Stay Away from Pleasure

Chapter Five

5:47PM

I resume falling in love with my room as I return. It gradually occurs to me that I have absolutely no idea when this "date" with Matt is. Maybe he'll call? He said he'll pick me up. I don't think I told him where I live though, but I think he knows anyway.

If there's one thing I need to do, it's to play my cards right this evening. I need to gather information for my other "date" tomorrow for lunch. Maybe I should take notes like in an English lesson. 

You'd think you'd never have to go back to that life.

He's seen one of the texts though. He knows I'm almost as dodgy as he is. I find it hard to believe that he's actually trying to get me fired. Who would care that much and why? I don't believe he's actually trying to seduce me. No one would stoop that low just because I'm a woman. Would they?

In my closet, I look for my finest attires. How classy does he want me? Is it dinner at a fancy restaurant or at his place? Maybe I should text him.

Damn, I can't text first, though. It's not even a matter of me being the woman, it's to keep interest. I can't have him thinking I'm easy, especially if he's trying to sabotage my entire being. The boost of his ego might just place him on his pedestal high enough for him to take me down completely. I need him to want me bad enough for me to expose him for the asshole he is.

Oh this is fucking ridiculous! I pick up my phone and text him:
Hey! I just wanted to know, what are we doing for dinner tonight?
Liz.

No. He calls me "Lisette" so I should write that. I erase "Liz" and replace it. Maybe I should add a kiss?

God, that's too easy.

The final message says:

What are we doing for dinner tonight?
Lisette

I hit send.
No reply.

Slightly nervous, my feet shuffle and I end up pacing around in my closet then my phone buzzes in my hand. It's him.

The text says:

It's a surprise. Wear a dress; preferably long; preferably black. Don't leave your hair in a bun like you did at work. Would you wear it down for me?

I can imagine him saying that to my face. So many standards and expectations. He wants me to wear a long, black dress with my hair down. Hm.

I text: 

No. I like my hair up.

I honestly couldn't care less, but I like to wind him up a bit.

He says:

Please? I would love to see those beautiful curls up close.

Cute.

I text:

Fine. What are you wearing.

Him:

A suit.

Hm. I reply: 

A three piece?

He flirts:

Only if you want me to.

Rolling my eyes, I send: 

Wear what you want.

He replies with: 

Good. I'm on my way to yours. You have ten minutes.
Stay beautiful.