I then asked Mike very nonchalantly, "Tell me about your friend who owns that real estate company. What did you say his name was again?"
Tea in Louis land...
T
hat Friday I was once again wearing the Crown Affairs signature uniform consisting of a black stretch mini skirt with a white tank top and black heels. The wait staff was predominantly female. Lined up we'd look like a Robert Palmer video clip.
My heart was beating in my throat all day. I was breathlessly awaiting Mr. Bruel's appearance. He occupied so much of my thoughts. I felt as if I knew him … intimately. After talking with—or more like interrogating—my brother-in-law earlier that week I had a little more insight into Louis' life. I knew two things for sure: Louis Bruel was straight and definitely not married.
"What does Louis' wife do?" I'd asked Mike, fishing for some personal info on Louis. Mike snorted before answering my question.
"Louis married! That's a good one. I've known Louis for a long time and he doesn't do the one-woman thing! He's the type of guy that needs a few women in his life. My boy always used to say when we were back at school that it's not fair to other women if he settles down with just one girl. Hahaha! He's a real character."
Yeah, so funny.
I was laughing with Mike on the outside but inside I was dying a slow painful death. It wasn't Mike's fault; he had no idea that Louis and I had a full-fledged monogamous mythical relationship in my head. I was right about him and those two blondes, I thought sadly to myself. Hearing Mike talk about Louis with other women gave me a pang in my gut.
Mike said his friend Louis was a great guy and that they went to NYU business school together and were roommates for a year. Mike also told me how much he respected Louis as a businessman, and how hard his friend worked to get to where he is today. It was admirable to hear how Louis had built his company up from nothing and that he came from humble beginnings in Connecticut.
Why was I doing this to myself? Maybe I'm a closet masochist. Why else would I subject myself to inevitable rejection by my fantasy boyfriend? I knew why, because his eyes definitely weren't rejecting me two weeks ago. Deep inside I still had hope. HOPE! Did I really think there was hope? I must've been crazy. Something was most definitely wrong with me. I was eighteen years old; I'd kissed two guys and went to second base with only one of them. Here I was trying—no, obsessing—about getting the attention of the sexiest man I had ever seen outside the pages of
Vogue
. What could I possibly do with him even if I did get his attention? I needed a reality check. Maybe I needed to tell Jenna about this. I could always count on my no-nonsense older and wiser sister to give me a good dose of the real world.
At three thirty in the afternoon Louis Bruel finally walked in, or shall I say floated in. The way he carried himself was a dream to watch. His body moved smoothly, as if each body part was being put on display for me to appreciate. He pranced in looking fresh out of one of my wet dreams. There must've been a song playing in his head to help him move with such frictionless rhythm. I think it was
Start Me Up
by The Rolling Stones.
He was wearing a dark gray, tailored, single-breasted suit that looked molded to his body. I could see a crisp white button down shirt peeking from under his suit jacket, with the first two buttons undone.
Yum
, I thought. I could make out a small part of his smooth upper chest. I wanted to lick my way up his neck stopping only to suck on his Adam's apple and finally make my way to those succulent lips.
That face … it wasn't normal how heart-stoppingly beautiful this almost perfect stranger was. His hair was wet, as if in the middle of a workday it's a perfectly normal occurrence for him to take a shower. I'd like to take a shower with him. I guess I should thank him for the visual he provided me for tonight's installment of
The Emily & Louis in La La Land Show
, which will now include a steamy shower scene.
I had the advantage of being hidden in the kitchen arranging little cucumber tea sandwiches on silver platters for the tea party that was about to start. The event took place in an ultra-modern loft in SoHo that was up for sale by Bruel Industries. The whimsical tea soirée that Crown Affairs designed was in such sharp contrast to the cold modern apartment that it worked brilliantly. Jenna had us all walk around with three-tiered silver platters containing tiny little morsels of food. Every teacup and saucer were a different pattern. It felt like
Alice in Wonderland
came to have tea.
The beautiful state-of-the-art kitchen in this loft was set behind a one-way glass wall. The kitchen staff could see out into the house and yet the guests could only see themselves in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror. I could see through the glass that my imaginary boyfriend seemed suddenly preoccupied. I would even go as far as to say he looked a bit frazzled. Louis Bruel was looking around from person to person like a possessed man.
Was he looking for Jenna?
I asked myself. He found Jenna and was talking to her animatedly, but was calmed by whatever it was she had said to him. I was so jealous that Jenna got to talk to him; she even got to put her hand on his arm while they were talking. I wish I knew what had him so flustered. Half an hour later the party had officially started. The servers, including me, were all ready to start passing out trays of food to guests of Bruel Industries.
To be quite honest, I couldn't describe any of the guests in attendance that day because I had tunnel vision and could only make out one set of dark sensual eyes—which I felt on me at all times. Every time I passed within a few feet of him I could actually smell his very subtle, yet intoxicating, cologne. His scent was faint but manly. I'd read books describing what sex smells like; I think I finally got it. Louis Bruel reeked of sex and every woman within sniffing distance knew it.
After a while my insides would clench just getting a whiff of Mr. Bruel nearby. I could swear I was having the same effect on my dream boyfriend, or maybe it was wishful thinking. I do know that at one point during the party, I looked up to meet his hungry gaze from across the room. As my eyes traveled over his body I could clearly see him still watching me and blatantly adjusting his crotch. I was mortified after that incident and I avoided looking at him for the rest of the party.
My sister, at one point towards the end of the function, pulled me aside into the kitchen and discreetly asked, "How do you and Louis Bruel know each other? Spill it."
I looked at her with horror and felt my face turn a deep shade of red. I had no idea what she was talking about. I only knew Louis Bruel from my dreams.
"Jen, why would you ask me that? I haven't said one word to him."
Jenna assessed my response the way only an older sister could and said, "The two of you have been staring at each other nonstop all afternoon. It's obvious something is going on. When he first came in earlier he was very upset with me. Louis demanded to know why we didn't provide him with the exact same staff as the last event. He said Mike promised him the exact same waitresses. The only thing that placated him was when I assured him that our staff was all in attendance today, including my little sister, who by chance helped me at the last party."
Wow! No way, that's so interesting
, I thought to myself.
My sister mirrored my thoughts by muttering, "Very interesting, Emmy," under her breath. "This guy is Mike's age you know. He's way over your head, if you know what I mean. You're not his type of girl. Trust me, Sis, don't play games with rich boys—you'll lose," she added.
I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. I felt way over my head and totally out of my league around him. Not that what I felt really mattered. My phantom boyfriend had yet to utter a single word to me.
Don't wake me up...
T
he tea party finally came to an end three hours later. I was exhausted; all I wanted was to finish cleaning up, get home, and go to bed and have my delusional relationship with Don Juan the mute. We would first take a naughty shower together and then he would carry me to bed and finger me until I screamed out his name. After that we'd sleep happily ever after. THE END.
Dreaming of Louis and I showering in sin made me smile to myself. However, my dirty fantasies would have to wait until I finished the dirty work at hand. I was still at work and the loft was a total mess. My sister's staff was running around trying to quickly finish up for the night. I loved helping Jenna and pretending to mingle with adults at her catering events, but I could do without the yucky cleanup. I couldn't imagine Mr. Big-Deal wanting anything to do with someone who was scraping his guests' dirty plates.
I was cleaning in the kitchen, blissfully withdrawn to yet another one of my Louis Bruel daydreams when it happened. First, I smelled him, then my body sensed him, and then I saw two large tanned hands placed on either side of me on the granite countertop. He essentially caged me in. I didn't need to look back to know who was behind me. His scent alone added another milliliter of arousal to my underwear. I couldn't turn around, he was leaning into me so close. I could feel his heat as his wide muscular chest pressed against me, enveloping me.
Heart don't fail me, now. Please don't stop beating
, I kept repeating to myself as my heartbeat started increasing to presto speed.
"Are you trying to make me come in my pants in front of all my clients, little girl?" he asked.
Fuck, I need to breathe.
He continued whispering into my ear, making every hair on my body stand at attention. "I've been jerking off to the vision of your tits in that white top for the last two weeks."
I think I officially stopped breathing when he said, "your tits."
"Please tell me you're at least eighteen. I really don't want to go to jail. But I think it might be worth it even if you're not."
Okay, Emily, snap out of it. Say something adult and memorable
. This was my chance.
"Yeah, I'm eighteen…" I finally said, a little breathlessly.
He got a little closer as his whole body shook laughing at my pathetic comment. I could faintly feel something hard bulging out and grazing my lower back. I was afraid of having a spontaneous orgasm if he got any closer.
"Thank … you … God. So you must be Jenna's little sister?" he asked, sending chills through my overheated body. My underwear was soaked by now. Even I could smell how aroused I was.
"If Mike knew what I wanted to do to his hot little sister-in-law right now, he'd have my balls."
I still hadn't turned around. My legs were shaking; my brain was drawing a blank. I was much braver in my fantasies. Thank God there was no one in the kitchen to see us.
WAIT!
Reality hit me—where was everybody? Shouldn't the other staff members be helping me with the clean up?
Oh my God, can somebody see us?
I thought. I remembered the one-way glass and started to turn my head around to check just in case anyone else was there. That's when Louis Bruel's lips brushed my cheek as I turned my head. I guess that was the official moment I stopped breathing. I gathered all my strength and turned to face him inside his loose grip. I looked up at him, trying to seem in control of the situation. After what felt like twenty minutes of me craning my head up to his towering height, he broke our silent stare-off.
"I can't believe how beautiful your eyes are, little girl. They remind me of the water in Turks and Caicos. Your hair is the color of the sand there."
He was smiling the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, showing off that glorious dimple and his perfect white teeth. I still was not breathing. This had to be one of my daydreams. Surely, I was about to wake up wet in my bed panting. Is this the part in my dream where Louis Bruel asks me to join him and a few other girls in a hotel room?
He continued talking. "We have a property on the market right now that we're selling in Turks. I have a private showing tomorrow. I'd like you to come with me this weekend, so I can show it to you. What do you say, Jenna's little sister?"
The first thing that popped into my head was, "I'm not really looking to buy anything in Turks and Caicos at the moment." He stared at me silently, assessing my response.
"Touché, little girl, but just to be clear my offer still stands. I was only planning on showing you the bedroom, not the whole house," he said with a mischievous smile.
Was he crazy? I'd barely said two words to him! He hadn't even introduced himself. He didn't even know my name for God's sake and he wanted to take me to bed in Turks and Caicos. Wow, he was a real arrogant dick, I concluded. If my sister knew what he'd just proposed to me, if she walked in and saw us like this, she would have my head. Mike would have Louis' balls. My mother would have a stroke and my dad would just shoot him point blank.
I collected myself and answered his slimy comment. "My name is Emily Marcus, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bruel, right? I usually don't leave the country with men that don't know my name or haven't at least had coffee with." That elicited yet another panty dropping, dimple showing smile. That smirk should've been illegal. He really was too gorgeous to be real.
"Emily, call me Louis. Mr. Bruel on your lips makes me sound like a molester," he said, almost into my mouth.
He was so close that if I moved even to take in a breath I would've collided with his mouth.
"I accept your coffee offer. Let's go, little girl."
Oh. My. God! Louis Bruel wanted to have coffee with me! His dark eyes had the sexiest little sparkle when he smiled. He was even more beautiful up close and personal. I could definitely get used to that smile and that face. If this was a dream, I didn't want anyone to wake me.
*****
Coffee at the Grand Hotel lobby was spent mostly in comfortable silence. The feel of the place was chic, sophisticated and exclusive—very Louis Bruel. Even the music filtering in was like nothing I've even heard before; it was smooth and sexy but you could still dance to the underlying beat. This place was definitely not my cup of tea, or coffee, in this case. The tables were tiny. I was sitting next to him trembling on the inside, yet desperately trying to appear calm, cool, and collected for his sake. I was even sitting on my hands, to stop myself from fidgeting with the cappuccino. Clearly that was the dumbest move ever; I only managed to shove my boobs forward and accentuate my raised nipples. He was trying hard not look down, but he failed miserably. I think I even saw him salivating. I released my hands from under me and went back to playing with my beverage. I was struggling to figure out
what in the world am I doing with Louis Bruel alone at a hotel?