Slipping into the booth corner, Gezza sat in the chilled leather seat, his thighs, his sneakers touching the leg of the table.
Victoria Blake was opposite him, her blazer crisp, her hair in a straight and tight bun, and her gray eyes flicking down at the menu, her heels drawn up under the chair.
There was the clink of glasses and murmurs of voices, chandelier golden lamps falling on white cloths, the scent of garlic and wine in the air.
His backpack sank in his side and the Playbook was throbbing in his shoulder, runes slightly glimmering in his brain.
Fuck, Mia and Elena are waiting up the stairs. I hope they will not rip the room to pieces.
His hands were taping on the table and his heartbeat was accelerating but he was leaning forward over Victoria and his hoodie was brushing the edge and his eyes were staring up at her high-cheeked face. Focus on her. She's my ticket to cash.
"Well, Victoria, it has been a long time", he, spoke with a low voice, leaned in, and his elbow was on the table. "You look good. And still conducting that office as a boss?
She looked up, and her icy gray eyes were hardening, yet softening, and the fingers followed the edge of the menu. "Gezza, right? It's been years. What have you been up to?"
Her voice was business-like, her lips slightly smiling, and she sat erectly, although her foot moved beneath the table and touched his sneaker.
His face crept, sticking out his patchy beard, and his smile was smug. "This and that. You know, living life." Play it cool. Need her obsessed, not horny.
He imagined her having him in her thoughts all the time--glancing at her phone, daydreaming during meetings, her keen brain preoccupied with Gezza Thompson. Not full lust. Obsession. Get her desiring to give me all.
He stood up from where he sat, and sat besides Victoria, His hand had fallen under the table and his fingers lightly touched her thigh with her skirt, searching. She held her breath and her eyes opened, though she did not draw back, her cheeks blushing a little.
The waiter came over to him, clutching a note pad, his apron unbuttoned. "What can I get you?"
Victoria coughed, and her fingers clenched the menu. I will take the salmon salad with no dressing on the side. And a glass of Chardonnay."
Gezza was slightly bent back, his hand still on her thigh, thumb revolving lazily. "Burger, I want you medium rare with lots of cheese on it. And a beer." The waiter nodded, and wrote away, and walked off, clicking on the tile.
Victoria glanced about to his hand, and her pose changed, her skirt material tensing under his nails. "What are you doing?" Her tone was low, and a combination of surprise and something less, her gray eyes darting to his, her bun falling a strand.
"Just catching up", he said, and bent closer, his breath caressing her ear, his fingers caressing her thigh.
"You know I always thought you were too good for that place." Build it. Get her obsessed in my assistance. The warmth of the Playbook shot up, his thoughts driving--her mind full of him, desiring.
Her breath came in, her thigh tensed at his hand, but she leant forward a little, her eyes softening more.
"I remember." She said, and her voice lower, and she put her hand on the table, her fingers tapped. "You were always... quiet. What do you need, Gezza? You did not bump me to do it old times sake."
Her gray eyes looked into his, her pose softened, her skirt slipped, her legs crossed, and his hand was caught.
His thumb stroking her thigh, his smile. "Smart as ever. Look, things are rough. Out of work, moms basement-- the usual. Could use a hand up. Maybe a loan?" Not agreeing yet.
Just thinking about it. His murmur was tickling her ear, his fingers moving up, her skin burning under the skirt.
The Playbook was humming, the obsession developing, her skin glazed a little, lips opened.
"A loan?" she said, and her voice was a shy one, and her hand touched his arm, her fingers brushed. "I don't know, Gezza. We barely talked back then."
Her pose changed, and she leant forward, her gray eyes on his lips, the thigh of her thigh against his hand.
It's working. She is obsessing, not cogitating, but contemplating.
The waiter came back and rattled with his plates, laid down the salad and the burger, steam up, the Chardonnay in its glass sparkling.
Gezza shrank his hand back, retrieved his burger, with the cheese flowing, and had a bite, with grease dripping down his fingers.
"Think about it." he said, "You could change my life." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, and his eyes were fixed on her.
She ate at her salad, tinkling with a fork at the leaves, her mouth set in small bites, her head bobbing back and forth between bites.
"What do you need the money for?" Her voice was inquisitive, her hand was reaching her glass, her fingers were circling the stem, slowly sipping, her lips were wet with wine.
"Stuff." he said, leaning in again, his hand on her thigh, whispering in her ear. "To get on my feet. You're successful, Victoria. Help a guy out."
His fingers compressed, her dress knotted, her breath increasing, her gray eyes blackening. Obsess over me. Give me what I want. Hum showed in the Playbook, her pose fell, her free hand stroking his knee beneath the table.
"I... I will ponder upon it, she said in a softer voice, and her fork stopped, and her eyes lingered on his face, and there was a glow of shame in her eyes. "It's not that simple, but... maybe."
The thigh against his hand jerked, the fingers clinging on the glass.
He did, and his burger was greasy, wiping it with his sleeve. "That's all I ask." Got her hooked on the idea. Instead, he drew a crumpled napkin, wrote his number on it with a pen in his pocket, smudged on, and pushed it across the table.
"Call me." His hand moved away out of her thigh, and lingered a moment, her skin hot.
She grabbed the napkin, her fingers caressing his, her eyes open.
"Wait, what is your full name, again? I forgot." her voice was shy, her posture leaning forward, her blazer moving.
"Gerald Thompson", he said, standing, with his sneakers scuffing, and threw his backpack on his shoulder.
The warmth which filled the Playbook was the obsession established.
He turned his back, and his smile saturated with self-satisfaction, then walked away.
Leaving her staring, her fork forgotten, and her gray eyes staring at the napkin.