The Seared One

She was watching him as he put down the fork and grabbed the last bit of thick meat in his fingers and gripped it with his teeth. The juice from the meat began to run down his chin as he managed to shove the large piece into his mouth. He was smiling the whole time, but his eyes were piercing, somewhat hidden by the random strands of straight black hair that fell past his forehead from its slicked back position. Her eyes had widened with his strange behavior and she watched him pick up his napkin. “Wow,” she said, as he wiped the excess liquid from his skin. “Freaky. You must really like your meat.” “I grew up hungry,” he said. “We were pretty poor. I never had meat so I certainly appreciate it.” “I sense an accent,” she said, still leaning forward, her long hair falling over her bare shoulders. “The girls at work think it’s cute. Where are you from?” “Alabama.” “How long have you been in California?” “A long time.” “Why Riverside?” “It seemed nice. Small town but not really. The weather was appealing. I was tired of all the rain.” He grabbed his glass and finished the wine. “I moved here after college.” “A poor boy like you got to go to college?” “Only on a scholarship.” “My,” she said, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. “Sports?” He pursed his lips. “Do I look athletic to you?” When he noted her reaction he merely smiled. “Don’t worry. You won’t offend me.” With that, she put down the glass. “Well…it must have been academics, then.” “It was.” “Good for you.” Finally, she leaned back against the booth seat. “Intelligent men turn me on.” “Really?” He shook his head. “I get the feeling the jock would’ve scored better with you.” She lowered her eyes. “Well, you’d be wrong.” “Yeah?” He pulled out his wallet. “How would a rich man do?” He noticed how those same eyes picked themselves up from her barely eaten plate of food and stared back. They grew somewhat larger as if anticipating better things. Yeah. He knew it. “I’m not, by the way,” he added. “I just thought I’d ask.” She put her napkin on the plate. “You’re bad.” He noted how she pouted, as if upset and intrigued at the same time, an obvious attempt at coyness. “Not really,” he disagreed, still staring at her. “You’re eyes,” she began. “They’re perverse.” Dominic felt his stare turn to frown. “Perverse? That’s a strong word. It can mean a lot of things: stubborn, awkward, wicked—” “Wicked.” He was quiet for a few seconds while he digested her personal take on him. Part of him was insulted that she had summed him up in one, negative adjective. Although when he kept his eyes on her he could tell she liked a wicked man— He signaled for the check. “Any dessert?” She watched as he pulled out two hundreds. “Maybe later…” When the waitress brought the check, he handed her the bills and motioned for her to keep the change. She smiled wide. “Oh, wow. Thank you, sir.” Dominic nodded. “My pleasure. Thank you for the excellent service, Adrianna.” The young woman blushed before the striking man and quickly walked off. Dominic turned back to his date and noted her once-hot expression had cooled. “You certainly made her night.” He took a moment to study her sudden immaturity. She was acting like such a selfish, little— “I intend to make your night,” he spoke up. “Or are you no longer interested in me because I over-tipped the waitress?” “Adrianna? How nice you remembered her name. Do you even remember mine?” Returning the wallet to inside his suit jacket, he then scratched his head. “You caught me off guard. Let me think—” In a huff she looked away. “You’re not funny.” “Most perverse people aren’t.” He slowly rose from the intimate booth and held out his hand in her direction. “Come. If you still wish to have dessert with me.” She seemed reluctant but soon allowed her hand to touch his. Immediately, he yanked her from the table and held tightly to her as he quickly meandered through the busy restaurant, avoiding all eyes as he pulled her along like the spoiled child she apparently was. When they got to the exit he held the door for her. But she balked as he stood there impatiently. “What?” he asked, getting frustrated. “You never answered my question.” She stood there with arms rigidly folded. Sadly her thin biceps and forearms covered the most attractive part of her: the fleshy breasts she had lured him in with from across the table. He could sink his teeth into them right now—only it would be more punishment than pleasure for all the shit she was putting him through at that moment— “Kathryn Wagner. One of our secretaries from the fourth floor. You’ve been at the company for one year and three months. Your birthday is August nineteenth and you were born in—” He suddenly stopped when he saw her face. “Well, you were born ten years after me.” She dropped her arms. “You must be close with Personnel.” “When I need to be. And by the way, your last review was glowing. Congratulations.” The woman rolled her blue eyes. “You’re five-foot-six, your shoe size is eight, and you weigh…” Dominic narrowed his gaze as he studied her lean form. “One hundred and…” He paused to lick his lips. “Fourteen. And a half.” Kathryn’s ruby lips parted. “That’s not in my personnel file! How do you know??” “But was I right?” Her mouth was still open. “Yes,” she whispered. With that, he reached once more for the door. “Dessert? Yes or no?”