More Than She Bargained For (closed)

It was 5:45 PM when Vic Hunter pulled into the entrance of the Foxbriar County Club. The eight mile trip took almost 90 minutes. As drove around the circular drive searching for a place to park, he wondered how in God's name did he put up with that traffic for 15 years. That traffic was the reason why Vic rarely ventured out of the house between the hours of 7-10 in the morning and 4-7 in the evening since he retired three years ago. It took a real special occasion or a lot of coaxing to get him out during those hours. Today it was a combination.

The special occasion was a party for Brooke Stafford, the daughter of Vic's friend, Mike Stafford. Brooke had just received her Ph.D in Urban Planning from Northwestern and last week was honored at a dinner for being selected a "Future Leader" by some prestigious foundation that Vic never heard of before. Since there were only limited tickets available to each awardee for that event, Mike thought throwing her this party would give all their family, friends and his business associates a chance to celebrate her success.

When Mike first invited him, Vic was non-committal. Although the distance in miles between Vic's modest suburban ranch home and Mike's neighborhood was only those eight miles, the income and lifestyle gap was, let's say, significant. Residents here lived in gated communities with houses that had garages with more square footage than Vic's place. He definitely didn't fit in with most of this crowd but when Brooke called and insisted, he said he'd attend. After all, she said, if it weren't for his help, there would have been no reason to celebrate.

About a year ago, Mike approached him to see if he'd be interested in helping her with a project that was part of her doctoral work. Brooke was working with a suburban county health department to revise and update their emergency response plan. Mike knew that Vic had spent over 30 years in government doing that type of work. Brooke, he said, was book smart but needed some real life experience and guidance. Mike also knew that Vic had spent the last ten years of his career recruiting and mentoring Masters trained new hires and on several occasions mentioned how much he enjoyed that part of the job. It seemed like a good match.

While Vic enjoyed his retirement and the "every day is Saturday" lifestyle, he sometimes missed the interaction with young people who wanted to perform public service. So when Mike asked him to help his daughter, he jumped at the chance. Vic found Brooke to be a very willing student who was not only intelligent but also possessed very good people skills. She was a real joy to work with and the six or so hours a week he spent with her was time well spent. He had such a good time doing it, he wondered if he would ever have another opportunity to do it again.

As he made his way into the club, Vic decided to duck into the men's room and check his appearance before he ventured into the club's banquet room. He couldn't remember the last time he had a suit on, let alone dress shoes. After straightening his tie, he stepped back and gave himself the once over. At a little over 6', he really didn't look half bad for 65. Most of his hair was still there. although the invading grays were slowing winning the battle with the dark browns. He was in great physical shape and sometimes got carded when he asked for the senior discount at various stores. But the days he felt every bit of those 65 years were becoming more frequent.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the dining area. Just as he suspected, this was a place for the rich and famous. As he walked past the tables, he noticed there was more silverware at each place setting than he had in his entire kitchen. There was a swag bag on every seat. Just another advantage of working around the younger generation he thought. He knew what the fuck a swag bag was.

He spotted Mike and his wife Elaine and started to walk over to their table. Before he got there, Brooke intercepted him and gave him a big hug.

"Vic, I'm so glad you decided to come. I learned so much from you. I can never thank you enough."

Brooke grabbed his hand and pulled him along as she made her way across the room.

"Come with me. I want to introduce you to my friend, Amelia."

Despite the lavish setting and the amicable atmosphere, Amelia Grace Trent's smile was growing thin. It was a shame, as three torturous years of her youth with a mouthful of metal and wire had given her a beautiful smile. But nevertheless, her normally full, pink lips were becoming more of a thin white line to blend with her perfect set of straight white teeth.

"Amelia, have you met Jonathan Borensen? He's just finished his law degree and will be joining your father's firm next month. Isn't that wonderful? I was just telling him how we should have him come for dinner one night," Amelia's mother beamed with satisfaction as she made the introduction.

Amelia's smile tightened, and she watched the man's adam apple bob in nervousness. There was a slightly awkward pause before Amelia took pity on the man. "That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it," she said. "But if you'll excuse me," she continued with a pointed look at her would be matchmaker of a mother. "I should probably go find Brooke. I believe she has a seat reserved for me."

With those words, Amelia turned on her two inch spiked heels and headed away from her mother and the confused Jonathan Borensen. Amelia puffed out her cheeks and breathed a sigh of relief. A real smile teased the corners of her lips for the first time that night. As much as her mother's attempts to turn her into a trophy housewife irritated her, her mother's tenacity in the endeavor amused her. Amelia credited her own drive to succeed to that same strain of determination. Although she planned to use it to make a much bigger dent in the world than arm candy.

Amelia wove her way through the cloth draped tables, her crystal blue eyes glancing one way then another. She was grateful for the extra height her heels gave her slender 5 foot 6 inch frame as she scanned the room for her friend. Distracted by her search, Amelia had a narrow miss with a waiter carrying a full tray of champagne glasses. She murmured an apology to the harried waiter as she stepped back smoothing her little black dress. Her eyes however never stopped moving, and soon Amelia thought she spotted Brooke heading in her direction. A real smile lit up her face at the sight of her friend whose success they were celebrating tonight. Amelia quickened her steps to meet her, causing her upswept blonde curls to bounce and the diamond earrings dangling from her earlobes to swing.

With Vic in tow, Brooke weaved her way through the crowd with the skill of a running back avoiding tacklers in the open field. The bus staff, mostly college age kids working on summer break, hovered around the ten or so tables, refilling water and taking away empty wine glasses. He shared a degree of camaraderie with most of them. Like Vic, the only way they were ever going to set foot in a joint like this was work there or be invited.

No one would ever suspect on just how uncomfortable Vic felt being in this environment. Vic's greatest strength and why he was so valued as a mentor was his people skills. During his career he worked with the whole spectrum of society from gangbangers to US senators. In fact, he was even asked testify before a Senate sub-committee after Hurricane Katrina. What he tried his best to pass on to all those young trainees, was to treat everyone with respect and dignity. It was a lesson that would allow them to be successful in any setting. Being humble, never taking yourself too seriously and having a sense of humor were also attributes he wanted his proteges to acquire as well. Speaking of a sense of humor.

"You know Brooke, this whole thing here tonight reminds me of something."

Brooke slowed a bit, looked back at Vic with a feigned look of disgust.

"Don't tell me. Caddyshack. I was wondering how long it would take before you brought that up."

She just shook her head and laughed.

"You're such a fucking dick."

That was the other skill all of Vic's mentees picked up. How to talk like the proverbial drunken sailor.

Brooke was now literally dragging Vic across the room as her pace quickened.

"There she is. Amelia. Amelia over here."

Vic stopped so suddenly when he saw the attractive young blond approach them that Brooke lost her balance and almost fell. Fuckin A he mumbled under his breath. If he didn't know that it was impossible since she was working half a continent away, Vic would of swore it was Erica Von Kleindorf headed in their direction..

"Brooke!" Amelia laughed as she reached her friend, reaching out first to steady her and then give her a quick hug. "You look wonderful, and congratulations on your success! Already on your way to conquer the world one urban neighborhood at a time!"

Amelia stepped back. "Just try to stay on your heels as you do it," she teased, though the admiration in her eyes was evident.

Brooke had been the older sister Amelia never had. Often thrown together by their family's business connections, Amelia had trailed after Brooke at every convention, dinner party, and everything in between they had been dragged to since the age of five. It was no surprise when Brooke stated her college of choice that a few years later Amelia chose the same. Nor was it a shock when Amelia eschewed dorm life her freshman year to share an apartment with Brooke. Her mother occasionally complained that if Brooke jumped off a bridge she would hope Amelia would have the good sense not to follow, but she doubted it.

Amelia turned toward the man Brooke had been dragging along. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she arched a single brow in speculation at her friend. Amelia extended a slight, manicured hand to the man. "I'm sorry. I'm Amelia Trent, Brooke's roommate. I've been away for the last month, and I don't think we've met."

"Brooke."

Vic couldn't take his eyes off the attractive young woman walking toward them. Maybe it was the dress that turned his thoughts to Erica, but as she drew closer, Vic could see some resemblance. Perhaps it was just that in his experience, most women of means and privilege had that refined, proper look. Prior to Erica, Vic thought those women were off limits, destined to be with guys with Roman numerals after their names. Erica, however, changed his mind about a lot of things.

All of a sudden, Vic was transported back, nearly three years ago, seated in that booth in the restaurant of the JW Marriott in DC. That's when he saw Erica, standing at the bar, talking with her fellow trainees, wearing a LBD. He just kept staring at her, although later Erica called it ogling, his mind going to places it shouldn't. Now he caught himself doing the same thing to Brooke's rapidly approaching friend. He just hoped to God she didn't notice.

"I'm sorry. I'm Amelia Trent, Brooke's roommate. I've been away the last month and I don't think we've met."

Amelia's words brought Vic back from his trip down memory lane. He remembered Brooke mentioning she had a roommate but she didn't say much else about her and Vic never asked. None of his business.

"Hi, I'm Vic Hunter. Very pleased to met you. I'm not sure what Brooke has told you about me but don't believe a word of any of it. Especially the part where I helped her. She did this all by herself and deserves all the credit."

Vic's large mitt swallowed the dainty hand that Amelia offered as he looked directly into her sparkling blue eyes. Those eyes and the look they're giving. Something about those eyes and that look.

Again, his mind was flooded with memories of Erica. This time it was two years ago. Vic was in his bed watching her wiggle her cute little ass trying to coax that tight, short jean skirt up and over her slender hips. Putting her blouse on, she stared at the reddened skin on her wrists where the leather cuffs had been. As she buttoned her sleeves, she walked over and gave Vic her final kiss good-bye.

"You know Vic, this doesn't need to be the end for you. Maybe you'll find someone else to have what we had again. And you'll know it right away, just like you did with me. It'll be in her eyes."

With that, she walked out of his room and out of his life. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but Vic swore he recognized that look once again.

"Ah, Vic Hunter," Amelia said, recognition and surprise dawning in her eyes as they shook hands. "Yes, I do believe I've heard of you."

Amelia's posture straightened and her smile widened ever so slightly. Vic Hunter was not what she expected. When Brooke spoke of a mentor, some older friend of her father's, Amelia had pictured a stuffed shirt with white whiskers and maybe a cane to threaten his displeasure. If a man like that ever looked her way, she would have quickly labelled him an old pervert but not Vic Hunter. The man evidently knew how to take care of himself. She was a little surprised Brooke had never commented on it.

"And I think you do protest too much. Brooke has sung your praises. I heard them repeatedly all the way over in Europe. We all have to learn from someone, and she had the good sense to learn from you. I think her award says a lot for the both of you." Amelia flashed a warm smile at her friend, then turned back to Vic. "Do you do this often?" She asked with a wave of her hand as if encompassing the whole body of Brooke's work and success.

Vic was impressed with the sincerity and genuineness of Amelia's comment. Even her reference to Europe was spoken not in a "guess where I've been" snooty kind of way but rather one of emphasizing how important Brooke felt his contribution had been. It was quite apparent that Amelia was a confident, articulate and independent young woman, traits Vic found to so appealing. What he also found appealing was how she looked in that dress.

Ah, that dress. The way it clung to her hips and ass, its short length that revealed long, taut legs, sent Vic's imagination, just as Erica's LBD did three years ago, sailing on an ocean of pure lust and wanton desire. He pictured the treasure he'd find nestled between those muscular thighs. A treasure he'd worship and adore like no man before him.

"Do you do this often?"

"Ahh.... yes....er....no.....well....sort of."

Fuck. Vic hoped she didn't mean ogling at young women. But Amelia's engaging smile never left her lips so Vic surmised she meant the mentoring thing.

So he took some time to explain what he did while he was still on the job. He told Amelia how much he enjoyed it, how fortunate he was that Mike had asked him to work with Brooke and how he hoped he'd have another opportunity to work with someone again.

It seemed as if she hung on his every word. Vic was beginning to feel some type of connection developing. Well, at least on his part. Maybe Erica was right. Maybe her leaving for LA two years ago didn't need to be the end for him. Was he really seeing something in Amelia's eyes? Only one way to find out.

"Amelia, would you like a glass of wine?" Dinner doesn't start for another hour or so and I would really like to find out more about you."

Amelia cocked her head to the side a little surprised at the way this polished man stumbled over the answer to her question, but it was quickly forgotten as she listened, fascinated with the details of his work. Some of what he told her was not new. Brooke had kept Amelia up to date on all her work, which included explaining the time she spent working with Vic. But she found it interesting to hear the details and the passion for it in his voice. As she listened to him express his desire to continue working with someone else, the sprout of an idea took root in her mind.

"Amelia, would you like a glass of wine? Dinner doesn't start for another hour or so and I would really like to find out more about you."

Amelia's train of thought ground to a halt. Her crystal eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Was he hitting on her? The possibility created a riot in her mind. He was a good looking man, though definitely older she couldn't say by how much. And she had been genuinely enjoying their conversation. She glanced about for Brooke, but it appeared the star of the night had been snagged by another guest. Amelia looked back at Vic. The entire whirl of her thoughts taking less time than an intake of air.

"Yes, I would, thank you," Amelia answered, nodding to the right side of the room as she continued. "I think the bar is over there. Hopefully, they have a sweet white. I can't make myself enjoy the dry." She gave her bare shoulders a little shrug. "Though I would guess a dry red to be your preference? It always seems more distinguished."

Vic was elated that Amelia had accepted his invitation. He was looking forward to getting to know what Ms. Amelia Trent was all about. His gut told him that underneath that layer of culture and sophistication, there was a young woman who wanted to break away from it all. A young woman who wanted to explore other options.

As they entered the bar, Vic spotted an empty table in the corner. He lightly placed his hand on Amelia's shoulder guiding her to the table's location. The feel of her soft warm skin on his fingertips was electric. Christ it had been almost two years since he had even touched a woman. How he missed that feeling.

Vic instinctively walked ahead of Amelia so that he reached the table first. Pulling out her chair, he watched Amelia gracefully slide into it. When she was comfortably situated, Vic pushed the chair closer to the table. Just as he took his seat, a waiter came over for their drink orders.

"The young lady would like a Riesling and I will have a Petite Syrah."

As the waiter hurried off, Vic looked across the table and smiled.

"Thanks for accepting my offer. It's not very often that I have a chance to sit and talk with such an attractive young woman. Especially one who knows her wines. So Amelia tell me a little more about yourself."

A family of butterflies took up residence in Amelia's stomach. Or so it felt, as Vic guided the way to a table near the bar. Her senses were on alert, and the touch of his fingers to her shoulders sent a ripple of warmth through her.

Amelia slipped into the chair he held for her with a murmured thank you, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy. She adjusted her dress, pulling the skirt straight beneath her to create the least amount of wrinkles, as Vic placed an order with a waiter. She crossed her ankles and tucked her legs back. Beneath the table, her fingers unconsciously toyed with the hem of her skirt that rose a little above her knees.

As Vic's attention returned to her, Amelia took a deep breath and squashed the silly feelings that played havoc in her mind. The man was at least 20, maybe 30, years older than her. He might be the same age as her father. She was being ridiculous.

"Thanks for accepting my offer. It's not very often that I have a chance to sit and talk with such an attractive young woman. Especially one who knows her wines. So Amelia tell me a little more about yourself."

Amelia smiled at his compliment and relaxed. "Well, there's not a great deal to tell just yet,"she said. "I graduated from Northwestern this May with an undergrad history degree. I just spent a month in Hungary, working inside refugee camps there, mostly just soup kitchen type stuff. A pretty amazing experience. And I hope to start law school this next semester. My father plans for me to eventually join him in his firm." Amelia hesitated, before leaning forward toward Vic. "But I think I want to do something more, you know? It's presumptuous of me to ask, but Brooke has talked so much about you. I wonder if you would help me?"

The words spilled from her mouth, a little jumbled, but once spoken, she couldn't take them back. Amelia bit her lower lip and wondered at her own audacity, as her eyes scanned Vic's face for any reaction.

Vic sensed an uneasiness in Amelia as she played and fidgeted with her dress. First thought that sprang into his mind was she becoming uncomfortable with this older guy, old enough to be her grandfather, staring at her legs, complimenting her looks, and buying her a glass of wine. Maybe she was struggling to find an excuse to make a tactful but quick exit from the lecherous old fuck sitting across from her. Maybe Vic was losing his touch, maybe he read this young lady all wrong.

Suddenly, Amelia seemed to have regrouped. That charming smile reappeared as she pushed her chair a bit closer to the table.

"Well, there's not a great deal to tell just yet. I graduated from Northwestern this May with an undergrad history degree. I just spent a month in Hungary, working inside refugee camps there, mostly soup kitchen type of stuff. A pretty amazing experience. And I hope to start law school next semester. My father plans for me to eventually join him in his firm."

Amelia paused for a brief moment, a very pregnant pause. When she bent her upper torso across the table closing the gap between them, Vic thought for sure she was about to reveal some deep dark secret.

"But I think I want to do something more, you know? It's presumptuous of me to ask, but Brooke has talked so much about you. I wonder if you would help me?"

An audible sigh of relief escaped from Vic's mouth. Vic was expecting to hear something like, "Fuck that. I'm going to run away with my boyfriend who works as a carnie." But her words were reassuring to him. He still had it. If the notion that everybody had a doppelganger was true, he just found Erica's.

"So in spite of everything Brooke has told you about me, you still would like my help, huh? You're a brave woman, Amelia."

Vic flashed her a bigger smile and winked.

"I'd be more than happy to help you anyway I can. What do you have in mind?"

Amelia sat back in surprise--first that he winked at her. It wasn't her imagination. The man was flirting. Amelia could feel the heat creep up her neck and turn her cheeks pink. It was unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome. When it became apparent Amelia was never going to attain the coveted height of 5' 8" and to her mother's horror Amelia's breasts decided to fill out to full C cups in her junior year of highschool, Mrs. Trent finally relinquished her hopes of Amelia ever making her mark in the modeling world. In light of this crushing reality, Amelia's mother gave her self-conscious and still slightly awkward daughter a piece of advice: "Enjoy what appreciation you get. You never know when it will end." However, Amelia had bounced back from this blow with surprising agility, supported in part by Eric, her highschool sweetheart, and her own lack of ambition involving the modeling industry. Yet, as motherly advice will do, the words stuck. And Vic, though older, was hardly the sort of man easy to dismiss.

"Well, I, uh," Amelia fumbled, as she had expected to give a more convincing argument. Her cheeks flamed a little brighter. The man's time had to be in demand. Amelia took a breath and tried again. "I could use some help, first with the parentals and secondly with developing a new plan on where to go from here. It's fine to say I don't want to be another junior partner in my father's law firm, but I have to have a plan in place of it." Amelia's voice dropped, and she leaned forward again as she warmed to her topic. "I'm thinking public service, maybe working inner city. I want to make a difference! And I know from talking with Brooke that, despite your modesty, you know how."

"I'm thinking public service, maybe working inner city. I want to make a difference! And I know from talking to Brooke that, despite your modesty, you know how."

Amelia's words took Vic back to Erica's interview at Yale. Vic remembered how pissed off he was, having to waste his time flying to New Haven to interview some rich girl who probably had some kind of rich girl issues. Most of his interviews took place at institutions whose names ended in "State University." He never set foot on a private school campus let alone an Ivy League one. He recruited mainly middle class kids with a drive to do some good in the world. Not some young woman with a MPH from Yale and a last name that dripped money and ties to the Holy Roman Empire.

He would have quickly dismissed her like words, but it was the look of genuine sincerity in her eyes when she spoke them, just like the look Amelia was giving him now, that convinced him to hire her. Even if she did have mommy and daddy issues, and boy did she, they never got in the way. Vic felt that Amelia might be dealing with the same kind of situation but he wanted very much to help her find her way.

Now as his gaze left her eyes and traveled down her body, the stirring in his groin told him he wanted something else just as bad. Vic got a good glimpse of some very nice cleavage as Amelia leaned forward. Two beautiful and ample mounds of delicate white flesh peaked over the top of her scooped neckline. Again Vic was reminded of Erica and as part of her "supplemental education" how he added the term "pearl necklace" to her vocabulary. Amelia didn't know it now but Vic had plans to include that same "supplemental education" in her curriculum.

The call that dinner was being served jolted Vic back to the present.

"Let me give you my cell number. Please call or text me when you have some time for lunch and we can talk more about this then. Something tells me I'm going to really enjoy working with you."

* * *

Light chatter and the rattle of dishes greeted Amelia's ears as she entered the small cafe on the corner of 4th and Jefferson. She glanced over the tables with their white cloths and bud vases with droopy blooms. A little before 2:00 in the afternoon, only a handful of tables were occupied. Her low heeled sandals clicked on the hardwood floor as she passed a sign reading Please seat yourself and crossed the room to a table for two next to a bay window overlooking the downtown.

Amelia lifted her Oakley's to the top of her head where they could act as an impromptu head band for the soft, loose curls falling about her face and slipped into a seat, tucking the full skirt of her summer dress under her. A sudden blast of cold air from a vent raised goosebumps up and down her bare arms, making her wish she'd thought to bring a cardigan with her to go over the light cotton dress. Amelia brushed her hands down over the skirt and fingered the neckline which dipped just low enough to reveal the soft swell of her breasts. The choice of dress was intentional, though Amelia might deny it, as she would deny the extra time she spent fussing with her hair and makeup.

Amelia pulled a vanilla folder from her oversized Prada bag and placed it on the table before her. It was a folder filled with her thoughts and plans for the future, a future she hoped Vic Hunter could help her find. Amelia checked her phone. She had planned to be early, but now her nerves were fraying. Amelia's fingers caressed the edge of the folder as she remembered Vic's smile the other night and the warmth in his voice as they planned to meet. Amelia relaxed. With a little wave of her hand, she signaled the waiter to request a water while she waited.

The rest of Brooke's party was pretty uneventful. Amelia sat across from Vic during dinner and outside his quick, furtive glances at her, and Amelia's faint, but reassuring smiles, they had little contact during the meal.

Before leaving he did make it a point to say goodbye to Amelia. He found her engaged in a conversation with a woman, who Vic assumed must have been her mother based on a very strong resemblance and a young man, who most definitely had those Roman Numerals after his name. Amelia had, what Erica once termed, a "KMN" look on her face: Kill Me Now. Mom playing matchmaker. When he caught Amelia's eye, she quickly excused herself and walked over to him.

Vic told her how pleased he was to have met her and how he looked forward to seeing her again. They talked for a bit and decided to meet early the next week for lunch.

The drive home gave him time to think about what had happened this evening. Amelia had struck a chord, reawakened his need to have a woman again. But not just any woman. That whole experience with Erica and her parting words that what they had could happen again encouraged Vic. Perhaps Amelia would become a very willing student.

He replayed the evolution of his relationship with Erica. There would major differences in the circumstances but Vic still had a gut feeling Amelia was searching for something that Vic would be more than happy to help her find.

Vic was about 10 minutes early but was quite happy to see Amelia already seated at a table. It was pretty clear she had taken some time to get ready for their meeting. She looked stunning and her dress was even a bit more daring then that number she wore at Brooke's party.

As he got closer to the table, he noticed a folder in front of her. Beautiful and prepared. Vic couldn't have been more pleased and optimistic. Even if nothing ever came of this, he was sure he was going to enjoy helping her. But again, Erica's words popped into his head. If the opportunity presented itself, he certainly was going to make the most of it.

"Hello Amelia, you look very nice. Shall we eat then talk or would you prefer the other way around?"

"Oh, hello!" Amelia's hand jerked, sloshing water over the edge of the glass she'd just lifted to her lips. Her cheeks pinkened, and she immediately grabbed a napkin to dry up the water spill. Fortunately the folder in front of her had escaped her momentary clumsiness.

Pull yourself together, Amelia! she told herself. There was no denying that the man before her brought her every nerve and sensor to life, making her more acutely aware of herself and him at the same time. But years of her mother's social training quickly came to her rescue as Amelia blotted the last drop of water and turned her full attention back to Vic.

"I was thinking we might order first. I hear their specials are always excellent,. I didn't think I was even hungry when I arrived, but every time a waiter passes by with a plate, the smell alone has my mouth watering. I hope you don't mind." Amelia's coloring was slowly returning to normal as she smoothly collected herself, though her stomach still twisted up in odd ways as she smiled at him. "I so appreciate you taking the time to meet with me like this."

Vic could have easily attributed Amelia's sudden lapse of coordination and rush of color to her cheeks to being startled at the sound of his voice, but no. He approached head on, she even flashed a most charming smile his way as he neared. Her reaction was more visceral, setting off some kind of emotional alarm inside.

However she quickly recovered her composure and responded to his asking her preference between eating or talking first in a tone that would not betray whatever feelings his voice might have triggered. Vic was impressed how easily she pulled herself back together.

Vic stood behind his chair as she spoke, his meaty hands pressed firmly on it, supporting his weight as he leaned forward toward her. He hoped she would interpret his posture as wanting to get closer in order to hear her better instead of his true intention; trying to get a better look down her dress. Today's choice was a bit more revealing than the black affair she wore at Brooke's party, the roundness of each soft milky white globe more visible. Her earlier non verbal response to his presence, her wardrobe selection indicated to Vic that there just might be something going on here.

He silently cautioned himself not to jump the gun, get too far out in front of this. After all, this was only the second time they'd be meeting, and the first alone. There was still something there, Vic just knew it, and he was bound and determined to find out exactly what it was.

"So it's eat first. Let me see if I can get our server's attention."

That didn't turn out to be a hard task as their handsome young waiter, Jason, was standing near by. He was probably Amelia's age, probably an aspiring writer/actor/ entrepreneur, pick one, waiting tables until that big break came along. Amelia's looks didn't get past him either as he lurked close to their table, refilling water glasses the moment they were set down from taking a drink. Vic liked the fact that she picked up on it too.

Jason asked if they needed to see the wine list. Amelia was not interested, nor was Vic especially after last night's wine fueled episode. After browsing the menu for a minute, they both made their selections. Vic used the time prior to being served to get to know Amelia a bit better. He was a good listener, only talking when Amelia would ask something about him.

All this time during their conversation, Vic couldn't avert his gaze from her. He immediately recognized that Amelia had that deadly combination of looking cute and seductive all at the same time. It was also obvious that she was a very bright, mature young woman who didn't view her station in life as an entitlement but rather a privilege, one she was lucky to have. He was truly impressed and no matter how much he might want this to go down that same road he traveled with Erica, he would assist her in any way he could, no matter what might transpire between them.

While she wasn't adverse to having nice things, like the sunglasses on her forehead that prevented her blond curls from cascading down her face, the expensive bag sitting on the floor beside her, he learned that she recognized not everyone was as fortunate. Although many of Vic's peers were quick to criticize Amelia's generation as being self involved, self serving, he found there were still good people out there willing to find a way to serve. It was clear Amelia was one of those.

After Jason cleared their table and brought over coffee, Vic took the initiative to get to the business at hand. He knew he needed to exercise both patience and caution before venturing into more personal and hopefully sexually fulfilling areas. For the present, he'd stick to mentoring.

"You know Amelia, it's clear from our conversation today and at Brooke's party you want to go down a path that might be a bit different from what your parents envision. You mentioned you had a plan to present that might make your decision more palatable to them."

Vic paused for a moment and motioned to the folder Amelia had placed directly in front of her.

"Let's see what you've got."

He wanted to bring up Erica and how her situation was so very similar to Amelia's. How he had experience in helping her in what Amelia so aptly termed "the parentals." But for right now Erica would remain in the background. He needed to make sure he was on solid footing with Amelia before telling her all about Erica, with the emphasis on the all part.

Amelia's smile eased. The sudden flutter of nerves dispelled as Vic took his seat and their waiter came running. Amelia appreciated the waiter's attention as he took their order and kept their glasses filled. Each time he stopped at their table, Amelia would unconsciously turn his way, bestowing her wide smile on him. It was an unconscious action, as his arrival at their table provided a distraction from the tension Amelia felt humming inside her. Amelia was not one to encourage attention she had no intention of returning, though if Brooke had been her lunch partner, Amelia did not doubt that lunch would have been on the house.

The conversation over lunch was light and easy. Amelia found herself babbling about being grateful to be done with college course and difficult professors, if only for awhile, her recent trip overseas, and perhaps most of all, her family. "My mother is insistent on playing matchmaker. I know what it must feel like to be prize meat at the butcher's. I swear I feel like I'm up for auction every time she introduces me to someone new." Amelia surprised herself with the confession as she wrapped her fingers around the warm mug Jason, the waiter, had just slid in front of her.

Amelia raised the white porcelain mug to her lips and took a tentative sip of the strong brew, as her eyes roved over face of the man across from her. How was it so easy to tell him these things? Amelia was often reserved to a fault, sharing little to nothing, holding everything in tight and close to her like a seasoned poker player at a high stakes game. Yet one lunch with Vic, and she was sharing details she'd never confessed even to Brooke. She studied Vic's face, admiring the touch of distinguishing silver in his brown hair and the warm attention that had yet to waver in his eyes. Why had Brooke never warned her of the simple magnetism this man exuded? Amelia felt it like a physical force anchored deep in her belly that mysteriously tightened and eased during the course of their lunch. He's old enough to be your father. You are ridiculous, Amelia told herself, chanting the thought like a mantra whenever his eyes warmed and he smiled.

"You know Amelia, it's clear from our conversation today and at Brooke's party you want to go down a path that might be a bit different from what your parents envision. You mentioned you had a plan to present that might make your decision more palatable to them. Let's see what you've got."

"Yes," Amelia said, setting her coffee to the side. With a quick indrawn breath summoning her courage, Amelia slid her vanilla folder across the table to him. "It's all outlined there. I want to help refugees here, in our city. I have funds to get started, and I have some contacts of those who might be interested in helping. I have them listed here." Amelia leaned forward and slipped a paper from the folder. "I've tried considering it all from every angle. The one trouble I keep coming back to . . . " Amelia straightened and drew a deep breath. "Is my parents. I want to postpone law school for this. I think they'll go crazy, but if you would talk to them . . . if you like the plan or think it might work . . . if I had your help . . . I think they could be won."

Amelia's eyes never left Vic's face as she leaned forward across the table once more. Her bum perched at the edge of the chair as her whole body seemed to lean into her request. White straight teeth worried her lower lip as she waited for him to assess her request.

Vic opened the folder Amelia pushed across the table and began to page through its content. She shifted her body forward across the table, her body language communicating both anticipation and apprehension in what Vic may find inside. While he was aware of Amelia's voice as he delved into her plan, he really didn't hear what she was saying. It wasn't that he was being rude or not showing interest, it was the fact he was blown away at the document on the table before him.

Despite the fact that this initial review was a cursory one at best, it was apparent that Amelia had expended an extraordinary effort in its preparation. It was well organized, thoroughly and comprehensively researched, with a clear plan of action, attainable and measurable goals and objectives, and a basic understanding of a refugee's needs and the resources needed to meet them.

Vic had experience in the refugee program, albeit it had been almost 30 years since he worked with it. It appeared from what he was reading, the basic elements had remained pretty much the same. Suddenly, a delicate hand made its way into the folder, extracting a sheet a paper from it setting it on top of the folder. As Vic looked down to examine it, Amelia resumed speaking.

"I've tried considering it all from every angle. The one trouble I keep coming back to......."

Amelia stopped mid thought and inhaled one of those audible, sucking breathes, the kind one takes prior to doing or saying something they are really not thrilled to do or say. One of those "God give me the strength" kind.

"Is my parents. I want to postpone law school for this. I think they'll go crazy but if you would talk to them....."

"If you would talk to them." Those words jolted Vic's head up from the papers in front of him and he stared across the table at Amelia. Those words were suspended in the air above Amelia's head enclosed in one of those comic strip bubbles with the arrow pointed directly at her.

Even though she continued talking, Vic didn't hear another thing she said. Those six words set off an explosion inside of his head that resulted in two very strong reactions. The first and one that was visible to Amelia was a big smile that spanned his entire face. The second and one that she was unaware of, thank God, was a purposeful stirring in his groin, very similar to the one he felt last evening, the prelude to whatever the fuck happened in whatever the fuck one would call the state a bottle of Pinot Noir left him in.

It seemed Amelia was right on top of him now, the length of her upper torso stretched across the table. Her eyes zeroed in on his, anxiously waiting his response. It was all he could do from averting his gaze from hers because he could only guess that a healthier portion of her perfect breasts was visible.

"Amelia, after reading your proposal, I'd be more than happy to speak with your parents if you think it would help."

A look of relief flooded over her with Vic assuming she knew his smile was one of acceptance rather than one of ridicule. Now it was his turn to draw his body closer to hers.

"Even though I haven't read it all, I must tell how impressed I am. It's abundantly clear that the time, effort and thought you've put into this truly demonstrates your commitment and passion. This is something I would have expected from someone with much more real life experience in the program and certainly much better than anything I could have come up with."

When it came to this issue, Vic didn't bullshit, what was at stake was much too important to let other issues interfere. Yes, the want for her was growing by leaps and bounds but he would not let that cloud his judgement.

"So yes, bottom line anything I can do to help I will. Let me spend some more time with this and I'll try to come up with something that will help convince them to allow you to give this a try."

Vic stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Let me make a couple of suggestions. Why don't you make the arrangements to meet. Time, place whatever you think works best for them. Also, ask your father to talk to Mike Stafford. Perhaps if Mike can let him know how I worked with Brooke it might give him a point of reference. Last one. Maybe the night before we meet, I could take you to dinner somewhere. A kinda pregame strategy meeting."

Before Amelia had a chance to reply, Jason had come over asking if there would be anything else. It was then that Vic noticed that he had laid his hand across Amelia's, his thick fingers underneath, across the length of her palm. Jason's voice made him realize this bit of physical intimacy and he jerked his hand away. Looking across at Amelia, fully expecting her to be repulsed by his boldness, the warm smile and the look in her eyes gave him no indication of such. Was it the look Erica mentioned to him that day?

Amelia took note of her posture and Jason's presence directly behind her and gently eased back into her chair. She turned and gave him a warm smile and no acknowledgement that she knew he was staring down her dress and told him no thank you. Vic just asked for the check now just noticing the time and how empty the restaurant had become.

Since it appeared Jason was in a hurry to close out and Amelia was not at all interested, he plopped the check on the table, telling us to take our time, no hurry. Which was food server for "Hurry up and get the fuck out of here."

Vic grabbed the bill and noticed Amelia reaching for her bag, digging for her wallet.

"No, Amelia, the pleasure is all mine. One thing you'll have to learn and accept if we are to work together is I'm very much old school."

Slipping a fifty dollar bill inside the leather folder, Vic hoped that the almost 100% tip he left would ease Jason's disappointment of not getting even a whiff of Amelia's attention.

Vic got up and walked over and pulled her chair away from the table. As she passed by, he placed his hand on her bare arm. The simple graze of his fingers on her smooth taut skin sent a shiver down from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.

Once they got outside, Vic realized he still didn't get an answer about his dinner invitation. However, he didn't want to press it now for it seemed Amelia was a bit shaken, off her game. He began to wonder if the hand holding, the dinner invitation, the taking of her arm was too much, too forward of him.

This fear was only reinforced when Amelia declined his request to walk her to her car. She said she was parked off to the right and she wanted to stop at a store on her way back. Vic knew this neighborhood quite well and the only shop down that way was a gourmet butcher shop. Unless Amelia was planning on roasting a side beef in the near future, she didn't want his company.

"Ok," he said, "just give me a call and let me know what you decide. Be careful on your way home."

With that, Amelia softly thanked him and headed down the street. Vic watched her for a moment, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass as she walked. Even though today's dress was not very form fitting, it was pretty hard to hide an ass like hers.

When Vic got back in his car, he leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath. He really didn't believe in coincidences but this was becoming uncanny. That look Erica referred to the very last night they had spent together came at the end of a dinner with her parents after he convinced them that Erica's acceptance for a six week assignment in Sierra Leone to work on the Ebola out break was a chance in a life time. After they left, she hugged him and looked into his eyes, a look he never saw before in a woman, a look that left an indelible picture in his brain, a look that led 18 months later to a torrid sexual adventure. Now that same opportunity, or at least the possibility in Vic's mind, had presented itself again.

Or maybe it was just a product of an over active imagination spurred on by what he deemed the "incident" from last night. Yesterday afternoon, less than 24 hours from their conversation at Brooke's party, Amelia called about having lunch. After hanging up with her, Vic acted like a teenager who scored a date with someone way out of his league. He had planned on going out to dinner that evening but was too frazzled so ordered a pizza instead. He opened a bottle of Pinot, planning on just a glass or two not wanting to get wasted.

Well, the best laid plans as the saying goes. At around ten o'clock, he stumbled into the bedroom with a half filled glass and a bottle with a thimble full of wine remaining, stripped off his clothes and fell into his bed. What happened next still eludes a plausible explanation since he knew he didn't fall asleep but he also wasn't quite all there.

Amelia was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in that same LBD, flashing him a very seductive "come hither" look. Vic walked over to her and gently but firmly pushes her onto her back. Reaching for the hem of her dress that has crawled half way up her thighs, he pulls it up to her hips and spreads her legs wide open.

"What do you think you're doing," he hears her ask.

Vic says nothing but reaches between her legs feeling the dampness of the thong that barely covers her smooth bare mound. His hands grab the elastic band and pulls them off.

"Vic, wait please," she pleads.

Her voice says no but Vic knows her glistening, swollen pink labia tell a different story. He crawls between her legs, she feels his hot breath on her sex.

"I don't want this now. I don't. Please please stop."

She's begging and that makes him more determined. Using his skilled tongue like a wedge, he drives it between her girl cum sealed lips, separating them from their embrace, opening them up like the petals of a blossoming flower.

Her pussy is gushing a steady stream of succulent fluid which he greedily drinks in searching to quench his lustful thirst. Amelia's hips begin to thrash, arch upwards as his mouth ventures north until he finds her burning bud of pleasure.

"No don't, I don't want this."

Vic stops for a minute, giving her a fleeting second of hope. He looks at her pussy, admires how beautiful it is, takes in its narcotic musky scent. Then, for the first time speaks.

"You tell me you don't want this but I know you do. You know how I know? Because in spite of that veneer of proper behavior, you nothing more than a cum hungry slut, aren't you Amelia?"

Not waiting for an answer, Vic begins a lazy dance with his tongue on her engorged clit. Amelia screams, he feels her orgasm cresting as he increases the speed and intensity of his swipes.

"Cum for me you slut," Vic demands.

Amelia's hips thrust and buck, her body begins to tremble and vibrate, her shouts border on animalistic as her body turns into a quivering mess of ecstasy.

A car horn beeps on the street snapping Vic back to the present. Next thing he remembers is waking up and feeling a sizeable patch of matted hair on his lower abdomen, and the distinctive smell of dried semen.

As he pushes the ignition button and puts the car into drive, Vic still is unsure of how that all came about last night. Sure it was the wine, but why now is he still able to remember every detail of that dream or whatever it was, why he can still recall verbatim the conversations from that dream. This morning he wrote it all off to the booze but he wasn't drinking when he started getting hard in the restaurant, looking at her ass or now recalling in great detail last night.

No, he wanted her just the same way he wanted Erica. Only this time he wouldn't have to wait 18 months. For the present, he only needed to wait for her to call him back.

Amelia slid into her baby blue, convertible Volkswagen bug. She punched the lock button for the doors and then dropped her head back against the head rest with a shaky laugh. Her fingers trembled. She laughed again and wiped at her eyes. He was going to help! He liked her plan! Amelia's lips curved upwards as she remembered watching him scan the pages of plans and notes she'd given him. He'd been intent, focused. He understood what she wanted to do and believed in it, believed in her. Amelia felt his faith in the core of her soul and hugged the knowledge to herself. She hadn't let herself hope. She knew the mountains before her were huge, but now, in this moment, she felt she could see beyond them.

Amelia breathed deep and let her muscles relax. She closed her eyes and pictured the moment his smile had spread across his face and his eyes had lifted from the papers to meet hers. She wanted to fix the memory in her mind. Amelia's eyes sprang open, and she glanced guiltily in the rear view mirror though Vic was nowhere to be seen. She could only hope he hadn't been offended by her refusal to have him walk her to the car. Her emotions were riding high, and she wasn't certain how much longer she could hold her poise in front of him. The last thing she wanted was for him to think her an emotional female or maybe worse, immature. So, she'd risked offending him, rather than have him see how much this meant to her or, if she was honest, how much he affected her. Amelia shunted that thought to the side, as a frisson of electricity slipped up her spine. She wasn't blind to Vic's occasional glance that dropped from her face to her breasts or to his casual touch. He'd paid for the meal, and Amelia wasn't sure how she felt about it. Did it mean something? Was it a paternal gesture or . . . ? Or maybe it was simply old school. Amelia set the matter firmly to the side, nervous to look too close.

The drive home to her apartment was short, but by the time she arrived, she had already talked with Brooke's father, Mike Stafford, who promised to give her own father a call. Amelia's mother called as she climbed the stairs to her apartment on the third floor. Amelia considered ignoring it for only a moment or maybe two.

"Hey, Mom," Amelia said, bringing the phone to her ear as she let herself into the apartment.

"Amelia!" Elaine Trent's voice was high with excitement. "You need to come home for dinner on Friday! Jonathan Borensen, the young man joining your father's firm, is coming! Actually, his whole family is coming, so you can't complain that this is a set up! I thought it would be a nice way for you to get to know him. Low key. No pressure. I hope you won't be difficult about this. He's an excellent young man with a great future ahead of him."

Amelia grimaced as her mother spoke. Low key and no pressure might as well be code words for set up and look good. Amelia sighed and considered mutiny, but just as her mother was concluding the long list of Jonathan Borensen's merits, she had an idea.

"Mom," Amelia interjected before her mother could move on to the list of his family's credentials. "I'd like you and Dad to meet someone too. I'll come to Friday's dinner, but do you think you and Dad could clear a night, maybe next week for me?"

Amelia's mother sputtered, then proceeded with a hundred questions. Amelia answered as best she could without giving too much of her purpose away. By the end, her mother agreed to host a small dinner at their home for Amelia and Vic on the following Wednesday, if the date worked for Vic's calendar. Amelia ended the call with a smile she could not contain and immediately shot off a text to Vic to see if Tuesday would work for a pregame strategy meeting.

Vic had been home less than five minutes when his phone chimed signaling an incoming massage. He wasn't surprised to see it was from Amelia since she would be just about the only person who would text him. It appeared that she had been quite busy in the hour or so after their lunch. She had already arranged for dinner at her parents' house next Wednesday and perhaps their strategy meeting the preceding evening if his calendar would allow. His calendar. Vic didn't have a calendar, a fact that he found both funny and sad. Even if he did, he would have rearranged anything previously scheduled to make himself available.

He quickly typed out his reply letting her know those dates were fine and that he would call her over the weekend to discuss dinner options for Tuesday. A couple of seconds later she responded with "great", "thanks" and a smiley face emoji.

Putting his phone on the kitchen table and sitting down at it, Vic leaned back and allowed a long, audible breath to escape. He could sense her unbridled enthusiasm and excitement seeping into the words that appeared on his phone. That fact, coupled by the hour's worth of reflection courtesy of sitting in the bumper to bumper traffic he encountered on his commute from downtown to the western burbs, had put this budding relationship with Amelia back where it belonged. "The incident" was nothing more than an aberration, an alcohol fueled fantasy that was the figment of an overactive, sex starved imagination. He really needed to get grounded and see this for what it really was.

And for the rest of the week, Vic stayed true to that course. He had fallen back into his normal retirement routine, daily long walks with his Yellow Lab, Ernie, the gym, reading, golf and binge watching something mindless on Netflix. Even after his call to Amelia Sunday afternoon to arrange Tuesday's dinner, he kept his mind free of any and all carnal designs for her.

That all went sideways on Monday afternoon when Mike Stafford called. After the usual chit chat, Mike mentioned he had just gotten off the phone with Amelia's father. Noticing a touch of apprehension in Vic's voice, he reassured him nothing was wrong and he was calling just to provide Vic a bit of Trent family background, info that might prove useful prior to his visit on Wednesday. Mike prefaced what he was about to reveal with some of the information had come from conversations Brooke has had with Amelia. Vic assured him he would keep that in mind.

After hanging up about thirty minutes later, Vic could feel the whole week's worth of firm resolve melt away like wax on a burning candle. All those coincidences between Erica and Amelia's situation continued to mount, once again giving rise to Vic's suppressed desire for something much more than providing career guidance.
Maybe he was making connections that really weren't there but that's what one does to make things fit their desired narrative.

When Vic looked at those facts logically, those coincidences bordered on scary. The youngest of three kids, the only girl, demanding parents who had their children's future mapped out right out of the womb. Everything, from what sports to play, what college to attend, what courses to take, who they should marry and of course, their place in the family business, was a given, no room for any deviation, end of discussion. Even their attitudes toward their parents and how they expressed them to their closest friend were eerily similar. Mike said Amelia had recently told Brooke that she loved her parents dearly but just wished "they'd leave me the fuck alone and let me live my own life." Almost verbatim to what Erica had said to her best friend.

While everything Mike had told him would certainly help him devise a strategy to best help Amelia, it rekindled that hope that this would all lead to what he had with Erica. All week he had convinced himself that was a one in a million occurrence, this last half hour had him thinking that perhaps lightning could and would strike twice.

At 6:15 Tuesday evening, Vic was sitting in the lounge at Monroe's where he was meeting Amelia for dinner at 7. Knowing Brooke and Amelia's place was way up on the north end of the city, an easy commute to Northwestern, he offered to meet up near there. Amelia said to pick somewhere close to his place since she was coming down to spend the next couple of nights at her parents.

He arrived early on purpose to have a glass of wine to hopefully settle him down. He had abstained from drinking all week, not that he was worried about his alcohol consumption but rather didn't want to take any chances of a repeat performance of "the incident." Since getting off the phone with Mike, he played a continuous mental game of "Point/Counterpoint", presenting sound arguments proving or disproving theories of Amelia's sexual attraction to him.

As he swirled the overpriced Merlot and watched the legs meander down the sides of the glass, the current issue being discussed was the dress she wore to lunch.

Point: "Look how low cut it was Vic and how she leaned over daring you to look at those young perfect breasts she was flaunting in front of you. I wonder how'll she'll dress tonight to tempt you."

Counterpoint: "Oh for fuck's sake, Vic. What did you expect an attractive twenty something to wear? Something from the Amish Thrift Shop? Quit flattering yourself you old geezer."

Just then a hand gently touched his shoulder. As he turned to look, he almost spilled his wine as he saw the beautiful young woman standing in front of him.

"HHHiiii Amelia," he managed to stutter, his eyes never leaving her, the Point voice screaming inside his head "I win, I win!!!!"

Amelia flipped the car visor down and checked her lipstick one more time. The lipstick was a warm red. Brighter than what Amelia typically wore. Brooke had loaned her the color and the dress that matched it. Sliding out of the car, Amelia tugged at her dress to keep it from riding up. It was Brooke's favorite dress--Brooke, who was a good two inches shorter and a cup size smaller than Amelia. But after Amelia had changed outfits for the tenth time that evening, Brooke had thrown the dress at her and told her to wear it in good health. Amelia absently wondered what Brooke was thinking about her erratic behavior. Though she couldn't say why, she hadn't told Brooke who she was meeting for dinner, and Brooke hadn't asked.

Amelia stepped inside the lounge and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. It only took a moment for her to spot Vic. Amelia skirted a few tables, making her way toward him. She bit the inside of her lip as she approached unobserved. The discouragement that had dogged her since the dinner with her parents lifted slightly. There was a nervous flutter in her belly. She wasn't as sure as she had been a week ago that her plan was going to work. Her mother was impossible, thrusting Sorenson at her like offering a dog a cookie. "Don't you want this nice young man? Isn't he handsome and with a big paycheck? Won't that look nice on a resume? Amelia Trent--Married well." Her father was no better but the opposite. He was the balance of all her mother's interest, in that he had none.

Amelia stopped at Vic's side, but he had yet to look up and notice her. He seemed so deep in thought, it was a shame to disturb him. Amelia reached out without thought and brushed a stray hair with her fingertips. Her hand dropped to his shoulder, and Amelia smiled as he turned to look at her.

"Hello," Amelia said, her eyes twinkling as she realized she'd definitely taken him by surprise. "Hope I'm not intruding."

"Hope I'm not intruding."

Vic heard Amelia speak but his brain would not allow him to respond. The only thing that worked was his vision and his eyes were fixated on the sexy woman standing next to him. Her hair and make-up were impeccable, seductive; her dress cut dangerously low revealing an ample amount of cleavage; its hem draped across her taut, muscular thighs, a good six inches above her knee. Finally his ability to speak returned and words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Amelia, why no, of course not."

Before he could say anything else, Brad the young man behind the bar came running over. Prior to her arrival, Vic was pretty much invisible. Now he was Brad's favorite patron.

"May I get the young lady something to drink?" he said, aiming an almost too perfect smile at her.

Vic quickly intervened saying he and Amelia were having a business dinner and needed a quiet table. Brad pointed to a spacious booth in the corner of the lounge. A perfect spot, he said, and guaranteed he'd make sure no one would be seated near by. Vic looked to Amelia, who simply nodded her head in approval and offered Brad a charming smile and a soft thank you. Brad had that unmistakable, "I'd love to fuck you" look in his eye, a look that did not go unnoticed by Amelia. Vic felt panicky. Did she notice that same look in his eyes only moments earlier?

Amelia seemed completely unfazed by it all and simply started walking toward the booth with Brad and Vic in tow behind. Vic wondered if the exaggerated swaying of her ass that the dress hugged so tightly was for both of their benefit.

As with lunch, Amelia suggested eating first and business later. During dinner Vic took note of the way Amelia just picked at her food and sensed that the excitement she displayed at that lunch and in their phone conversation waning. When he asked if she came back home often, she launched into Friday's dinner debacle leaving no distasteful detail out.

Although Vic had a hard time concentrating on dinner's real purpose, Amelia's mini tirade quickly refocused him. It was time to have her validate the family dynamic that Mike had clued him into. Mike said that she and Brooke were like sisters so the info that he passed along was solid but still, Vic wanted to hear Amelia's take on it.

Brad swung by again as he had so often during the course of the evening. It appeared he couldn't quite get enough of her legs that, no matter how modestly Amelia might have tried to sit, were prominently displayed. Vic shot him a look that clearly said they were not to be bothered for the rest of the evening.

Amelia appeared relieved and relaxed once she had gotten Friday's fiasco off her chest. Her openness and willing to share indicated that she trusted him, something that was of paramount importance if he was going to be able to successfully convince her parents that her career choice was both noble and important.

"So, Amelia, I have some ideas on how I can help you but I would really like to hear from you on how you think I can best accomplish that. That's my only goal, to help you get to where you want to be."

Vic felt an immediate pang of guilt because he knew that last sentence was a lie. Now the guilt turned to fear as the look in Amelia's eyes told him she knew it was too.

Amelia drained the last of her Pinot Gris. A single clear drop quivered on the rim of her glass, but a quick flick of her tongue demolished it. She set the glass back on the table, idly fingering the fragile stem.

How could he help? Silence filled the space between them as Amelia considered her answer. Fly me to Bermuda for sun, sand, and no cares. Magically bewitch my parents to understand I want more than what they want from me. Amelia raised her eyes to meet Vic's. Fuck me.The thought came so quickly and clearly, Amelia had no chance to hide it. She felt it strike like lightening, shivering down her spine, tingling in her toes. Her face flushed red as if she had spoken the actual words. She jerked back in her chair, knocking the wine glass over. She was grateful it was empty.

"I don't think you really have to do much actually," Amelia finally said. Cheeks burning, she set the wine glass back upright and withdrew her hands to fold them in her lap. "I think your presence alone as representation of solid backing may be enough." She couldn't quite meet his eyes. Instead, she fastened her gaze to the flickering flame of the half melted candle sitting on the table between them willing her cheeks to cool down. "They'll protest that I'm their youngest and only daughter. I can't possibly know what I want. It will be much harder than I think. This is just another whim. And they'll hope in a few days I'll forget."

Amelia could breathe again, and so she risked looking back at Vic. "I'm gambling that if you're there, they'll have to listen for once." Amelia smiled. "I just want them to listen. Because I'm going to do this no matter what." As she smiled across the table at Vic, for a moment, Amelia felt she was promising so much more

"I just want them to listen. Because I'm going to do this no matter what."

Just like that, the strong, independent, confident Amelia reappeared, seemingly fully recovered from her attack of clumsiness. Her breathing returned to normal and the rush of blood that colored her faced slowly dissipated. The smile she flashed Vic coupled with the look in her eyes when she fumbled with her wine glass told him all he needed to know.

It'll be in her eyes, Erica had told him, you'll know it right away. He thought he saw "that look" at Brooke's party and again at lunch last week. Now he was certain. Those sudden lapses in composure didn't have anything to do with her career choice or her parents.

Yes, he thought, she was apprehensive about the path she wanted to take and would have loved to have her parents' support but she was bound and determined to do what she thought was best for her. But did she want something much more, something driven with anticipation and lust?

It was Vic's turn to regroup and now he wished he had gotten another glass of wine. But taking it down in one swallow like a shot of bottom shelf bourbon would have only betrayed his true feelings. He would table pursuing confirmation of her intentions until later.

Vic turned their attention back to tomorrow night's dinner. He told Amelia a little bit about Erica and how he had a similar meeting with her parents. His words comforted Amelia and although he wasn't sure how it would all play out, he was certain he could win her parents over. Amelia seemed much more relaxed as she leaned across the table, her weight resting on her forearms. Vic placed his hands on them, giving a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

"I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Amelia, but I'm good in dealing with people. I feel confident that by the end of the night, we'll all feel good about everything."

His hands held hers a little tighter, giving extra emphasis to the word everything. Vic released his grip, took a quick look at the time and noting the late hour suggested they call it a night. As they left the lounge, Brad took a final look as Amelia walked by. She slowed the pace considerably giving him an extra long view of her sexy body.

Tonight Vic didn't ask permission to walk her to her car, he just did it. The parking lot was deserted and would afford him a chance to see if he was reading her intentions correctly. His plan was to set the table, so to speak, and allow Amelia an opportunity to sit and join him.

When they reached her car, Amelia hit her fob to unlock it. Vic reached over and opened her door. As she moved forward to get in, Vic placed a hand on her upper arm and turned her toward him. His hands found their way to her shoulders and he held her at arms' length.

"Erica and I had a very special relationship, one we maintained after I retired. I'm hoping that we can have that same kind of relationship."

Vic's eyes hungrily roamed across her entire body undressing her. His fingers were now extending down her upper back, exerting the slightest pressure, asking her to come closer. The sexual tension was palpable. Did she also feel it? And more importantly, would she yield to it?