A Lick and a Promise. Jo Leigh

the night before?

      “Idiot,” he said to the man in the mirror. “Moron.”

      Then he pushed his hair back with his fingers, straightened his shoulders and strode out of the bathroom. His boss, Edgar Kogen, was waiting impatiently by Daniel’s desk. “They’re here.”

      Daniel nodded, wishing he’d had time for another cup of coffee before he had to do the dog-and-pony show. But he got his portfolio and followed Kogen into the conference room.

      He had already prepared the room. There were easels covered with detail drawings which, along with what he had in his portfolio, would convince the attorneys from Bressler, Wendelken and Sherman that this new building would handle all their needs for years to come. He pasted a smile on his face, and launched into his spiel.

      It took five hours, but by the end of it, the attorneys were sold. They shook hands, and Daniel caught Edgar’s approving nod as he gathered his drawings. This was a major, prestige deal, one worth millions. Daniel had been privy to the competition’s approach, seen sketches, which were damn good. But they were too modern, too forward thinking for the stodgy attorneys. Bressler et al were from the old school, like the company Daniel worked for. Like his father. They liked the status quo, and that’s just what Daniel had given them. So what if it wasn’t exciting, so what if he’d had to force himself to think like an old man when he’d drawn up the designs.

      These men in their wool suits would be shocked if they knew what Daniel did in his spare time. That he created fantasies; futuristic buildings. His passion, one he kept close to the vest, was science fiction. He’d discovered Frank Frazetta years ago when he’d started hiding paperback fantasy books under his bed. Then it was H. R. Giger and hundreds of other visionary artists who blew away all the old concepts about what things could be. Whenever he was upset or bored he would take to his drawings, letting his imagination run wild. But that was all behind closed doors. What he did in the real world was design buildings that looked like other buildings. Old buildings.

      He was alone in the conference room. His portfolio was zipped, the table littered with unused notepads, empty coffee cups, carafes half-full of ice water. He wondered why he didn’t feel more elated. It was a big deal, what he’d done. A raise wouldn’t be out of the question. His partnership was coming into focus. And yet, he couldn’t muster so much as a satisfied grin.

      Tired, that’s all. He hadn’t slept well. Hardly at all. Tonight, after the gym, he’d crash early. By tomorrow he’d be himself again.

      He went out, toward his office. The receptionist, Jill, smiled broadly and gave him two thumbs up. He answered her with a nod and felt guilty that it wasn’t more. She was a nice woman, and she was always there to assist whenever he needed her. But his mind was already back at the Chelsea apartment. Not on a good night’s sleep though. His jacket. He’d left it at Margot’s. He should get it after work. Simple, really. No big deal. She’d be tired, too. He wouldn’t stick around.

      He wouldn’t even think about those other two rings or where they were hidden on that incredible body.

      To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple

      From: Margot

      Sub: HOLY MOLY!

      Dear Everybody,

      I’m at work. Chaos reins and hellhounds abound, but I don’t care. I have to write this because I can’t stop thinking about it. Him. Daniel.

      I mentioned we had a new guy move in to the building, right? Well, he came to the weekly dinner last night, and OMG!!! He’s GORGEOUS. Seriously. Heart stoppingly. I mean it. He’s beyond the beyond. Okay, so he’s clueless about what to wear or how to wear it, but the potential is there. I feel like Michelangelo when he saw the marble that would become David. All I have to do is strip away the parts that aren’t truly Daniel.

      But even more important than his makeover possibilities, I liked him. Yeah, that way. There was this…thing between us. Sparks. Magic. Heat. I kept wanting to lick him all over. It was overwhelming. He talks. He has a sense of humor. He’s artistic. Well, he’s an architect, so I’m assuming there, but I think so. And he wanted…more. Me, I supposed. Which is…

      Anyway. I’m hereby throwing my hat in the ring. (Maybe we should change that to throwing our panties into the ring.) Daniel is officially my Man To Do. I wish it could be more, but I have serious doubts.

      He’s not Jewish. Which, as you know, isn’t a requirement, but Daniel is so not. He’s so conservative. But curious. I just hope he’s not overwhelmed by it all. I mean, I live in ethnic-alternate-lifestyle land. He comes from a world of white bread and mayo. I have the feeling his parents would expire on the spot if he should bring me to meet them. But, I digress. He’s a man to do. I’m just hoping he’s a man to do a LOT.

      I need to get back to work. I’m doing onion rings, and I smell like I’ve been deep-fried. I’ll keep you posted.

      Love and smooches,

      Margot