'Skewered On Spikes' as - Miss Irene Clearmont

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Katie smiled slyly. “He’s might not be my husband, you know.” “I apologise for presuming…” “No matter!” Frank led the way to the service desk wishing that he was walking behind her and not leading the way. He needed to see those legs that took small steps in a skirt that made her strut in small steps. He wanted to see if her legs were defined by a seam. He wanted to see that rounded ass move and sway in the skirt under the high and extended waist. Most of all he wanted to look at those shoes that were locked onto her ankles with tiny silver locks and fine looping chains that hung from the small buckles. He turned and found that she was in his space. That zone of three dimensional distance that was defined by closeness of relation. He tried to move back, but the desk blocked him and allowed her to invade his senses with her presence as she leaned forward a little. “You are such a good salesman, a man with a natural touch,” she almost whispered. Frank could sense her perfume, the smell of her hair and the lemon breath that made the words from those black lips seem almost piquant. “Thank you, miss,” he answered as he tried to avoid his eyes. “That will be eight hundred and fifty five pounds, please.” The close proximity was making him dizzy and confused. Talk of money normally made the customer get down to business. Why was he trying to escape this woman of his dreams? He so wanted to look down, but he dared not!
Katie smiled and pouted as if she were about to kiss him and chuckled inside when he moved a little back as far as he could, as if unsure as to the correct comportment in a case like this. “Cash or card?” she asked. “As you wish, we can accept both,” he replied with a slight relief as she fished in her bag for her purse. “Here,” she said as she pulled two notes from her bag and passed them to him. He looked at what he had in his hand and realised that they were foreign banknotes, Swiss Francs, thousands. “One moment,” he said and slipped from between the counter and the female presence that shook him to his core. In the small office behind the service desk he checked the notes and calculated their worth. Seven hundred pounds apiece, notes that were almost worth the same as the negative balance on his credit card. He returned to the desk and took a position behind it, safe and sound from this overpowering woman. He passed the change to her, a mass of Sterling that seemed so overstated in contrast to the simplicity of the bland Swiss notes. She smiled and pushed the wad of notes into her purse and then pulled a visiting card and toted with it for a moment before passing it to Frank. “I own three shops, small boutiques if you like. Exclusive and expensive, but well frequented and famous if you know the right people,” she said as he took the card. Frank turned it in his hand and saw the headline of the shop, silver etched on matt black in florid letters. He looked at her questioningly.
Page 1 and 2: Skewered on Spikes By Miss Irene Cl
Page 3 and 4: Submeek, a man who shied from women
Page 5: “How about tomorrow?” asked Kat

'Skewered On Spikes' as - Miss Irene Clearmont

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