The front door opened and closed behind her. Tossing her keys in the bowl, she set her briefcase down by the table and slipped off her heels. With the heels held in one hand, her stocking clad feet pad to the kitchen for something cold to drink. She stared at the frig, grinning like an idiot. It was tempting. So tempting but others might be about. She opened the frig and took out a cold root beer before she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with crushed ice. Taking root beer and glass, heels still tangling from one hand she made her way to the study.
On her desk were several papers. She dropped the heels on the floor next to her desk and was idly flipping through the papers. Her eyes paused on an invoice and she was about ready to raise the roof again when she noticed who ordered....
T shirts? For the maids? Oh hell no.
She rapped her manicured fingernails on the desktop. M. He..he... she groaned and sat down. Not him too. Two of them, under the same roof. She sighed. She was out manned, but she'd be damned if she'd be outgunned.
She popped open the soda and poured it into her glass, a grin on her lips.
He walks into the study and notices that the papers are gone. A mischievous grin forms on his face. An empty glass and a root beer can left on her desk. Can is dumped into the recycle bin with a suspicious head shake. She never leaves things like this. Something must have come up. Glass is carried into the kitchen and placed into the sink. He makes his way down the stairs once again to have a drink and see if there's anything good on TV. Maybe shoot some pool.
I love these first cool cloudy days. It's barely sprinkling out but it's nice. It makes me feel lazy as I sit here with coffee, looking out the window at the sky. It feels good, especially after the stress of the past weekend, which has floated into my weekend. Even feeling lazy there are things to do, so I'm off to see to them. Some days, I wish I were a cat.
The lounges by the bar are occupied today and, once again, he's unable to play his usual games. This time, his ankle elevated and wrapped in bandages and ice, he is idly watching movies on of the mounted flat screens.
A maid serves him, drinks. A fluffed up pillow. She smiles and he returns the favor, seemingly playing gentleman today.
Though he shamelessly sneaks a look up her skirt as she walks past.
He moves, finally, as a Maid brings a tub full of ice water. Unwrapping his ankle, the curmudgeon sets his foot in the freezing water. A look of misery on his face for a minute, two, before he settles to watching TV with a grim look of resignation on his wolfish features.
He answers. And as for the ring, the maids will get it, he's certain. He's kept off this last bunch for the most part, trading only smiles and occasional flirtations. For now his attention is on the Red Sox game filling the flat screen mounted across from him. His eyes hardly stray. He's visibly frustrated.
Wearing a just above knee-length loose white skirt and a turquoise strapless top with laces down the back, she's more of an understated sort of sexy, as opposed to the in-your-face kind. Her face is framed by full, loose waves of dark hair that falls well past her shoulders and contrasts nicely against the vibrant color of her top. Her eyes are green, with flecks of honey-gold sprinkled throughout, and they watch his face from across the room. She can see the frustration, even from where she stands, but it doesn't seem to hinder her. Approaching him, mindful of his injured ankle and the ice water it rests in, she leans her hip against one arm of the couch.