LITMIR.BIZ

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she wanted was to sink into the ground. God damned those pills. She felt that Alex was going somewhere but she didn’t move. Alex went into the lift, pushed the fifty-eighth button and carefully put the girl to the floor.

      “Can you stand? Or maybe, should I call for a wheelchair for you?” a soft baritone sounded over her ear.

      Angie looked at him through the sheet of her wet from champagne hair and froze. He was much more handsome than in magazines and the Net. He eyes of astonishing blue color watched smiling that actually made her glad. Everything happened so fast that she couldn’t invent a story to tell.

      “Thank you,” she whispered in a husky voice, trying to move away from him, “but I can stand on my feet.”

      He nodded silently and turn away. Angie, otherwise, couldn’t take her eyes from him. She had to admit that her perfect plan had some defects: if somebody of them could seduce, it was he. His sexual energetics filled the small space of the lift so quickly that she felt it on the physical level. The masculinity was reflected in every feature of his haughty face; she studied his proud profile, straight aristocratic nose, arrogant chin, sensual manly mouth, which crooked in a light sneer and felt waves of light vibration shaking her bode from the top to the heels. “God, he is just irresistible!” she thought. Her gaze moved and got caught up to the mirror wall of the lift. “God, who is this?” the thought run through her mind and for the second time on that day a wave of desperation covered her. She was in one lift with a walking sex machine and looked like a winy seamaid. Wet hair was hanging like icicles covering her face and breasts, one eye which avoided the fate of his brother being buried under the layer of her hair was in a captivity of flowing mascara. She felt utterly discouraged. So here was the seduction of a millionaire. In this form she could pour whiskey into him only with a force that didn’t fit her physical training level. She mournfully sighed and lowered her head. Bad luck today!

      Alex was standing straight and looking at his companion with the corner of his eye, she was similar to a little kitten, who was poked into the milk with its face; so touchingly helpless and… wet. It all could be very funny, if not the fact that his tender bits were burning because of the quite impressive kick of her slim leg, which was shown flirty from the dress slit. The leg was dainty; the figure was good too, but her face was hard to be seen though he could more or less suggested that there was everything according to the price of the plastic surgeon. As the today’s world demanded. All that he had already seen, touched and tasted. Possibly he had a simple depression, even if the women made him feel boring. Thus, in a complete silence they reached the fifty-eighth floor. Lift doors opened and they came into the entrance hall with two massive oak tables on each side and a white carpet in the middle. Alex opened the door with his key and, giving her a bow, pronounced:

      “Welcome to the holy of holies, milady. You didn’t name yourself, how shall I address to you?”

      “Carrie Meeber,” Angie barely audibly soughed, calling the name one of her favorite characters, hoping that Mr. Perfection didn’t read American Classics’ books and went into the office. Through the layer of her hair, she saw a big room with an artificial fireplace and a huge table behind which there was the stained glass window and the whole New York was observed through it, like on the palm. She stood still for a second from such a magnificence, comparing it to her study in the restaurant which now seemed to be a mouse’s hole. She slowly approached to the window and saw the same picture that Alex had been observing from this place an hour ago. Big city never slept.

      “If you want to take care of yourself, Carrie,” she heard a soft baritone behand her back, “you may go to the shower-room till I’ll change clothes.”

      It didn’t slip away from her that he pointed out her name making it stressed. Possibly, except business papers he still read classics. However, it would be better for her sake if he didn’t. Not raising her head, she stole past Alex to the shower-room. Appeared in it, she immediately slammed the door behind her and leaned to it. Nervous tension and flu pulls brought her to the complete exhaustion. She slowly took her hair away from her face and observed one more miracle room. Decorated with black marbles and huge mirror to the floor the shower-room represented itself the wonder of the up-date technologies. The shower cabin was separated with the glass partition and had built into the wall sprays, which could change the direction depending from the adjustments. Really, she was like the newcomer from the cave, who firstly saw the real world. She sat down on the puff standing near the towel box and let herself to take another breath and thought calmly. The events of last ten minutes ran through her head. Here she was coming directly to Alex holding a glass of champagne at hand. Here was a moment, when she was a bit swung, damn flu pills, the following moment she tripped over, and here she almost recovered her balance, just a little bit… and then there was a sudden harsh kick to her shoulder. And as it was in the slow motion, she nosedived rightly onto the dream of all female America. How was it sung in the song? Something like: “I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me?” Yeap, it wasn’t her day today for sure”.

      She came to the sink and, throwing her fair curls back, washed her face, made new wings, colored her eyelashes and slightly touched her lips with the lipstick. She fluffed her humid hair putting it to the side to make pomper those icicles. She glanced at the mirror and was satisfied. In spite of the feverish shine in her eyes and pinky cheeks and… God, the end of her nose too, she looked hot enough. Powdering her face a bit, she held her head up, straighten her shoulders and left her chic sanctuary. She still felt sick and swayed from the illness but it wasn’t the time for her to give up, she had to lead all this till the end.

      From the opposite side of the office Alex came out buttoning his shirt. Humid, dark hair waved a little over his forehead. Angie made a gasp, when she saw his flat, tough belly with vivid cubes and light hair path going down. Such a perfect press she saw only in magazines. She had a mad wish to come closer and checked the hard relieves with a touch. Making couple of steps, he lifted his head and stopped. His hands froze on the second button, blue eyes rounded in astonishment, when he saw a beautiful girl, who was watching him with her dark, cyan eyes and a foxy smile over her lips. Breath-taking, just unbelievably beautiful eyes. Combination of aristocratic accurate nose, lifted cheek-bones and plump natural lips blew up the imagination. His gaze lowered to her voluptuous breasts, thin waist and well-rounded hips. Her legs were hidden under the dress but he somehow was pretty sure they were slender and nice. Though, why it shouldn’t be checked. At least he had to prove his reputation of a Latin lover, which was created for him by the reporters.

      He smiled and said pointing to Angie’s bag:

      “Why don’t you put your suitcase?”

      “Yes… No.”

      “So is it yes or no?” he sneered slyly. “Feel yourself at home, Carrie. Would you like to drink something?”

      “Don’t you need to come back to the party?”

      He shrugged his shoulders.

      “I don’t think anything unusual can happen there without me. Moreover, my hair is still wet.”

      He came to the ambry and pushed the button. The door slowly opened and Angie saw a mini bar. Alex plashed a little whiskey for him and turned to Angie raising his brow questioningly.

      “I wouldn’t refuse form mineral water,” Angie answered. There was a desert in her throat and the room was going circles in front of her eyes. She quickly sat on the sofa.

      He came back with two glasses, the one with mineral water he put ahead of her and sat on the opposite sofa. She saw penetratingly handsome, noble man who knew well what kind of effect he had on women. Everything was talking about that from his penetrating gaze of his blue, velvet eyes, strong hand brining the glass of whiskey to his lips to the loose pose he was sitting in. He, in his turn, saw a beauty girl with silk, milky skin, light natural blush on the cheek-bones and bush of fair hair tumbling down over her bare well-turned shoulders. The room was filled with invisible threads of sexual tension, which was sparkling in the air penetrating deeply under

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