Free The Player's Girl (The Girls) by S R Vicente

“I’m not sure! What do you recommend?”
    She looked back at the screen and typed away at the keyboard. A moment later, a list of options flashed up on the monitor.
    “Hmm... ” she said, using her mouse to flick through them, “I’ve got Barcelona next weekend for £600, staying in a five star with breakfast. Looking up at him, she could see Mr. Wells was frowning, deep lines crossing his forehead.
    “It’s Amy right?” he asked, looking at her jacket for a name badge. She wasn’t wearing one and he found that slightly irritating. She nodded. He had to admit she was quite stunning. He hadn’t seen the rest of her yet as she sat behind an old oak desk.
    “Not on one of those budget airlines right, I’m not flying with them?” he asked. Amy glanced back at the screen. “No, it’s Iberia. Nice flight times and from Heathrow,” she said and waited for his next request, unconsciously using her index finger to twist a thick strand of blonde hair in a childlike manner.
    “That sounds okay! Book it for me,” he said after a moment as he watched her closely. She nodded and went back to her screen. He liked her eyes the most, bright blue and piercing and with long blonde hair left loose; she looked dirty and sexy.
    He dug into the front pocket of his jacket and slipped out one of his business cards. “These are my details.” He had to lean forward in the ugly bucket seat to pull out his wallet from his jeans back pocket. Opening it he pulled a bankcard and slid it across the table. “Use that!” he said. Amy nodded as she looked at the monitor.”
    “Right, Mr. Wells,” she said after a couple of minutes, “I have you on an aisle seat departing on the 28 th at 16:40,” she said confirming his details. He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s fine Dear, just print me off the details.”
    She glanced up and smiled at him, finding it old fashioned to be called a Dear. “Of course,” she said clicking on the print icon on her screen.
    “You should call me Mark, Amy!” Amy smiled and looked up at him knowing the game had just changed. She felt like playing and felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. How long had it been since anyone had paid her much attention? She felt a severe attention deficit lately.
    “Sure thing, you meeting someone over there? In Barcelona I mean,” she asked hoping that of course, he wasn’t, she couldn’t see any rings on his fingers and it was just a single ticket. He raised an eyebrow and smoothed his hair down. “This time I guess I will be. Just looking at some property over there so rather dull I must say!” he replied. Another old-fashioned saying she thought.
    “Really,” she said playing the game as she finished inputting his card details onto the system. She could see rain had started on the busy street outside her office. Teenagers pulled up their hoodies and women popped up umbrellas.
    “Well, I hope you manage to get some leisure time while you’re there,” she said before she swung herself out of her chair and walked over to the printer to collect his journey details.
    He watched her walk, noticing her long legs, smartly defined by a tight pencil skirt. The neck scarf she wore bought out the icy blue of her eyes. Her arse was small and round and her tits were a nice size he decided. She was perfect. She passed him his travel pack and returned his bankcard.
    “You busy Saturday,” he asked. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. Was she? Her mind went blank and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Being asked out by someone after so long, really threw her a curve ball, straight out the blue. He was asking her out!
    “Nothing I can’t rearrange … why?” she blurted out, no longer caring what she was doing. Mark grinned at her reply. This was a lot easier than he expected, “Because I plan to show you a good time!” 
    She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. How long had it been since someone had bothered to ask her out,