Seduction

CHAPTER ONE Tony Landry slipped the key into the lock and pushed the door open on its hinges. Like a gentleman, he stepped aside and allowed Valerie to step into the apartment first. He took a moment to marvel at Valerie's long chocolate legs, which seemed to move in slow motion beneath the red crinkled crepe dress she wore. Although referring to it as a dress was a bit of a stretch, since the hem barely hit the curve of her thigh and the plunging neckline hardly covered her areolas. "This shit is tight!" she squealed as she glided across the khaki-colored area rug toward the west wall and the Charley Palmer original that hung there. Tony stepped in and pulled the door closed behind him. She was a beauty; that point could not be denied. So beautiful that he, the great Tony Landry, with all of his confidence and the three hundred plus notches on his belt, had felt a sliver of insecurity crawl up his spine in the moments before he made up his mind to approach her at Perks. That was three hours ago and in that time he'd dazzled her with his smile, charm, and bootleg Rolex. When he excused himself to go to the restroom, he made sure to hitch his pants a bit so Valerie could see that not only was he good-looking, intelligent, and funny-but he also had a big dick. Her eyes had bulged, and the tiny bit of a smile she'd been favoring him with grew, and he knew he had her. "Yeah, it's okay I guess," he said, tossing the keys onto the mahogany sofa table. "Can I get you something to drink?" It was more than okay. Valerie had said it best: it was tight. Market rent for the apartment would have been a staggering $3,500 a month, but his childhood friend Zebby Trotman had bought it years earlier for a song. Zebby was a career criminal, and two years ago he got himself mixed up in an international banking scam. Now he was serving time in an Australian prison. He'd given Tony a spare set of keys to the apartment before the government extradited him. Zebby told Tony he could use the place whenever he wanted. Well, his exact words were: "You can fuck there, but don't think about moving in." Valerie sat daintily down on the couch, crossing those legs that went on forever, and said, "Champagne?" She was gliding her index finger up and down the space between her breasts, which he had decided were D cups and real. It was a game he enjoyed playing with himself: Guess Her Bra Size. Sometimes he was wrong and when the bra came off it was padded. But those, those looked real. He could already feel his dick turning to granite. "Sure," he said, and started toward the kitchen. He was a player with a capital P. But he was also broke, so he had come up with the bright idea to buy the ten-dollar bottle of Cordon Negro champagne and pour its contents into the one Cristal bottle he'd lifted from some party he'd attended. By the time he got the women up to the apartment they were usually more than a little tipsy and didn't even know the difference. The popping sound he made with his own mouth. He opened the cherry wood cabinet and pulled one crystal champagne flute from the shelf. He wasn't a big champagne drinker, and anyway, even if it was just ten dollars a bottle, he couldn't afford to waste any on himself. Tomorrow was another day, and that usually meant another woman. He walked back into the living room; in one hand he held the crystal flute, in the other, the bottle of Cristal. A deep look of satisfaction settled on Valerie's supermodel face as her eyes lit on the bottle. "Cristal-hmmmm, you've got real class." "Thank you," he said as he handed the flute to her and took a seat beside her. She sipped, still marveling at the apartment, before turning to him and asking, "You're not having any?" Tony shrugged his sHolliday, Geneva is the author of 'Seduction', published 2008 under ISBN 9780767927468 and ISBN 076792746X.