Soul to the Highest Bidder Ch. 04

I, also, didn't fail to notice the tall rail thin beauty that Mr. Morrison had occupied. She was gazing at Mr. Morrison with unconcealed worship and lust. I just shook my head in contempt. She was just going to end up like all the others, another notch in the bedpost. I found myself watching my boss flirt with this foreign beauty and imagining what the future had in store for them.

Mr. Laurent came over to bring me a drink and broke my reverie. Between he and Mr. Moreau the remainder of my evening was fully engrossed ,with plans for exploration and discovery. Each man had a different spot within the city that he felt I must see, and swore was the very essence and soul of the city. I had warmly accepted their invitations, work permitting. I grimaced, realizing I had played right into Mr. Morrison's little plan.

Speaking of which, I had lost track of Mr. Morrison and time for quite a while. I looked around, searching for Mr. Morrison, the skinny goddess or a clock. None of which I could see. When I finally found a waiter to ask the time, he told me it was 2am. I decided I would go in search of my boss, before I fell asleep under a table. I had only been looking a for a few minutes before I felt a brushing sensation at the nape of my neck, quickly spinning I turned to face the chest of the very focus of my search. I stumbled back a couple steps and Mr. Morrison reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. He smiled down at me darkly, his eyes again seeming to glow. I giggled, at my foolishness; first stumbling, then imagining things -- I must really be drunk.

His smile grew, revealing perfect shining white teeth; but, I noticed his canines seemed a little sharper then most peoples. I again giggled, imagining him visiting the dentist every so often to have them sharpened up -- just like a pair of skates - just so he would appear more menacing to his employees and competitors. He looked down at me heatedly and pulled me in a little closer to the warmth of his body. I just about damn near melted against him then and there, until I saw over his shoulder a jealous pair of brown eyes. The earlier companion of Mr. Morrison's stood staring daggers at me, so I quickly extracted my body from his. I berated myself for being so silly and irresponsible; how could I let myself indulge in too much alcohol? I had almost crossed some kind of line with my boss, just because I could not control myself enough to hold back on the alcohol.

I asked him if we could leave soon. He assured me we would leave momentarily, just as soon as he was done bidding fare-well to his hosts. He handed me a glass of scotch, with a wink, from a tray - which a waiter just happened to 'conveniently' bring at that moment - and grabbed one for himself before disappearing into the mass of businessmen and their guests. I waited on the fringes near the door with my glass of scotch, waiting to leave. I downed it relatively quickly, in the hopes we would be leaving soon. After standing with an empty glass for five minutes, the same waiter returned with another drink for me. I hesitantly accepted it, promising myself that I would drink this one more slowly, if at all; since, we could be leaving at any moment. I had more than enough time to finish my drink, which I did, before he finally found his way out of the crowd of people.

He slowly and casually sauntered over to me and stood before me, once again offering me his arm. This time I accepted immediately; and, was immediately grateful, since the alcohol had also affected my ability to walk straight. I imagine Mr. Morrison knew he was doing the bulk of the guiding, since he slipped his arm behind my back and around my waist, carrying some of my weight. He guided me to the door; and, I was grateful for our departure. At least I was until we stepped outside, where a sharp bitterly cold wind whipped at us.

Mr. Morrison hid me in the protection of his suit jacket while he rushed us over to the parked car. He pushed me in first, unable to help me when I tripped on my dress hem getting in, and I tumbled to the car floor. I was shivering and bitterly cold. Every part of my body exhibited it: my teeth chattered, every limb shivered uncontrollably; my lips, finger tips and toes were blue. My flesh was goose pimpled and my nipples were tight hard buds peeking against the sheer fabric of my dress.

Mr. Morrison crawled in the seat and looked down at my disheveled splayed form on the floor and chuckled. I gave him a stern glare, for his lack of gallantry, before he reached out to pull me up beside him. I quickly adjusted the hem of my dress and crossed my arms over my chest, to hide the result of the cold. I was still shivering, but didn't fail to notice that, again, the cold had not affected my boss one little bit; in fact, I could feel the heat radiating from his body beside me. I fought the longing to cling to him for warmth. I would just have to wait for the heat the car to warm me up.

Suddenly I felt a warm palm cup my cheek and a gentle thumb run down my jaw. I unconsciously closed my eyes and leaned into the hand. Slowly it slid up my jaw and abandoned it to tuck a stay strand of hair behind my ear. I heard a deep growling beside me, and slowly pulled my eyes open to stare into the heated emerald eyes of Mr. Morrison. I noticed his jaw was clenched tightly, but his hand caressed the nape of my neck gently. He made no further move beyond caressing and stroking my neck and shoulder. I had no desire at the moment to make an issue of our present situation, so long as he didn't do anything more than he was. I allowed my head to fall back against the seat, and again let my eyes flutter close. Mr. Morrison continued his gentle stroking.

"Miss Tanner?" he inquired softly.

"Mmmmm?" I moaned in response.

"I spoke to Mr. Moreau and Mr. Laurent tonight. They seem quite captivated by you. They told me they were hoping to show you the city, but you were concerned about it interfering with your work. I assured them that I would make time for you to do so. You seemed to enjoy their company, did you not? Would it please you to explore the city with them?" he softly inquired.

I nodded my head unable to form any coherent words. Again his hand moved up to cup my cheek and his thumb stroked my jaw. Back and forth, up and down his thumb smoothly stroked. It was incredibly soothing.

"Good." I heard him say softly beside me.

It was with his warm hand gently stroking my face in the backseat of the Rolls that I fell into the deep coma like sleep that ended my second night in France.