Page 16 of Serenity

“…Warm sunsets.”

At the uncertainty dancing in those cinnamon browns, I clarified.

“You smell like warm sunsets, baby.”

That tickled him. Absent hysterics, it was more of a stifled chuckle.

“Baby? I’m old enough to be your—”

“—Embarrassingly young daddy or shamelessly fine uncle. Yet you still crawl your ass into this club on a night when you know plenty of women my age or younger seek to quench vulgar appetites.”

“And what are you quenching tonight, gorgeous?”

The pitter-patter in my chest could easily be mistaken for rainfall. Wildly, my lashes fanned my face. Tongue outstretched, I licked my lips and freed a breath. “Boredom.”

“Are you quenched yet?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I see.”

I wondered what else he saw. Did he see my frustration? My resignation? Did he see I was ready to reject formalities and indulge in furtive fantasies? Up and down, my eyes roved, unabashedly taking in his presence again. From him, I’d never get enough. Far from quenched. I was fucking famished.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your reason for being here.”

“I’m here on business,” he revealed, taking a puff of the cigar and scrutinizing me with eyes that failed to depart from the art of my frame.

Our ogling transformed into intercourse of the verbal variety. We flirted for what felt like mere minutes, though an hour had passed as we breezed through the get-to-know-you stuff. I learned that Duke had lost his mother to cancer some years back, was single, divorced, forty-two—twelve years my senior, and was a leader in the oil business.

Top dog.

Leader

Commander

Head honcho.

The boss.

Everything about the man was big. Big hands. Big feet. Big dick. Big money. Big, quiet money. Not that haughty and loud new money. Being born into wealth helped me discern its many variations. Duke was of the former.

“Where’s your man?”

“In front of me.”

That made him laugh. Made those flawless pearly whites go on full display.

“What happened to your happily ever after, Duke?”

“You’re forward,” he noted, widening his legs and taking a puff of the cigar. “I like that shit.”

Up and down, his eyes roved. “Love that shit.” He drove it home.

“How else would I hit my target?”