Dominic had chemistry with everyone and anyone. He was one of those people who brightened up your day whenever he graced you with his presence. Amila saw it on the faces of the people he came in contact with once the plane touched down in London. The driver greeted him like they were old childhood friends, the doorman at the hotel they checked into beamed like a boy on Christmas when he saw Dominic exit the luxury sedan, and now the art dealer he was talking to gave him her undivided attention and her body language suggested she wanted him to part something of hers.

Amila didn't stick around to see more of the flirtatious exchange and business dealing. Nor was she jealous. In some way, she and the woman were the same; using what they had to get what they needed. Only Nora, who sang her name once they entered the corner gallery that smelled like nothing but filled one with mystery as they wondered what masterful piece of art they'd find on the walls after the images in the windows drew them in like an ant to a trail of honey, wasn't going just as far as she was. Nora arched her back and pushed up her full breast, which was probably a cup size bigger than Amila's but she wasn't going to screw him in the back to make a deal. Amila was doing that.

Trading sex for a comfortable life. Amila tucked her hands in the pockets of her new fitted leather motorcycle jacket, the tall block of her over-the-knee boots clacked against the lacquered concrete floor as she sauntered down the halls admitting to a truth she hadn't admitted to anyone aloud. She didn't feel bad for doing what she was doing or rather about to do. She wanted to have sex with someone and she wanted that someone to be Dominic. 

She knew that during their first date and the hours after their date. Their date lasted until midnight, it would've been later but she had to squeeze in one more practice before her performance. After she completed her routine her instructor told her she embodied passion with her every move; Amila knew it was because Dominic was on her mind throughout the entire performance.

She would fuck him for money. She'd fuck him for free. She'd fuck him during the day. She'd fuck him at night. She'd fuck him in any room, anywhere, in any way.

A smirk rose up her glossed lips as she stopped in front of the portrait of a woman with the same deep brown complexion as a wave crashed into her body. The woman seemed at peace, ejected from the world and the rules that society placed on her or the pains that life could bring. She was content in her moment of solitude, with the vastness of the ocean admiring its power without relinquishing her own. Amila wanted to be that strong and peering at the portrait gave her inspiration that it was possible. She could be that powerful one day.

"How do you do it?" Dominic's deep voice was smooth as molasses gliding over her skin and seeping into her heart morphing her smirk to a gentle smile.

She leaned back into his body and his arms wrapped around her waist as if they were made to be there. "Do what?"

He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered. "Make looking for art sexy."

"Thou protest too much." She grinned before lifting her head to gaze up at him.

She wished she could get some famous painter to create the serene, adoring way he matched his eyes with hers on a canvas that way she could always have it; even when their partnership ended she would want to remember the way he looked at her. Like...Amila stopped herself from going too far as the word rose from her heart and tried to make its way to her head.

"I'm just looking at a canvas..." She turned back to artwork resting her head against his chest. "...thinking critically."

"Thinking about what? I mean...you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's fine." He said. "We can talk about anything you want. Pick the conversation topic."

He rambled on with such haste that he didn't hear her say it wasn't a problem. She chuckled to herself wondering if there was a hint of nervousness within the man that exuded confidence and swagger. Nah, that couldn't be.

"I did want to ask you one thing." She said, making languid circles on his forearm with her finger.

A pulled her a little closer to him. "Ask it."

"When we checked into our suite..."

"Penthouse." He clarified.

"Yeah," She continued. "When we made it to the hotel everyone there was overly hospitable and I was wondering if you like some celebrity masquerading like a real person or something."

He huffed with humor, "Like Hannah Montana or something?" She joined in on his humor remembering he was a watcher of the show as a kid unlike her. His tone was still colored with laughter as he continued. "I'm not and I hope they're hospitable to everyone like that it's the creed of my brand, we treat you like family, a stay with us is like a retreat at home.

"Wait." She quirked her head to look up at him. "That's your hotel."

He nodded with a confident grin. "One of them. My first out of the country, though."

"How many do you have?" She asked entirely intrigued.

"Counting this one...four." He said full of pride. "One in my home state of Florida, Houston, and LA. I wanted one in NYC but securing property there is tough so this art will go in the Aspen place that'll open later this year."

"You're buying art for your hotel." She nodded with a newfound understanding. "So, this is work."

"What did you think I was doing?"

She shrugged. "Taking a lavish spontaneous trip to get art for your bachelor pad."

"I'm a businessman, woman." He said jokingly but she knew there was some seriousness there. "The only spontaneous thing about this trip is you being here."

She nodded looking back at the artwork. "And why did you make that act of spontaneity?"

"Because the other night didn't go off as planned and we need a redo." He kissed her temple gently then trailed kisses along her face until he reached her lips. He kissed her slowly and sensually making her eyes close and her grip tightened around his arm then he ended it leaving her wanting more. She gazed up at him dizzyingly. "And since we're in a different country we can be different people leaving all our entanglements behind and just me us."

He caressed her face and asked. "Are you ready to just be, Amila?"

"Yes." The answer came easily to her.

"I like that word. You're going to be saying it a lot tonight." He winked then took a step back, twirled her around to face him, and reveled in the way the tweed mini skirt clung to her ample ass and toned thighs. "But until then I have a meeting to attend and I called you a car to take you back to the hotel. Enjoy the spa, enjoy the city and I'll see you for dinner."

He gave her another dizzying kiss and then said. "Wear something sexy and no panties."

"Isn't it..." She glanced over her shoulder as if she could see the door from where they were. "...going to be chilly tonight."

"Don't worry. I'll keep you warm."

She giggled glancing away from the smoldering way he peered at her; she was sure if she held his gaze for too long she'd melt into a puddle.

"Okay. The thought is tantalizing." She grinned thoroughly aroused by the image of what could be playing in her mind. "I'll see you later, Dominic." She twisted on the pad of her foot with a suaveness then strutted away from him knowing that she had all of his attention as she pranced away with her hips swaying to a beat of music only they knew.

Why do you think Amila isn't jealous of the flirtatious art dealer?

Amila was honest about wanting to be with Dominic sexually, do you think that played a part in her accepting his offer? Is it good that she's admitting that fact to herself?

Do you think a redo for the other night is the only reason, Dominic had Amila accompany him on the trip?

What sexy outfit do you think Amila is going to wear?

Forewarning for the next couple of chapters: Amila is a grown woman and about to do some grown woman things, just to let you know.