Derek

 

Her doe eyes tell me everything I need to know when I walk in. It’s just the two of us, and the cute little brunette averts her eyes, fixing her towel in an attempt to cover herself more properly.

It doesn’t help, I can see the outline of her voluptuous breasts as she inadvertently squeezes them together to protect herself from my gaze. Fucking delicious.

“Small world,” I say, nodding toward her.

She stares at me through wide eyes and nods. “Yes.”

I take a seat close to her, but not too close to make her uncomfortable. I’m not an asshole, mind you. She’s sitting in the middle of the room on the longest of the benches, while I take my seat opposite to her, so I can watch her and observe her reactions.

I know what I like, and I know what I need. She’s the perfect prey at the perfect place. Already naked, glistening with sweat and all mine as long as we’re not disturbed in here. And I reckon that won’t happen, because I asked the staff to close this area to the public for a while. It pays to be me, equipped with power and money, and this is one of the places where it works best.

“We met, at the elevator earlier,” I tell her, even though I’m fairly certain that she remembers that encounter. “Derek Cartwright.”

“Ava… Ava Claire,” she whispers, her voice breaking. How adorable.

“Did you enjoy your spa treatment?” I ask.

She blushes, still hugging her towel as she looks at me, a wet strand of hair falling into her beautiful face.

“Yes,” she breathes. “It was very relaxing.”

“What did you get?” I ask.

“A massage… oriental something,” she mutters.

“Oriental Essence,” I conclude. “A classic.”

“Do you… do you come here often?” she wants to know. She takes a deep breath and I can almost see her thoughts written all over her forehead. She’s telling herself to calm down and be cool, but it’s easier said than done. I intimidate her, and I love that.

“As often as I can,” I say. “It’s a nice getaway once in a while.”

Ava Claire lowers her eyes and nods. “Yeah, it’s nice when you can get it. I just won a certificate at my office’s Christmas party.”

I look at her, trying to figure her out. I don’t want her to feel ashamed of not being able to afford this on a regular basis, like I am.

“What do you do?” I ask her. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I’m a junior copywriter at an advertising agency,” she says.

“Interesting,” I say. “So, you’re one of the creatives who come up with great slogans to sell products?”

She smiles. “Kind of. We always work in a team, so it’s not just me.”

“Of course.”

She looks at me, clearing her throat before she dares to ask, “What do you do?”

Ripping off people for my own benefit, would be the honest answer. Very few people get to where I am by being honest and hard working. I’ve always been good with computers and even at a young age, I knew that it would pay off to learn about coding and programming. If you use these skills properly, that shit can pay off big time. It did for me.

I committed credit card fraud, more than once. I never took money from private individuals, but corporations. Bit by bit. The only difference between me and the average thief—next to my method—was that, after gaining access to funds and stealing their money, I didn’t piss it all away, but instead was smart enough to invest it in a more lucrative way. The Mandarin Oriental was one of those investments. I haven’t had to revert back to my old illegal ways for years, but rather have become a more or less proper business man.

“Stock market,” I tell her, because I know she won’t ask any questions about that, no one ever does. “I invest money and multiply it.”

She huffs. “Good for you.”

I furl my eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” she hurries to say, waving her hand in defense. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging or anything. I mean, I work in advertising, I know what it’s like for people to judge you because of your job.”

“You get judged?” I wonder. “For what?”

She clears her throat and lets out a helpless giggle.

“Oh, you know, ads. They annoy people, and then there’s people who say we’re manipulating people into buying stuff they don’t need,” she says. “Seriously, you’ve never thought or heard that before?”

I shrug. “I don’t care much about the opinion of other people. It’s usually the least successful people who judge those who work hard at making something for themselves. Why would I care what they think?”

She ponders my words for a few moments, tilting her head to the side as she says, “That’s a good point, actually.”

I chuckle. “You sound surprised. Didn’t expect a man like me to come up with something half way clever to say?”

There it is. She blushes.

“Um, no, why would I… that’s just…,” she stumbles over her words, causing me to laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m just teasing you,” I let her know. “Sometimes there’s nothing more endearing to me than a blushing woman.”

She looks at me, tightening the towel around her luscious body again, squeezing those enticing breasts right in front of my eyes.

My cock is twitching beneath my own towel, starting to harden as I fantasize about touching her body, running my hands down her sexy curves and kneading those lush breasts.

Fuck, I have to have her.

“Let me ask you something, Ava.”

She gulps as she stares at me expectantly, almost looking as if she’s scared of whatever I might be about to say. “Yes?”

“Are you done with massages for the day?” I ask.

She purses her lips, cocking her head to the side as she tries to understand where I’m going with this. “What do you mean?”

“Would you like another massage?”

“Um…,”

“By me,” I add, enjoying the view of her breaking apart beneath my gaze.