I pull my suit jacket on, and head out the door, turning left from Charlotte's Square, where H&L Publishing is, onto George Street, heading to some boring publishing meet and greet for some big shot new author. Lawrence insisted I go, and I cant help but hate the bastard for it, every time my right foot hits the pavement. I walk up the stairs of the impressive building, doorman and all and enter. The vast bar room is full of people, clinking glasses, chatting away, sucking up to each other about how great their client is, all very mundane. The room itself smells of mahogany, leather and brandy. Everything is styled in that old world, old money chic. I make my way to the bar, ordering a double whiskey, deciding I won't move from this spot, this perfect, red leather, over priced, uncomfortable spot. Resting my elbows on the bar, my hand clutches my drink, and I breathe in its scent. Perfection. Is there a better smell than a malt... my thoughts are interrupted.
"Excuse me! ... Excuse me! God, is no one serving?" I hear this girl complaining a few spaces along from me, she is tutting her lips against her teeth, throwing her hand in the air, clutching her money, trying with attitude to get the barman's attention. He is clearly not paying attention to her, chatting up this fiery, feisty older women in a red clingy dress. The possible patron girl looks cute, obviously trying hard to fit in with her serious business women shift dress, that's hugging in all the right places, allegiant, understated, yet surprisingly carnal. I do have a soft spot for interns.
I raise my hand, in only a way I can, "barman" my assertive voice carries across the room, and as the barman comes towards me the intern is looking shocked, outraged and in awe. I lean into the barman, "I believe that young lady over there has been trying to order a drink from you. However you have rudely failed to do your job." The barman apologies, asks if I need anything else, and moves onto service the young lady. Ordering her drink, she cautiously glances towards me through her hair, she sweeps the curtain back around her ear, and smiles shyly. Once she has her drink, she makes her way over, her cheeks are blushing as she nervously chews her lip. All I can think about is how much I want to chew it for her.
"Thank you for that, I'd have been there for hours," she sounds very small, meek and shy. I'm instantly attracted. Her face lingers, hoping to get some form of signal from me.
"Not at all, anything to help a lady in need." I flash her a charming smile, with a wink. Her face blushes once more, this could be fun. "So what is a pretty little girl like you doing at such a boring event?" I ask, feeling confident she's hooked, "You do know it's just Walker Publishing, trying to show off how big their dicks are because they actually have one semi-decent client?" I scoff, taking a sip of my drink.
Her facial expression seems to change, her face remains red, but I notice her hand clenching around her drink. "Little girl? Maybe I should introduce myself, I'm Charlotte Walker, the big dick with the client." She smiles through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with poison. "Enjoy the event, try not to choke on the stench of success." She turns on her heel, walking away, her hips swaying with her rage.
