The hours have flown by and now it's near time for the event. All Mr. M has to do is take a shower, shave a bit, comb his hair, and throw on his clothes. It won't take him but an hour maybe even two if he gets distracted.
It takes me hours to get ready, so while I'm running around trying to stick to my schedule, Mr. M is reading a book! He has on his reading glasses and I curse myself for not knowing that Mr. M needed them.
The man looks edible.
Eventually he catches onto the fact that I'm staring and he gives me a look.
"Have something to say Phoebe?"
"Let's skip and I'll let you read to me." I'm not bluffing. I'm giving him a real proposition. His eyebrow goes up in question so I continue. "I promise to be the most avid listener." My voice drops into a purr. He only has to give me the okay.
If my make-up wasn't already done, I'd be kissing him. I wouldn't call this nerdy but it's something about the glasses that makes Mr. M look even smarter.
Mr. M laughs and gets up from his reading spot while putting his book down. I'm happy that Mr. M doesn't take off his glasses as he walks towards me. It's almost like a predator making it's way towards their prey.
"Do you have a particular interest in Alexander Hamilton?You've never insisted that I read to you before so it's unusual that you do it now."
I shake my head 'No'. His book is a biography on the man. Biographies and autobiographies aren't really my area of interest but I'm sure that Mr. M could make it the most fascinating read.
He takes a step into my personal space with his lips just inches from mine. "So what's peaked your interest?"
"I think you know Marceles and if you don't, I'm sure that you'll figure it out." I step back and head to my bathroom to finish getting ready. I hear him chuckling as he goes to his.
'Is there anything about this man that won't turn me on? The longer we stay together the more I think that he's perfect.'
~~~
'Dammit Phoebe!' I spent so much time looking for the perfect dress to wear to this party and it was all a waste of my time.
'I thought that the women here would be sophisticated with ball gowns and minimal skin showing.... How could I be so wrong?'
All I see around me is sheer panels and sky high heels. Not to mention the amount of fake asses, breasts, and women with poorly places Botox injections. Nothing is being left to the imagination with this crowd.
The men here are smiling like children about to get candy.
'Why am I here?' As I keep asking myself questions, Mr. M is leading me to a group of people that have wrinkles everywhere except on their clothes.
"Marceles! About time that you showed up!" One of the men bellow. He has a pot belly and the teenager on his arm looks bored. (Not a real teen but she's young.)
"Car troubles." Mr. M lies smoothly. Two simple words. The man instantly shut his mouth with a firm nod of acceptance.
What really happened was that he had to drag me out of the bathroom because I was frustrated with my makeup. Nothing was going right! I had an idea but the execution wasn't happening like I wanted. Mr. M finally had enough and found a last minute makeup artist to come and help me.
The group finally acknowledges me and instantly I feel their judgement.
"Aw! Isn't she cute!" One of the bottle blondes exclaims like I'm a damned puppy. "Who's idea was it for you two to match?" The look the female is giving me leaves no doubt that she already has an idea.
I look around and notice that no other couple has decided to match one another. Well there's one but they're both wearing all black and I'm sure that it wasn't really planned. Mr. M doesn't look pleased with the female and I'm sure that he notices that my cheeks are a bit redder.
"It was my idea." Mr. M says. He's looking her straight in the eye.
"And you two look spectacular." Another woman pitches in immediately and the rest of the group nods in agreement.
Kissasses seem to come out of the woodwork around Mr. M.
He does look great in his grey tux, white shirt, and pale pink tie. Not to mention that he still has on his reading glasses which I think is solely for my benefit.
"If you'd all excuse us." Mr. M nods to the gentleman and leads me away. "What's wrong with you?" he whispers into my ear.
"Nothing." I turn my head slightly so that my words are only heard by Mr. M.
"Don't lie to me. You haven't made a peep since we've gotten here. Are you feeling okay? Don't tell me that you're still fretting over your makeup."
"It's nothing." I repeat.
Mr. M stops us in the middle of a hallway leading to a spacious ballroom. Some people were already looking our way but even more do so with our abrupt stop peaking their curiosity. He doesn't seem to care though or even notice. I'm spun around to face my date and his sharp eyes that don't seem to miss a thing.
"What's wrong?" Mr. M's eagle eyes are fixed on me looking for a physical ailment.
"It's no-" I start.
He steps into my personal space and tilts his head so that his mouth is right next to my ear. "Phoebe." His voice is full of warning.
I sigh, he's making this more than it is. "Just ignore me." I whisper to him.
I feel hot for two entirely different reasons. One, I can literally feel peoples eyes on me and that makes me feel a mix between shy/embarrassed. Two is because Mr. M has wrapped his arms around my waist bringing my body up against his which makes me want more.
His mouth is still next to my ear. "We've already had this conversation Phoebe. Ignoring you is impossible. Tell me what's wrong." He pleads.
"I feel intimidated." I know I sound dumb. It's stupid for me to feel this way but I do and it's killing me. I feel some of these women judging me and I know they're wondering how I managed to get Mr. M's notice. I've never felt this insecure, maybe it's because I'm out of my comfort zone and tax bracket.
He laughs-LAUGHS at my reply. And not just a chuckle. If we didn't have the halls attention before, we certainly have it now. Mr. M spins me around again and leads us down a different corridor until he gently pushes me into a conference room and locks us inside.
"Now why the hell would you feel intimidated?" Mr. M leans up against the closed door while I take a seat in one of the swivel chairs facing him.
"I don't know why but I do. I've never been to one of these events and I feel so out of my league. I know I'll sound juvenile but I feel like they're all judging me."
"Damn them." Mr. M says quite savagely.
I look at him in surprise. Aren't these people his colleagues?
"If you don't want to socialize then fine but I don't approve of this shy woman act you have going on. I invited you here to keep me sane. Can you do that because if not, we can go back to the hotel." Mr. M's not bluffing.
I roll my eyes. He would just leave but I remember seeing something on the program with his name, so us just leaving isn't in the cards.
"Let's go before I change my mind." I will not run from judgemental females, momma didn't raise no bitch.
"Good, I want us to dance some before my speech." Mr. M takes my hand and we make our way to the ballroom.
There's an entire orchestra in the corner and it's not hard for them to be heard throughout the entire ballroom.
I place my hands in their right places and Mr. M guides us along. The song starts soft and then crescendos into a faster type melody before it's soft departure. I really must ask what the piece is.
We dance to other songs before an announcement is made that the dining room is ready. I look around at the tables that have name cards but Mr. M seems to already know where we're sitting.
Of course we're seated near the front. The place next to Mr. M even has my name on one of the nice cards. When did I tell Mr. M my last name?
He pulls out my chair for me and I sit down across from a sour looking woman. Her face is pinched like she just ate a lemon. I politely smile at her but she just turns her head and refuses to acknowledge my presence. Mr. M is caught up talking to someone who just walked up so he doesn't notice the exchange.
The people at the table are having a conversation about some stock market scandal before the topic of sports comes up. I don't notice when Mr. M sits down but I do notice when he joins in the conversation. No one speaks to me directly and for that I'm grateful. I don't care much for their chosen topics so I really have nothing to contribute.
"I'll be right back." Mr. M whispers into my ear. His hand is on the base of my spine to get my attention. I nod and strangely I don't really mind that he's leaving me alone. It's like the intimidation I was feeling didn't even happen.
The next thing I know, Mr. M is standing at the podium addressing the crowd.
"Attention ladies and gentleman. As per the stipulations in my contract, I must stand up here every year and give a welcome speech. Firstly, I would like to give a special thanks to my date for attending this with me. Without her I'd lose my mind around you dreadful lot." Mr. M jokingly states.
My mouth pops open in shock before I snap it shut and smile politely. Most of the crowd laughs and the people at our table react like they expected his thinly veiled insult.
I smile around and look up to see that Mr. M is staring at me. I motion my hand in the 'wrap this up' gesture and I hear him chuckle.
By the end of the night I have a raging headache. I did decide to converse with people but the conversations were lack luster and a waste of brain cells.
Mr. M made the night better when he had the driver take us to a donut shop. We got strange looks because of our attire but we didn't care.
As soon as my feet entered our hotel room, my shoes came off as well as everything else. Mr. M laughed but I noticed that he too was taking off his clothing as well.
My headache gets worse as I turn on the lights so I pop a pain relief pill before I all slide into Mr. M's bed.
His voice soothes me to sleep as he reads out loud.
AN: UGH! Wattpad deleted my other ending! Oh well. I actually do have a raging headache but I wanted to give y'all a proper ending. Later!
W1952