The Billionaire Professor (2015)
Was she playing coy? Or was she really not moved by my presence? Either way, her cool-as-a-cucumber reaction to my approaching her was exactly what I wish more women would give me.
If the average woman knew what type of impression she gave when she appeared so eager and hung on a man’s every word as if he were some god. That type of woman didn’t impress me. She only made me think that she wanted desperately for the man to crave her. She wanted approval.
Oh god, please don’t bring down the women’s movement on me for even thinking it, but those women are like puppies vying for a man’s affection. “If I’m the friendliest and listen the most attentively and pretend to be interested enough maybe, just maybe he’ll take me home.”
This one, though, she was as different as I had originally thought. When she turned and her emerald green eyes scanned my body, lingering perhaps perilously a bit too long on certain body parts, I knew I had discovered a gem in the sand. She indeed was a pure spirit, but a pure spirit who possessed a healthy dose of sexuality. My type of woman.
Not usually a man who is short on words, her presence, her glow momentarily took my breath away. I asked her if she were as bored as she looked. Her throaty laugh said it all even before she got the words out. “Couldn’t be more board. I’m not extremely comfortable in these types of settings.”
Oh how I wanted to say that I knew. That she was perfectly suited to a quiet evening in a luxury penthouse, unencumbered by any clothes, laying on satin sheets with my fingers exploring all of those sexual, subtle curves.
I knew I was taking an enormous chance, but I had to ask her. I didn’t think I could stand there making coherent small talk with her when I madly craved her body. “I know this sounds quite forward. I also know I stand the chance of never seeing you again if you say no, but I have a question to ask you.”
Her eyes begged me to continue, but as hard as I gazed at her, I couldn’t figure out whether the straightforward approach would backfire on her. This desire for her, I feared, ran deeper than sex. Much deeper. I felt a bond with this woman that went beyond pure flesh. I felt that we had been my model in a former life. I saw a flash that I had been a Renaissance artist and she would be the model that would promulgate my work to immortality. Her body would forever be admired by men throughout the centuries.
“Yes?” she asked. I wondered at this point if my pause was too long. But I went ahead and asked. “I’d very much like to treat you to an evening in a luxurious penthouse suite, one that more becomes your true essence.”
I had heard many pick up lines in my time – well, okay, not many were aimed at me, but my friends. And never in all that time did anyone use that one. I’m betting that’s because no one could offer that. Intriguing. Could this man actually back up that line?
Quickly my brain stepped up in an attempt to counter my body’s strong aching to be possessed by this man, thoroughly and totally. I took a few moments to answer. Certainly I had never left a bar with a man. But I had witnessed many of my friends doing just that. But with far less distinguished men. Mostly my friends accepted invitations from men our own age, already half sloshed.
This man, by contrast, appeared to be in total control of his senses. He didn’t appear to have too many drinks. I tried to look around, thinking that maybe a friend had put him up to it. Perhaps my brain suggested to me that he had pulled the short straw and was the one to tease me, to humiliate me.
I didn’t see any buddies standing in the wings. I looked him over again. His eyes were a clear Pacific blue. Even under his dark blue suit, you could tell he had strong, muscular arms. I could only imagine what they were like without a shirt.
Of course, I had more than an idle curiosity about the rest of his body as well. I glanced quickly down at his legs, imagining the strength in his thighs. It was highly unlikely he would allow me to take him right there on the bar, like my body wanted to do. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist, and then feel the reaction. I was sure I would find him responsive, his penis would harden nearly on contact.
Should I? Could I leave with him? What would my friends think?
She remained unresponsive to my question. Should I repeat myself? I never had to before. But perhaps she didn’t realize that I was suggesting I take her away from all of this tonight, offering a sanctuary in a sea of slobbering stinking drunks.
Just as I was about to paraphrase my offer, she finally showed a small amount of emotion. “Interesting pick up line,” she finally commented, continuing to study me.
It was one of the very few times in my life I actually hoped a woman would find me worthy enough to allow me to take her my penthouse.
“Did I understand you right?” she finally asked. Only the subtle up turn of her luscious red lips belied the beginnings of a slight smile. My penis hardened more at the thought that this goddess may actually be considering my offer.
“You probably did” I replied, giving her a grin in response. “I’m offering you an environment that’s more suited to your tastes. One that wouldn’t involve men who had no idea how to conduct themselves in front of a lady the likes of you.”
“You certainly have a unique approach,” she said. “You don’t appear to be the type of man who would offer something he couldn’t deliver on.”
“Oh, I can deliver on it, my dear, I can deliver on the offer.”
I held my breath while I gave her plenty of time to respond. This goddess was a total enigma.
I’m not sure what made me trust this man. Usually, a man this gorgeous, this stylish wouldn’t give me a second look, let alone offer me some outrageous proposal.
As ludicrous as it sounded on the surface, there was something sincere in the delivery. Something in my heart—or was that my clitoris? – told me to trust him. Again, my mind reminded me how I was about to make a totally irresponsible decision. Could I trust my heart? Should I trust her heart? Would my mind overrule my heart?