changing her tune.
“Jessica, when you get a chance, let me see what you’ve been working on,” Dash said.
“Sure,” Jessica responded. She made her way to her cubicle, but not before turning around and giving Dash another appraising once-over.
Jessica’s lustful glance didn’t go unnoticed by Lark. She was going to admonish the young designer, but Lark really couldn’t blame Jessica for staring at Dash. He was without a doubt worthy of a second and even a third look.
Once Jessica was out of earshot, Lark turned to Dash and said, “I like the way you handled that.”
“What?” he asked.
“The way you ignored Jessica’s not-so-subtle innuendos. You acted as if she weren’t drooling all over you.”
“Lark, I’m a professional. I don’t mix business with pleasure. My personal life is just that...personal.”
“Good to hear, because I think she’s developing a crush on you. I can move her over to the other team if need be.”
“Trust me. I can handle Jessica and any other employee who tries to make an inappropriate advance.”
Does that include me? Lark wanted to say, but of course she didn’t. She knew she had to stop thinking of Dash in a lustful way. He had been hired to do a job, and unfortunately, that job didn’t include seducing the boss.
Lark was meeting her best friend, Darcy McCay, at a day spa in Union Square for an afternoon of relaxation and pampering. Lark and Darcy’s relationship had started off a bit rough when they’d first met at Randolph on the Runway. Lark had moved up from the drafting department, where she had worked for six months learning the art of pattern design. Lark’s grandfather felt she had spent enough time in that part of the company and had promoted her to the ready-to-wear division to study under Darcy, a senior designer. Darcy was a few years older than Lark and was eager to teach the ingenue, but Lark proved to be quite a challenge. Instead of soaking up the information Darcy was dispensing, Lark had her own opinions about how the line should be designed.
“Instead of putting the split in the back, why don’t we place it off center?” Lark had said.
“No, I like the split right where it is,” Darcy had replied.
“Most designers place the split in the back. Don’t you want to stand out?”
Darcy had looked up from her sketchbook. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t you want to make your mark on the industry?”
“I have made my mark. The inside-out jumpsuit I designed won the Council of Fashion Designers Award a few years ago.” Darcy’s voice had been filled with pride.
“I remember seeing that jumpsuit in the trades. It was so unique and different. I had no idea you won a CFDA. Congratulations. But I still believe the split should be moved.”
“I realize this is your family’s company, but I’m currently your boss, and the final decision is mine. Your grandfather sent you to my division so I could take you under my wing. Please do us both a favor and learn what I’m trying to teach you.”
From that day on, Lark did more listening than talking, and as a result she gained a wealth of knowledge from the senior designer, not only about the business of fashion, but about life. Lark had always been mature for her age. She hadn’t gone out binge drinking like most of her college classmates had. She’d preferred hanging out with Darcy whenever she had spare time. They would dine at four-star restaurants, go to fashion industry events and relax at Darcy’s summer home in the Hamptons. Darcy would school Lark on nuances of men, teaching her to not act eager and desperate when a man was interested. Darcy had told Lark that men were hunters, and that they liked the art of the chase. Lark was an only child, and she thought of Darcy as an older sister and willingly took her advice.
Darcy eventually left Randolph on the Runway to start her own design firm, but she and Lark had remained close.
Lark arrived first. She had never been to the trendy spa and glanced around at the zebra rugs and modern decor.
“Welcome to Brigitte Mansfield European Day Spa,” the receptionist said.
Before Lark could respond, Darcy rushed into the spa. “Sorry I’m late...” Darcy said. She was tall and thin as a reed. She had bronze skin and long, honey-blond hair. Before becoming a designer, Darcy had been a teen model. She was dressed in a sleek, cream-colored sheath and gold gladiator sandals.
Lark hugged her friend. “Hi there.”
Darcy air-kissed Lark. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Good. Just a bit stressed.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. I promise you, after our spa day, we’ll feel as good as new. The masseuses here have magic fingers.”
“Right this way, ladies,” the receptionist said, leading them toward the back.
After Lark and Darcy had changed into terry-cloth robes, they were shown to a private area where they each had the spa’s signature facial.
“Hmm, this mask smells delectable,” Lark commented.
“That’s because it’s made with cranberries, truffle oil and almonds. I get this facial on a regular basis. This mask really helps to ward away those unsightly frown lines.”
Once their faces had been treated with tender loving care, they went into another room to get massages. They lay facedown on the table and let the masseuses work their magic. Lark closed her eyes and let her mind drift as the tension in her shoulders was kneaded away. The masseuse’s hands gliding over her skin felt wonderful. Suddenly, Lark’s thoughts shifted to Dash.
I wonder if he gives good massages.
Lark could picture Dash naked, drizzling oil on her skin, straddling her backside and rubbing his masculine hands up and down her back, caressing her tired muscles. After he had finished with her backside, she would turn over and let him smear the oil all over her breasts. She smiled at the thought of Dash taking her nipples between his fingers and rubbing them until they hardened. He would then admire her beckoning breasts, lean down and ever so gently lick and suck her nipples. Lark imagined Dash getting so turned on by her that his manhood would grow inch by inch until he was swollen with desire. He would then rub the head of his penis against the inside of her thigh and work his way up to her G-spot. Before slipping on a condom, Dash would tease her clit with his manhood until she was on the verge of coming. Lark’s face would twist with pleasure and then she would cry out the words Make love to me! They would take turns pleasing each other all night, until the bottle of massage oil was empty and their bodies were spent from hours of making love. Only then would they drift off into a well-earned slumber.
“Didn’t I tell you the masseuses here are amazing,” Darcy said, interrupting Lark’s naughty little daydream.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Were
