Mirror, Mirror: Scent of Love
J. Hali Steele
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 J. Hali Steele

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The distinguished looking gentleman held the thin card she'd spritzed with French perfume to his nose, and smiled with a glint in his mysterious eyes. "Perfect. I'll take it," he said. Sheila Jones loved his sexy, dark gray eyes, and she could have tumbled headlong into them.

Until she saw Farrow Kincaid. As usual, there was a beautiful, young girl on his arm. Miles' Department Store held an account in his wealthy family's name, and Farrow had taken to coming in every week with his newest conquest. He'd barely noticed Sheila each time he'd waltzed up to the counter and bought his escort a bottle of expensive perfume. What will it be today?

His form fitting gray T-shirt couldn't disguise his athletic build; the jeans did nothing to conceal thigh muscles that bunched with each step he took toward the counter. Her cheeks grew warm as she made a futile attempt to pull her eyes away from the glorious bulge at his crotch. Cream slid into her panties as she envisioned the wet head of his cock slipping into her pussy. A dream she'd inexplicably had for months now. Mentally shaking herself, she refocused on the gentleman at the counter. "Would you like it gift-wrapped, sir?"

Before the man answered, the pink box was swiped from the counter by the girl on young Kincaid's arm. "This is it. It's the one I want."

"Then it's yours, baby." Farrow's deep blue eyes peered in the girl's direction.

Sheila watched him rake a slender hand through his perfectly styled black hair, wondering how it would feel tangled in hers. His lips curved into a smile that made her body tremble. What havoc those lips could create on... Get a grip! "Sorry, it's the last one. Our new shipment arrives tomorrow."

The girlfriend whined like a banshee. "Farrow, make her give it to me!"

Sheila reached for the box and pulled it from the girl's hand. "We'll have more tomorrow."

Farrow wedged between the banshee and the gentleman and, reaching across the glass case, he gently peeled Sheila's fingers from around the box. Without making eye contact with her, he looked at the man. "Pops, do you mind if I take it?" He nodded with a smile in the direction of the pretty girl. "I'm sure you understand." Finally, he glanced at Sheila, who stared back with her mouth open. "Order it for him, charge it to the Kincaid account, and we're all good here, right?"

"Excuse me..." The insolent little prick! Actually, that was the only part of him that wasn't little. The type of girls he paraded around showcased his pea-sized brain though, and the fact he only thought with one head -- the swollen one belonging to his cock. Ooh, she was mad as hell. Madder than she should have been because for months now she'd wanted that prick and his cock. What was it about him? It certainly wasn't his manners that attracted her.

The older man stopped her. "One day won't matter." His hair, a little long, was dark, feathered throughout with gray.

Sheila didn't understand why she wanted to run her fingers through it. "I'll take your number and call you the minute our shipment arrives."

"There's no hurry."

What was happening to her? Two men, as different as night and day, stood in front of the glass counter. One was older, mysterious-looking, and if Farrow hadn't walked up, their conversation might have ended differently. Farrow was a jaw-dropping, gorgeous young jackass. Her body went all wonky. Shit, maybe she was going through the change or something. At this rate, she'd need to go to the lingerie department and buy new panties. Standing there, staring back and forth at both men, Sheila had an orgasm. The seat of the underwear she wore grew warm, sticky. Good lord! She couldn't get the charge slip for Farrow's signature to print fast enough.

Returning the pen, his fingers lingered on hers. "Bet you'd be hot in the sack."

"You... you arrogant bastard!"

Farrow strolled off, leaving his young lady at the counter. Her brown eyes shot daggers at Sheila before she stalked off.

Sheila jumped at the sound of the gentleman's voice. "Ahh, youth. So misspent on the young." He touched her hand and said, "No need to call. I'll have someone pick it up." Now his eyes appeared black. He gazed at her before he handed her a business card. "Don't be afraid to embrace life."

The phone buzzed and pulled her attention away; when she looked back, he was gone. Sheila read the card, absently rubbing the tingling spot where the man had touched her hand. Tavoro Sands Resort, Suva City, Fiji. Beneath that was printed a name: Mr. Obsidian. When she turned the expensive card over, there were three words: At Your Service, followed by a phone number.

"I'm not afraid."

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