My Way of Living

Part 1

I sucked on his bottom lip suductively, looking into the brown eyes of the guy who's name I had forgotten, letting his hands travel down my back in my backless gown. I was bored at the party that was in full swing downstairs and grabbed the sexiest looking waiter I could find to entertain me. And who could really blame me for wanting to escape the fake laughs and dilute chatter of the rich and stuck up socialites that my parents associated themselves with? I was tired of their efforts to include me in the family empire and wanted nothing more than to be whisked away from my pressurising life for at least ten minutes.

"Will I be fired for this?" The waiter asked me with slight concern as he held the side of my neck with one hand.

"Does it matter?" I raised an eyebrow, hitching my finger through the holes in his belt.

"Oh, screw it." He said in a rush, gliding his hand down from my neck to my forearm and taking my gown straps with it, he started kissing my tanned skin.

It was after twenty minutes, laying side by side with the waiter that I realised in which room we had snuck into. I had lived in in the manor for two years, the first year spent at my boarding school and the second spent getting expelled from my boarding school. I wasn't an expert on the house, not really knowing the floorplan or what all the rooms looked like, but we were for sure in my mother's walk-in wardrobe. The walls were covered in shelves and draws and hanging racks, filled to the brim with clothes of all textures, shapes and seasonal fashions; the main colour being purple. The room was the size of a small swimming pool, an if all items were sold could easily fetch two, maybe even three million pounds, and this didn't even include her shoe collection which was found to the right of her bedroom.

I got up from the carpeted floor, looking down at the waiter with a coy smile. He just stared up at me with a look of... Pride?

"You're so hot." He said, his skin sheer from the sweat of sex. If I was nice I would have said something like 'you too' with a sweet kiss on the end, because if I was being honest, he was gorgeous. He had a lean stomach and black hair that was messy at the back from where I laced my fingers through it. His eyes were a dark brown and he even had a tattoo over he heart which inscribed youth. Honesty he was probably some quirky artist who wrote poetry when he's high with his stoner friends, thinking he was the shit for being in touch with his feelings. All of which were not the type of things I looked for in a guy, at all; even if the smirk he was giving me made by insides flutter.

"I know." I sighed, turning to look at myself in the wall length mirror, inspecting my hair and how messy it was. Looking back down to the waiter again, I caught him giving me an amused look, which I ignored. "Your sitting on my pants, can you move?"

"What? These pants?" He began to smirk as he pulled my black lacey underwear from under him. I reached forward to grab them but the waiter snatched them away from me.

"Don't be a dick." I sighed crossing my arms over my chest as I stood naked and tall, I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty confident. "Just give me my pants so we can get on with our lives, you have caviar and bilinis to serve."

"Tell me your name," he said standing up in front of me with only his boxers on, "and I'll think about giving you them back."

I glared at the waiter for the longest time before realising what my father always told me was the first rule of business, never negotiate with the enemy, and in this instance the waiter was mine. He held my glare with a smirk of his own, flexing his muscles to try and swayed my attention, but I never faltered. I was born and bread on social edicate.