Whisky Sour [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-02-2018
Owen read Julianna’s texts messages and was stuck for a second sucking at his teeth in an attempt to temper the smile that threatened to break out all over his face. He didn’t know just why he wanted to hide his smile when he was alone at home. Perhaps he was still mounting a futile resistance to getting whisked up in yet another probably ill-advised romance. It was like he hadn’t had enough of those. >Good girl.
He stepped into the shower before he noticed his phone buzzing with another message from her. He would end up answering it when he got out of the shower and stood dripping water on to his floor as he tried to think what a pastrami sandwich was.
>What the fuck is pastrami? Can that be had at the billionaire diner on 5th? You know the one that has those bomb ass pies.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-04-2018
Julianna stared down at her phone. Blinking at the text she had just received. Not the good girl. That made sense and made her feel all tingling and giddy. It was his questioning not her desire for pastrami, but what it was. >What do you mean what the fuck is pastrami?
>I don’t know how to answer that.
>It’s meat. It’s meat on bread.
Still absolutely stunned, Julianna used her phone to do a quick Google search on the diner he was talking about. A glance at their menu showed that they had Reuben’s (a close second), but no pastrami.
>We can’t go there.
She said in between his replies.
>They don’t have pastrami. Meet me at the deli on 9th NW.
With those instructions she slipped into a comfortable pair of Vans and grabbed her purse to head out to meet him.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-05-2018
Owen finished readying himself throughout the string of flabbergasted and exasperated texts from Julianna. He dressed in a subtly velvety and deep navy blue Gucci tracksuit with red trim. His sneakers were gleaming white and screamed limited edition. >Alright. See you in 20.
Owen pulled up to the deli Julianna chose in a new silver BMW coupe. The car was flashy but not as obvious as his Maserati. He spotted Julianna leaning up against the front of the restaurant waiting for him as he made an expert parallel parking maneuver. Owen slid out of the vehicle and made the lock chirp as he walked to meet up with the woman waiting for him. He glanced behind him down the street as if checking for someone before he removed his sunglasses.
He folded the sunglasses and let them hang from his t-shirt and bent down kiss Julianna. His arm slid easily around her back as his lips met hers for a brief greeting kiss. “You look lovely.” He said and he meant it. What he liked about her was her understated way of dressing. She always looked like the girl-next-door. It occurred to him that it might be fun to dress her up in something expensive sometime. If she would let him.
“Would you like to introduce me to pastrami?” He asked, escorting her to the deli door that he opened for her.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-05-2018
Julianna had correctly assumed that the BMW she watched parallel across the street belonged to Owen. She watched him emerge from the vehicle and cross the street from behind dark lenses. She pretended otherwise however; suddenly there was something absolutely fascinating about her cuticles. He didn’t seem to notice the game she was playing. Or he didn’t care, because he swept her up into a kiss despite her attitude. She’d lost at her own game, which she often did with Owen. “Thanks,” she said. Even though she didn’t think her appearance with worth commenting on, her mother had taught her to be grateful. “You look…” She had placed her hands on his biceps to steady herself during the kiss, and now her fingers were rubbing against the unusual material. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair. “What is. Is this velvet?” Julianna took a step away from him to inspect the tracksuit with a frown.
Turning on her heel she pushed open the doors and led him inside, through a small dining area and up to the counter. She was greeted by name, and she ordered for the both of them without conferring with him. Two pastrami plates with everything. Side of chips. Two sweet teas and an order of fried pickles. She lamented again at how she didn’t understand how he didn’t know what pastrami was as she picked a booth for them to sit at.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-07-2018
Owen smirked as her fingers rubbed against the material of his jacket. “Its Gucci.” As if that would confirm the texture she was feeling. “What you don’t like it?” He asked as she turned to open the door. He leaned down as they approached the counter and whispered in her ear. “Well, maybe if you’re good I’ll let you take it off me later.” He smiled innocently at the cashier as Julianna gave their order and then followed her to the booth. This was clearly her venue, if the familiar way the staff greeted her was any sign, so Owen let her take the lead.
“Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly on my approved diet.” Owen rolled his eyes as he tried a fried pickle. “My trainer would go ballistic if he saw me eating this. But uh -what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He picked up his sandwich and gave it a bite. Owen’s eyes rolled back momentarily as if he had experienced a miniature heaven in that bite. “Lives up to the hype.”
“So would you be amenable to dressing up for our date ...or did my drunken antics last night turn you off to the whole thing?” Owen posed the question more casually than such a loaded question should have been posed. He popped a fried pickle in his mouth and chased it with a long sip of his sweet tea as he regarded her.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 03-04-2018
Julianna was blushing when they chose a table and sat down. The suggestion that he’d murmured against her ear still rattling around in her head. Even after the encounters they had had together, he could still turn her face a noticeable mahogany. “Yeah, I know,” she replied smugly as he confirmed what she already knew. She only brought him to show off her favorite little deli, not to get his approval. She listened to him speak, blinking at him curiously as she munched on fried pickles. Dipping them in tangy sauce and directing them into her mouth one by one. She’d had one elbow on the table and was leaning on it kind of casually until he referred to the previous night as drunk antics. She didn’t like the sound of that. Julianna sat up straighter and took her arm off the table; her hands disappeared into her lap. His words were a jarring reminder of what she had said to him. That he only liked her when he was drunk. She assumed he wasn’t drunk now, not that she could be sure. Julianna had seen enough high-functioning alcoholics that could make it through a day riding a well-maintained buzz. She stared back at Owen for a few silent seconds, studying his face.
“I already said I would.” She broke the silence before reaching for her own drink. “I believe I agreed to a ‘little black dress. Unless of course,” she eyed his tracksuit again. “That’s your idea of dressing up.” She joked as if this wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in something other than a tailored suit.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 03-13-2018
Owen watched Julianna transfer fried pickles one by one into her mouth. She stopped abruptly when his off-color remark settled on her. Then she was suddenly studying him very carefully. He found himself eating the fried pickles then just for something to do with his hands and face while she decided what to do with his words. “What this ole’ thing?” He spat sarcastically at her before dusting his fingers off onto a napkin. “I already told you I’d let you take it off me. Can’t I finish my lunch first?” Owen wasn’t trying to be discreet that time. He said it loud enough that anyone within reasonable earshot would hear.
Just like that he went back into a joking rapport. Owen got the answer he was looking for. They didn’t need to go any deeper. In fact, he’d prefer it if they didn’t.
“I’m looking forward to it.” He admitted after a beat. He bit into his sandwich again. “Mmm. It’s good.” He repeated the compliment to her deli and sandwich choice.
“So, your employee, Sai, isn’t it? He’s going to have some serious frown lines the way he looks at me. You want to tell me what that’s about? He’s not your ex is he? Is he going to beat me up or what?”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 07-23-2018
Julianna focused on what was left of her lunch, so she didn't have to directly respond to the jokes he was making. Rolling her eyes over her sandwich was easier than admitting she wasn't sure how she felt about this overtly casual rapport he was trying to force. It wasn't difficult for her to tell that he didn't want to talk about what was happening between them. If anything. It wasn't like she was going to push the issue, personally, too nervous to find out that this was all a bit of a fun a billionaire playboy was having with a younger woman. Yes, she had finally Googled him. Which was probably one of the most unfair parts of being involved with a veritable celebrity. Nearly his entire life had been spread out across her web browser, and she had learned why he insisted on reminding her of how young she was. She knew a lot about him now. Possibly, too much.
"I doubt a date with little ole me is going to be the highlight of your week," she replied quickly. There was a bit of sass to it. Something almost defiant about it. Julianna knew it was the unspoken and unconfirmed dynamic between them that made her react this way. Pushing buttons, and limits to see just what she could get away with before he caved to what she knew they both wanted.
Brows disappeared behind her bangs when Owen mentioned Sairus. She wasn't aware that Owen even paid any attention to the other man. She couldn't help a chuckle, short and abrupt that she smothered with a sip of sweet tea when he asked about a potential romantic history. "Not an ex," she confirmed. "An employee, and a protective friend. We've worked together for a few years now. It's hard not to be close to someone you spend almost every night with. We've been through a lot together, you could say."
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 08-02-2018
Owen finished his sandwich off with a couple more generous bites. He dusted his fingers off once last time and leaned back into his seat to watch her eat. He ran his tongue over his teeth. It perhaps looked like a behavior out of irritation but really he was checking his teeth.“I suppose, whether our date is the highlight of my week depends on you. Doesn’t it?” He issued what was both a kind of warning and a challenge somewhat coolly.
The way she laughed at him made him feel foolish. He shifted around in his seat, draping his arm over the back of the chair to cover any sign. He picked up his own tea and the sound of shuffling ice advertised that he had finished most of it. He sucked up the last bit of liquid before setting the cup back down again. Owen looked off to the side as if he wasn’t going to address her reply to his question.
“Well that’s nice you have a guy looking out for you.” He gave her only a bland pleasantry as if he were bored of the topic.
“So,” he said after a moment of silence. “What do you have going on this afternoon?”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 08-12-2018
When he took her sassy response in stride and got sassy right back with her, Julianna deflated internally. That wasn't the sort of response she had been hoping for. Which only meant the she could keep pushing. She slowly stopped eating. Not because she was finished, but because he was watching her. She felt suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze, and she had indeed interpreted that movement of his tongue vexation. Was he annoyed with her responses? Was she taking too long to finish? She huffed at him in her own exasperation. A very audible, and pouting exhale. He didn't seem to like what she said about Sairus. She blinked at him, as she waited for his response in silence. There was something strangely obedient in the way she waited for him to speak again.
"Yeah, thanks, I guess." Her mumbled response was mostly lost in the cadence of his next question.
"I don't have any plans," she answered. Her eyes narrowed playfully and she made a show of glancing around the small deli even though they were currently the only ones occupying the space. "Why do you ask Mr. Hart? Are you gonna take me back to your office and make me sign a sex contract 'Fifty Shades of Grey' style?"
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 09-02-2018
Owen kept his eyes trained on her. He didn’t give her the benefit of glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone heard her mildly illicit question. “I never saw the movie.” He said quickly to dismiss the ridiculous suggestion.After a moment of silent staring Owen spoke again, “The only sex contracts I make people sign are standard NDAs.” He waited a moment to see if she understood what he meant. “Non-disclosure agreements.”
He twisted the waxy fast food cup between his fingers on the table. “I haven’t asked you to sign one, yet. My lawyer recommended that I collect such agreements from any sexual partner I might have to protect my private sexual activities from being sold to gossip magazines.”
He brought the cup up to his lips and sipped at the melting ice water through his straw. “It’s not exactly Fifty Shades...”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 10-11-2018
Julianna wasn't a fan of the silent staring contests they kept having. Not in this context anyway. It was pretty amusing how her opinion would change with the addition of leather restraints and a ball gag. Standard NDAs. Her expression went blank. Not because she didn't understand, but because she didn't like hearing it. He clarified, anyway, and she made no indication that she knew or cared what he meant. Her gaze dropped briefly to the cup he was toying with. Her own hands were still hidden in her lap.
Yet. Green eyes darted back to his face and her lips pursed. "Is that something we can just take care of at the penthouse or do I need to call your office and make an appointment?" The situation was exactly like her Fifty Shades joke, but it no longer entertained her, so she didn't mention it again. Owen made no moves to leave, but neither did she, instead, she continued to get defensive because her feelings for a man that had already blown her off once before scared her. "Being a rich CEO sounds like it comes with a lot paperwork. I'm surprised you haven't just had Renton pop into the bar with it."
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 03-31-2019
Owen kept staring at her quietly. The little restaurant faded in the background. He was getting nowhere with her. It was as if he could sense the change of her pattern of thought, the whiff of a thought about a better setting for a contest of wills. What did she suggest? His office? His penthouse?
Why not both.
She didn't want do this back and forth here. Neither did he.
He didn’t need to listen to what she said anymore. He could see the bratty sass in the curve of her mouth. Her lips were their natural color today. He thought of a couple of ways he could bring some color to that pout.
He pushed his chair back suddenly and gathered up their plates making a pile for whatever employee would come by and pick it up. He took hers too, deciding that she was finished.
He pushed his sleeve back to check his watch. Maybe he looked like he had more important things to do. Or a short window of time for whatever this was. But it so happened his entire afternoon was free. Happy birthday to him. “Let's go.”
“The paperwork is in my office.” He moved for the door and waited holding it open for her. His car nearby chirped only once as he unlocked the doors with his fob. He wasn't the type who needed to incessantly press the button. Just one crisp chirp was enough.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 04-07-2019
Let's go.That simple command was all it took to completely change her demeanor. Immediately she perked up. If she were a cat with a tail it would be swaying excitedly. She hopped down from the high top chair with a spring in her step while he cleaned up. Green eyes sparkled with mischief. As if she had suddenly gotten her way by being a brat.
Not a good precedent for him to have set.
She observed him pretending to check his watch with a haughty curve to her mouth. He may have had other things to do, but she knew she had his attention for now. She wondered what important business he was putting on hold for her.
Julianna let Owen move ahead of her long enough to hold the door. She walked passed him, pushing her wild curls over her shoulders with both hands. They walked to his car together and she waited for him to open that door, too. Easily, she slid inside the vehicle. She pushed sunglasses over her face, smirking up at him until he closed the door on her.
"Do I get to sign paperwork with fancy pens?" She turned in the seat to prop her elbow on the center console. Grinning at him as he joined her in the car with her chin in her hand. She hadn't put on her seatbelt. "I like green," she continued. Julianna felt as if she had him figured out. "But you probably only have black." He wanted her to be an impertinent brat so he had a reason to punish her. Which was fine, she could work with that. "Boring."
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 05-07-2019
Owen was a statue of patience as he opened the car door for her. Only once she was settled inside with feline smirk on her face did he close her inside his car. No sooner had he closed himself into the driver's side was she chattering at him about the spectrum of ink pens he owned. She was perched on elbow on his center console still with that eager grin on her face.
She knew what she needed to do to get exactly what they wanted.
The engine purred to life and it seemed for a moment that he wouldn’t respond to her obvious teasing. He didn't pull out into traffic but left the car in park. He pushed her from the center console and back into the chair properly so that he could lean over her and pull the seat belt over her body.
“Black and blue ink are standard for signatures.” He said clicking the belt into place. He was all but confirming her theory about him. He was all business. But she forgot one thing: “However, I like to correct in red.”
Owen grabbed her chin pulling her face upwards. “If you would like to use my things, my fancy pens, ties, the proper way to ask is ‘may I' and ‘please.’” His stern tone was almost in contrast to the brush his thumb along her jaw before releasing her. A bit of the care he'd neglected to show her on the evening of his birthday.
He eased the car into traffic taking her to back to his penthouse.
She had asked for his office. Technically he was fulfilling her request. He was taking her to his home office. He wasn't quite certain he trusted her enough for antics at his actual workplace, just yet. They were still getting to know each other. Exploring the lines.
Did she know about his home office? He wondered how much of his house she had taken liberties to explore when he left her there alone that morning. He glanced at her profile as he drove. Her pert attitude was animated in the way she carried herself. So full of herself.
Once home, he continued to play the part of attentive gentleman. Opened the door for her and led her to the elevator that would take them to the top.