Dinner was being served when he woke up. You have to answer all the questions. I think Reg is pleased. She had a flicker of doubt? Reg was extremely easy to read.
The attendant brought her a tray with lots of colors. And what would he say? Keeping all the billion-dollar clients happy by creating flashing Funkyfish to put their ads on, and interoffice memo forms in three languages. Making investors believe there was a there there, when profits were a good two decades in the future. He was good at it.
Because of him, the client base had grown ten times in the last year. Same thing the next day. Eighty-hour weeks. He sliced into the chicken thigh on his plastic plate. It was covered with something red that smelled like fake smoke. He leaned forward over the tray table to keep it off his chinos. You know. They were plucked in a fine line.
How about you? An involuntary shudder ran up his spine.
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You never know. By thirty-five real deterioration sets in. She wanted me to FAX her a resume. I was in New York two weeks ago on my last trip, we ran and ran and ran, and now this one. She must be connected. No makeup, women wear jeans and sweatshirts. Then Harvard for my MBA. She looked about twelve. Why was she in such a lowly spot? What was the point, about makeup? New York is like a movie, visually stimulating, everyone is all dressed up. But I got sick of it. I finally got a good apartment in a great building but the day I tried to move in the place was surrounded with barricades and secret service, the president was going to be coming by for a fundraiser.
The guy in the penthouse had something to do with selling satellite components to China. Every time I entered the building I had to go through a metal detector. He owned a Victorian just off Union Street. He settled back, relaxed, as they bumped gently back to earth, enjoying the instinctive flexing of his body as the force of gravity caught up with them and they taxied into the gate. Who the hell is that? Then he remembered.
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They were staying at the Plaza. He had heard about this place that had twenty kinds of martinis. The vegetarian chose chocolate. Who knew? She had two and reached for his belt right in the corner of the bar.
Clea Koff - The Home Page of the Jayne & Steelie Mysteries by Clea Koff
He must have gotten her out of there fast. He had another shard of memory: her swirl of dark hair wrapped around his dick. Too much time on the road? Jet lag? A bad mix of kava, melatonin and gin? All of the above? Now what would he do with her? She seemed to be deeply unconscious.
Time to check the markets on his laptop. He threw on a terrycloth robe and went to the other room in the suite. There was a knock on the door. He looked through the peephole. Room service. Good show. He must have placed an order on one of those menu cards they put on the pillow. Before or after? The Filipino waiter rolled in a table shrouded in white and began whipping skillet-sized metal tops off the plates and fussing around with the coffee cups.
Ah, time for the tip.
He went into the bedroom for some cash. The bed was empty.
He could hear the shower running. She could shower in her own.
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- 18th European Symposium on Computer Aided Process Engineering!
He dropped a couple of bucks on the waiter and showed him out, then knocked on the door. She poked her head through the door wearing only a towel. She had the bathroom all steamed up.
He hated that. Mind if I use your toothbrush? Now what?