Thursday, 11 July 2013
“Sure, uh, Catherine. Help yourself,” I said, buckling up my pants.
Judging from the expression on her pretty little face, I’d gotten her name wrong. Shit. It was all coming back to me. Catherine was last night. This was Mandy, or Mindy. I reached for her hand, trying to pretend I actually gave a shit.
“Sorry baby, I’m not good with names,” I murmured. With my hand gripping her jaw, I tilted her neck to the left slightly so I could run my tongue along her neck. I could feel her annoyance melt away at my touch. “Help yourself to room service, anything you want. I’ll call you when my meeting is finished.”
I wouldn’t be calling her, and I’m sure on some level she knew that. That makes me sound like a dick, but truthfully, she had gotten just as much out of the night as I had. I’d made her feel like she was the only girl in the world for me, when really, there were dozens just like her who were ready to jump in my bed. I made no secret about who I was or what I wanted, and honestly, any woman willing to go home with me knew what to expect. I was Britain’s most eligible bachelor, the youngest son of property magnate Eric Falcon.
My reputation with women was well documented in all the gossip pages in every magazine, one of which only last week stated I gave more respect to my pet cat than I did to the many women I dated. What can I say? I love my cat.
Really, I’m not as bad as my reputation makes me out to be. In fact, I’d go as far to describe myself as a decent guy. I just have no interest in a relationship that extends beyond a quick fuck when it suits me. I really don’t see how it’s my fault or problem if a chick falls for my boyish charms. Every woman seems to think she can change me, that she somehow has something all the other notches on my belt didn’t have. They’re usually the ones that hang around too long, fall in love with me, and occasionally end up stalking me (though I’ve only once had to employ a restraining order).
The thing is, I’m happy being me and I sure as fuck won’t change for anyone. I don’t need fixing, nor did I have an unhappy childhood. I simply work hard and play harder. I have a good relationship with my parents and my brother (who lives in the U.S). Things are great. I’m exactly where I wanted to be at Twenty-Five years old. I exited the lift on the ground floor of one of the many apartments I owned around London. This particular residence was one I specifically used for my women. I preferred to avoid taking them home whenever possible, mainly because I wanted to keep things as impersonal as possible.
And secondly, because excessive female company upset Mr. Jefferies. I wasn’t kidding about the cat.
You’d be forgiven for not picking me as the cat type. Mr. Jefferies had been part of my life for eight years, after I found him in a drain pipe behind my building as a wet, shivering kitten. Initially I had just planned to drop him off at the shelter, but three days with me and it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. The newspaper probably wasn’t far off, I do treat Mr. Jefferies with more respect than some of the women I date, but in his defence he worked for it, whereas they haven’t.
Dropping to your knees before you’ve even told me your name doesn’t gain you my respect. All that does is make me want to treat you like the piece of shit you obviously consider yourself to be. If you’ve got no respect for yourself, then why should you expect it from me?
Three blocks down from my apartment is my work building. As in literally my work building. I’d shown enough interest in my father’s business that at twenty-one he had no hesitation in making me the CEO of the London office. That was largely helped by my brother’s decision to follow his girlfriend to the U.S and study psychiatry. My father considered Alex’s move as him shunning the family business. If you knew my father at all, you’d know that was not a good move. He hasn’t spoken to my brother since, and my mother wasn’t one to go against my fathers wishes.
“Hi Mr. Falcon,” Carly, my personal assistant, smiled at me. I winked back at her, making her blush. In case you’re wondering, yes I’ve fucked her. Several times actually. On my desk, on the photocopier, the lunchroom table…
“Morning Carly, can you bring me in a coffee please?” I walked into my office without waiting for an answer, knowing she would already be scurrying to her feet to please me.
Every woman liked to please Jack Falcon. Regardless of who my father was and how I came to get my position, I took my job very seriously. And what’s more, I was damn good at it. Since my takeover, our quarterly was up 1.65%.
I watched as Carly walked into the room, not bothering to hide the fact that my eyes were on her. This year to date we had already settled three sexual harassment cases against me.
What can I say?
When I see something I want, I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. You’ve probably decided already that I’m an asshole, but honestly I’m not that bad a guy. I just don’t see the point in putting up with shit when I know what I want.
“Thanks Carls,” I drawled, letting a lopsided grin spread across my mouth.
Carly smiled, her eyes dropping at my attention. I didn’t get what she was so embarrassed about. It’s not like I hadn’t already seen everything she had to offer. The coffee was hot and felt like liquid energy as it slid down my throat. My phone vibrated. I reached into my pocket and clicked on the message. It was from Catherine, or Carmen or whatever the hell her name was.
Cant wait to see you again xx
Sighing, I tossed my phone on the mountain of papers on my desk. I made no secret of my lack of interest in continuing a relationship with these women. I didn’t get the continuous messages after our hook-up, the stench of desperation filtering through the air as they tried to cling onto the hope of seeing me again.
My phone went again, this time a call. I picked it up, ready to hang up on her when I saw it was Luke, my best mate.
“Hey man,” I sighed, kicking my shoes off, I lay back in my chair, rubbing my head. No matter how much alcohol I consumed it seemed even I wasn’t immune to post sloshed hangovers. “Whats up?” I yawned.
“Not much, you keen tonight? Sally is away at her mother’s for the week. Gotta break loose while I can, you know?” he joked.
Only I knew he was half serious. How Sally managed to tame my buddy Luke, who had been my right hand man since college, into marriage and now children, I’ll never know. Alas, she made him happy, so who was I to mess with that?
“Sure, sounds great,” I replied, “Meet me at The Shamrock at eight, okay? Call Grant and Dillan too, see if they’re up for it.” I ended the call feeling satisfied. No doubt tonight would be another late night, meaning another morning of feeling like shit. I pressed the intercom. “Carly, do me a favour and push all my appointments for tomorrow morning back an hour? I won’t be in before eleven.”
Ah, the beauty of being the boss. So long as I was increasing the profits I knew my dad wouldn’t give a shit.
I sat at the Shamrock at my usual table right at the back in the corner. You know you probably frequent a place too often when the bar staff know you by name. I ran my finger around the rim of my glass, staring into nothing. Girls were checking me out, like they always did. At least I didn’t have to go through the hassle of swooning one of them, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I already knew I was taking one home with me, I just wasn’t sure which one it would be.
That was the beauty of being an attractive, rich, bachelor who was regularly in the news, all I had to do was speak and panties started dropping. The kind of girls I’m talking about hang around trendy bars such as this in their tight dresses, ready to open their legs for any man who was rich, attractive, well traveled or confident. Fortunately for me, I ticked all four boxes.
Right now, the blonde sitting at the bar in the short blue dress and the brunette who kept eyeing me over the shoulder of her male companion were the front runners in the going home with Jack stakes.
“Jackie boy!” I looked up to see Luke heading toward me, grinning.
Like me, he made heads turn wherever he went. Why he’d give all that up for one chick was beyond me, she must absolutely rock at giving head. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined Sally once or twice while blowing my load. She was a beauty, with her long blonde hair and green eyes. That and her stunning figure made her the perfect mind slut to star in any guy’s sexual fantasies.
“Hey man, how things?” I stood up, slapping him on the back as he sunk into the seat next to me. “Yeah, not bad. Getting ready for the baby, you know?” he grinned, his eyes lighting up as he spoke about his family. “Before I forget, Sally wanted me to make sure you’re coming this weekend?”
“Sure,” I grinned, not outwardly admitting I had completely forgotten about the dinner. Not that I had any other plans or anything, other than my usual work late and go home to Mr. Jefferies.
“Good. Her sister will be down and her parents too,” Luke added.
“Sister?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“Yes, her seventeen year old underage sister,” Luke said, narrowing his eyes. He knew me too well. “The one you will be staying the hell away from,” he added, a threatening edge to his voice. I grinned.
I didn’t like jailbait anyway. I much preferred my conquests to be legal.
“No Dillon or Grant?” I asked, knocking back the last of my scotch. I signalled for the waitress. “You want one?” Luke nodded. I held two fingers up to the waitress, who nodded at me. Luke laughed.
“They don’t even need to come to you anymore,” he mused, rolling his eyes. “So, is there anyone here you haven’t slept with yet?” he teased.
“You?” I shot back as Luke laughed. “There are a few here who have yet to experience my talents.” I nodded to the blonde who was still throwing glances at me. “What do you think of her? Or that one over there?” Luke casually turned around. “I think you need to slow down Falcon, or there won’t be a woman in this damn town who doesn’t hate your guts,” he chuckled.
I waved my hand at him. Even if they all hated me, it wouldn’t stop them wanting me. That was the beauty of this whole damn thing.
After a few hours drinking with my old buddy, we finally parted ways. By that I meant he left while I ordered another scotch, eyeing the blonde at the bar. I cocked my head, signalling her to come over. She got to her feet, her tipsiness noticeable by the way she stumbled slightly as she took a step. She reached my table and sat down, smiling at me.
“Hello sexy,” I murmured. She was a pretty little thing, which made me wonder what she was doing sitting in a bar all alone dressed up to the nines.
“Hello,” she said, a sudden burst of shyness taking over her. Where was the confident beauty who had been shooting me sexy glances all night?
“So I’m about to leave, the question is are you going to be leaving with me?” I downed the last of my drink, and stood up, as if I didn’t care either way, which was easy because I really couldn’t care less whether she came with me or not. She opened her mouth in shock at my forwardness.
“You better shut that pretty little mouth honey, or I’ll give you something to stick in there,” I grinned. I put out my hand. “Coming?” she took it uncertainly, allowing me to help her up. I almost laughed, shocked that my comment hadn't earned me a slap in the face.
“Do I get to know your name?” she asked breathlessly, though I didn’t believe for a second she didn’t know who I was. Everyone knew who I was. “Does it matter?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I guess not,” she stammered, following me out the door.
It always amazed me how easily they followed.
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