Merged And Married

Jackie had never gone wrong with wearing a gown with a long slit, but now, in the fluorescent lighting of this five star restaurant, she is beginning to think of the opposite. Mr. Fergman, the older man sitting right across her table had done something that had sent chills running down her spine. He'd placed his hand on her thigh, right where the slit in her gown stops. "You know, we could continue this conversation in my hotel room. It's not far from here. Maybe I could give you a good listen in there." Mr Fergman announces, his voice low and tumultuous. Jackie's eyes travels to the man's right hand, still resting on her thigh. His fingers are slowly beginning to trace the edge of her slit and she could swear he was trying to push his hand in even further. Everything starts to fall into place like pieces of dominoes arranged closely together. She should've known something was wrong when her grandfather gave her the quick approval stamp before she left her house a few hours ago. "He's definitely going to be interested in whatever you have to say." She could still hear her grandfather's words ring in her ears. "You just make sure you sell to him hard and drive him up the wall if necessary." Jolting herself out of her reverie, Jackie grabbed the man's wrinkled hand and slowly pushes it off her gown. "I think there's been some form of misunderstanding here, Mr. Fergman." She says, biting hard on her tongue to hold off on the words that are going to come out next. I'm not your lowly escort. "Well, unless you want there to be one, I think things are going rather smoothly." Mr Fergman replies, his hand finding its way back to her thigh again. A wave of anger is slowly rising in her and she is beginning to wonder just how much she can get away with if she breaks his fingers. She isn't supposed to be here. She never intended it. The last thing she wanted on a Friday night was to discuss a business deal with one of her grandfather's closest investors. But somehow, she'd found herself in this position, stuck in a low-lighting restaurant at eight in the evening, watching the hand of some creepy old man swim up her skin under the table. She looks around the restaurant, wondering if anyone is paying attention to them. People were too focused on their food and conversations that somehow, no one had looked towards their table, not even once. "I'm only here to discuss business with you, Mr. Fergman. I'm not interested." Jackie says, slightly pushing the man's hand off her thigh one more time. If he does it again, she's going to get off her chair and walk out of this restaurant, her grandfather's business proposal be damned. Jackie studies the man before her, in a new light that screams hate. He couldn't be younger than sixty, and that's putting it lightly. His glasses covered most of the eyebags surrounding his eyes but anyone who tries to look a bit beyond the sweaty glasses could see them pretty clearly. "Okay, this is not how Frederick told me this would go." Mr Fergman says, a wave of disappointment mixed with anger creeping up his face. "He says the representative would be ready to meet all my demands." "Well, did he happen to mention that the representative would turn out to be his f*****g granddaughter?" Jackie asks, feeling the situation slip out of her grasp. She's definitely going back to her grandfather empty-handed. The creepy smile on Fergman's face vanishes almost instantly. "Wait, what?" "I'm Jackie Weissman. Frederick Weissman js my grandfather. Didn't you put that together when I introduced myself to you this evening?" Jackie asks, biting her tongue hard again to avoid saying the next words that came to her. You got dementia or something? "Trust me, I was not listening to you when you walked through those doors." Fergman says, his eyes traveling down Jackie's face. A shudder runs across Jackie's body as she feels the Fergman's creepy gaze on her neck and down her chest. "Okay, I think we're done here." She says, pushing back the chair to get off it. "You sure?" Fergman asks, watching her grab the closest napkin. "I mean, this is kind of a big deal for Frederick. Think he'll forgive his daughter for running it down?" A mild scoff escapes Jackie's mouth. This is a joke. "No, but I'm sure he'll understand once he learns you're trying to feel me up, don't you think?" "Okay. It's your funeral. Just know the deal is here and ready. All you have to do is follow me to my hotel room to take it." Jackie opens her mouth to make a blind retort when a familiar voice creeps up behind her. w "Is everything okay, here?" the voice asks, sending another shudder down Jackie's entire body. What the hell is he doing here? She makes a swift turn and comes face to face with him. His gaze alternating between her and Fergman. "Are you okay?" He asks, the expression on his face dwindling between worry and sheer curiosity. "What are you doing here?" Jackie asks in a harsh whisper. "What, you following me, now?" "I asked first, it's your turn to answer." He replies, his voice matching hers. "And who made that rule?" She asks, grimacing. "Hey, who are you?" Fergman asks from his seat, gesturing towards him. "And who the hell are you?" He replies, staring daggers at Fergman. "What the hell are you doing?" Jackie asks, grabbing one of his wrists as hard as he can. "Jackie you know this person?" Fergman asks, not taking his eyes off him for a second. Jackie rolls her eyes and draws a huge sigh. "Yes." She replies, her voice no longer in a whisper but still as low as possible. "Unfortunately, I do."