Page 80 of Double Shot
Chapter Nineteen
Lachlan…
We settled on having our victory dinner at the place where all of this started,Le Jefferson.I hadn’t been inside in well over a year now, and Sadie had never been. That was okay, she would appreciate it. Almost as much as I was going to appreciate their aviators.
Everything inside was elegant. Crisp white linen table clothes, linen napkins, crystal glasses; the works. She was elegant too, having settled on a form fitting white dress. It was something Roan helped her find, and it had a glorious high collar, but a keyhole in the neckline that drew the eye to her cleavage. Roan had rattled out some long fancy word for it, but I didn’t care. She was a goddess, draped in white and gold.
Her hair was up, and she was wearing a gold net, set with some sort of obscure gemstone in it, some rich variation of topaz, maybe? I didn’t care about that either, but the stones almost matched her eyes.
There were a few things that I was sure about, and two of those things included her being the most beautiful woman in the world, and the fact that in a few hours, I was going to fuck the hell out of her. I felt a shiver of excitement run from the base of my skull down to my toes at the thought.
She had been unyielding to my curiosity, to know what she had under that dress: panties, a thong, nothing? I suppressed a shudder of new nervous excitement. There honestly was no wrong answer. Tasteful white, exotic and bright colors, or nothing but herself, I didn’t care, and I also hoped in a small way for any of them, all of them.
It was unfair, in a way, for Sadie.
She wouldn’t have anything as exciting as Roan and I did, the joy of finding no panties, or that moment of elation when we got to see that tiny piece of fabric, or the lip biting satisfaction of finding nothing but her waiting there. What did she get, but a floppy dong? Boxers, or better fit boxer-briefs.
At least they weren’t those awful tighty-whities. There was also the fact that in all the years I had been getting around, I hadn’t met a woman outside of porn who looked at a naked cock with the same intensity that we showed breasts or a really nice bush.
That was kinda sad, really.
My daydreaming, such as it was, was interrupted by our cocktails. Aviator for me, cosmopolitan for Sadie, and two fingers of something brown with a gibberish name, probably Scottish, if I were betting. It was nice having the old Roan back, the one who tossed back shots. As long as that awful tangle of a ranger beard didn’t come back though, that was a bad sign.ThatRoan liked to get in fights, break things, and was a bit of a bastard.
Dinner itself was perfect.
Salads served on ice cold plates, and everything was fancy as shit. No lettuce, no tomato, no cucumber, and if someone had asked for ranch dressing, the entire place would have gone silent, a waiter would have dropped a plate and then the maître’s d would have come out and asked them very politely to leave.
The best answer was alwaysthe vinaigrette.
Mains were equally fancy shit. My steak seemed almost boring compared to her rack of lamb, complete with little paper boots on the exposed bone ends, and Roan seemed delighted scrapping marrow out of some animal’s femur. I kept my shudder to myself, osso buccowas definitely not on my list of delicacies.
Everything was fucking elegant.
Three aviators with their goddamn magical crème de violette.
The flash of Sadie’s tits through the keyhole in the dress.
The perfectly cooked and seasoned chateaubriand.
Not even Roan scraping the inside of that bone with a tiny spoon could ruin this.
I passed on dessert, not much of a sweet tooth. Sadie had some sort of decadent crème brûlée with three different kinds of fruit on top, I recognized none of them. Roan took a slice of a classic cheesecake and another two fingers of neat Scottish whiskey.
I’d have to line up another visit to the Meerschaum Tobacconist for them. They wouldn’t be interested in the offered smokes, but the food was top notch.
Battleship gin, that was a nice thought.
There was such a sense of relief. Roan had spent the last few weeks watching everything the Cartel did. Trying to keep a tab on where Kaijin was, and a week after her back-scene appearance with the Texan senator, she left the country, private jet from Dulles to London, and then he couldn’t track her. He said her next destination wasn’t North American or European Union. It seemed likely that theGeneralehad done good on his problem and called his bitch back to go deal with the production side of their operation.
Good, fuck her. Maybe some highland tribal fighter would shoot her in the head.
The ceremony of getting our coats from the coat check was nice, as we waited for the ride share to show up. None of us had decided to be a designated driver, so we let Indigo City provide that option for us. We stepped outside, and while it wasn’t cold, it was cool enough to justify wearing coats. It was dress-up, but that put a smile on their faces.
It was a complete surprise when there was someone waiting outside for us. Forme.
“Stark,” she said, her voice sharp. I looked up to see the less chiseled features of a woman I had met several times before.
“Pa-Pamela?” I asked. She looked like she had been awake for two days and had put on at least fifty pounds since the last time I had put my dick in her.
