Author's Note: 12 emails! Good lawd! 12 emails over the color of our newest man, Dwight. (And yes I changed his name from the synopsis as well too.) For some reason as I was laying out the story in my head, I changed his color. So when i started writing, which was a day before I posted, Dwight (formerly Christopher to my slower catcher uppers) he was black with a Brian McNight feel. But on paper, Dwight turned white Clive Owens. And I changed the cover up as well. Amazing what technology can do. I hope this does not deter you from reading. I swear it gets good.
Also, responses to other emails and comments: No I don't like Mel either.
And yes I'm still accepting entries into the Heart and Bellini Contest. I'm trying to get a family tree going on the website and if any one knows of a family tree html I can work with or a website were I can set it up, please let me know. The contest is that You have to guess the most characters. Right now, someone has guess I think twelve (I said I think. I gotta go back and count again, but send your entry in cause you might name someone I forgot about) last I counted and I'll end the contest at the end of this month so email me your entries naming the most Heart and Bellini Characters in my books and send the entries to firstname.lastname@example.org
She was struck speechless that a man of his caliber was in the store, but then determined that he was probably there to buy something for his skinny little girlfriend.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The words had popped out her mouth rather harsh, but she wasn’t about to apologize.
He didn’t seem bothered by her tone. “I need to buy some items for a young lady about a size six, I believe,” he said under his breath as if there were a room full of people trying to listen to them.
Coming around the counter, she composed herself to gather her animosity for this rich ass Sugar Daddy’s spoiling his mistresses. ‘That’s his business,’ she said to herself. Quickly she checked his ring finger and saw it was empty and there was no mark on it. There was no mistaken that he was cute, albeit he was white, but she wasn’t going to flirt with a man buying clothes for another woman. That’s just sick.
‘Why do you want to flirt at all?’ her mind fussed. ‘We don’t need them. We have a law degree to obtain!’
Didn’t matter because he was still a fool to spend his money on a woman he didn’t sound like he wanted to marry.
“We just got in a new line of dresses from New York I think she’ll like,” she said plastering a fake smile on her face.
“I wasn’t looking for dresses,” he said.
She turned to him frowning. “What were you looking for?”
He stepped up uncomfortably close to her. “Bras. She needs girlie bras.” He looked really embarrassed.
“What size is she again?”
Sinclaire forced herself not to laugh because he didn’t understand her. “No, I meant what size is her chest. Her bra size.”
He blushed and looked even more handsome. “I-I couldn’t even tell you. She’s just seventeen going on eighteen.”
Oh gawd! A pedophile?! Maybe she should call the police on him. Just in case she needed to make a report on how he looked, Sinclaire took a really good look at him while she led him over to their lingerie section with her peripheral vision.
He was exactly six feet two, broad shoulders and a thickness about him that she couldn’t tell was fat or muscle. No facial hair and looking freshly groomed, she could tell his hands even looked manicured. A clean psycho? What a good oxymoron.
Still good looking. Now even better on the second glance.
How many kids did he really get with that gorgeous white smile, from those thick lips? Were they as soft as they looked?
‘Stop that! He’s a pervert, Sinclaire!’ she scolded herself and continued with her observation.
There was no dunlap around the belt around, but his long coat didn’t help her really assessed his true body dimensions. Very well dressed now that she noticed and he smelled of amber, oak and … something unique that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she wasn’t going to turn around and bury her nose in his neck to find out what was that scent. Plus that would mean she would have to stand on her tiptoes to even get to his neck.
She remembered Momma Gerty had a box of scents and often had the house filled with scents. The old woman believed the different scents provided health benefits for her ailments and it worked for a while to make Momma Gerty happy, but then the pain became too much and nothing, not even the morphine made it stop.
“Do they have to look so …” He was lost for words as he looked over the selection.
“You said you wanted girlie,” she snipped.
He shot her a cautious tone picking up her harshness. “Are you having a bad night?” he questioned.
“No, are you?”
“Actually, I am. My daughter didn’t like the selection my assistant picked out and I never saw her so angry with me before. She accused me of buying granny underwear.” He frowned very bothered. “She’s never made a big thing about underwear before. Are all women like this?”
Sinclaire looked at him in disbelief. “You’re getting underwear for your daughter?”
Looking relieved, she said, “That’s good.”
He raised a brow.
“I-I mean, I wasn’t interested in you like that. I thought you were a pervert,” she blurted out and then gasped in embarrassment.
He frowned disturbed. “I’d much rather you were interested in me.”
She wanted to die in embarrassment, as it suddenly felt really hot in there. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“It explains your attitude,” he said smirking.
Changing the subject, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know her cup size, would you, sir?”
“Please call me Mr. Bowman, and no. I don’t go around looking at my daughter’s breast.” He flushed in his own embarrassment. “But I cannot go home until I get something.”
Wanting to help, she looked around the store to see if there was anything to help him with. All the dummies had been taken off the floor to be cleaned and they were the only ones in the store. “Is she well developed?”
“What’s well developed for a seventeen year old?”
This was more difficult that she thought and with no model around, she only had one solution. “Y-You could look at mine and compare.”
Feeling really self-conscious, she almost crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, now, through my clothes. Unless you’ve seen her breast naked?” she asked sarcastically.
“No!” he said disgustedly.
“So in order to do this right, you’re going to have to tell me her measurements.”
“I don’t know her measurements.”
“Well, compared to me, how small is she?”
His blushes were making him more and more adorable. “I’d have to… hug you to know that.”
This didn’t sound as bad as it seemed. “Okay.”
He took off his coat and she knew positively he didn’t have an inch of fat on his body! “Ready?” he asked as if preparing for battle as he laid his coat over a clothing rack.
She just hoped no one came in the store and embarrassed them both. “Sure.”
Stepping to her, he confidently moved his arms around her waist and looked down at her. “You’re shorter than she is,” he noted.
Nervously she rested her hands on his thick arms and hoped he didn’t notice her nipples had hardened. He smelled even better up close and it took all her will power not to bury her face in his chest. “Her bra size has nothing to do with my height, Mr. Bowman.” It was so difficult to make eye contact. He was too close and her body was quickly reacting to his proximity. ‘Don’t you dare move your hips!’ her mind screamed at her body.
“You’re going to have to put your arms around my neck then,” he said.
Yes, her hands were shaking as she rose up on her tiptoes to move her arms around his neck.
“What was that?” he asked.
‘Oh gawd! You did not just whimper!’ She wanted to die in shame. “N-Nothing. Is this helping you?”
He pursed his lips together and she gasped as he held her tighter. “You’re a lot fuller than she is. A whole lot.”
Was he making fun of her size? “I’m a grown woman,” she said stiffly.
“Really?” His arms tightened around her unusual lean waist that accentuated her full hourglass figure. “How old?”
“Twenty-four, but this has nothing to do with your daughter.”
He chuckled, drawing her close and for some reason his face seemed closer to hers. “I know, but that pervert remark just irked me more than I thought.”
“I-I’m sorry, sir, truly,” she said remorsefully, relaxing in his arms.
“Then you shouldn’t mind accommodating me.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she agreed, but probably because of the heady smell that was hypnotizing her into whatever submission he requested.
“So how thick are you?”
She knew she was blushing so bad. “I’m a thirty-two double D-Cup.”
“What are the cup sizes between?”
It took all her effort not the make her voice quiver.
Those deep olive green eyes of his looked down at her chest and she knew she had died and the quickening of her heart was making her stay conscious. “No, she’s smaller. About a thirty-two … and I’d say just an C.”
“Good. Then we can find something she would like,” she said with relief knowing he was going to let her go soon so she wouldn’t embarrass herself anymore.
He didn’t release her.
Did he enjoy this as much as she?
“Mr. Bowman, you can let me go now.”
“Oh yes,” he said, abruptly releasing her and turned away slightly to put his coat on. She heard him clear his throat, but that was about it as she too straightened herself and gained her composure.
“I could pick them out for you,” Sinclaire suggested as he turned back around to her.
“Sure,” he said staring at her as if he knew a secret, but didn’t want to tell.
She turned her back to him as she picked out several bras. For some reason she could feel the heat of his beautiful eye on the small of her back and rounding down to her behind. She tried not to be embarrassed that the man casually seemed to take his time perusing her body from behind.
Sinclaire’s eyes happened to look down at her own chest and she gasped realized that her nipples had gotten so hard that they were poking out from her shirt. That’s what he had been looking at mischievously.
‘Go down! Go down!’ she ordered to herself terrified to turn around and taking overly long to find the items he needed. This was the most embarrassing moment of her entire life.
He’d moved closer. She didn’t have to turn around to know. The pleasurable scent of him increased and almost made her blind in distraction. Her nipples almost hurt as they were stretched even more from their own arousal. Her hands itched to touch her own chest to rub the swelling tips. ‘What is wrong with you?! He is just a man!’
Men came in the store off and on - All kinds to buy gifts for their wives, girlfriends and yes, daughters sometimes. For the wealthy customers, Michelle often kept an account and held private showings that even husbands arranged.
It wasn’t as if this man intimidated her. Nor was she in fear of her safety because he looked wealthy enough to buy half the store if he wanted to.
His deep voice vibrated her eardrum, startling her slightly, as he asked, “How long have you worked here?”
Quickly she answered, hoping it wouldn’t prompt him for more questions. “Not long.”
“You’re kind of old to be working in a boutique. Are you a manager?”
“No.” She turned to him with the bras clutched to her chest; feeling very insecure all over and hoping those green eyes of his didn’t have x-ray vision.
Sinclaire had been right about him looking over her body because he hadn’t expected her to turn suddenly. His eyes had to rise from her mid-section to meet her eyes, but he took his time to do this clearly visually caressing the front of her. At first she could barely catch her breath. “T-
These should be sufficient looking for the both of you. How many did you need?”
“As many any seventeen year old would desire,” he said.
“Well in that case, I would suggest you get them all and matching underwear as well.”
His phone started to ring and he looked at the display. He seemed uneasy about the call, but he answered it quickly telling the person to hold on for a moment. To Sinclaire, he asked, “How much for just the bras?”
She looked over the pile as assessed the price. “After tax about four hundred.”
He didn’t flinch as he took out his wallet and handed her a gold credit card. “Do whatever damage you want, I trust you.” He winked and started talking on his phone, while walking out the store.
What a lucky daughter!
Sinclaire, who had never had contact with her own father, had always wished if she had a good father, he would do something like this. With care and attention, she picked out things she just knew any eighteen years old would love.
By the time he returned, she was just ringing up the total to about seven hundred dollars. He looked over her selection and nodded satisfied.
“Can you wrap these up and have them delivered to an address?” he asked, looking through his pocket for something.
“Yes, but they can’t be delivered until the morning.”
“Will you be taking care of it tomorrow morning?”
“No, I won’t work tomorrow morning, Mr. Bowman. I only work the afternoon shifts during the week, but the owner will make sure all deliveries are taken care of and you don’t have to worry,” she assured him liking that they were back to business. It was almost easy to ignore that he was a fine ass man, when they spoke business.
“That’s fine, because I don’t have the address on where they need to be delivered to on me. Can my assistant call back later on tonight or tomorrow to give that address?”
She gave him directions on how to facilitate a delivery and then handed him his credit card and receipt after she finished processing his payment. This gave him time to look over the counter at what she had been studying.
“You’re going to law school?”
“Yes,” she said.
He looked impressed. “Did you just start?”
“No, I’m almost done,” she said quite proud of herself.
“You’re young to be getting out so early?”
“I was accepted into law school while I was getting my MBA and I did both actually but then I had to take a semester break to focus on getting my masters.” Since her joy was school it was so easy to speak to him about it. “But as soon as I was done, I jumped right back in doubling my class load so I can take the bar in six months.”
“And here I thought you were just wasting your life away. Taking up useless space like most women your age waiting for a man to pay for everything.”
“Well, I don’t mind a man paying for everything,” she teased. “And seeing that I thought you were a pervert, I can’t take offense.”
The smile he graced those beautiful lips with took her breath away. Did he know how gorgeous he was?
‘Of course he did,’ she resolved to herself. ‘And no, he would not go for your chubby ass.’
“Nice comeback, ma’am,” he acknowledged.
With the counter between them, her confidence level was high. “It’s Sinclaire,” she corrected him. “My mother’s a ma’am.”
“Of course,” he stood corrected. “So what does a man have to do to take you out to dinner, Sinclaire?”
Sin's Iniquity - Chapter 2 (c) 2007 Sylvia Hubbard