Vanessa
I expected Brent's driver would take us to some intimate restaurant in Carpinteria. But instead, we sat in the passenger seat of Brent's car for a longer ride.
I'm bored.
Whenever I glance at Brent, he's doing one of two things: reading legal documents or writing on his legal pad.
Either way, I'm invisible.
Brent's now dressed in a black tuxedo with an amber-colored bowtie. His cologne filled the air.
It's intoxicating.
Yes, I wish we'd had s*x before leaving the house.
However, I had more fun torturing him. At least, I think I did an excellent job torturing him.
"Where are we going?" I interrupt the silence. It's killing me.
Brent flips through pages of a legal document. "To eat."
I roll my eyes. "Are you sure you shouldn't be a private investigator, Brent?"
