Burning Flowers - Page 9/56

Clarke had managed to get a couple orgasms out of the guy after a bottle of wine, but then he passed out and began snoring. She had spent most of the night on her couch, avoiding the train-like sound. Now, in the light of day, she just wanted him out of her house. But she wasn't about to wake him up and risk him asking her to have breakfast with him or another date. She was going to stick to her usual modus operandi.

She placed the final touches on her cheeks and lips before making sure everything was straightened out with her black and pink pant suit. She huffed at the lump on her bed before leaving the room to go to her office and grab a piece of paper and pen.

"Lock up on your way out."

That was all she wrote on the paper, and she took it into the bedroom and laid it on top of the pillow on her side of the bed as quickly and quietly as possible. The guy better be gone before she got back; that was all she cared about the matter.

She went around every room, making sure all the lights were turned off before stepping out the door and slamming it shut. It probably woke up her snoring guest, but that was probably a good thing. Otherwise, he might never leave.

Clarke climbed in her gold car and adjusted the mirrors; giving herself another quick look in the mirror to be sure no piece of hair had gone astray in the wind. Things like that might not have seemed like a big deal to others, but it was to her. For her, it was part of professionalism to look her best.

She pulled out of the driveway with purpose, not wasting another moment. She needed to get her coffee and get to work. She was already running late, which she always seemed to be, but then she always made it there early anyway. It was a routine that perplexed her just enough to frustrate her.

She barreled down the road, weaving in and out of traffic. In that way, Richmond and New York City couldn't be too far off from each other. There always seemed to be some delay and some reason for a line of thousands of cars constantly tapping on their brakes. So, she had adapted a way of driving that got her from point A to point B much more efficiently than the rest of the drivers on the road. Though, she did get several honks and rude gestures.

Sometimes, if she was bad tempered that day, she would honk back or even roll down her window and say something that would make a sailor blush. Anger was the easiest emotion for her; always had been. She had probably gotten that from her mother; the angriest person she'd ever met. But she somehow maintained these soft and silly looks so that people often mistook her for easy prey. Usually, people only made that mistake once, though, before learning their lesson.