James & Jasmine Ch. 01

Dear Reader - This is the first chapter of a six chapter saga that I will begin submitting with this first chapter. Please proceed with this chapter knowing that there is a long build-up before the sex really begins. While this first chapter is plenty sexy, there is no sex, per se, until the next chapter. Please read it with that long slow build-up in mind. I will pace the posting of the first five completed chapters over a few weeks and will complete chapter six based on the interest and comments I receive. Thanks for all of you who venture forth and dive in. I appreciate your interest in my writing and hope you enjoy this effort - several years in the making.

Gapster

*****

Friday – New York City

James twirled the pen through his fingers – a nervous habit that he'd developed in college – as he listened intently to the ad presentation. His partner, Paul, was floating ideas and a direction for the new campaign they were working on. Or, rather, the young female associate Paul had recruited for this particular project was doing her best to sell the concept, and she was doing very well. Their ideas were good: sound, creative, and thoroughly researched, as he would have expected. But it wasn't the dazzling graphics, clever word play, or provocative photos that had garnered his attention on this bright spring Friday morning. It was the exquisite form of Paul's young assistant, Jasmine, that had his mind wandering and fantasizing.

Jasmine had only been with the agency since the fall, hired by Paul. While James had certainly noticed her walking about the open high-ceilinged space of their sprawling Tribeca office, they had not yet crossed paths until this morning for anything work related. This was the first opportunity he'd had to both admire her up close and to hear what she had to say on a professional level. She was making a great first impression on him, and his first impressions were seldom wrong. She had the entire package.

"The market Caresse is trying to position themselves for is affordable, but sexy, lingerie – French, but not too pricey – American, but with a continental flair and sexiness. They feel that Victoria's Secret owns the American woman, but their message has become stale and homogenized. They dominate the market, but there is room for a newcomer. Caresse thinks that there is a growing desire for a sexier alterative to VS, and that is their focus – to fill that void. "That," she said, with emphasis and a little twist of her tight hips under her thin silk dress, "is what they want to bring to our shores." She smiled nervously, looking to James for approval. He shrugged and smiled back as his eyes grazed over the soft tight curves of her slender body. She was flirting with him and doing a damn good job of that too.

It was sinful what she did to the dress she was wearing. The thin slinky fabric had a small black check on a white background with slithering strips of color woven through the grid. It hugged her curves seductively, yet flowed and lay comfortably on her dancer's body. The thin ankle straps of her black high heels were a detail that further worked to attract James's attention. And the deep maroon manicure was a lovely way to complement the mahogany highlights that accented her auburn tresses. James snapped his attention back to the matter at hand, as difficult as that was.

She appeared to be on target with Caresse's corporate strategy. The French lingerie company had contacted their agency several months earlier about modifying their advertising approach for the American market and helping them bring their product to the US. James and Paul's company, Innova, was in the throes of creating that very response and it had to be a good one.

James, as the managing partner for the agency, had the final say in most of the corporate ventures. Paul, his partner of twenty plus years, was the creative director and James's alter ego. They had founded the agency and between them had a nice balance of complementary skills that accounted for their success. Innova had shown steady growth for several years and they were now attracting the best and brightest talent in New York, and Jasmine was a sure testament to that fact. James shook his head. Where had she come from and how had he not fully noticed her until now? She was a stunner and she knew it too. She had the deadly combo that often goes with beauty: innate confidence, but with a beguiling innocence

In just over a week James and Paul would be jetting off to Paris to present their ideas for the advertising campaign and, hopefully, coming to a contractual arrangement with the burgeoning French lingerie company. Caresse had found a wonderful niche in the European theater and was hoping, with Innova's able assistance, to bring their product to the young American woman. James and Paul were poised and ready to help. For them it would be a European client with a huge up-side. It was a great product: French, fashionable and affordable. It was a potential goldmine – for them, surely – but for Caresse as well. The success of their upcoming meeting in Paris was crucial.

"That sounds great, Jasmine. But what is it that we at Innova are bringing to the table? How are we altering and modifying their current strategy to resonate with American women? What's our angle?" James queried, as he stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger.

She looked him squarely in the eye and stood up straight as she responded, giving James another chance to visually explore her exquisite body. If she was nervous presenting to a senior partner for the first time, she didn't show it.

"We're selling sex, Mr. Morgan – plain and simple, and..."

He interrupted her. "Please, Jasmine – call me James," he stated unequivocally. Jasmine smiled before continuing.

"Well, James, American lingerie is mainly sold as a wholesome, white bread commodity. It's homogenized, R-rated sensuality. Caresse has a more underlying sexual approach that is a mix of hot bodies and beautiful photography, bordering on the erotic, but with a price tag that won't scare away the average buyer. Their advertising strategy in France may be a bit over the top, however, for the American marketplace. Our job is to temper that approach without losing the underlying sensuality of their product and marketing strategy. But they are, when all is said and done, selling a fantasy, an allure, a promise. They are selling sex," she said emphatically without flinching or letting go of his intense gaze. "And that's what led us to one of the tag lines: 'Caresse – if you're lucky.'"

James nodded knowingly as his eyes grazed again over this incredibly beautiful woman – young Jasmine. She had to be barely into her 30s, but retained a youthful glow that was palpable. She was 5'-8" and model slender. She had a long graceful dancer's body, but was not devoid, by any means, of seductive curves. Her breasts stretched the bodice of her dress quite nicely. She was a very full C cup from his estimation; perfectly shaped and most definitely all natural.

The dress left an exposure of deep soft cleavage that was subtle, but extremely seductive. The black and white grid of her dress strained sinfully to contain the fullness of her perfect bosom; definitely larger than one would expect on such a slender frame. The material lay smoothly across her lower torso and showed the graceful lines of her great legs and absolutely perfect ass. He detected no panty line. If she were wearing any panties at all, they were the thinnest and tiniest of thongs. Perhaps she was wearing nothing at all. James's mind raced at the thought and he brought his gaze politely back to look into Jasmine's eyes.

He saw her eyes flicker briefly as he scanned, gallantly, her long lean form. Her hips sloped seductively against the flimsy fabric of her dress and he had already surveyed the luscious curves of her backside. He kept looking for a flaw – a slight bulge or an extra pound or two – and found nothing but perfection.

And, if that wasn't enough, her face was a combination of sweetness and sin. She had an all-American glow, but with the glint of naughty in her deep green eyes. Her lips were just pouty enough to draw one's attention and her skin had a translucent glow of gossamer and lace. She was an exotic blend and the best of whatever races were coursing through her veins. Her breast-length auburn hair was highlighted with subtle streaks of reddish brown that gave her a devilish bent and an edginess that delivered a sexual curveball that contrasted with the simplicity of her underlying, girl-next-door appeal. Her long wild tresses fell in tempting waves across her square shoulders, framing her impeccable face. He was transfixed – plain and simple – and was determined to find out more about this intoxicating young lady. He was happy to see that there was no wedding ring.

James was one of the more eligible, yet aloof, bachelors in New York City. He had been married for 17 years, yet three years ago, at the age of 57, he'd found that his bicoastal marriage had disintegrated to a point where it could hardly be called a marriage. Beth had stayed out on the west coast and they had divorced as amicably as possible, given that a few dollars were at stake. Yet neither of them was greedy and no children were involved, so they had been able to split with a measure of decorum that wasn't always possible in high stakes divorces.

He'd been on his own for three years now, dating and enjoying himself to no end. But he did find, despite the plethora of beautiful and very available women in New York, that few seemed to satisfy the lofty standards he had set. Perhaps he was going to find out that his dream girl was just that – a dream. Or maybe he had stumbled upon her this very day.

He turned his gaze to Paul, who looked back at him with a knowing glint in his eye and a subtle shake of his head. 'Shame on you,' Paul's look said. Paul was familiar with James's taste in women after several decades of working together, and he knew the look on James's face all too well. Fortunately, Paul was gay, and Jasmine didn't have the same draw on him. But Paul knew his friend and partner well, and perhaps there was an underlying reason he had assigned Jasmine to this particular project.

James wondered what was going through the young lady's mind as she remained the focus of his attention and a rather awkward silence surrounded the moment. Had she calculated what she might wear that morning as she was getting dressed; trying to find the right balance between professionalism and sexuality? Was she, given James's obvious interest in her, perhaps a little concerned that she had exposed a bit too much? He imagined she wanted to be taken seriously, but she had wanted to look good too – hot, in fact. She was, after all, meeting with the two owners of the agency that morning. And, she'd probably reminded herself that morning that, it was, after all, a lingerie company they were working for. Looking sexy was okay.

But James sensed something deeper. He felt her absorb his gaze and look right back at him with a subtle strength and burning sensuality. She didn't seem to mind his longing glances; in fact, she seemed to delight in them. He had a sense that she liked being looked at and that thought sent a shiver down into his very core. They were talking about an ad campaign and a very important one at that. But there was a secondary game they were playing with their eyes and their body movements. None of this was lost on James and he was quite sure that Jasmine was enjoying their little cat and mouse game too.

But, reality called and James brought the conversation back to the subject at hand. The three of them discussed the next few days and how they would adhere to a schedule allowing Paul and James to leave the following Saturday night, well prepared and ready for the challenge abroad. They had a photo shoot set for Tuesday, and would spend Wednesday and Thursday preparing their presentation based on those photos and their graphic ideas. Friday would be a final run through before their departure early Saturday evening.

"Well. Jasmine!" He said her name with relish as they brought their meeting to a close. "You've done a fine job, I think. You've developed the core ideas for a wonderful campaign. If we can get the shots we want on Tuesday, we should have plenty of time to tighten things up and have it ready for the end of next week. Great work," he said with a smile, not allowing his eyes to leave hers.

She blushed from the compliment and smiled that adorable smile of hers – perfect teeth framed by the most succulent lips. James wondered if she truly had any idea whatsoever how sensual she was? She had to. The young lady just oozed sex from every pore.

"Thank you, James. I'm glad you like my work, well, um, our work," she stammered as she turned to look embarrassingly at Paul.

"Oh, no, James," Paul offered, shaking his head. "Jasmine ran with this one all on her own – very little input from me other than a suggestion or two. She owns this one – plain and simple," Paul offered, with a generous tip of his hand back to Jasmine.

"Well, thank you both for the opportunity to be so involved," she said. "I will be so excited if this campaign works. I have a feeling you'll have them eating out of your hands in Paris," she smiled. "Merci beaucoup," she added with a grin.

Why did the words "excited" and "eating" combined with a little French seem to affect him the way it did? Her voice echoed with a silky resonance, like her vocal cords had been ladled in sweet honey. He really needed to check his libido at the door from now on. She held out her hand to James as a gesture of departure. James noticed her tight firm grip as their eyes locked into one another. Her slender hand was warm and steady; her eyes inviting and full of promise. They parted ways and James admired her hypnotizing retreat as she exited his office; her lovely hips swaying gently and her tight cheeks twitching sinfully under thin silk. One way or the other, he was going to thoroughly enjoy this next week.

Monday – New York City

It was Monday morning and she had just slipped her sweater off her bare shoulders and was booting up her computer when the telephone rang unexpectedly. She picked it up, absentmindedly, thinking it was one of her office girlfriends calling to regale her with tales of a wild weekend. But it wasn't.

"Hello, Jasmine. This is Gail Parks, Mr. Morgan's assistant. He would like to see you in his office as soon as you're available, please," she stated matter-of-factly, as if Jasmine received these calls most mornings. Her mind raced as she formed a response.

"Sure, Ms. Parks. I'll be, ahh, right there. Thank you."

She hung up without listening for a response and tried to gather her thoughts. She could feel her blood pressure spiking as she tried to comprehend what was happening. She pulled on her thin sweater and hoisted her bag to find a mirror. Luckily she had dressed appropriately, knowing that this was going to be a busy week with a fair amount of interaction with her bosses. The dark pencil skirt hugged her butt perfectly and the slit along one side would show just a hint of leg. The tight striped top hugged her generous breasts nicely and her busty form gave a seductive curve to the simple linear pattern. Her open toed sandals had just enough lift to give her long legs a boost toward sinful. Her hair was up today, with a few loose tendrils curling down the side of her face. She checked herself in her small make-up mirror quickly before scooting out of her cubicle and down the long corridor to the executive office area. Had he had second thoughts about her presentation? Was there a problem of some sort? Her mind raced as she strode through the early Monday morning bustle of the office just waking to a new week. Gail saw her hurtling toward her desk and stood up to greet her.

"Settle down," she said quietly and with an understated presence as she noted the urgency in Jasmine's gait. "Relax, young lady. Deep breaths," she added with a sweet smile. Gail walked to James's office door and announced that Jasmine had arrived. She walked in confidently and with as much bravado as she could muster. James sat behind his desk, on the phone, and smiled wanly as he waved her to a seat across from his desk. She felt his eyes graze over her body, just as they had done on Friday. Why did his knowing gaze excite her so? She collected herself and surveyed her surroundings as he finished up his call.

Three large muntined steel windows looked out over the Hudson and the Jersey shore beyond. A steel pyramidal skylight above admitted the morning sun as it glanced across the weathered brick wall behind James. His office was cluttered, but in an organized way. It looked lived in and like the home of a creative force – colorful toys and miscellaneous artistic outtakes from different ad campaigns were strewn in a casual, but careful, manner about the walls and desk surfaces. The sleek modern furniture stood in stark contrast to the old brick, varnished wide board floors and sandblasted timbers. Jasmine noticed several personal photos, but pulled her eyes away, not wanting to appear as if she were prying. James was leaning back in his Herman Miller chair, spinning a pen in his fingers; his jaw line set firmly as he brought his conversation to an end. He hung up the phone and turned his full attention to her pertly postured body.

"Jasmine," he stated firmly, but with a slight smile. "Thanks for coming down so quickly." She felt a wave of desire course through her body as he said her name with such obvious relish. "There's been a, umm, a development," he said softly, gathering her in with his deep blue eyes. "Paul was in a rather bad bicycle accident yesterday and is currently in the hospital. Nothing terribly serious, but he is going to be laid up for some period of time and, well...," he hesitated before proceeding. She saw his eyes flicker and she jumped into the momentary void.

"Oh, my God," she responded before James had finished his sentence, bringing her hand to her mouth. She felt her stomach do a somersault or two. "How did it happen? Will he be alright? Your trip..." she hesitated.

James waved her off with the sweep of his hand. "He'll be fine. That'll teach him to ride in traffic. Anyway," he said, clearing his voice and bringing his steely gaze back to her. "Have you ever been to Paris, Jasmine?" he asked, nonchalantly, but with a casual aplomb that she knew was designed to catch her off guard. She didn't want to fall for his tactics, but her heart had been racing since being beckoned and she knew any attempt at acting nonchalant was a lost cause. Still, she put on her best game face.

"Well, sure," she stated with a matter-of-fact gesture of her hand. "But, well, umm, it's been awhile. High School, to be exact," her voice lowering as she spoke. "With my mother and aunt," she added softly, realizing her bravado would go nowhere. She raised her eyes as confidently as she could under such circumstances. James eyed her with a tender, but knowing, sense. He smiled.

"Well, Jasmine. Paul is unable to go to Paris with me and someone needs to present the details of our campaign for Caresse." He hesitated as his heavy stare came to focus on her. "And that someone, dear Jasmine," he said with a sensual curling of her name on his lips, "is you."

He smiled at her warmly, inviting her into his confidence. The very notion of going to Paris, going with her boss, presenting a huge ad campaign – it all washed over her like a tsunami. She tried to repress a smile, but suddenly realized this was all happening because of an injury to Paul. Her thoughts shifted on a dime.

"But, what about Paul? Is he okay? Won't he be recovered in time? Is he alright with me going in his place? When will he be back?"