Snippet Tuesday: Margot n Nori #writing #erotic #romance #Ineffable

IneffableI’m working hard to get Ineffable out by Christmas. It’s gonna be tight, but I just might make it. Meanwhile, check out this lil snippet. This is why Nori loves Margot, ‘cuz she doesn’t kiss his ass. – SS

…“You should do something like this on your web site.” He turned his laptop around to show her what he was looking at. He’d seen her looking at the new demo site in preparation for her relaunch. She was working hard on it, complaining that her current site was so antiquated it was embarrassing. He agreed, but didn’t say so. “Has the old site hurt your sales?”

“No, but then, I have no analytics. So, how would I know? You think this feature would help me?”

He explained the brand value of what he was suggesting, and she nodded, immediately shooting her web development guy an email asking that the change be made.

He tried not to preen. He knew there would be many situations where she would not acquiesce so easily. Margot had no problem telling him what she thought he was full of shit. She said it just like that, “You fulla shit.” She did not treat him the way he was used to.

He’d been spoiled by women. He’d grown used to them bending over backwards to please him, being docile, unchallenging. That was probably one reason he was so attracted to her.

She laughed at him often, and she had a habit of walking out of the room while he was talking – to fetch some tool, for instance – or she’d look at him like he was stupid when he said something arrogant. It kept him on his toes because if he displeased her, she shut him out, and he learned he hated being ignored.

On the other hand, he found he liked having to work to hold her attention. He found obscure books on jewelry, beautiful coffee table books that he gave her wrapped in brown paper with a bottle of wine. He soaked in her gasps of pleasure and radiant, appreciative smiles, and he grew to crave her pleasure; it warmed him like the burn of his favorite whiskey.

In private moments away from her he queried the intense satisfaction he got when she showed him something she’d made based on inspiration from one of his gifts. Once he might have run from such feelings, but now he reveled in them. Once or twice he even worried that his need for those bonds could not be filled by anyone else. But he didn’t dwell on those thoughts. He couldn’t. It felt too horrible to think of being without her because the truth was, he didn’t want anyone else.

Angst, though, was minimal. More often than not – when they weren’t tearing up her bed – he learned from her. For instance, one night they were on the couch watching the news. There was a story on about people abusing the welfare system.

Nori shook his head and said, “I just don’t understand people like that. There’s nothing wrong with them. They could go out and get a job. But they don’t. They just constantly have their hands out.”

Knowing her work ethic, he expected her to agree wholeheartedly. She shocked the shit out of him when she said, “You’re no different.”

His brows shot into his hair. “What?”

“No different,” she repeated. “You’re just like they are. Expectant, self-absorbed, spoiled. You been at my house every night for weeks. You’ve been fed, watered and fucked, well. And you have yet to contribute so much as a thing of orange juice. Aside from one trip to the movies, dinner at Whole Foods after your daddy acted a fool, and those books,” she added. “And while they might be considered gifts, the books serve your interests as much as mine because some of the pieces they inspire me to create will make their way into your stores. I doubt very seriously whether it has even occurred to you to ask me to go out on a date. And I don’t consider Whole Foods a date. You owed me some dinner after your daddy fucked up my appetite.”

He stared at her, and realized she was absolutely right. Forced to see his behavior through her eyes he had acted quite shabby. He peeped at her from under his lashes. “You seem terribly matter of fact about my negligence.”

She continued to stare at him, a calm brown Madonna, shrouded in sex and mystery instead of a veil.

“Would you prefer me upset?”…

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