Chapter 5 Very Perky Indeed
very perky indeed
Boris
Shit. Talia’s mouth is hanging open in surprise. I wonder if she thinks I’m being inappropriate.
“I hope I have not offended you,” I say quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I don’t cook, and I just moved here. I thought maybe we could eat and talk because I skipped lunch today, and I don’t really know the city yet…I feel kind of dumb eating by myself.”
I must sound like such an idiot, babbling on like this to her. Govnyuk.
Talia blinks and then says, “I’m not at all offended, Boris. I’m also new to Las Vegas. I haven’t figured out the single-appropriate restaurants yet, either.”
“Oh, yes. Good.”
She checks her watch and says, “I have a few calls to make, but if you come back at seven, we can walk somewhere nearby. Bring your statements.”
I rise from the chair and hold out a hand, which she shakes before turning back to the computer, peering through her thick, dark frames, and picking up the phone. I guess that means this meeting is over for the moment, so I thank her and head for the door.
On my walk home, I think about this Talia Wentworth.
First, Scott definitely wrote Nathaniel, right?
Or did I read his text wrong and just assume it would be a man?
Maybe it autocorrected to Nathaniel when he typed Natalia.
It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.
But she’s so young, just twenty-three. How can someone so young be representing the many millions of dollars that athletes make each year?
She seems competent, though, and certainly seemed to know what she was talking about.
Still, this is a big contract and I’m worried my personal investments are falling way behind where they should be.
I really need someone who is a pro at this, so I call Scott back.
“Hey, man, I hate to bother you again, but you said Nathaniel Wentworth, right?”
“No, sir. Natalia. She’s female,” he answers.
“Did you know she’s only twenty-three?”
“I know she’s young, Boris, but I promise she’s a top dog. Harold swears by her, calls her a genius. She comes highly recommended. Don’t sweat it.”
“Okay, then. She seems smart—“
“She is. Just give her a shot.”
I thank him and hang up, then decide a shower is probably in order.
I change into a green Polo dress shirt, rolling the sleeves up to my forearms, dark jeans, and a pair of soft leather loafers.
I don’t pay a ton of attention to fashion, but I think I look presentable.
I gather my financial papers and shove them in a folder and then head back out to walk the few blocks to her office again.
She’s on a call when I get there; talking a mile a minute about how the market is very volatile right now.
“I don’t know of any sure bets in the stock market right now, sir, but I agree this one seems solid for the long term,” she’s saying.
She looks up and holds up a finger to let me know she’ll be a minute.
I wander to the window and look out at the setting sun to the west. Right at my feet are open file boxes.
I see names of several pro athletes. Like, names you’d see in the news all the time.
Very famous current athletes and ex-athletes.
Scott wasn’t kidding; if this young woman is working with these clients, then she really must be a financial whiz.
She finishes her call and I turn around, just in time to see her stand and knock a cup of coffee all over her white blouse.
“Shit!” She grabs a wadded-up napkin and tries to dab at it, to no use. “Well, at least it wasn’t hot,” she says annoyed.
“Do you have another shirt?” I ask.
“Do I have another shirt,” she repeats, more to herself than to me. Then she smiles brightly and says, “Why yes, I do,” as she comes out from behind the desk to root around in the box by my feet.
It’s such a tiny office. Just barely room for her desk and chairs and a filing cabinet.
Adding several unpacked boxes just makes it feel even smaller.
And now she tells me to turn around so she can change her shirt.
She’s not a foot away from me and she’s pulling off her white blouse right behind me.
I don’t know what to think. She’s clearly oblivious to the danger this could pose to her if she were ever alone with the wrong person.
I look out the window, but I can still see her reflection in it, now in nothing but a white, lace bra.
And surprise, surprise. I’m not dropping my eyes. I’m going to have a good look at what she’s showing because, well, guy here. Like I told Georg the other day, I’m not a monk.
Her breasts are on the small side, but what they lack in size is made up for in perkiness.
Her long legs are topped by a tiny waist that I could probably span with my hands.
I thought she was just a numbers nerd with her big glasses and quick mind, but Talia is a lovely package.
She’s pretty and smart. Also, really fucking sexy with those perky tits that have grabbed my attention and won’t let go.
I don’t know why I didn’t notice how attractive she was when I met her earlier.
Hold up just a minute.
I should not be thinking about her this way if she is to be my financial advisor. This is a professional relationship.
“There,” she says. That must be my cue to turn around. When I do, she asks, “Better?”
She has changed into a white T-shirt. It’s got a V-neck and slim line that tucks nicely into her black skirt.
It’s barely different from what she had on before, just slightly more casual.
I feel my face settle into a slight grin.
Suddenly, all I can think about are those perky tits of hers and what they would look like without the damn shirt.
I mentally kick myself back to a more appropriate line of thinking.
She could be the answer to why I’ve felt something isn’t adding up with my savings and investments.
Perhaps literally. I can’t come off as some horny weirdo.
“What kind of food are you in the mood for, Talia?”
Hopefully, it’s not shrimp.