It's early—but this morning, I'm on a mission. I have a plan that I hope will work.

The barista behind the bar calls out my name. "Derek! Derek! I have a triple shot Americano for Derek!"

I walk up to retrieve my drink and she smiles, batting her eyelashes.

"I heard you the first time," I laugh.

"Derek, huh? I don't hear that name too often in Manhattan … Texas maybe, but the city? Never. And you're more James Bond than a cowboy, anyway … by the looks of you." She says this with a devilish grin.

"There's a first time for everything," I reply, grabbing my drink and turning to leave. I can tell she doesn't want the conversation to end; she's practically undressing me with her eyes, and yes, I'll admit it; she's cute enough to fuck. But today, I've only got one woman on my mind.

I give the barista a quick wave, walk out onto the street with my drink in hand, and I pass a local flower shop.

Flowers aren't normally my thing, but today I stop, turn around, and walk in. Without hesitation, I ask the florist for 100 long-stemmed roses, and I watch as they reach into a small refrigerator and gather them all.

What? Don't roll your eyes at me.

Trust me, roses aren't as cliché as you think they are. They work every time.

Have you ever seen a bunch of 100 long-stemmed red roses? Because it's fucking striking, and today, I'm out to make an impression.

To say I'm competitive is an understatement. I eat competition for fucking breakfast.

And if you think I'm going to let Carter gain the upper hand with Eliza, you're mistaken.

I walk out of the flower shop with a box in my arms that's bigger than I imagined it'd be. I envisioned tucking something slender under one arm, but no, this box is massive, complete with a red velvet bow bigger than my face.

Holding the box in both arms, I reach the elevator to Eliza's apartment. Without any free hands, I have to lift my leg and tap the button with my knee.

The door slides open and I walk in.

There's an older gentleman standing in the back corner of the elevator, and he looks at my box, looks back at me, and gives me a shrill whistle.

"Who's the lucky lady?" he asks.

I don't know whether to take this as a rhetorical question or not, but I decide to keep the banter light. "Just a friend," I smile.

"She must be some friend," he replies with emphasis, and as the doors slide open to his floor, he turns around and gives me a quick nod, saying, "Good luck."

I return the gesture and flash him a smile, but in my mind I'm saying to myself, does it look like I fucking need luck? I've got this in the bag.

As soon as the elevator reaches the 72^nd floor, I step out and walk toward Eliza's apartment. Without hesitation this time, I knock on her door and she immediately answers.

She pulls the door open, and the surprise on her face is palpable.

Bingo.

I told you the flowers were a good idea.

"Derek—I—I wasn't expecting you."

"I know; I thought I'd surprise you," I smile.

"And what's this?" she asks, pointing to the box.

"This is for you," I reply. "Open it."

I hand her the box and it's heavier than she thought it would be, so she fumbles it for a moment, and I help her catch it, which causes us to both laugh.

"It's OK, you don't have to be nervous," I say, taking the top off of the box, to reveal what's inside.

"Very funny," she smirks.

And then I fucking swear that I almost hear her gasp. "Oh, they're beautiful," she smiles, leaning in to smell all 100 roses. As she leans down, I can't help but catch a perfect view of her tits, and my eyes travel down that dark, cavernous trail of her cleavage.

I know … I know … I'm a guy, okay? I can't fucking help it.

I can feel my cock twitch in my pants.

"I think we should spend the day together," I say, "Just you and I, and this big, beautiful city."

"Well … Daddy, you've certainly got my attention," she smiles, "but I have a lot of meetings planned today."

I'm not going to lie; the way she calls me 'daddy' makes my heart kick in my chest more than it should.

"Forget those meetings," I reply, reaching over and stroking her hair with one finger, "the only meeting you need is with me." I'm standing so close to her now that I can smell her shampoo.

She laughs and shakes her head.

"It's tempting," she purrs, placing one hand on mine. "But people will …" and she stops for a moment, placing her hand on the silk of my tie, starting at the knot, and slowly sliding it down, "… be very …" and her hand moves off my tie and is now resting on the buckle of my pants as she leans in to whisper into my ear, "upset."

"Is that so," I say, just above a whisper. It isn't a question, but more like a dare. My cock is fucking harder than a tree trunk, and just as big, and further more, it seems to have grown its own pulse now too.

"But … I may be able to find some time," she purrs. "Meet me at Emporio Armani on Fifth Avenue after work for a drink."

"Deal," I reply without hesitation.

And before she can get another word in, I lean in and bring my lips to hers. She opens her mouth, and I nibble on her bottom lip tenderly with my teeth before pressing my tongue against hers. I pull her tightly into my embrace, and as we kiss, the entire fucking outside world melts away.

I pull away, and give her a smile. She looks flushed and breathless.

"See you tonight," I say, and walk down the hall, resisting the urge to give a victory pump in the air with my fist, or to turn around and see the look on her face.

Why? Because I don't need to turn around.

I made the impression I need.

As they say … mission accomplished.