the stems; each one more forcefully than the last, all the while muttering angrily to herself. When the last stem was cut, she flung the scissors down on the desk, grasped the vase and shifted it in front of her. She then began gently arranging the flowers in the vase, the anger seemingly evaporating off her as she moved the flowers around the vase almost lovingly, and poured some water into the base, a smile gracing her face as she leaned down to smell one of the peonies. As quickly as the anger disappeared, it came back with a vengeance and with a huff, she picked up the vase and placed it irately on the cabinet before sitting down in her chair, and typing furiously on her keyboard.
Maria stifled a chuckle as she watched Carla's moods shift before her very eyes. Despite all their history she couldn't deny it: the woman was hot as hell when she was fuming. She could definitely see why Liam was so drawn to her, and Tony for that matter. The woman exuded passion in all her emotions; anger, happiness, love, lust…and yet was completely unreadable.
She was a walking enigma, and Maria couldn't help but be fascinated by her.
"Carla?" she began slowly, "Umm, can I have a word?"
"You can have several," Carla quipped back with a smirk, "What's up, love?"
Maria rolled her chair in front of Carla's desk, "It's about Frank,"
"What about Frank?"
Maria took a deep breath, "I think he may have misled you about what happened at the mixer..."
Carla's head popped up from the paperwork she was signing, "How'd you mean?"
"Well, he told you, that you asked him out when you were 'intoxicated' right?" at her nod, Maria continued, "only Rory told me that other than you making a phone call, the only person you talked to after that drug hit your system was him."
Carla's brow furrowed as she leaned back in her chair, "I don't understand..."
"Rory told me that he didn't take his eye off of you for one minute after the drug started affecting you. Frank didn't come near you nor did you go near him," she stated, "in fact, Rory said Frank all but disappeared after you had that drink."
Carla exhaled the breath she had been holding, "are you sure?"
"Quite sure," Maria responded
Carla rose from her seat and she paced about her office, raising her thumb nail to her mouth absentmindedly, "Why?" she breathed out, "why would he do that?"
"I don't know, Carla," Maria shrugged, "Maybe he thought you wouldn't have gone out with him if he simply asked you?"
"Yeah, well happens I've just agreed to go to a charity dinner with him this Friday. So that won't be awkward at all now will it...?" she shook her head in annoyance with herself, 'I can't believe I got played like this! How the hell am I going to back out of this now without losing him as a client?' she contemplated to herself as she paced the office, before a thought raced into her mind, "Wait," she turned to her PA, her eyes suddenly blazing, "did you tell this to anyone else?"
Maria swallowed shakily, "like who?"
"Oh let me think," Carla stepped around the desk purposefully, "runs a bookies, black leather jacket?"
Maria looked away sheepishly, "I may have mentioned it to Peter..."
Carla nodded, and chuckled humourlessly, "So that's what that little display was all about..." she muttered before grabbing her purse and coat and flinging them over her arm, "you know what? You can lock up tonight," she called over her shoulder
"Me-Me?" Maria stuttered
"Call it penance," Carla stated as she headed out of the office and out of the factory.
Carla entered the Bookies, her eyes scanning for punters, before hearing a voice call out,
"Sorry, we're closed," Peter walked down the few steps from the backroom, and smiled when he saw who it was, "Oh hiya love," he said, "I wasn't expecting you to drop in-"
Carla didn't answer, simply turning and locking the door to the shop. Peter watched as her fingers grasped the closed sign and flicked it over to face Rosamund Street, and he felt his trousers twitch. But when she faced him once more, he felt himself take an involuntary step back. Her eyes were burning into his, as she sauntered around the desk and closed the gap between them.
"What's going on, Carla?" He asked her hesitantly
"Are you deliberately messing with my head?" she asked him pointedly
Peter shook his head in confusion, "What? Of course I'm not-"
"So you didn't go into the Rovers earlier to simply engage in a pissing contest with a client of mine?"
"Look Carla, I can explain,"
"Oh, save it, Peter!" she nearly shouted at him, "Maria's told me everything." Peter lowered his gaze from her, which only fuelled her anger further, "So, all that PDA was simply to warn off Frank, was it? Have you any idea how much you embarrassed me?"
"Car, I didn't mean to-"
"I were humiliated, Peter!" she stepped around him
"Alright yes, yes I was trying to warn off that Foster bloke after what Maria told me about him lying to try to score a date with you, I admit that!" he acquiesced, "but I wasn't trying to humiliate you in front of all those people, Carla," he pleaded with her, "I wasn't trying to make you into the lunchtime gossip show,"
"You think I care about that?" She spun to face him, "I weren't humiliated because you kissed me in front of everyone Peter, I'm humiliated because I believed that-" she stopped herself suddenly, an embarrassed flush crossing her features
"because you believed, what?" he prodded, stepping closer to he, "because what, Carla?"
"That you actually cared about me and wanted something more than to just fuck me when it suited you!" she shouted at him
His eyes blazed as he walked towards her, watching as she stepped backwards until her back pressed against the wall, "is that how little you think of me?" he asked, "that I only want you around for a fuck and nothing more?"
Carla swallowed, "Those were the conditions of your offer after all, weren't it?" she answered in a low voice, "of your proposed casual relationship?"
Peter shook his head disbelievingly, "you know as well as I do that there is nothing casual about this, Carla," he reached out and cupped her face, "you know there is nothing casual about us..."
The atmosphere in the shop had changed dramatically. What was once tense and doused with frustration, was now charged with a heavy and enticing electrical force. She should be furious with him, but as she gazed at him, her eyes flickering between his brown orbs and his lips, she couldn't help but feel that pull towards him. He aroused her like no other ever had before. Her breathing quickened as her heart pounded in her chest. His eyes were wet with lust as they roamed her body, before he leaned forward and captured her lips passionately with his own.
"Drop your bag and your coat, Carla," he demanded through his kisses as he pushed against her, smiling as she gasped at the feel of his arousal against her, "let me live out the fantasy I've had since the day you first walked into this place…"
As his lips feverishly and hungrily kissed hers, he pushed her backwards; up the stairs and into the small room off the back, and she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. God she loved the way he made her feel; no matter how angry she may have been with him, she loved the way he made her skin tingle; the way he made her stomach flip; the way he aroused her to the deepest recesses of her soul.
Once in the privacy of his small office, Peter's fingers deftly began pulling at the soft top she had on. He groaned as she pulled his belt open and made quick work of his zipper, pushing his jeans down his body. His lips pressed along her jaw and down her soft and delicate neck as she lifted his t-shirt up and over his head. He grasped the hemline of her mauve shirt and pushed it up and over her shoulders, leaving her clad in her lacy bra. His fingers reached into the waistline of her skirt and he yanked her forward towards him.
He dropped to his knees, his tongue trailing down her abdomen as he pulled her skirt and stockings down her legs, yanking her boots off one by one and flinging the bundled skirt and pantyhose to the floor, earning a gasp from her and further enticing his desire. He rose to his feet again, his hand grasping the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling it back sharply, roughly exposing her neck to him as she grunted slightly, her pelvis grinding against his. His teeth continued to nip along her collarbone until her moans of pleasure became too much too handle.
Grasping her thighs he lifted her up and set her down onto his desk, pushing her back until she was lying flat. He took hold of her knickers and slid them off her body, then quickly unclasping her bra and flinging the material over his shoulder before pushing his own boxers down and kicking them away from his feet. He leant down and kissed her roughly, his fingers slipping between her legs and steadily rubbing her clit. She moaned and bucked beneath him and finally feeling Peter's hold on her slack slightly, she began to grind down on his hand as much as she could, desperate for the friction, his ministrations driving her crazy for her release. It didn't take long as he continued the welcome assault on her throbbing bud. And as his lips devoured hers, she felt that delicious pull stemming from her lower abdomen. She tore her lips from his, one leg wrapping tightly around Peter's to steady herself as she threw her head back and whimpered in pleasure, trying to inhale breath back into herself as she came, her back arching and her fingers digging into his upper arms.
He smiled as his lips continued to press along her collarbone, feeling her body tremble as she came down from her orgasm. He was done with the foreplay...
Grabbing her hands, he pulled her up, turning her away from him on unsteady legs and bending her over the table. He pushed her down gently until she was hovering on her elbows upon the desk beneath her. He gently kicked her legs apart, using one hand to grab a fistful of her hair, while the other positioned himself between her legs. He gave a swift tug on her hair, pulling her head back as he thrust purposefully into her, causing her to cry out in pleasure. He quickly built to a pounding rhythm; his eyes scanning the bruises that were forming along her back; a lingering reminder of their quickie earlier in the flat staircase, and he felt himself instinctively lean his body protectively over hers. He released her hair, one hand snaking under her arm and up around her neck, his fingers settling under her jaw, holding her face close to his as his other hand steadied tightly on her hip. He was possessing her, and she him as she pushed back against him, matching him thrust for thrust. They were unleashing their frustration upon one another through their lust.
This was angry sex…
...and it was oh so good!