Elvis
The meeting with Clark had been going well.
That was the truth of how the evening started: good food and productive conversation. Clark was easy company. Knew what he wanted, didn't waste time.
My eyes went to the entrance on instinct, and there she was in a red dress. That red dress hugged her curves, provoking thoughts I shouldn’t entertain. It brought back the same battle I’ve been fighting, her body, her breasts, and her hips on full display.
My stomach tightened.
I reached for my wine glass and finished what was in it.
The men at the surrounding tables were doing what men do when something catches their attention, the quick looks, the slow looks, the trying-to-be-invisible looks that weren't invisible at all. I felt a fierce protective urge I can’t quite explain, a desire
