[chapter seventeen]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
**
~Jasmine's POV~
"Where are you off to?" Scout asks as I swipe on more lipstick in the front hall mirror.
"Date."
"With the man who currently has you employed to redecorate his house?" Scout teases, watching me.
"I think Mr. Urlach is a bit old for me, don't you?" I say seriously, knowing exactly who he's asking about - definitely not the 64 year old who has commissioned me to redo his basement.
"Wench."
"That's the plan."
**
"You're wearing boots." Jeff says by way of greeting, his voice low and gravely, his eyes sliding up and down my legs appreciatively.
I feign shock as I look down at my feet, currently clad in knee high leather boots. "Huh. How did that happen?" I say, sounding surprised.
"I'm not licking them."
"You will if I tell you to."
He shakes his head, putting the car into gear and driving slowly out of my neighborhood. "I think not."
"Stop the car."
"What?" He looks over at me, taken aback.
"Stop the car. Now."
He pulls over to the curb, and I hide the smile I desperately want to flash as I throw open the door, pretending to be pissed. I step out into the cool air and begin walking back towards my house.
"Jasmine?" He calls out, confused. He jumps out of the car and follows me quickly. "Jasmine? What's wrong?"
This is fun.
I shouldn't be having this much fun torturing a nice, kind man.
But I am.
"You'll do what I tell you."
"What?" His eyes look hurt, puzzled, sad.
Hrm. Maybe I shouldn't do this.
I was just trying to keep him off balance. Permanently.
Until he can shake off his old ways and start being the man I know is buried in there somewhere.
"Do you want to be with me?"
"Jasmine … you know I do." He says, his voice soft, tender.
"Then if I tell you to do something, you do it." I reply. "Got it?"
I can seem him wrestling with himself, trying to figure out if it's a game or not. After a few seconds, he replies. "Got it."
"And if I tell you to lick my boots, you do it."
He nods, his eyes looking down at my legs. "Okay."
"Jeff?" His eyes meet mine again. "I didn't say right now."
A small smile breaks over his face, and he visibly relaxes.
"Right now, I want you to throw me against the car and find out if I'm wearing any panties."
"Jasmine!" His voice is filled with alarm and fright. "I can't do that! I can't do that to you!" He looks around. "Besides, someone might see."
"That's what makes it exciting, Mr. Gordon."
"Don't call me that."
"Are you a chicken, Mr. Gordon?"
I whisper, leaning over so my lips brush his ear. "Or just afraid to
find out the answer?"