velvet paradise (ftm x fem)

Track 2

ALAIA

Butterflies flutter in my tummy as Cassie peers at me. Am I ready to meet thee, Jaire "Jaja Slidin'" Woods?

Jaire has a veteran's resume at twenty-seven years old. His innovative, sexy productions have crisp drums, throbbing bass lines, and mesmerizing melodies. His precise beats and my vocals are long-lost soulmates. Fantasies of our talents merging and creating timeless masterpieces often infiltrate my mind. There's a chance my dreams may come to life today.

"Um...are you ready?" Cassie repeats.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Cassie's knuckles tap on the door. Please, don't let him be finer in pers—

Whoosh! An aromatic scent of citrus, musk, and spice comes with Jaire's presence. His face lights up with a grin, highlighting his sculpted cheekbones. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making him devilishly handsome. The pesky butterflies swoop lower. Oh, lord.

"What's up, Alaia?" His rich Southern drawl is like a drizzle of honey on a freshly baked buttermilk biscuit. His voice is as deep as the bass he places in his beats. How am I going to hold myself together? Me, him, in a band? How will I resist letting him strum my cl-t with those agile, veiny hands?

Matching his grin, my external emotions remain in check. This is business. It isn't my first time meeting with a CEO of a record label. Executives have dangled contracts in my face, threatening to snatch my opportunity away if they didn't receive sexual favors. Nope, not going through that again.

"Hey, Jaire! It's nice to meet you." Yes, very kind and professional. Great job, Alaia. My hand extends towards him. Shea butter whispers from his dark skin, adding sweetness to his fragrance. His skin is so soft. F-ck a handshake. Can we hug?

He motions to his desk. "Get comfortable. I'll be with you in a second."

Natural light bathes the office from the wall-length window panes. Surrounding the headquarters are skyscrapers that loom above and below. The view from inside the office matches the charm of the exterior. A mix of hickory wood panels and smooth mocha paint coats the walls. Italian marble flooring adds elegance with its reflective surface. A rich and masculine scent wafts through the air. Grab me a few blankets, and this could become my new sanctuary.

An executive chair sits behind Jaire's walnut desk. It's fit for a king. If I sat in it, it'd swallow me whole. My bottom settles into an armchair that faces his desk. The flared leather chair molds to the contours of my body as I sink into it. My eyes drift shut as I sink into the lap of luxury. I am fortunate to live in Amor's upscale apartment. However, this place exemplifies affluence.

The vibration of a chuckle unfastens my eyelids. Straightening my body, I twist my neck in the rumble's direction. "Relax." Jaire's lips exhibit a delicate upward bend. "Just don't fall asleep. Everyone falls asleep in that chair." He strides towards the kitchenette in his office—yes, a f-cking kitchenette!

"I won't fall asleep," I say. "I'm too interested in what you want to talk about."

He retrieves two glasses from a cabinet. "You don't know why you're here?" He says something else. The water rinsing the glasses fuzzes my hearing. F-ck. The faucet stops, and Jaire peeks at me. "What do you think about that?"

My lips move in a silent dance, parting, closing, then parting again. "Um...sorry? The water...was...loud. Think about what?"

Jaire opens the smart fridge. He angles his body to hide what he's withdrawing. "We're here to talk about you joining the band. I want to sign you to Certified 4 Eternity Records." If only he meant as a solo artist. The band is an amazing opportunity, but I...I don't know. He shovels ice into the glasses.