Page 137 of The Man Upstairs

“No peeking!” she said again as my eyes followed her.

I was ironing my new white shirt when she stepped back out. Her dress was pastel pink, and gripped her sweet little body like a glove, giving just a hint of her gorgeous little tits peeking out over the neckline. It was short, barely covering her beautiful ass, and the iron stopped dead in my hand.

“Does it look ok?” she asked with a twirl, and I put the iron aside so I didn’t scorch my shirt to shit.

The sparkle of confidence was there in her, mischievous. And there it was, just a hint of the Lilith I was coming to know so well. She knew she looked great. Finally. Her self-worth growing in her physicality, as well as her soul.

“Exquisite,” I told her, as she stepped on over. “Be careful, or I’ll have to take you back to bed again.”

I could have happily played filthy games with her all night long, but she picked up the iron herself and carried on with my shirt. I ran my hand down over the slope of her back as she did it, consumed by her perfection. Her glasses were the most adorably sweet contrast. Words could do no justice.

She held the shirt up for me when it was done, and I slipped it on. She buttoned it up for me with a cheeky grin.

“Show me your suit, then. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“My pleasure.”

I dressed for her slowly, emphasising how powerfully I buckled up my belt. I knotted my tie in front of her, remembering my time as a professor, getting ready for my day. This suit wasn’t like my regular ones, it was tailored in just the way it should be, fitting me perfectly. It was black, and my deep green tie was a great contrast, accentuating my eyes. I knew what looked good on me. I’d had enough experience of using my appearance to my advantage.

“Will I pass?” I asked her, doing a silly twirl.

My sweetheart giggled. “You look so… hot.”

“Just hot?”

“Gorgeous,” she said, “absolutely gorgeous.”

“Guess that makes two of us. Let’s get our shoes on.”

Watching her slip into her heels as I tied my laces was enough to give me a hard-on.

“You’re a beautiful girl,” I said as she took my arm.

“Your girl,” she said, reaching up to kiss me.

I was so proud to have her beside me as we walked through the hotel to join Peter and Lola at the bar. They were sitting on stools together, hand in hand, so deep in conversation that they didn’t see us approach at first. It was lovely to see the bond between them, so natural.

“Shit, didn’t see you coming,” Peter said, and slapped my back.

Lola planted a kiss on my cheek before hugging Rosie. There was no superficiality about us being together, just friends enjoying each other’s company. And that’s what we did.

We drank champagne with acheers, before we moved to the restaurant, where we enjoyed some more. I put everything on my room tab, despite the protests, and we indulged in a glorious menu, with excellent desserts. Rosie’s strawberry roulade matched her dress like a dream.

It was towards the end of the meal – as the room was filling up with more guests – that I began to notice the glances we were getting from fellow visitors. Not least Rosie and Lola, who were clearly hot little minxes, but immune in their innocence. I felt the beginnings of jealousy stir with a racing heart, driven by a primal urge to let the world know she was mine, but I kept it at bay, still chatting and drinking as though I wasn’t carefully observing every single glance my angel was receiving.

“What next?” Peter asked when we were done. “Club, right?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Time for a cab.”

The receptionist ordered one for us as we waited outside, Lola and I enjoying a cigarette before the taxi pulled up to take us into the city. The club looked as good as the pictures had shown, bright lights, and bouncers on the door, with a woman inside directing us up into the VIP room. The place was thrumming with rich ambience, and Rosie, Lola and Peter were spellbound all over again. I soaked in their enjoyment, as well as my own.

“Cigarette?” Lola asked me when we were done with our first round of drinks, and gestured me out onto the balcony, where I accompanied her. She wasted no time, asking me about my earlier request before she’d even taken out her lighter. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

It still felt strange to voice it out loud.

“Some artwork,” I said. “I was hoping you could work on a cover design for me, but I’d like you to keep your work a secret, if possible, please?”

She did a little bounce on the spot, once my request had registered. “For real? You want a book cover? For one of your thrillers? Oh fuck. That’s awesome!”