wasn’t above doing that now either, not if it meant protecting the gorgeous woman and her co-workers in the diner.
* * * *
Roxie’s thoughts were filled with steamy, hot erotic images of Charles Vernon. Why had he walked out without his burger, and what had he meant by “L.A. was more than I’d bargained for”?
Even though her shoes were comfortable, her feet were killing her from the long hours being on them. She was glad when she slid into the back booth for her fifteen-minute break. Sipping from a tall, sweating glass of Coke, she closed her eyes and imagined Charles sinking to one knee reverently, slipping her shoe off and massaging her foot with strong, deft hands. His thumb and forefinger slid up and down her sole as she watched with rapt fascination.
That was only the beginning. In a moment, he would reach up inside her uniform and delicately and slowly roll her pantyhose down her hips and her trembling thighs. When the nylons fell to her ankles, she would try to kick out of them impatiently, but he would stop her with one, pleading look, stopping her in mid-motion. She so wanted his hands against the inside of her thighs on the soft, tremulous flesh. He would go further to that yearning, hot spot—
“Have you seen him?” Eileen interrupted Roxie’s daydream. Her eyes, a rich amber, were aglow with excitement.
Roxie sighed, stowing away her fantasy for continuation at a later time when she could indulge herself more fully.
“Seen who?” She sipped at her Coke again, grateful for the ice that soothed her parched throat.
“Charles Vernon!” Unconsciously, Eileen smoothed her apron at her right hip. “He’s been there for ages!” She grinned and batted her eyelashes.
Roxie took a deep breath. She’d never seen Eileen quite so animated before.
“Charles Vernon has been here for ages?” she parroted, surveying the diner. If he had been in the vicinity, she would have known. Her body would have reacted to his powerful and masculine presence. She tried to quell the spark of hope flaring to life in her chest. He was near the diner. Did that mean something?
“He’s outside, sitting across the street on a bus bench.” Eileen gave a sweet smile and exhaled. “At first, I thought he’s taking the next bus somewhere—like he’s so rich he could buy the whole transit system—but several have gone by and he’s not gotten on a one. So now I’m wondering what he’s doing. Why don’t you take a look?”
Eileen wasn’t a woman to play jokes on others. Feeling foolish for distrusting her, Roxie turned her head to look out the window. Sure enough, Charles sat on a bus bench, his hands held idly between his parted legs. He’d changed since he’d been in Woody’s. A white golf shirt, unbuttoned at the column of his throat, showed off his muscled chest to perfection and khaki shorts deepened his tan. Chocolate brown loafers gave him a very Southern Californian look. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and his hair was slightly mussed, quite probably from the sweltering heat. Roxie imagined rivulets of salty perspiration running down his abs, to pool in his navel. She took a deep breath, and in her mind, she bent to lap at that button and lower.
“See? I told you so,” Eileen announced proudly, as if she’d sensed Roxie wouldn’t believe her.
Roxie exhaled, and a blush seared her cheeks. The fact that Charles was across the street didn’t mean anything in itself.
“He’s just so handsome,” Eileen continued, oblivious to Roxie’s thoughts. “I could eat him right up!”
So could I, from head to toe and back up to his hard cock. If she could run over, and strip their clothes off, one item at a time—
“Eileen!” Gerry called. Once again, his voice boomed across the diner.
“Gotta go!” Eileen whisked herself away.
Roxie’s attention returned to Charles seated on the bench with hardly any protection from the glaring sun. A slight wind had crept up as it
* * * *
Roxie’s thoughts were filled with steamy, hot erotic images of Charles Vernon. Why had he walked out without his burger, and what had he meant by “L.A. was more than I’d bargained for”?
Even though her shoes were comfortable, her feet were killing her from the long hours being on them. She was glad when she slid into the back booth for her fifteen-minute break. Sipping from a tall, sweating glass of Coke, she closed her eyes and imagined Charles sinking to one knee reverently, slipping her shoe off and massaging her foot with strong, deft hands. His thumb and forefinger slid up and down her sole as she watched with rapt fascination.
That was only the beginning. In a moment, he would reach up inside her uniform and delicately and slowly roll her pantyhose down her hips and her trembling thighs. When the nylons fell to her ankles, she would try to kick out of them impatiently, but he would stop her with one, pleading look, stopping her in mid-motion. She so wanted his hands against the inside of her thighs on the soft, tremulous flesh. He would go further to that yearning, hot spot—
“Have you seen him?” Eileen interrupted Roxie’s daydream. Her eyes, a rich amber, were aglow with excitement.
Roxie sighed, stowing away her fantasy for continuation at a later time when she could indulge herself more fully.
“Seen who?” She sipped at her Coke again, grateful for the ice that soothed her parched throat.
“Charles Vernon!” Unconsciously, Eileen smoothed her apron at her right hip. “He’s been there for ages!” She grinned and batted her eyelashes.
Roxie took a deep breath. She’d never seen Eileen quite so animated before.
“Charles Vernon has been here for ages?” she parroted, surveying the diner. If he had been in the vicinity, she would have known. Her body would have reacted to his powerful and masculine presence. She tried to quell the spark of hope flaring to life in her chest. He was near the diner. Did that mean something?
“He’s outside, sitting across the street on a bus bench.” Eileen gave a sweet smile and exhaled. “At first, I thought he’s taking the next bus somewhere—like he’s so rich he could buy the whole transit system—but several have gone by and he’s not gotten on a one. So now I’m wondering what he’s doing. Why don’t you take a look?”
Eileen wasn’t a woman to play jokes on others. Feeling foolish for distrusting her, Roxie turned her head to look out the window. Sure enough, Charles sat on a bus bench, his hands held idly between his parted legs. He’d changed since he’d been in Woody’s. A white golf shirt, unbuttoned at the column of his throat, showed off his muscled chest to perfection and khaki shorts deepened his tan. Chocolate brown loafers gave him a very Southern Californian look. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and his hair was slightly mussed, quite probably from the sweltering heat. Roxie imagined rivulets of salty perspiration running down his abs, to pool in his navel. She took a deep breath, and in her mind, she bent to lap at that button and lower.
“See? I told you so,” Eileen announced proudly, as if she’d sensed Roxie wouldn’t believe her.
Roxie exhaled, and a blush seared her cheeks. The fact that Charles was across the street didn’t mean anything in itself.
“He’s just so handsome,” Eileen continued, oblivious to Roxie’s thoughts. “I could eat him right up!”
So could I, from head to toe and back up to his hard cock. If she could run over, and strip their clothes off, one item at a time—
“Eileen!” Gerry called. Once again, his voice boomed across the diner.
“Gotta go!” Eileen whisked herself away.
Roxie’s attention returned to Charles seated on the bench with hardly any protection from the glaring sun. A slight wind had crept up as it
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