That's what she told me.
My fianc�-the only woman I've ever allowed myself to be engaged to, told me that I simply didn't see the "signs". But now as I sit alone, pondering what in the Hell that meant, I have to wonder if maybe she was just looking too hard to find them.
She always was a bit of a perfectionist...And a bitch...And to be perfectly honest, a bad lay. But I had been willing, as strange as it may seem, to overlook those things. Why? might you ask. Because she made my sister happy.
True, my sister had never met my bride-to-be, but the idea that I was settling down with someone to watch over me constantly, had made her beyond happy. Beyond thrilled...Hell! She seemed happier to hear that I was getting hitched, then to get engaged herself! So you can imagine how bad I'm going to feel when I tell her that I'm not engaged anymore, when I show up at her own engagement party, with no fianc� on my arm.
How can I be such an ass to her? I can't go and ruin her big night like that!
But then again, what choice do I have? I can't lie to her and tell her that my fianc� got sick or something. She'd see right through me and spend the rest of the night drilling me with questions to see if I'd slip up and reveal the truth. Then she'd look hurt, betrayed, and above all: disappointed. And that was, oddly enough, the one thing in life that I couldn't stand.
My father leaving me to raise my sister and take care of our sick mother? Fine. Being forced into date after date with countless airhead beauties? Who cares? Getting yelled at and dumped by my fianc�? Whatever.
But disappointing my little sister? Just the thought of it made me inwardly cringe.
She was really the only reason I'd asked my fianc� to marry me in the first place. I just wanted to make my sister happy. It seemed that was all I ever wanted. My friends said that it seemed I spent my entire life trying to make it up to my sister, for the fact that our father left. Maybe it's true, in the end. But who can tell?
So now here I am, two hours from my sister's engagement party, supposed to bring the woman I'm 'happily in love with', and I'm completely alone. What the Hell am I going to do? Sadly, my options are limited to
A.) faking an illness and not going.
B.) telling her my fianc� is sick, and going.
C.) sitting here and pretending I forgot.
D.) jumping out my penthouse suite window.
At the moment, I'm thinking D would be the best solution. I ruled out C, because I had just talked to my sister an hour ago, and she'd know I hadn't forgot, and know immediately that something was wrong, which would then make her leave her party early to come over to my penthouse suite and find out what was wrong. In fact, she'd probably do the same if I went with choice A. If I told her B, she'd watch me like a hawk until I said something to reveal myself.
Which brings me back to D.
I was knocked from my suicidal thoughts by a loud knock on the door. "Seamstress!" the butler announced chirpily.
"Send her in!" I sighed and stood up. Walking over to the window, I looked down at the world passing me by. Maybe I could jump when the seamstress came close, and then it would look like I'd been pushed. Then my sister wouldn't think I'd had no other excuse for my lack-of-fianc� but to jump to an untimely death in the middle of rush hour traffic.
The door to the elevator outside the suite opened, and I heard high-heeled shoes clicking on the marble flooring. The butler at the door spoke briefly to the woman, and then he opened the door and she entered.
I kept my back to her for as long as politely possible, and perhaps a little longer. Why should I be bothered to care if the seamstress knows I'm a bad man? The entire party will know tonight when I break my sister's heart in front of everyone, so why not go ahead and get started with the rest of the Palm Beach community?
**
Entering the suite, I tried to remind myself everything that mama had taught me about having polite manners around the rich and powerful. It was amazing that Edmunds, the tailor I worked for, had the guts to let me do this expensive job so fresh off starting to work for him. But he assured me that I could do it, and that all would be fine, as long as I was back in time to close the shop.
That'd be no problem, of course. The sooner I got out of this stuffy rich man's stuffy rich abode, the better. The words of the butler flashed through my mind's memory, "He's not in the best mood at the moment, Miss. Best keep chit chatting to a minimum, get your job done, and get out before he takes off your head."
I had appreciated that advice, but at the same time I'd hated it. It almost made me sound like a call-girl of some kind. "Get your job done and get out"! That could be the slogan of my company. Buffy the Rich Layer. Not the best sounding ring to it, but I can work on it.
Upon entering the suite, I have to work to keep my jaw from dropping. There's expensive, designer garments tossed everywhere, and file contents dumped over every single table. Where am I going to set my sewing machine in all this mess?
Lifting my gaze to the inhabitor of the room, I had to work twice as hard to keep my jaw from dropping. I could only see his back, as he had rudely decided to ignore me for the time being, but that was enough to shock me into awe. Under his crisp, white dress shirt, his muscled chest rippled as he breathed, sagging a little more than it probably did when he was in a better mood. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and finely sculpted back promised that the rest of him would look just as wonderful.
"Good afternoon!" I found my voice, a little more nervous than I'd hoped it would sound.
When he turned around, I found that his back and arms had kept their promise. For the man before me, was without a doubt...Gorgeous.
**
"Good afternoon!" a young girl's sweet, charming voice said.
Turning to face her, my jaw did something extremely uncharacteristic of it...It dropped. The woman before me, though short and blonde wasn't usually my taste-was absolutely stunning! Darla's shoulder-length, brown hair, and tall form, had always fit well at my side. Natural. It was just comfortable. But this bodacious blonde, would demand the attention of an audience, and keep me on my toes if she stood next to me, tucked under my arm. In my car. In my bed...
I swerved my mind back to reality, avoiding the low-cut collar of her red silk blouse, and the gentle huge of her black pants to her hips and voluptuous behind.
"Hi," I grumbled, my voice sounding a little harsher than I wished. She almost flinched at the sound of my negative tone, but she maintained her strong position before me. Trying to keep my mood low and down, despite how happy I wanted to be upon seeing her, I continued, "you can set up your things on the dining room table." I waved my hand toward it, dismissing her for the moment, and oddly enough feeling like an ass for it.
I'd never felt like an ass for dismissing Darla after sex...
"If it's possible, can you change into your pants as well," she motioned to my dark jeans. "I'd like to get started right away."
I almost smiled. 'Almost', being the keyword. She'd taken my dismissal without a flinch, and fired an order of her own in my face. Not many would dare, but I was delighted to see that she did. For the moment, I forgot about my impending doom, and allowed myself to smirk.
**
I left him to change, going to the dining room connected to the unused kitchen, to set up my sewing machine and other supplies. As I worked, I couldn't help letting my mind wander to thoughts of his dark eyes, his perfect mouth, his fine teeth, his spiky hair...The evidently large manhood hidden under his jeans. Bad as it was, it felt good to be aroused by the idea of sex for once. I'd heard from friends, that it could be great, but never had the interest to go that far with any of my previous boyfriends. They'd all been pretty bad during other sexual acts, so I'd basically figured there was no reason to rush into some painful and boring experience for the first time.
That's usually why they left by the third month.
Oh but once I had a guy stick around for five months! True, it was sixth grade, but still...Okay. Bad example. I know. I'm working on it.
Pushed from my memories when Mr.Delicious walked into the room, I shook my head disapprovingly at some of my thoughts. "All set," he announced to me, holding out his arms for me to see that he had indeed changed his pants.
I nodded, "I'm almost ready." I finished with the sewing machine, and then pointed him to the centre of the room so that I could begin. Dropping to my knees before him, I felt a little strange. I was so close to him, and in this position I felt oddly intimate with him, despite the fact that I barely knew this man, and I'd done this a thousand times.
I tried to assure myself it was just his appealing looks that made me desperate to taste him, and I went about my work.
Becoming deeply involved in my work like I usually did, it startled me when he began to speak in that low, rumbling, handsomely seductive voice of his. "Have you been doing this long?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
**
In all honesty, I was trying to distract myself from the idea of pulling down my pants and thrusting in to those red lips. If I could just hear her talking, maybe I'd be able to focus...Maybe I'd be able to resist...'Maybe' being another one of those key words.
"A few weeks," came her answer. Holding a pin in her mouth, her voice was muffled slightly as she clenched her lips to keep from dropping the thin piece of metal. Oh God! Why can't I be that piece of metal right now? She distracted me then, continuing, "I've worked as a seamstress before though. So don't worry. You're in good hands."
I smirked, feeling oddly flirtatious as I responded, "that's good to hear." There was a moment of awkward silence then as I inwardly cursed myself for sounding so forward about what I wanted. The again, this is a beautiful woman, so she probably gets comments like that all the time. Hell, maybe she even does more than adjust suits...
"What else have you done?" I asked, smacking myself once again with words, to keep my mind on track and out of trouble with the rest of my body.
"Umm...Waited tables. Worked as a make-up artist at a theatre. Been a secretary. For three gruelling hours, I was a dental assistant. And once, I was a nurse at a free health clinic, but I was let go when I fainted at the sight of blood," she smiled at the memory, making me feel warm inside for so many different reasons.
Still I teased, "so I guess you have a reason of your for being careful with those pins, hmm?"
She laughed, sending music to my ears, "I guess you could say that." Wait a minute...Music to my ears? What the Hell am I thinking? She's a seamstress! Not some woman I've been in love with for the past five years! I've never even been in love, for that matter.
"Okay!" she announced, climbing to her feet with a hop in her step. "Go change out of those extremely carefully, and I'll start working on the adjustments." Without another word or though, I left the room.
I was in quite the predicament here. If I talked to her, I started thinking like a schoolboy. If I didn't talk, I started getting dirty raunchy thoughts about her. What the Hell is wrong with me? I've fought physical attraction before. So why is this one any different than all of those?
As I changed my pants as carefully as possible, I couldn't keep my devious mind from forming a plan. What if...No. That will never work. But still, it could...What if I asked her-payment would be necessary of course...Do you think she would?
Re-entering the dining room in my jeans, with my pants and shirt in-hand, my mind was still whirling. I handed them to her, and without another word, she went to work. Taking a seat at the kitchen bar, I watched her hunched over her little sewing machine. She looked cute with her brow furrowed in concentration. Maybe this little plan of mine could have some extra perks to it...
Or maybe it'll screw me over even more.
**
I was trying to concentrate. I had my concentrate face on, and I was working well, but there was a lingering distraction in the back of my mind. I guessed rather quickly that it was brought up by the scrutinizingly intense gaze of the gorgeous man sitting only ten feet away from me on a bar stool. Or it could be my electrical bill. It needs to be paid.
No. It's definitely the hottie on the stool.
**
After taking what seemed like forever on my pants, she shut off her sewing machine. "Here. Try these on and I'll make whatever adjustments are necessary." I took them from her, and did as she asked.
Coming back from the changing, I had my mind made up about asking for her help. I had to do it. There was no other way to relieve the stress of this situation.
She dropped to her knees once again, making my insides jerk in aroused response. Beginning to check over her work, she seemed oblivious to me as I fiddled with my hands, trying to come up with the words to use.
"Looks good!" she stood then, and went to her sewing machine. She began working on my shirt then.
Still I stood thee, swaying a little nervously from foot to foot. "Um..." I began to speak. "W-What's your name?" I finally asked, figuring that an honest approach with which I could use her actual name, would be the best.
She shut off the sewing machine and turned her head to smile at me. "I'm Buffy."
"Buffy," I repeated it, smiling. I kind of liked the sound of it. It was sweet and tough, all at once. "Um, Buffy?" I asked before she could start working again. "I uh... I have a question for you."
She turned to look at me. "And that would be...?" she trailed off, waiting for me to fill in with an answer.
"I have this...Thing. And I, uh...I had plans for it, but...They sort of fell through. I have this thing that kind of depends on me, and it...Well, I have a proposition for you. I mean, there'll be money. I can pay you. That's no problem whatsoever! But it's just-"
**
Oh My God! He's asking me to sleep with him like some three-dollar-hoe!
I stood up immediately. I began packing up my things. I don't care how big the tip from this job can be, Edmunds will just have to come over and finish it himself. I don't have to take this shit from rich men who think they can get anything from me.
"W-Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'm sorry," I apologized with no meaning in my voice. "But pride is not exclusive to those of you that use valet parking. I'll be sending my boss to finish this job. Good day, sir," I nodded curtly at him, and then headed for the door.
**
By the time I realized what she must have thought I meant, she was already at the elevator, pounding the button frantically.
"Oh no!" I gasped.
I ran from the room, and threw myself in front of the elevator. "I wasn't asking you for sex!" I blurted out. She looked taken a-back, and I rushed to add, "I mean, not that you're not attractive or anything but...Dammit, this isn't what I mean. Can you please just come back inside so I can explain what I mean? I promise I won't try anything stupid. And I can pay you for the pants."
She looked hesitant, but agreed nonetheless.
I shut the door behind her, and asked her to set her things down so that I could explain what I meant when I said "proposition".
"I wasn't implying that you do...That sort of thing," I frowned, fiddling with my hands nervously. "I just...Well, my problem is this," I cleared my throat, and began. "My sister has an engagement party this evening, that I'm supposed to attend."
"Hence the fact that you need this tux done right away," she crossed her arms over her chest, and waited for me to continue.
"Exactly!" I confirmed. "But my problem is that...My fianc� decided to break off our entire relationship, about three hours ago. If my sister knew this, she'd just die. She's been looking so forward to meeting my fianc�, because it means a lot to her that I have someone to-I don't know-take care of me?" I shrugged. "Anyways, so here I am about two hours before this party, with no fianc� to introduce to my sister at her engagement party. I can't not go to the party, because then my sister will be suspicious and all, and I can't fake an illness for my ex-fianc�, whom she believes I'm still engaged with, so I thought up a plan."
"Which would be...?" Again she waited for me to fill in the blanks.
"If I could bring my just-just for tonight, then!-then I wouldn't ruin my little sister's engagement party for her. She'd be happy," I explained.
Buffy raised a hand tentatively and said, "sorry to interrupt and all, but...Didn't you just tell me your fianc� dumped you?"
"Well, she didn't dump me, parsay," I sighed then as I gave in to the fact that she had, "okay. She dumped me. But you don't know what I mean here! I'm thinking that if I can bring someone in her place, and say that she's my fianc�e, then my sister will be happy for the night. Then I can tell her in the morning. But it's really important that I keep her happy on the night of her engagement party and all..." I trailed off, hoping she'd see how desperate I was.
Realization dawned in her eyes. "Oh, I get it!" she smiled. "You want me to find someone to go in the place of your fianc�, and act like her, so that at least for tonight-your sister will be happy, knowing that you're engaged."
I swayed my weight again, and looked up at her through a hunched gaze, "actually, I was sort of hoping that you'd do it."
She started laughing at this, but then she saw I was serious. "What?!" she was astounded. "You want me to go as your fianc�?" she pointed to herself, and then to me. "Are you serious?"
"Y-Yes," I was actually shaking at the idea that she would reject my proposal. I wanted so badly to be able to show off this hottie for the night.
"They'd never buy that!" she exclaimed then. "I mean, first of all-I don't even know your name. And secondly, your girlfriend's probably tall, and gorgeous, and brunette. And I�m not! I don't have a thing to wear to the type of party you're thinking about taking me to! And to top it all off, I'd slip up and introduce myself as Buffy, instead of...Whoever you were engaged to!" she looked totally flustered.
"My name's Angelus. They've never seen a picture of Darla, and they don't know her name. It's been a very brief romance. I can have a dress ordered for you right away-along with stylists and such to get you read. And I think as far as looks go, you'd do just fine," I couldn't help smiling slightly as I spoke the last part.
She stopped panicking then. "A-Are you sure?" she asked, frowning at me. She didn't look like she believed me. She looked like she was trying to read my soul in my eyes to see if I was playing a practical joke on her. She lightened then and said, "well, if you put it that way..." she leaned her head to the side. Then a huge smile wrapped around her picture-perfect face, and she said, "okay."
I felt like jumping for joy.