Beautiful Stranger

and Julia, both of them ready to head home. Arm in arm we left the club, and only after we were in the limo, and I was silently reliving every second of what had just happened with that strange, powerful man, did I remember: I’d left my underwear on the floor at his feet, and the video of me dancing on his phone.

Two
    Saturday my life was perfect: blazing career, orderly flat, several women available for play whenever and wherever. Sunday and Monday: a fucking mess. I was unable to concentrate, obsessively watching that damn video, and had a stranger’s knickers burning a hole in my bedroom bureau.
    Shifting in my chair, I ran my thumb over the screen, turning my phone on for the thousandth time today. The lunch meeting had veered off-topic again, and I’d tried my best to look like I gave even the slightest fuck what anyone was going on about, but as soon as the topic of American football came back up, I was done.
    All I could think about was her anyway.
    I glanced down, making sure the volume was muted and hesitating for only a moment before pressing play.
    The screen was dark, the image was blurry, but I didn’t need to make out every detail to know what came next. Even without the sound I could remember the throbbing music, the way her hips moved to the beat while her skirt slipped further and further up her thighs. American women didn’tappreciate the value of perfectly pale, unfreckled skin, but my stranger had the most exquisite skin I’d ever seen. Fuck, I would’ve licked her from ankle to hip and back again if she’d given me the chance. I knew now that she was dancing just for me, that she knew I was watching.
    And she fucking loved it.
    Christ. That tiny slip of a dress. Her messy chin-length caramel hair and those enormous, innocent brown eyes. Those eyes made me want to do very, very bad things to her while she watched.
    Her perfect arse and tits didn’t hurt, either.
    “You’re a terrible lunch date, Stella.” Will reached over and pulled a chip from my plate.
    “Mmm?” I murmured, eyes still down, careful not to react in any way. “You’re discussing American football. I’m over here killed by boredom. I am sitting here, quite literally dead.”
    If there’s one thing I’d learned in this business, it’s that you never, ever show your cards, even when you’re holding the worst hand imaginable. Or a video of a girl dancing just before you fucked her against a wall.
    “Whatever you’re looking at on that phone is obviously a hundred times better than how the Jets are gonna look this year. And you’re not sharing.”
    If only he knew.
    “Taking a peek at the market,” I said with a small shake of my head. I almost whimpered as I closed the video, slipping my phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “Boring stuff.”
    Will drained the last of his drink and laughed. “I hate that you’re such a good liar.” If we hadn’t been best mates since opening one of the most successful venture capital firms in the city three years ago, I might have actually believed him. “I think you’re looking at porn on your phone.”
    I ignored him.
    “Hey, Max,” James Marshall, our head tech advisor, piped in. “Whatever happened with that woman you were talking to at the bar?”
    Normally when my best mates asked about a random woman I’d met, I’d shrug and say, “Quick shag,” or even simply, “Limo.” But for some reason, this time I shook my head and said, “Nothing.”
    Another round of drinks arrived at our table and I thanked the server absently even though I hadn’t yet touched my first one. My gaze moved restlessly around the room. It was the typical lunchtime crowd: business meetings and ladies who lunch.
    I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
    James groaned, closing the file he’d been looking over as he slipped it into his briefcase. He lifted his glass to his forehead, wincing. “Is anyone else still paying for the weekend, though? I’m too old for that shit anymore.”
    I lifted my scotch to my lips and immediately regretted it. How could a drink I’d had practically every day since puberty suddenly remind me of a woman I’d seen exactly once?
    I looked up at the sound of a throat clearing.
    “Hey,” Will said. I followed his gaze to where a man was crossing the dining room. “Isn’t that Bennett Ryan?”
    “Well, I’ll be damned,” I said, as the tall shape of my old friend moved across the restaurant.
    “Do you know him?” James asked.
    “Yeah,