THE ENTITY

The Entity

The sunlight from the windows fell on the glossy paper. The prints were like black oil with sharp edges. I almost drop the prints at a sensation on the edge of my fingertip.

“Blood.”

I look up; lost on the damned prints he handed me and forgot he even existed. I’m lying of course. How is it possible to ignore him? His voice cut through the silence in the room- resonating, demanding attention. Like the speaker. The smoothness of his movement is quite remarkable for a man who is tall with broad shoulders. He’s very attractive, supple in movement; from the way he unfolds his body like a cat, from the way he lowers his feet down from the table, to the way his hand slides in his jacket reaching for something in his immaculate dark suit.

I quickly turn my eyes away when he took the chair near me but my mind could still see that swell below the expensive pants held together by that intriguing gold buckle.

Those rich brown eyes almost the color of dark caramel seemed to probe to the deepest part of my soul. In his large hand the agent takes my hand and wrap my injured finger in soft scarlet handkerchief. I question how I could feel this strong physical draw for him when our skin touched.

“Paper cuts hurt like hell.” The agent murmurs, “Here.” His warm breath left tingles on my skin with the slight pressure he applies on my injury.

“How much?” I spoke through a mouth that had gone dry. Was there a slight smile on those lips when he let go of my hand? Why did it kindle something I thought had been dormant inside of me? I catch myself. Why did I desire to lean close until I could feel his lips on mine?

Using a gold pen the man scribbled something on a piece of paper taken from a stationary holder on the table. He paused for a moment, slides me a quick glance but with a final flourish of the pen pushed the note on the smooth expanse of the hardwood table.

I took a quick look at the office to stop myself when he saunters to the wine cabinet; at the way he moves, the way he pours wine captivates me, makes me feel strange.

I think it’s wrong for me to feel this way and it made me mad at myself so I focus at the piece of paper in front of me. My brows tensed and met in the middle; I must have lost the ability to read the scarlet number jotted on it. “I…I don’t understand.” I said after I’m not sure for how long.

From the rim of his wine glass the agent looks into my eyes. “What seems to be the misunderstanding?” he whispers.

“This…uhm,” I flip the paper over him. “What…is this?” I whisper in case my voice cracks.

“Call it a special discount.”

“But…” I barely whisper. He took my hand in his, stepped closer and at that moment my breath stopped but my heart began thumping like a rabbit’s.

“My dear, this is not to insult you.”

“But,” I tried to master my breathing. “Your fee…the contract.” Whether he noticed I almost flinched from being touched but his eyes never changed.

“It’s to test if you are ready for whatever result I produce.”

“But…” I feel a sudden dread. I glanced at the several glossy prints on the table then to him. “What do you want in return?”

“In return?”

Why does everything that comes out of his mouth sounds provocative and alluring? As if it’s a prelude to sex. I must stop thinking about…“Uh, it was stupid.” Shit. What the hell did I say? “Forget it.”

“You think it’s sex?”

It’s getting heady. For many men the combination of alcohol and cologne is sickening and even nauseating but the faint whiff of whisky and aftershave coupled with his voice sent quivers down my arms and back. Those lambent brown eyes have a way of locking and looking deep in your eyes as if probing the most hidden of secrets and I was terrified that he might have read mine. “Uh…is it?”

“How prosaic. Is that that what you want?”

Words rolled from his lips like a whisper, as if he was amused. Those fascinating eyes narrowed while those lovely luscious lips captivate me, lost in their movement. I read his eyes to see if he’s even the slightest insulted at my cringeworthy suggestion but his eyes remain warm without any hint of mocking or derision.

I shook my head, mouthed ‘No’. “I…I have no idea why I said that.”

“Then it isn’t.” he whispers back.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s on a much deeper level, my dear.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sign the check.” Like a feather his hot breath brush against my ear.

I got the check from my tote and swiftly wrote the same number on the white paper with an unbelievably steady hand. I could feel his eyes on me as I fill in the blanks. As soon as I placed the check on the table, I grab the damning pictures and shot out of the room.