James & Jasmine Ch. 01

"I'm glad you like them, James. I hope there is something we can use," she added modestly.

James looked up at her as if she had just made the most ridiculous statement he'd ever heard. His eyes returned to the screen as he continued to scroll through the photos, commenting on various angles and images as he went. Finally, he came to a particular photo that almost took Jasmine's breath away. How had she managed to expose herself so thoroughly?

"Oh, this one...this is the one, Jasmine. I love this photo. This one is the best," James stammered in a way that left no doubt about what he really thought.

It was a photo that had been taken in, or with, the mirror. Jasmine was facing the camera, but had turned her head to look over her should into the mirror at herself. Her face was reflected clearly as she looked at her own reflection – her beauty transformed by the sheer innocence of her expression of surprise and arousal. The front of her body was facing the camera, and the sexy bra and a tiny white thong caressed her fine body. The thong cupped her sex just so – a tight rounded white vee of silk bulged with the flesh of her tightly encased labia. The slight gap between her legs accentuated the allure of the subtle pouch of her lips. The mirror reflected the perfection of her buttocks, the thong emerging from the crack of her softly sculpted cheeks, and magnifying the luscious curves of her derriere. Her breasts stood proudly, cradled in white silk, but surging with a soft captivating roundness.

But this photo allowed no hiding from the identity of the model. This shot was all about the beauty – face and body – of the subject. And while Jasmine was a little uncomfortable being so fully exposed by the lens of a camera, she also appreciated the fact that Philip had captured her in a perfect pose – face, body, lingerie, lighting, angle – all of it came together in a perfect photograph – and one that communicated exactly what their campaign was proposing to do.

"Look at this photo, Jasmine. If you can get beyond the fact that it's you, it's, it's...sheer perfection," James said, as he stared at the image on the monitor.

Jasmine couldn't disagree. If she could allow herself a moment of being a dispassionate observer, he was right. It was a great photo, with just the right combination of subtle innocence and sheer sexuality.

James shook himself out of whatever sensual reverie he had allowed himself for a few seconds.

"So. We have some great shots here, Jasmine," he stated emphatically as he turned and looked at her directly. She felt his eyes wash over her and, even fully clothed, she tingled. "You need to separate yourself from the photos and make these work. Take them back to the design studio and begin to work on the images for our presentation. But, above all," he said as he turned back to the mirror photo, "this image has to be at the center of it all. This one has the magic," he stated unequivocally. "The images are on the central server," James stated dispassionately, putting his game face back on. "Get to work."

Jasmine thanked him and walked toward the door to take her leave, feeling his eyes upon her ass, snugly encased in her skin tight jeans. She loved knowing he was watching her butt as she exited the office.

"And, Jasmine," he added just as she reached the door. She hesitated and turned, feeling his eyes sweep her length once again. "I think we should have dinner tonight - to discuss a few logistics for our trip. I need to fill you in on the people we'll be dealing with. It's important that you understand the nuances of our client. I'll meet you down on the street at six sharp," he said, eyeing her impudently. "Assuming you're free."

She nodded her assent. "See you then," she replied nonchalantly, a little smile crossing her face. She left his office with her heart skipping a beat.

She spent the rest of the day in a flurry of activity – working with a few staff members to arrange and prepare the graphics for their presentation, cropping the many photos, adding the logo and tag lines, and enlarging and mounting the images. The day flew by and she was thankful for that fact. Otherwise, she would have been obsessing about the upcoming trip, or even her dinner date for that evening.

When she finally looked at her phone, she realized it was 5:45 and she needed to get ready to go. She visited the ladies room to fix her make-up, refresh her scent and look herself over in the mirror. She was headed out to dinner in New York with her boss and they were going to be talking about their imminent trip to Paris. She couldn't believe this was happening, but she knew she was as ready as she'd ever be. This was her moment.

She saw James standing under the entry canopy with his hands in his pockets as she exited the building and could see his subtle, but comforting, smile as she approached him. He was wearing black trousers, a white shirt open at the neck and a well-cut grey gabardine blazer. Jasmine thought he looked good enough to eat.

"Well, hello," he said, in an understated way, as if they had met this way a thousand times before.

"Good evening, James," she said, the smile in her voice fully transparent despite her attempt at looking serious.

They began to walk in lock step, as James surveyed the expression on his young assistant's face to see if he could garner any information from her steady gaze. She couldn't help but smile, and she could see James relax as she did so – a quiet look of satisfaction spreading across his face as well.

James led them to a near-by restaurant where they were seated at a very private booth. Jasmine got the feeling that James had been here many times before. She surveyed the menu carefully; almost feeling like this was a little test, as James gave the menu a perfunctory glance and placed it on the table. She could feel his eyes watching her.

She wasn't sure what to expect, but couldn't help but think they'd be seated across from one another in a tiny Paris bistro before long. The thought made her smile again as she absentmindedly looked at the menu.

Once they'd ordered and drinks had arrived – Sazeracs for both of them – James settled in and brought up the topic that was the true purpose for their dinner.

"So, Jasmine. I need to tell you about our client – the owners of Caresse. Partly so you'll be prepared, but also so you'll be able to keep them in mind as you finalize the graphics and begin to think about our presentation."

Jasmine smiled and nodded, ready to hear the story.

"Caresse was founded by a couple, Pierre and Noelle Rousseau. Pierre was the heir to a French fragrance company that had been started in Grasse. He had been expected to pick up the reins when his father passed away. But Pierre had gone to school in Paris, studied business, and gotten involved with the apparel trade. So while his younger brother ended up taking over the family business, he explored other avenues as the black sheep of the family. Thing was he had a head for business and a sharp eye for detail, and it resulted in a meteoric rise through the houses of Paris couture. He had all the right things going for him – family, money, education, good taste and, as you will see for yourself soon enough, extremely good looks. He's in his late forties now."

"He met his wife, and now partner, when she was working for his former company. She was a young, up-and-coming model and he was infatuated by her incredible beauty, but even more so by her sense of business acumen and ability to call a spade a spade. She also came from a very well-connected family from the South of France. She was a straight shooter in a world of twisted logic and fickle beauty, so he took to her, not only for her brains, but for her sexy demeanor as well. They were partners made in heaven."

"He was ten plus years her senior – she's probably a little older than you now – and they were married in a society wedding that had all of Paris talking. Soon after that they launched Caresse – this would be about five years ago – and it hit the ground running, tying together their social and financial connections in a big way. They were bound for success and it came quickly."

"We, Paul and I, met them three months ago on a trip to Paris to have an initial meeting with them when they were looking for the right agency. They are co-founders of an emerging company of great potential, but they are also incredibly social and have a good sense of balance between the business and the societal implications of their connection. All our business was transacted in English – which they speak very well – but there was a constant chatter in French, as you'd expect."

Jasmine was enraptured as she listened to James carry on about the company that they would soon be pitching their ideas to. While Jasmine was nervous on the one hand, she also felt great confidence in the fact that James would be there as her anchor.

"Do they have children?" Jasmine asked.

"No. Their lives are too busy at the moment." James continued. "Their office in Montparnasse is a study in intimate sophistication. I suppose it's hard to have a French lingerie company without having an underlying foundation of open sensuality. But there is no question that they ride that image and make it sing to their own tune. The people – men and women – who work for them, reflect that value; that underpinning of pure and unadulterated sex. It's what they all live for, yet it's all very understated and natural. It's kind of hard to explain, but very real when you're there in the midst of it. It's very French, you might say. You'll see what I mean first-hand before long," James said, smiling as he took a sip of his drink, eyeing Jasmine to gauge her reaction.

"It sounds wonderful," she offered. He continued.

"The men and women who work in their company are all incredibly young and gorgeous. They have surrounded themselves with not only the best and brightest, but also the best looking and sexiest staff imaginable. You will see what I mean when you arrive. But it all spins off the owners. Pierre and Noelle are an extremely attractive couple and exude a sexuality and confidence in themselves and their product that is palpable."

Jasmine smiled. This all seemed so surreal – talking about going to Paris, hanging out with a sexy client and their entourage, traveling first class with her boss – none of it seemed quite real yet. It would soon enough.

"Paul and I were invited to their home in the Marais for a dinner party one evening – and I assume we will be on this trip as well. They were gracious hosts, of course, and had a very interesting group of friends and associates. Paul was with me that night and they managed to cater to both or our tastes. Paul ended up disappearing into the Paris night with a handsome, well-built young French man whom kept Paul fully engaged well into the next day. And while I had been subtly paired up with a very gorgeous young Czech model at the dinner table, I decided to maintain my degree of separation and declined the potential offer of fleshly enjoyment – much to their ultimate amusement and surprise." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "And much to my own chagrin, quite honestly," James added with a wicked smile. "It was very tempting, but just didn't seem right at the time."

James could see Jasmine smiling as he spoke, taking in his assessment and probably projecting forth on what their own experiences were likely to be. Her mind swirled with possibilities.

"I'm surprised you let such an opportunity slip through your fingers, quite frankly. A beautiful young model..." Jasmine inquired, as her voice trailed off. She raised her eyebrow and lifted her glass to her lips, wondering how he might respond.

"Yes, well, under most circumstances I would have jumped at the chance. She was a lovely and very willing young thing. But I felt I needed to maintain a sense of decorum on first meeting. I think that was the right thing to do. Obviously, Paul didn't think so," James added, his eyes crinkling as he laughed.

"Maybe you'll get another chance on this visit," Jasmine added, probing a bit to see how James might react.

"Maybe I will. Maybe WE will," he added quickly. "We shall see. Anyway, they are what they preach, Jasmine, and their approach to their company – to selling their brand of lingerie to the world – is a testament to their hard work, good fortune, a bit of luck and, of course, their sexuality."

"Have you told them that Paul is not coming? That you're bringing someone else?"

"Yes," James replied. "I told them what happened and that I'm bringing along the young woman who worked developing the campaign. They are totally fine with that." He paused. "As am I," he added.

As James talked, Jasmine watched him with a sense of wonder. How was it that she was attracted to someone old enough to be her father? She had dated a few older guys; her last boyfriend had been close to 40. But she had never been in the position of thinking sexually about a man entering his sixties. Perhaps it was his confidence or self–assurance that made her focus on the man and not his age. Maybe it was the deep-seated sense that he really desired her and didn't feel the need to hide that fact? Whatever it was, there was no denying the sexual attraction she felt for James and it seemed to deepen with each passing day.

"You still with me?" James asked.

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Jasmine blushed. "I was just day-dreaming about our trip," she added.

James eyed her with his own sense of awe. Her erect posture as she sat across from him pushed her breasts forward, their fullness inflating the thin cashmere of her tight sweater. He could barely make out through the sweater the outline of the top of her bra and the hint of soft flesh that looked to be bulging slightly just above. He longed to touch her, but brought his thoughts back to the moment at hand. He took advantage of the pause in their conversation as an opportunity to change the subject.

"You know, I noticed that you weren't wearing a wedding band, but I never asked, before inviting you on this trip whether you had a significant other. A boyfriend..." James said, his words trailing off. "Or a girlfriend," he added with a quizzical raising of his eyebrow. Jasmine looked him straight in the eye and figured she should be honest and forthright.

"Neither, at the moment," she replied, taking a sip of her drink for reinforcements. She eyed him steadily – leaving her last statement to hang in the air and the nuance slightly open to interpretation. James smiled at the news.

"Good. I wouldn't want you to feel awkward about this at home."

"Not a problem. But what makes you ask about the latter, might I ask?" she said, tipping her head in question.

"Just a hunch, I guess. A vibe. A good vibe, in fact," James replied. "That's all."

"Well, you're rather perceptive for an old guy," she said with a teasing grin. "But I'm a big girl, James. I can take care of myself. And nothing you've told me is surprising or alarming. It's fascinating, actually, and I look forward to the experience. I'm excited, but I'm also glad you'll be there as well," she added quickly.

"And have you decided whether you'll go on to Nice with me after we conclude our business?" James asked warily.

"Do you think you'll be able to behave yourself?" she asked in return.

"No," James responded emphatically and without hesitation.

Jasmine smiled. "Good. Then I'll go," she answered. A warm smile crossed James's face as the trajectory of the trip began to slowly come into focus.

"Well, then. It's going to be a very very interesting trip – on many levels," James said, as he reached into his sports coat. "Listen, Jasmine, I want you to do something for me tomorrow morning." He handed Jasmine a card. It was a thick white cared embossed with a woman's name, Missy Lakes, and said "Personal Assistant". It was from Neiman Marcus.

"I want you to go shopping tomorrow at 10am and meet this woman. She is going to assist you in putting together a few things for the trip. Don't take this the wrong way. You dress wonderfully. Just think of it as a bonus for coming along and on such short notice – and an opportunity to buy some expensive clothes. Make sure you get some killer heels – and some nice lingerie that isn't Caresse," James laughed. "Maybe La Perla or Agent Provocateur. Missy is a good friend of mine and will help you out. And she has my card. The morning's purchases will be on me," James smiled.

Jasmine looked back at James with a look of incredulity.

"I can dress myself, you know," Jasmine responded with a slight tone of indignation.

"Oh, I know you can, Jasmine. Believe me. You dress every well – and I notice. But that's not the point. We are entering the world of Parisian haute couture and I think you'll be thankful to have a few new things when we go. Missy will be very helpful. Just relax and enjoy it. Accept this as a bonus for your good work – past and future. And for your act of bravery on Tuesday," he added laughing. "We did save on modeling expenses."

As she thought about it she realized what a great opportunity she'd been handed - literally. She put Missy's card into her purse and smiled.

"Thank you, James. I shall make sure to be presentable when we meet with the client," she said with a thankful grin.

Toward the end of dinner Jasmine noticed James look at his watch and she took it as a signal that she should move along. She had some work to do at home and needed to start packing for their trip. As they got ready to part ways outside the restaurant, Jasmine felt a pull. Should she shake hands? Lean in for a polite kiss? She wasn't sure, but figured she'd take her lead from James.

"Thanks for finding time for me this evening, Jasmine. Enjoy your shopping spree tomorrow and I'll see you in the afternoon," James said with a warm smile.

"Thank you too, James," she replied as she held out her hand to shake his.

"We should part as the French do," he said as he took her hand. He kissed her left cheek and then her right.

"Goodnight, Jasmine," James offered as he let her go and headed north up Mercer Street.

"Goodnight James'" she answered. They parted ways and strode off into the Manhattan night.

Thursday – New York City

Jasmine entered Neiman Marcus at the stroke of ten and found her way to the Women's Department. She was greeted by an older woman whom she thought might be Missy Parks. But, upon inquiring, she was told that Missy was in the dressing area and would be out in a few minutes.

Jasmine was skimming the racks of expensive garments when she heard the approach of heels clicking with authority on the terrazzo floor. She looked up into the bright eyes of a gorgeous woman, probably about her age, striding toward her with purpose.

"You must be Jasmine," the woman said, extending her hand out in greeting and grinning broadly.

"Why, yes, I am. And you must be Missy," Jasmine said in response, shaking hands. "It's a pleasure."

"So I understand you've found yourself in a very interesting position – off to Paris with my friend, James, and not a stitch to wear," Missy joked.

"Well, I have a few stitches to wear, but apparently they're not quite up to snuff," Jasmine joked in return.

"Oh I quite doubt that," Missy replied as she looked Jasmine up and down with an artful eye. "But don't take it the wrong way, Jasmine. James wouldn't do this for just anybody, I can tell you that."

Jasmine felt Missy's eyes appraising her as they spoke, assessing her body and looks, her eyes riding up and down the length of her lean physique. Satisfied, she turned on her heels and invited Jasmine to follow.

"Let's start with a little make-up just to get acquainted," Missy said. "Take a seat here," she directed. Jasmine sat still as Missy came in close to inspect her. "You are a beautiful girl, Jasmine. I can see why James is enamored of you," she said unabashedly.