The following is a woefully unedited excerpt of my current project:...and why is it "woefully unedited?" Because this is Camp NaNoWriMo and there's no editing being done. This is the one and only "Camp"/Writers Retreat that doesn't talk about editing and such. We're here to write, write, write! Tomorrow, or sometime next month we can edit. Well, actually, sometime next month. Editing is still off limits until August first.
Although I don't usually write stories that require a warning of any sort, the following excerpt is intended for audiences 18 years and older due to language.
"If The Shoe Fits"
"Consider these a peace offering after getting off to a rough start.” He held the shoes before her again.
“Is this how you start all business relationships?”
“If need be.”
“With designer shoes.”
“No.” He slowly shook his head. “I start relationships…” he sat the bags on the table, before correcting himself, “business relationships or negotiations by finding out what the other person wants or needs and going from there. You need shoes, I’m proceeding accordingly.”
“There’s nothing that you own, that I need, Mr Louissaint.”
“You may not need it, but you want it.”
“And what, pray tell, do I want?”
“Me.” He stepped close enough to feel the heat from her body. “Louissaint Construction, that is.”
“Thomas Engineering doesn’t need a partner, Mr. Louissaint.”
“But you do need shoes, Miss Thomas.”
“Need versus want, Mr Louissaint. Need versus want. Learn the difference.”
“You want my donation for your ball. I want a partnership with your company. I will do whatever is necessary to obtain that partnership.”
“Don’t get it twisted. Your donation would be nice. But whatever you think that donation might gain you, dismiss it. Nothing is up for sale. Including the company.”
“Try them on.” He nodded towards the bag. “You never know what you might decide to keep them.”
“Thank you for the thought. It’s very kind of you, but I can’t.” As she lifted the bag to return it to him, both arms of his flew up.
“And neither can I. Please,” he nodded towards the bags in her hands.
“Give them to your sister.”
He started shaking his head before she’d finished the sentence. “Tout d’abord, she’s gotten a pair of shoes from me once. Never again. And furthermore,….”
“So…” she started as the towel holding her wet hair in place slipped from its holding and down onto her shoulders allowing the long dark locs to fall where they may. “Great.” She placed the shoes on the bed, before tilting her head to the side, gathering her locs together again and pressing the towel into them. Dayne got lost in the movement and the contrast of her nimble fingers against the blindingly white towel twisting, turning, squeezing and patting the moisture from her hair before turning to walk into the bathroom a moment, returning with a long thin elastic band in her hands as she deftly put her hair into a bun. It was one of the sexiest things Dayne had ever seen in his life.
“The shoes are sexy. They deserve to be on the foot of a woman who not only knows how to wear them, but makes men weak when she walks into the room wearing them.”
“Your sister isn’t allowed to be sexy?”
“No. She’s allowed to be a very celibate pain in my ass.”
“But you gave her the shoes I…”
“I’m looking at the shoes through different eyes now. So, no. She can’t have them.” He looked at the shoes she’d thoughtlessly placed on the bed. “Put them on…”
“Shoe fetish or foot fetish?”
“What?” Brow furrowed, he rubbed his jaw. He really should’ve had the shoes sent back to her room with a simple note saying, No, strings attached or something equally lame.
“Do you have a fetish?”
“No.” He slowly shook his head hoping to clear away the teasing aroma of her shampoo, conditioner or whatever lotion she’d used that followed her around the room. Damn, why did she always seem to smell so delicious? Flowery, spicy, earthy, and fuckable. With each and every encounter he found himself fighting back the desire to permanently bury his nose in her neck. “I just want to see if they look as good as I imagined they would…on you.”
“And then what?”
“And then, if we’re lucky, I’ll convince myself that that’s all I need to see, then leave.”
“Oh really? And if we’re not so lucky?”
“I’m going to fuck you right where you stand.”