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Thread: Kris and Sy23 The Publisher's Daughter {Rated M}

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    Default Kris and Sy23 The Publisher's Daughter {Rated M}

    Gabriel Robinstein (Gabi in short), daughter of the COE of the publisher house "Dot Stains in Stein", which also produces other media, such as audio publishing and has graphic stations. She is a short woman (157 cm), but rounded in the right places, She thinks herself as a little chubby though, and considered a very attractive woman, even if she is failing to see it herself. She is 31 years old and has tanned skin (bronze) and long black hair (glossy and dark), she has brown eyes, which has dark gray/green marks in brightlight.

    Persona: She is shy, and likes to keep to herself, but wouldn't have trouble fighting or screaming even if she is pushed against a corner, but usually a very "yes woman". She has a temper and is stubborn but she fits well in group of friends she is already familiar with.

    History: Always been a bit of nerd and Ace top of a class kind of woman, and she always tried to strive for the top. Currently works on the graphic section of her father company as artist and designer under a very stern boss, who nice as a person, but expects a lot from his workers.

    Her father always pushes her to look good, but she really just likes it simple, and dressing in normal clothing, which she wouldn't dare to show her father who is very pushing of her.

    Likes: food, jewlery, tech stuff, and casual clothing. She also loves sleeping.

    She is aware of the writer Richard whom her father refer to as pain in his ass. She once even checked his short stories, which she found to be a bit too scandalizing by their arotic scences and his approach to life and death, but couldn't stop herself from reading, blushing in the process. She failed to see why those book made less success than his bigger vols, which she found to be more plain and simple.

    Richard Samuel NUGENT. He is 22 years old, and writes under the name of S L Nugent. He is 177cm tall, of slim build, with sandy hair a neat beard, deep blue eyes.

    Persona: Can be quite abrasive. Cynical. Politically way left of centre. Affects not to care about money, but seems to enjoy the finer things of life.

    History: shrouded in mystery. Is supposed to have been born in lower class area of London.

    Likes: Fast cars (owns a hot VW Gulf GTI) and expensive vodka. Not really a social animal, but polite enough in company, though he does not suffer fools gladly.

    Rose to fame with his novel Jests, the story of a manipulative and cynical hypnotist who seduces the US President's wife. Negotiations are under way for this work to become a movie. He followed this up with Everything is almost White, a tale of a fictitious Antarctic explorer based loosely on explorer Ernest Shackleton, which like his first work became a huge best seller. He has just released his third novel Not September, the story of a 17 year old boy and his relationship with a 55 year old woman. This has not been out long enough to tell how well it will sell, but it has attracted much favourable critical reception and a lot of controversy. He also has a book of short stories called Why we Saw, which has not sold as well as his novels.


    *****

    Emmanuel Robinstein glared across the desk.

    "It isn't good enough, Harvey" he growled. "Don't you understand? The press are talking. People are wondering." He heaved a deep sigh. "These days, everyone is in the public eye. Gabi can't be just anonymous. People are wondering why she never dates, why she is never seen in public. It reflects... badly upon us. People are thinking that there is something wrong with my daughter. They wonder why she can't attract a man."

    Harvey Cohen looked down at his feet.

    "Sir," he said, tentatively, "I don't know that there is anything to be done. If Gabi hasn't been able to find a man to escort her... well, how can we help it. Surely it's her choice, she will find a man n her own time." He might have added and she is a human being, not a commodity or an asset but refrained, having already, he felt, said too much.

    "Well, what do I pay you for?" growled Robinstein. "Damn it, man, I hired you to find solutions. This is a vital public relations situation. You are paid to come up with ideas. Ideas, damn you. Well?"

    Cohen, knowing his reputation as a "fixer" - and possibly his job as well - were on the line, thought hard and deep.

    "I do have one idea, sir," he said, hesitantly.

    "Well?" snapped Robinstein. "Out with it!"

    "The Englishman, Nugent," babbled Cohen. "A high profile figure. One who has attracted all kind sof controversy. Very much a darling of the alternate culture. and... unattached, I hear. He has had his name linked with a lot of women, but no signs of his forming any kind of relationship. Imagine if he was seen on the arm of your daughter. The press would go crazy."

    Robinstein thought for a moment.

    'Yes, possibly. But... I mean, Nugent? The man is... half mad."

    "All the better," Cohen pointed out,' A human headline indeed. Of course," he added, sadly, "he would have to be persuaded to... to spend time with your daughter."

    "Arrange it," said Robinstein, in a manner used to having his commands obeyed.
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    Me and father are talking a lot, but mostly through e-mails, and most of the time it's something regarding work. I guess I am okay with it, or more to say I learned to accept this. Father is a busy man and me and him hardly have anything in common.

    Whenever I get text from him, however, I usually get super excited, thinking he thought of me... only to find out the text usually entailing some kind of a chore.

    Of course it will be. He hardly care... right....

    You could imagine the surprise I felt when he texted me and offered to take me out on some father daughter evening at an Italian restaurant not far from the company. It was rare, for he rarely leaves work that early, and the place was very expensive.

    When we started to dine, I couldn't help but notice his expression, which seemed somewhat sad. He sure had something on his mind, and I was sure I was not going to like it. He talked around and around it until I burst out with tears.

    "Daddy? Are you going to die or something?"

    "Heavens no!", he laughed, which made me wince in my sit because everyone were staring at us. I began to drink the wine, somewhat nervous.

    "What is it then?", I asked. Nervous. The people were still staring and all I wanted to do was to get away from there.

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    Now that it had come to the moment, Emmanuel Robinstein was uncharacteristically nervous. He was a man used to getting his own way, telling people what to do and getting it done with no arguments. Be it an employee, a server in a bar or restaurant, a writer he was publishing... even his own daughter.

    And yet, now, he hesitated. It is, he realised, no easy thing for a man to tell his daughter that the very virtues he had always encouraged in her, modesty, quietness, dedication to work, sobriety... were actually, in a sense, faults. For a girl of her age never to have dated was bad. And given that the daughters of other high-profile men were forever making newspaper headlines, the very nature of Gabriel doing nothing that gave the popular press any fodder for stories seemed suspicious in itself.

    Already the tabloids were hinting at the "strange recluse" who was never seen. Was his daughter deformed in some way? Monumentally ugly? Emotionally or even mentally retarded? For a girl born with all the advantages to never be seen in a social situation seemed suspicious in the extreme.

    And yet, to tell this was embarrassing. Robinstein huffed and puffed, stammered and stuttered. He "hurrumphed" and "well, you see-d" and beat so far around the bush Gabriel ended up looking at him with her eyes wide, wondering if she had done something wrong that was so terrible he could not bring himself to talk about it.

    Finally, he managed to stammer it out. That her state of social isolation could no longer continue. That in the cut-throat world of publishing, she could not be seen to be shunning the social whirl. She must get "out there" and be seen. And that, acting on the suggestion of his PA Harvey Cohen, he had the very man in mind to add some spice to her reputation.

    What he had left out was that the man in question, one of his most controversial (though best selling) authors had not yet been consulted on the matter. Still, he reasoned, that was a small point. R S Nugent knew what side his bread was buttered. He would not shirk his responsibilities. When the man who published your books said "jump" you said "how high?"

    Carefully, gently, he laid it out to Gabriel. That he liked the idea of the two of them being seen together. And then, carefully hiding his nervousness, he awaited her reaction.
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    "Get your camera out and ready?", said one of the guys sitting in the restaurant. He appeared to be an elder man in his early 50s, with hint of gray hair and glasses, "We are so gonna be rich now"

    "Is that who I think it is?", asked the man who set beside him, a much younger companion in his early 30s.

    "Sure it", nodded the first man, backing away to a safe distance, and starting to take pictures with his phone, making sure the flesh was not working as to not create unneeded attention, "That respectable elder over there is no other than Mr. Emmanuel Robinstein. Although not seeing his sidekick Harvey Cohen around is suspicious. Must have let his guard down with that beautiful hottie by his side", He whistle softly, "Did you see her rack? She is kidna soft, but damn she is cute"

    "You sure that's his girlfriend, kinda seems young?"

    "Oh you youngsters know nothing. In political world, it is the shark who chooses who mates with who, and obviously a woman like her is probably looking for a sugar daddy to fill all her needs"

    "She seems too modest for that... like WAY too modest for that, you sure it's not his daughter?"

    "Well, we finally see some more into his private life then. Get the camera up and start shooting, I already sent some previous on E-mail to the editors. This will go live within the next 20 minutes".

    ***

    "Daddy!", I tried to talk reason to him, my voice is high and angry. What about everything I was raised to do? be respectful and modest? hell he hardly even let me leave the house when I was a teen, and he always seemed pleased when I rather stayed at home than hang out with my friends, which my circle of them had decreased drastically since mom left the house. There was no point to bring anyone, since he always liked his space quite and clean.

    I noticed all too quickly that I may have raised up my voice a bit, as I got more glares and my body grew hot as I blushed. I set uncomfortably in my chair, trying to fix my dress, which was pressing against my body. Not only I find it bothersome to eat with such tight clothes and shapewear underneath (which made going to the toilet even worse experience), his words made feel even more horrible.

    I looked up to him, and he seems somewhat unsure.

    I could sense those words were not his alone... might have been Harvey's words.

    "You... you don't even like this guy in question, and he is younger than me by a decade, how can I go out with someone like him? You keep telling me how rude he is, and how it is unlikely for him to ever be with someone longer than a month. You even say he is not the kind of guy to get along, and if I knew him personally his words will have made me cry!"

    "Gabi!", my father tried to muster his words, "This is just for show!"

    "But why do I need to do it, why would the media be even interest in me?!"

    Just when I asked it, I saw someone barging into the restaurant. The lady appointing the sits tried to stop him, tell him all rooms were booked and that he had nothing to look here, which I can't blame her, who in his right mind will come here looking as he did. His outfit was unfixed, and he had flippers instead of decent shoes.

    Once he noticed our table he ran for our direction and I noticed right away it was...

    " Harvey?"

    "Harvey? what is the meaning of it?", my father slammed on the table, probably worried to get his name soiled with such unsightly presentation of his best man.

    Harvey panted, "Oh thank god I found you!", he said between heaving, "You must get out of here, now!"

    "What is wrong with you?"

    "Sir, look at this!"

    He handed a tablet to my father who seemed unconvinced at first, probably wondering what could have caused his assistant to overact like this, but when he saw the screen, he nearly fainted, his face paling.

    "We are going, now!", my father said pulling my hand. Harvey covered my head with his coat as I tried to fight them both, wondering what could possibly have happened.

    The lady from the restaurant screamed after us, but I was able to see father throwing her his card and she bowed and asked our forgiveness, saying she will put the bill on the tab.

    Only when we got the car did Harvey pulled the coat and I breathed, screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?".

    My outfit was a mess, as my skirt rose up and my hair was ruined. Harvey throw the tablet to the back site and I quickly used the car Wifi to read the recent article which father has just read before me.

    I was surprised to read the headline and see the picture of myself and father, 'Emmanuel Robinstein's new young girlfriend?'

    "OMG!", I cried in the car, "They can't possibly think this!"

    "What are we going to do? The last thing I need is to hear from Bella that I got Gabi into some kind of trouble!", it was weird hearing mom's name on father's lips, but I knew he probably cared more for his name than mine.

    "Nothing to worry sir, it only means we going to speed up the plan", Harvey looked around quickly before focusing on driving, "Gabi, there is someone you need to meet"

    All was moving too quickly, and I was not okay with it, nor I was in shape or a position to meet anyone.

    But nobody in the car seems to care.

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    For Richard Nugent, the evening before had been much like most others when he was not working. One filled with pleasure and enjoyment.

    Had he been put on the spot regarding his lifestyle, Richard would have strongly denied he was a hedonist. He was, he would assert, an Epicure, in the truest meaning of the word. His was no world of vulgar pleasure seeking, consuming to excess simply to demonstrate his wealth or social status. If anything, he lived slightly below his means. He sought out the best cooked food rather than the most expensive, the most highly regarded rather than the most expensive of spirits and wines. He drive a car known for its handling ability and performance rather than its ability to make its driver look well-heeled. He lived in a well-appointed apartment, yet not one situated in the richest part of town, and though it was well laid out it contained no spa, Jacuzzi or gold fittings. He wore well-fitted clothes, yet not of the kind that cost an average person a year's salary to purchase.

    He was one of those rare souls who do not give a damn what anyone thought of him. If others wished to demonstrate their wealth by their possessions and clothing, he felt, this was their business. It did not impress him, neither did he wish to emulate them. They could think him a pauper for all he cared.

    His evening, then, had gone much like any other. He had repaired, with a good friend, to a modest bar known among those in the know as serving the very best quality of liquor and food. There, he and the friend had met two girls, who had both seemed amazingly impressed by the fact that he was the author of Everything is Almost White. One, who looked like a supermodel, was obviously pretending, the other, slightly less attractive, obviously knew his stuff inside out. He had gone back to the latter's apartment, spent the night there, then kissed her goodbye the following morning without exchanging phone numbers.

    This morning, he knew, it was time for work. His routine on such days rarely varied. He would rise at midday, drink a large mug of coffee and smoke a cigar, eat some cereal, then sit at his computer. He would carefully read over what he had written the previous day, edit if it required it, then break for another coffee and a quick skim through the local news sites. Then work began in earnest, ten hours straight, struggling, thinking, writing, sweating.

    That this morning this routine was to be unceremoniously broken was not his fault. Catching sight of Emmanuel Robinstein's face on the news feed brought him up short. The man was, after all, his main source of wealth. The article, concerning Robinstein's new, much younger girl friend, he found amusing at first.

    Further perusal, however, made him frown. As a writer of fiction himself, he recognised it when he saw it from the pen 9or word processor) of others. And while this article claimed not to be fiction, fiction, he could see, it most certainly was. Whatever his other habits, the sober, conservative Robinstein was not the kind of man to hit the town with a young starlet. And f he had, he'd have done a far better job of keeping it secret.

    Furthermore, the girl in the photograph, while attractive enough in a shy, understated way, did not seem the sort to go gold-digging for a rich daddy. She was not the blonde, massively-breasted, hungry-eyed and sexily dressed type at all. After reading the article, he was in no doubt it had contained more speculation and wishful thinking than fact. The gutter-journalist who had written it had provided no names (save Robinstein's) not any kind of information. He had, it seemed, simply seen the pair of them together, made up some salacious story and gone to press. Nugent did not mind Robinstein's reputation being dragged through the mid, but the unnamed girl's plight raised a certain degree of sympathy in him. She had a right he felt, to her private life, not be subject to mortifying lies and speculation.

    Further thoughts in this direction were ended by a phone call from the secretary of the man himself, Mr Robinstein, asking if Nugent would present himself at the office at his earliest convenience.

    *****

    Nugent had expected the meeting to be about one of three things. (a) Yet another request to edit the manuscript of his latest work to take out some of the more controversial aspects (b) An insecurely melancholy statement that given that times were hard and cash flow was slow, no, the house could NOT see its way clear to increasing Nugent's advance on said work, or (c) There was an amazing publicity idea, if only Nugent could be persuaded to drop what he was ding and jump on a place to Paris/Chicago/Antarctica right this minute and...

    To his surprise, it was none of these things. The extra advance had already, Robinstein told him, been approved. And after dur consideration and the advice of his staff, he had decided to publish the novel as it stood. And no, there was no hare brained publicity scheme in the works. Now, would his good frind Mr Nugent like a drink, and...

    It was all very suspicious.

    Cynic that he was, Nugent took no surprise at the fact that there was an ulterior motive. And when the proposition was put to him, he very early quit on the spot. Neither he, nor Mr Robinstein's daughter, he spat, was a commodity, to be used as a showpiece. And if Mr Robinstein did not like it, he could put it, and his contract, and his advance, where the sun never shone.

    There was one phrase Mr Robinstein could put that wuld change Mr Nugent's mind. And, squirming with inner defeat, he used it.

    "Please, Richard," he pleaded. "I really, really need you..."

    And after that, Nugent agreed to at least, with no promises made, to hear the details.
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    "Are you out of your mind?"

    "Please sir, it's the only real approach we can go about it!"

    "But those dogs will wait for us at said restaurant!"

    "Exactly sir, and this is my plan".

    I watched as father and Harvey went back and forth, talking loudly inside his office. I set with my hands crossed, my body shivering with anger and shame. They both of them talked about me as if I was some kind of terrorist situation that needed to be worked.

    Across from me set Richard Nugent, the man I only knew from stories, his books and from afar when he dealt with father.

    Galit, father's secretary went inside with a trail and offered both of us a glass of tea, which I refused to take. I couldn't bear the whole situation and I wanted to simply leave.

    Richard on the other hand, seemed unimpressed and rather bored, he thanked Galit as he took the tea, carefully adding more sugar inside and stirring with a small spoon, which he returned to the trail and watched as Galit leaves. I blushed as I noticed his gaze was following the movement of her dress with hungry eyes.

    "So this is the plan!", Harvey grabbed my attention again, "We won't go to the media, or go public, or anything, that would only increase suspicious. What we do is act cool and natural"

    "How?", I asked.

    "Tomorrow, you both returns to the restaurant", Harvey said, looking at me and father, acting natural, smiling… doing father daughter stuff…

    "And?", father asked.

    "You!", he pointed at Richard, "will enter some time later, acting natural and casual, shaking Emmanuel's hands, and then… proceeding to sit by Gabriel's side… not before kissing both of her cheeks and embracing her"

    "WHAT?!", I blushed. I realized that both my tune and my expression were unsightly, but I was still not willing to do it.

    "It's just for a show", Harvey said, "We first need to clear the misunderstanding, letting people understand that you are Emmanuel's daughter… and then… by then we hope people will understand that you do have a man by your side… Doesn't have to be steady deal", Harvey shook his head, "Don't you give me that look Richard, It's not like you have a steady date, and I'm sure people would not assume it to be serious, but we do need to present Gabriel as 'human' as possible"

    "But!"

    "Gabi, please...", father said and I hushed.

    "It's only for the show…", father said.

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    "Only for show," sighed Richard Nugent. He glared at Robinstein. "Shit on toast, man, can you actually hear yourself?"

    Robinstein looked at his star writer uncomprehendingly. It took Nugent a second or so to realize the older man was genuinely unaware what the fuss was all about.

    "You're talking about your daughter as if she's a... a fucking commodity!" he snapped. "A piece of meat. An embarrassment, to be manipulated into improving your image. Does it occur to you that Miss Robinstein might have feelings. That she might feel humiliated being discussed as if she were a toy, or a pet?" He turned towards her. "I do apologize for any part I might be playing in this, Miss Robinstein," he said, sadly. "I hope you'll do me the honor of realizing I had no part in this, and didn't realize what was going to be discussed before I arrived here."

    He pushed back his chair and stood up. Bowed with genuine consideration to Gabi, and with an ironical set to it to Robinstein. Then he turned and walked towards the door.

    "Mr Nugent," said Harvey, quickly. "Please."

    There was a genuine pleading tone in his voice. reluctantly, Nugent stopped, and turned.

    "I understand how you feel about this plan" Harvey went on, "and believe me, it does you extreme credit that you find it so... unusual. Normally I would not have suggested such a thing. But consider this, at least... and then, when you've done so, you can storm out in high dudgeon as you planned. Is that, at least, a deal?"

    Nugent's jaw was set in a hard, uncompromising line.

    "OK," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll listen. But be assured I make no promises to be a part of this insulting and sordid scheme."

    "Fair enough." Harvey sat back, and steepled his hands. "Mr Nugent, having read just about everything you've ever written, even your poetry, I come away with one impression of you. That you are, above all, a realist. You see life as it is, and not as people like to think it is."

    "True enough," growled Nugent. "But... "

    "Now, hear me out, as you promised," Harvey continued. "Here's the facts. Sure, you can walk out of here, and have nothing to do with this scheme. And you may safely ignore any threats Mr Robinstein might imply about terminating your contract, or anything else detrimental to you. We all know you can find another publisher by the close of business tomorrow, and it'd be our loss. But consider this...

    "You walking out won't change a thing. Mr Robinstein will still go through with this plan, using you or someone else. Someone with less consideration for Miss Robinstein's feelings. Less sense of chivalry. You won't save her from any humiliation this plan might cause her. If anything, you'll make it worse by leaving. If you agree to take part, you can at least exercise some control over the situation, save her feelings from the worst excesses of the plan. And think about this... it's not as if it would be an ordeal, is it?"

    "Oh, I never said it would be an ordeal," Nugent admitted. "I won't deny that Miss Robinstein is... well, stunningly beautiful. Any guy wuld be proud to be seen with someone as pretty as her. But..." he thought for a moment. "All right."

    He turned towards Gabi.

    "Miss Robinstein... if you are willing to go forward with this scheme, I'm only willing to go along if you agree... without being forced and pressured into it by your father. I am now going along to the building's cafeteria and I'll sit there a half hour. If you are genuinely willing to do this thing, come along in ten minutes, alone, and tell me so. And we'll work out, between us, the exact terms and limitations of the bargain... between ourselves, with no pressure from your father or any of his menials."

    He locked eyes with Robinstein.

    "And if you won't give your daughter this privilege, and this much control over her own reputation... don't bother to put any pressure on me regarding future contracts. Consider me as having withdrawn from any future contract between us. As has been pointed out, I can soon find another publisher. So, do we have a deal?"

    Robinstein swallowed.

    "We have a deal, Mr Nugent," he whispered. "I give you my word, I won't pressure Gabi to accept if the two of you can't come to an arrangement. And I'll put no pressure on you, either. Gabi, I suggest that you go along to the cafeteria first, and wait there, so Mr Nugent can't say I put pressure on you before the meeting between the two of you. Mr Nugent can join you shortly."

    Nugent turned to Gabi.

    "Miss Robinstein, if you agree to that," he said, "I'll go along with it."
    Last edited by Sy23; 11-12-2018 at 03:58 PM.
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    There was so much pressure and feelings involving I didn't even know where to bury myself. I was surprise of the kind man's words.

    From the way father described Richard, one would assume him being a player, a fiend, and somewhat inhuman, but here he was, making me feel somewhat better with myself. As if not only father got him all wrong but even me… I was allowed to choice and make a decision for myself. Why this stranger understood my feelings better than all those close to me.

    I got up as I tried to fix my dress, "Please excuse me", I said to everyone and bowed, "Meet me in the cafeteria in 10 minutes, I feel like I am showing myself improperly and I need to fix myself in the bathroom, I won't take long".

    I assured him, but was unsure myself. As not only my clothes and shapewear which I wore under were becoming tighter, I was sweating and the clothes glowed on me. I knew I was becoming a mess by the minute. Plus I really need to relieve myself, and I know that getting myself proper and fixed will draw longer than need be.

    ***

    I finished everything that I could do, fixing my make up (which I don't normally wear, but going out with father turn it to something special), and was somewhat okay with the way the dress set on my body. I really need to lose some weight. I was wondering if what Richard said about me was true or if it was a joke. I never consider myself stunning. I was in no body shape for it after all.

    The hair was still a mess, with all the running and hurdles around, getting it straight and nice again was out of the question.

    But I have kept the poor man waiting long enough. I rushed outside, as the last thing I needed was to be scalded for making him flee. And after his speech I had the feelings I won't find someone as understanding as him.

    I felt horrible as I knew he wasn't much into this himself.

    I ran quickly and was happy to still see him there. I took the sit beside him and blushed, "I am sorry I kept you waiting".

    It wasn't fully my fault, I had so much to fix, and placing the clothes on me again after using the ladies room was a pain. I knew I probably heaved because of all the effort I took for this.

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    For a few minutes after Gabriel had left, Nugent spent a few minutes discussing minor details of his new book with Robinstein, both of them deliberately avoiding the topic of what they had just been discussing. Then he took his leave and set off on his path towards the cafeteria, his mind a mass of confused emotions.

    His experience with women had been wide and vast, but had tended towards the more confident, outgoing types. He respected them, but tended to think of them as equals, not needing any particular consideration or concession. If any of them wished to sleep with him (and many did) he regarded them as entering into the liaison with their eyes wide open.

    Yet Gabriel Robinstein was different.

    She was not the confident, outgoing type he was used to knowing. Instead, she was shy, nervous and, he had to admit, somewhat young for her years. She was 31, yet behaved as he would have expected a girl of 16 to conduct herself. Not only was she (Robinstein had admitted, before they had changed the subject by unwritten consent) a virgin, she had never even had a serious boyfriend. The way she deferred to her father in every respect, even calling him "Daddy" as a young child would, seemed strange indeed.

    He had seen how embarrassed she had been by the way her father had discussed her as if she were merely a product. And noticed how self-effacing she was, not being able to stand up for herself. He had seen her attempts to control her hair, which was obviously intended to look neat and professional, yet had become disarranged, that her make up was caked at the eyelashes, and that her lipstick was smudged. He had noticed her dress, which was an expensive designer label, was too tight, and noticed her squirming in discomfort and trying to adjust it without anyone noticing. The dress had become wrinkled up on her, and she was obviously too hot and itchy in it. He had tried not to look at how the hem had crept up along her legs (which were, he had to admit, very good legs indeed) but feared she had known she was showing too much leg, as she had been trying to adjust herself, and had even mentioned she needed to go to the bathroom and tidy herself up.

    In short, he felt an emotion towards her he did not normally feel towards women.

    He actually felt protective of her.

    As he entered the cafeteria, he went to the canteen and bought two coffees. The staff there all knew him, and could also tell him how Gabriel liked her brew, and he thought it might help to put her at ease if he turned up with a drink already to hand.

    As he drew close to the table, he took in her appearance, without making it obvious he was looking at her. she had pushed her hair into the best order she could manage, refreshed her make up, and done her best with her troublesome dress, managing to smooth the most noticeable of the wrinkles out of it, though in the short time since she had left the bathroom he noticed, it had started to stick to her and ride up again. The substantial shape wear she wore under it was visible through the material of the dress, which couldn't have done much he guessed, for the poor girl's already low confidence.

    He decided to start as he meant to go on. If he was going to do this thing, he felt, he had to do it properly. And who knew who might be watching?

    As he reached the table, he leaned down, and bussed his lips against hers, giving her the kiss a girl might expect from her boyfriend. As soon as he had done this, he wondered if he had, perhaps, gone to far for such a shy girl. But then it was too late, and the die was cast.

    He took his seat opposite her, and smiled.

    "So, Miss Gabriel Robinstein," he said, softly, "tell me about yourself. Tell me why such an amazingly pretty girl doesn't have every man in the city chasing her."
    Last edited by Sy23; 11-17-2018 at 02:11 PM.
    My thanks to the wonderful .Karma for my gorgeous sig!!!

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    I was caught off guard and I placed my fingers on my lips, still unsure what was happening. I chuckled nervously as I sat beside Richard, and quickly gazed at the menu to hide my embarrassment. I felt like my head was beginning to spin as my inners parts were boiling and I felt uncomfortable.

    It was not the first kiss I experienced from a man, but it was definitely the most recent in a long while, and it felt like being alive again.

    Still, he was he stranger and I didn't know how to react. And why did he needed to compliment me to such extreme? I knew I had attractive features but it was nothing like the way he praised me, most certainly not to the point of men chasing me left and right.

    I coughed as I thought how to change the subject, "I am a simple lady, Richard", I said slowly then took back my words as I realized how rude I was, "I can call you by your first name, yes?", I blushed, "After all, between us both you are the most renown and famous. How come you don't have a steady woman in your life, sir?"

    I was maybe a bit direct, but I felt like questioning him this will make me somewhat of an equal to him, showing that we both have our issues with relationships. I hoped he will not be offended though.

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