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"I mean, I am a partner at a top law firm," I say, watching her as she walks into the living room, runs her fingers across the lever couch, then heads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that run across the entire length of the living room and provide a beautiful view of Manhattan.
"Look at this view," she says. "Oh my gosh, I feel like I'm in a movie, or maybe in Heaven." She grins and starts doing pirouettes around the room. "I'm in Heaven," she sings, laughing. "And I feel like I'm on top of the world," she continues, chuckling. "Oh my gosh, I'm so drunk." She hiccups as she looks over at me. "Mr. Kingston Chase, you didn't tell me that you lived in a dope ass apartment like this."
"The conversation never came up," I say, as I place my keys on the counter and head toward her. I watch her dancing in her white dress, her red hair spinning across her shoulders, and for a couple of moments, I wonder what I'm doing with this beautiful woman in my apartment at one o'clock in the morning.
"You must get laid all the time," she says as she heads over to me, poking me in the chest. She looks up at me with a girlish smile and bats her eyelashes at me. "Is this your lair?"
"I wouldn't call it my lair, no," I say, shaking my head as I grab her finger and her hand and pull her into me. "Though maybe I should call it that."
I glance down at her, at her parted lips, and for a few moments I think about kissing her. I can tell that she wants that as her eyelashes slowly lower and she tilts her chin up toward me and waits. I think about it for two seconds before I let go of her hand and take a step back.
"Would you like some water?" I ask.
Her eyelashes flutter open and she stares at me in dismay, but then she starts dancing again.
"I would like some water, kind sir. And maybe some more wine or champagne and caviar and strawberries with chocolate dip," she sings, laughing.
"You didn't tell me you were a singer. Are you the second coming of Taylor Swift?"
"Ha ha. Very funny," she says, rolling her eyes. "I cannot carry a tune to save my life."
She's correct about that. She would never be able to make it as a pop star, but she does have a nice, sweet lilt to her voice that is quite attractive.
"So you would like champagne or wine?" I say, as I head to the fridge. ”The champagne's not cold, but?—"
"Oh, whatever you have. What are you going to have?" she asks. "Mr. Kingston Chase."
"You don't have to keep saying my name. I do know who I am."
"I know you know who you are," she says loudly. "Oops." She presses her hand toward her lips. "I'm being loud. I think I'm drunk."
"I think you are," I say. I wonder for a few moments if it's a mistake having her here.
"You're handsome," she says. "In a way too handsome for your own good way."
"What does that mean?" I ask as I open the fridge. "Okay, I have a bottle of Riesling, some cider, some beer. I can also make you a rum and Coke or a Sprite and vodka."
"What ciders do you have?" she asks, heading toward me and the fridge. "This fridge is really nice. What is it? Samsung?"
"It's Bosch," I say, smiling down at her. "I'm quite unused to all these compliments."
"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it. I'm only trying to butter you up so you give me an amazing massage."
"I will," I say, nodding slowly. Though, if I were being smart, I would send her packing. I don't know that this is the best idea I've ever had, offering to give her a massage in my apartment, in my bedroom, naked, while she’s all geeky and flirty like this.
"Do you ever grow a mustache or a beard or a goatee?" she asks, reaching up and touching the side of my face before running her fingers to my chin. "I think you'd look quite handsome with a goatee."
"You don't think I look handsome now?” I ask, a single eyebrow raised.
"You'll do," she says, giggling. And before I know what's happening, she leans up on her tippy-toes and gives me a quick peck on the lips.
"Oops," she said. "I wasn't supposed to do that."
"But you did." I know now is the time I should call the Uber.
"So am I getting that cider or not?" she says, running away from me and back into the living room.
I watch as she plops down onto my oversized sofa. "This is so comfortable. I can tell this costs a lot of money."
