Girl, He's a Charmer``Ade::INACTIVE

[mabs]

If anything, Reed was thoughtful and full of gestures in pursuit of what he wanted. And his newest conquest was a one Miss Adrienne Heart, the terribly frustrating and enigmatic (as well as sexual and sensual) columnist that had bled Reed's divorce over the pages of the female oriented magazine. She was intriguing at worst and sexy as hell at best, and Reed found himself rising to the challenge. Perhaps it was his newly legally single status that made him want to challenge himself more than sleep with the unknown women of the clubs he frequented under wraps, but regardless, he found himself drawn to making her become impressed by him.

Which he was under no thought to say that it would be easy.

Reed had however had a rather embarrassing display of roses sent to the woman's office, ordering exactly one thousand, four hundred and forty roses that were brightly colored in coral (a color which in and of itself mean desire. Reed was not lost on details). Tucked into the last vase to be delivered to her was a note, hand scrawled in his pompous and pretentious handwriting: "A rose for every minute I've thought of you since we parted, My Heart."

He was certain he'd outdone himself this town, and the cleverness didn't escape him as he awaited a phone call or an email of the sort as he propped up on his desk, amused at his own geniusness.

It would only be a matter of time before the femme fatale was in his bed.

[rocky]

"Flowers for Miss Heart?"

Adrienne would never wave another delivery boy in without glancing up at him again. He had managed five trips before she had realised something was amiss, and then she realised he had meant a tonne of flowers for Miss Heart. Her office was rapidly filling with beautiful, expensive coral roses, and by the time she had thought to protest the delivery boys were grimly determined to finish the order.

Soon there wasn't a flat surface that didn't have a vase or a wrapped bunch of roses resting on it, and they were beginning to set them on the floor. Adrienne felt her eyes beginning to itch, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in vague despair.

She had terrible hayfever. Normally it wasn't an issue, living in the city, but apparently filling her moderately-sized office from stem to stern with roses was enough to set it off. She pressed a tissue to her nose, and was about to demand to know who they were from when she was handed the last bunch.

Reed Armstrong.

A rose for every minute I've thought of you since we parted, My Heart.

From outside the glass office, it looked as though somebody had sent Adrienne one thousand roses and she had been moved to tears by the gesture. This was exactly how Frank Ferrier interpreted the situation, as he hovered over Janine's desk, which was right across the building from Adrienne's office, but still heralded the perfect view of her, behind that glass divide.

"Who's sending Adrienne flowers?" he asked vaguely, feeling strangely put out by the gesture. It was so grandiose! She'd had boyfriends since he'd dumped her, but none of them had been so successful or rich as Frank was himself.

Adrienne, however, was not moved to tears by the gesture. She was struggling with intense allergies, and wondering just what part of get out of my office Reed Armstrong had interpreted as her being 'his Heart'.

She tapped the space bar on her keyboard irritably, to dispense with the screensaver onher computer, and then opened a fresh e-mail.

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: Cute.

...but no cigar.

--
Adrienne Heart
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine[/ul]

[mabs]

It wasn't terribly long before Reed's email browser made the obnoxious noise that he had once considered muting, if it weren't for the fact that he often missed important emails that way, and suddenly he was faced with the short, tartly reply of a one Miss Heart. He grinned and leaned back in his chair for a moment, considering the many ways they could take this. She'd make the pursuit a marathon, he knew it. But it tingled his bones to imagine it.

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

Well good morning to you too, Miss Heart. I do hope you enjoyed them. Google the rose color.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.

P.S. Don't antagonize the next messenger, Heart. He doesn't come bearing flowers.[/ul]

Of course the last part was cryptic, but the gift had been two fold. In about ten minutes, by Reed's clock, another messenger would show up at Miss Heart's office with a special envelope containing none other than two tickets to a special Rocky Horror Picture Show event. There were certain other perks to Reed's status, and considering that he'd often slept with a member of the performing casts of many of the New York shows, he often got tickets to them for free, and even special event tickets.

So he had checked up on her Facebook even, just enough to see what sort of things she liked to do, and he'd taken a chance that Rocky Horror would slide in right alongside the slasher movies she so enjoyed. She seemed eclectic, and that was intriguing enough. Too intriguing perhaps.

[rocky]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: RE: Cute.

You can't always get what you want.


--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.

P.S. I'm a writer. I deal entirely in symbolism, although I am unsurprised to find that you had to Google it in the first place.
[/ul]

Adrienne was wary, as the second messenger arrived -- but he only gave her an envelope, and a knowing look. This time she caught Frank's eye across the office, and bit her lip. He'd been lurking at Janine's desk for ten full minutes now. She bit the corner of the envelope and hesitated, then turned and went back into her office, which smelled so strongly of roses that it stung.

She closed the door and opened the envelope with her back to the glass divide, so she could react as she felt necessary. She blinked. Rocky Horror tickets were far more her type of gift, and now she was completely flummoxed.

She had taken the first as some sort of grandiose vandalism. Now she didn't know what the hell he was doing -- he had sent her both tickets, so she didn't know what to think. Maybe he expected her to invite him.

Yeah, right.

[mabs]

Reed audibly snickered at the email conversation that was ensuing, and he found himself enthralled in it. The woman was electrifying.

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

And if you try sometimes you find you get what you need. I'm a Rolling Stones fan too.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.

P.S. I hardly Googled them, my dear. Coral roses I happen to be well acquainted with. Red ones too.

P.P.S. Brad, Rocky, or Frank-N-Furter?[/ul]

He was thoroughly enjoying the banter between them, and he was also fully aware he sent her both tickets. He wondered how she would handle that, if she would offer one to him or not. Of course he would be going regardless of her invitation, but he was baiting her. He'd love her reaction either way. Regardless of the fact that the woman was hardly the typical sultry blonde of brunette poured into a dress that would fit better as a shirt, Reed was growing more attracted to her moment by moment. And his blood pumped a little more as he hit Send.

[rocky]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: RE: Cute.

Frank. I love a man in a great pair of heels. Wear the costume, and you can come.

--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.

[/ul]

Adrienne had forgotten anything resembling her next deadline. She wasn't feeling particularly desirable, with a tissue jammed in a rather unladylike fashion up each of her nostrils, but nevertheless she was incapable of ignoring him. She was convinced he wouldn't agree to dress up in public, though -- so it was an easy way to refuse him.

Invite him, on the one condition he'd never meet. Send.

[mabs]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

As much as I know you would love to see me in a pair of fishnets, I never dress up alone. You may dress up as well, and I'll think on it.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.
[/ul]

Hardly. He would never really dress up so, and regardless of her tone, he knew that she was trying to shake him and take the tickets for herself. Well so be it. It wouldn't have been the worst thing to befall Reed, and it would give him license to embarass the hell out of her if the situation arose. To shock her, and perhaps shock her into a more agreeable and less combative disposition. Regardless, he was enjoying himself. Far too much.

[rocky]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: RE: Cute.

As if I'd be wearing anything else.

--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.
[/ul]

[mabs]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

I'd rather you be wearing nothing.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.
[/ul]

Tart! Pure tart! And he loved it. But he couldn't help imagining her in fishnets and stilettos and just a pure image of feminine sexuality. He wanted her, twice as badly as he had before, if that were even possible.

[rocky]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: RE: Cute.

How original.


--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.

[/ul]

Adrienne rolled her eyes, but found she was smiling in spite of herself. She had little interest in his suave, expensive image, nor did she place much stock in grand gestures, but if he showed up in a pair of fishnets and heels, he'd be well within striking distance of impressing her.

This was a man who had a publicist, though. Of his own. She knew he was avoiding the question. A shame, really. Oh well.

[mabs]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

The female form has been appreciated since the time of the Greeks, Aphrodite. Hardly an unoriginal concept, my dear.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.

[/ul]

Aphrodite, the goddess of love and sensuality. Well it did suit her well enough. She didn't seem like a slut persay, hardly the trollop or skank that some envisioned those liberated sorts. She just seemed confindent in her sexuality. Which was nothing but pure turn on to Reed.

[rocky]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: RE: Cute.

Then your interest is purely artistic. Disappointing. Never the less, we have wandered from the topic... are you going to wear panties for me or not?

--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.

[/ul]

[mabs]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: RE: Cute

My interest could be described as artistic only if that includes the fact that I should like to really get inside your sculpture, madame. In fact, I would like to do nothing but be all over, inside, under, and around your artistic curves. It's a new concept of appreciation. It's called goddess worship.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.

P.S. If you'd assume not wearing panties, I might be inclined to accept. [/ul]

[rocky]

Adrienne took the tissues out of her nose, and bit down on the end of a pen she had been twirling absently. She wasn't sure at which point it had been that she had stopped feeling scornful and started waiting for the little alert that she had mail, but reading messages like that one was not the time to have anything stuck in one's nose.

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Look.

I don't care about the building policy, Rupert -- they can't stay in here, and it's not my job to keep the place clean. Surprise your wife.

-Adrienne

--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.
[/ul]

It only took a moment for her to realise what she had done. Panicking, she fired a second email off to Rupert Archer, the custodial agent for the building, apologising profusely for implying she never wore any underwear anyway. Then, she began another:

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Shit!

Disregard that last e-mail, it was meant for our janitor (who does not believe clearing the better part of 2000 roses out of my office is part of his job).

--
Adrienne Heart,
Heart Matters; Plush Magazine.

P.S -- he's been rather quiet, since he got my response to you. I think it would be cruel, not to follow through with him now that he knows what he's missing...
[/ul]

[mabs]

[/b] [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]

Subject: Naughty Sprite

And now I'm left wondering what on earth you've tried to send me that would make a janitor blush, my dear. Or shall I talk about your architecture some more? It is quite splendid.

--
A. Reed Armstrong, J.D. Attorney-at-law
Senior Partner, Armstrong and Copeland.

P.S. Roses not your style? I'm sure I can keep trying until find something that is....[/ul]