19. Roman/Isabel
Roman: I hate to see you leave. Wish I was in the Navigator with you.
Isabel: Wish you were here too. Very spacious back seat in this vehicle.
Roman: What would a very spacious back seat mean in our scenario? Explain yourself.
Isabel: Your lack of imagination goes beyond the pale.
Roman: Or maybe, just maybe, I want you to tell me. Don’t spare any details.
Isabel: Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?
Roman: I am. It’s called multitasking.
Isabel: So, if I should go into the finer points about how much room there is on the floor for me to go on my knees between your legs as you relax in the back seat, what are the chances the people in your meeting might notice your distraction?
Roman: …
Isabel: ???
Roman: Sorry, just taking some deep calming breaths here.
Isabel: Why do you need to take deep calming breaths? Elaborate, please.
Roman: This situation has the potential of scaring some of the executives.
Isabel: You make it sound like a bad thing.
Roman: I have a reputation to uphold.
Isabel: Anything I can do to help?
Roman: Let me count the ways. Is the divider up?
Isabel: No, George and I have no secrets.
Roman: Well, there goes that plan.
Isabel: What plan would that be?
Roman: Telling you how I want to peel every bit of clothing off you and kiss and lick you from your toes up until I’ve tasted every square inch of your skin. And see what you do with that information…
Isabel: Dear God. No good can come of you saying these things to me while we are miles apart.
Roman: And whose fault is that? Tell George to turn around.
Isabel: Or…or…or, and this is just a suggestion, we should get off the subject and behave. Tomorrow is only a few long hours away.
Roman: I’m not the one who started this. You and your spacious back seat.
Isabel: Okay, I’ll take full responsibility. Please accept my apology.
Roman: I’ll consider it. Be prepared for the consequences of improper behavior, however.
Isabel: Oh. Tell me more.
Roman: I might consider performing carnal activities on you until you beg me to stop.
Isabel: I’m beginning to suspect you’re big on this begging thing. Probably not the threat you think it is. I’m not opposed to a bit of begging under the right circumstances.
Roman: Really.
Isabel: And why in the name of all that’s holy and sacred would I want you to stop performing carnal activities on me?
Roman: Fair question.
Isabel: I refuse to take responsibility for this new lewd rabbit hole we’ve crawled into now.
Roman: Didn’t take us long to dive back into the shameless side of things, did it?
Isabel: This one is on you.
Roman: I’ll accept accountability. It’s probably better to do this without other people watching us though.
Isabel: Someone found his moral compass. Good for you. In the meantime, I’ll just enjoy the lovely view of the ocean from the spacious back seat of the Navigator.
Roman: Wait till you see the ocean view from the south wing.
Isabel: Will I be dazzled?
Roman: God, I hope so.
Isabel: You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday tomorrow.
Roman: The opportunity for that has been in short supply.
Isabel: Does that apartment of yours have a kitchen?
Roman: It does. A chef’s dream. Unfortunately, I am no chef.
Isabel: Cancel the Japanese catering. I want to cook for you.
Roman: No, I’d prefer all your time to be with me.
Isabel: But it’s a fantasy of mine to make you food and then feed it to you. And I will let you watch while I cook.
Roman: Next time lead with that. I’ll cancel the catering. Now that you mention it, you feeding me just became a fantasy of mine too.
Isabel: I don’t even know what your favorite cuisine is.
Roman: Anything made by you.
Isabel: Handmade ravioli?
Roman: Sold. Provide me with a list of the ingredients and I’ll have someone get whatever you need.
Isabel: I’ll get the ingredients. Very picky about what I use to make my food.
Roman: I can believe that. Rest assured that my kitchen is fully stocked with appliances. Not that I would know what to do with any of them.
Isabel: My dream kitchen. Does that include a pasta maker?
Roman: Tough question. I don’t know. But you will have one tomorrow.
Isabel: I’ll prepare you a small feast.
Roman: So, tomorrow… I’ll come and get you at noon, and escort you to the south wing myself.
Isabel: Thank you, that’s extremely gallant of you. But why don’t we meet in the library?
Roman: You know at some point you will have to accept that secrets don’t keep.
Isabel: Roman…
Roman: Isabel…
Isabel: I could always find my own way to the south wing.
Roman: Can’t have you get lost.
Isabel: Heaven forbid. Will you help look if I do?
Roman: I’ll be the one with the biggest torch, leading the search party.
Isabel: Try not to cry when you eventually find my dusty remains.
Roman: Fine, I’ll meet you in the library.
Isabel: Thank you. And now I finally get to see the oh-so-mysterious lair of the enigmatic dweller of the south wing.
Roman: You do. I’d better get back to this meeting. There are stares. Blame that on my laughing at inappropriate intervals.
Isabel: If only they knew.
Roman: Isabel…
Isabel: Roman…
Roman: You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
Isabel: Me too. I can’t wait.
Roman: What time do you go to bed?
Isabel: Around midnight.
Roman: I’ll call you before then to say goodnight, my sweet.
Isabel: I’ll eagerly await your call.