Sun shone through the blinds, falling on Emma's sleeping form, and piercing the comforting darkness behind her eye-lids. Rolling over, she groaned loudly, shoving the covers back and pushing her body into an upright position. She sat there for a moment, adjusting to the light before rising and walking over to the window to raise the blinds. She stood there for a moment, in nothing but her underwear, watching the city wake up with her.
She smiled brightly, breathing out a quiet "Good morning" to her hometown. Turning away from the city-scape, she pressed a button on her coffee maker and commenced the morning's ritual. Thirty minutes later, she was dressed sharply in a dark skirt-suit, black folder under one arm, portable coffee mug in the other. Her golden mane was pulled into a tight twist, held to the back of her head by a hefty jaw clip that still strained against the thick locks. Her make-up was light, a drastic comparison to the heavy mask she'd worn the night before. Pausing in front of the hall mirror, she breathed a sigh of relief at how normal she looked, not even a hint of the monster she'd become the night before showing through her perfectly parted hair and glossy lips. Her one-inch heels clicked smartly across the floor as she rushed out, almost forgetting to lock her door behind her, before heading down and out onto the street.
The morning air brushed past carrying with it the scents of the city. Emma breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of smog, rotting garbage, and passing car fumes. She smiled shaking her head, knowing she killed brain cells every time she did that, but not caring. She hailed a cab and climbed in the first one that pulled up, giving directions to her editor's office. The cab driver glanced back in his rear-view mirror, a smirk toying the corners of his mouth as he noted how high Emma's skirt rode when she sat in his back seat. Noticing his eager look, Emma offered a slow, languid smile in return, crossing her legs a little, which hiked the skirt a little higher and almost offered the driver a glimpse of her purple thong.
"You got a big day ahead of you, Miss?" the driver asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road rather than letting them wander to the image in his rear-view.
Emma smiled and tapped her folder to straighten her papers. "Oh, yes," she said, not offering no further explanation. She knew his type would not want the long-drawn out description. A mere sample kept them interested. She peered up slowly, keeping her observations discreet as she saw the lust flare in his eyes for the busty, high-society woman in his backseat.
"Well, you keep them corporate heads spinning," he scoffed, pulling over to let her off. Emma only half heard him, as her mind was already reeling with what his back story might be and what kind of woman he'd be interested in. She'd have to play with the idea of a cab driver taking advantage of an upper-class business woman. As a result, she did not respond to his last comment, but simply threw her fare into the front seat and stepped out, rushing up the steps to the front door of the publishing building.
Emma smiled softly to herself as she walked into the lobby, right past the new, young receptionist, and onto the first elevator, selecting the twelfth floor. She flipped through the last few pages of her manuscript, hoping she had made the correct adjustments to it before handing it back to her editor. She was just reading the last paragraph, feeling her usual heat rising at the suggestive words, when the elevator doors opened and admitted a young gentleman.
Emma knew her face was flushed and she quickly buried her nose in her paperwork, peering over the edge of it to study the man. He was well-dressed in a black suit with a flashy, red tie and slicked back hair. His stature was firm and straight, suggesting he was man that was used to being in charge. She couldn't help but feel an attraction to this stranger. His aura alone left her reeling with lust in ways she never had thought imaginable.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and slipped her a smile. She smiled back, playing the shy card as the bell dinged and the doors opened onto her floor. She hesitated for a moment and he shifted a brow ever so slightly, a gesture that tickled her feminine desires and teased her need. She looked down at her folder, pretending to be re-arranging something.
"Excuse me, Miss," he said, his voice flowing over his masculine lips like melted chocolate, "Isn't this your floor?"
Emma cursed inwardly and was tempted to just let the doors close so she could stay in such close proximity to such a delicious looking stranger, but she knew she was already a little late on her deadline. Sadly, this deadline could not be pushed back any further, even for such a delectable specimen such as this. As if suddenly gaining confidence, she brushed right by him with an air of superiority, feeling his eyes on her back as she sashayed down the hall, taking a left into the office of her editor, Charles Morrison.
