Scotty sat back in his chair, and it squeaked under his weight. Running his hands over his face, he pushed the reader glasses he wore up into his hair line. He was nearly finished with his paperwork, his monthly duty almost completed. Of the ten girls that had "auditioned" only two received his nod of approval. L.B. might be a little frustrated with his decision, but he knew that she was a wise enough business woman to know that he was 99% on the money when it came to hiring fresh talent. He rubbed his eyes and then lowered his hands to the paper and photo littered blotter on his desk. The stack of declined applications set to his right, the very small stack of acceptances to his left. Picking up his pen, he finished writing his recommendations and then closed the leather bound book. He then took the two stacks of papers and photos, the declinations on top, and set them on top of the book. He was ready for the meeting with L.B. now. The chair squeaked again as he got up. Gathering his things, he travelled the few feet to the door of her office, and then knocked.
"Come in." Most people were surprised to learn, when they met her, that L.B. was, in fact, a young woman, barely into her late twenties. They were usually lulled into stupidity by the fact that she knew her profession inside out by dint of work experience, and even if they didn't fall into that trap, there were always a few who thought that beauty equated to bimbo-syndrome. Scotty Granger had learned the hard way that this was not the case. Lora Belle might only have been in charge for a handful of months, but already the newly renamed Belle Boutique Agency was doing brisk, high-class business.
With the invitation, Scotty let himself into her office and closed the door behind him with a soft click. "L.B." He nodded, tugging his suit coat straight with the curl of his fingers around the leather-bound notebook. "Done with the recommendations. Slim pickings this time, I'm afraid." Moving across the room, he sank down into a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Just two." Leaning forward, his brass cufflinks shone dully in the light of the room. The notebook was placed onto the edge of L.B.'s desk. "Clara and Monique. Though Clara's going to have to change her name. I'll leave that to you, since you're the creative one."
She didn't look up as he came in, knowing who it had to be, her pen scratching lightly across the papers in front of her as he spoke. When she was done, her eyes - a mysterious shade of grey-blue - lifted to meet his, her hand twisting to lay down her pen. "Two," she repeated in a quiet tone, somehow managing to express an entire rant's worth of disappointment in one word. But she trusted Scott's judgment. Letting out a soft sigh, she sat back, taking the notebook in one hand to flick through the pages. "Monique is a surprise," she admitted thoughtfully. "She interviewed terribly. Clara, on the other hand ....Yes, I can see her doing very well."
Unbuttoning his jacket, Scotty sat back and clasped his hands around his knee. He knew she'd be disappointed, but this was how things usually worked out between them. "Monique's not much of a talker, but she knows what she's doing. It's not a bad thing. Nothing worse than a Chatty Cathy." He rolled his eyes, they'd seen enough of those types in their day to know that were the worst thing they could do to hire one of those girls. "Anyway, my bill is in there, somewhere. Usual fee, a grand for each girl, half price for the ones I approve."
She smirked faintly, knowing that he would do it for nothing if she asked him in just the right way. But this was business, and one should never blur the lines, especially in this line of work. "I'll see her again tomorrow, then," she nodded, pushing her chair back as she rose to her feet, moving around the desk. "I trust none of them attempted to mark you this time?" she asked with deceptive mildness, opening the door to her drinks cabinet.
It was his turn to smirk. "Only one and you're lucky I'm not charging extra." True enough, L.B. had earned his trust and loyalty that he'd do a favor or two for her. But that line had only been crossed once, when they were first getting to know each other and ended disastrously. He regarded her and the liquor cabinet. "Mineral water. You know I don't drink while I'm working. Dulls the mind."
She twisted to meet his eyes with pointed amusement. "Mr. Granger, your official work hours ended when you stepped into my office and gave me that notebook," she reminded him with a sultry smile, deliberately pouring him the generous measure of Laphroaig he was used to within these four walls. Taking up the glass with a squirt of soda for good measure, she took her sweetly swaying hips over to the desk once again to curl his fingers about the tumbler. "And as the boss, I can call a halt to my own hours at any time."
"I think you want to get me drunken, take advantage of me and pay me half of what you owe," he teased, taking the drink from her and sipping it gently. "Ah, only the best." He held up his tumbler in a toast, and then lowered it back to the desk. "And you wouldn't cut your hours if your life depended upon it." He casually glanced up at her, taking in her very blue dress and the way it hugged her curves. "Work-a-holic," he accused with a small laugh. Leaning back against her desk, Lora lifted her own glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of her own.
Her smile deepened, full lips parting in that display of amusement at his teasing as her head tipped to one side, sending a tumble of dark hair down over her shoulder. "You should be paying me, anyway," she countered laughingly, her own eyes making an appreciative sweep over him, lingering however briefly on the skin peeking beneath his open collar before rising to his face once again. "When are you going to admit your true calling, and come to work for me in a full professional capacity, Scotty?" she asked him with playful good humor. "I have many uses for your particular brand of stamina, you know."
"Because I am the talent scout." Scotty accentuated every word in that sentence. This was an age old argument between the two of them. "And you know as well as I do that you'll never find anybody better than I am at it." He sat there confidently, without a single squirm under her sweeping gaze. Lifting his hand, he even unbuttoned one more button to reveal a little bit more skin. He knew he looked good, and often used it to his advantage. There was nothing overt about it; he dealt in subtleties all day long.
"Come in." Most people were surprised to learn, when they met her, that L.B. was, in fact, a young woman, barely into her late twenties. They were usually lulled into stupidity by the fact that she knew her profession inside out by dint of work experience, and even if they didn't fall into that trap, there were always a few who thought that beauty equated to bimbo-syndrome. Scotty Granger had learned the hard way that this was not the case. Lora Belle might only have been in charge for a handful of months, but already the newly renamed Belle Boutique Agency was doing brisk, high-class business.
With the invitation, Scotty let himself into her office and closed the door behind him with a soft click. "L.B." He nodded, tugging his suit coat straight with the curl of his fingers around the leather-bound notebook. "Done with the recommendations. Slim pickings this time, I'm afraid." Moving across the room, he sank down into a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Just two." Leaning forward, his brass cufflinks shone dully in the light of the room. The notebook was placed onto the edge of L.B.'s desk. "Clara and Monique. Though Clara's going to have to change her name. I'll leave that to you, since you're the creative one."
She didn't look up as he came in, knowing who it had to be, her pen scratching lightly across the papers in front of her as he spoke. When she was done, her eyes - a mysterious shade of grey-blue - lifted to meet his, her hand twisting to lay down her pen. "Two," she repeated in a quiet tone, somehow managing to express an entire rant's worth of disappointment in one word. But she trusted Scott's judgment. Letting out a soft sigh, she sat back, taking the notebook in one hand to flick through the pages. "Monique is a surprise," she admitted thoughtfully. "She interviewed terribly. Clara, on the other hand ....Yes, I can see her doing very well."
Unbuttoning his jacket, Scotty sat back and clasped his hands around his knee. He knew she'd be disappointed, but this was how things usually worked out between them. "Monique's not much of a talker, but she knows what she's doing. It's not a bad thing. Nothing worse than a Chatty Cathy." He rolled his eyes, they'd seen enough of those types in their day to know that were the worst thing they could do to hire one of those girls. "Anyway, my bill is in there, somewhere. Usual fee, a grand for each girl, half price for the ones I approve."
She smirked faintly, knowing that he would do it for nothing if she asked him in just the right way. But this was business, and one should never blur the lines, especially in this line of work. "I'll see her again tomorrow, then," she nodded, pushing her chair back as she rose to her feet, moving around the desk. "I trust none of them attempted to mark you this time?" she asked with deceptive mildness, opening the door to her drinks cabinet.
It was his turn to smirk. "Only one and you're lucky I'm not charging extra." True enough, L.B. had earned his trust and loyalty that he'd do a favor or two for her. But that line had only been crossed once, when they were first getting to know each other and ended disastrously. He regarded her and the liquor cabinet. "Mineral water. You know I don't drink while I'm working. Dulls the mind."
She twisted to meet his eyes with pointed amusement. "Mr. Granger, your official work hours ended when you stepped into my office and gave me that notebook," she reminded him with a sultry smile, deliberately pouring him the generous measure of Laphroaig he was used to within these four walls. Taking up the glass with a squirt of soda for good measure, she took her sweetly swaying hips over to the desk once again to curl his fingers about the tumbler. "And as the boss, I can call a halt to my own hours at any time."
"I think you want to get me drunken, take advantage of me and pay me half of what you owe," he teased, taking the drink from her and sipping it gently. "Ah, only the best." He held up his tumbler in a toast, and then lowered it back to the desk. "And you wouldn't cut your hours if your life depended upon it." He casually glanced up at her, taking in her very blue dress and the way it hugged her curves. "Work-a-holic," he accused with a small laugh. Leaning back against her desk, Lora lifted her own glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of her own.
Her smile deepened, full lips parting in that display of amusement at his teasing as her head tipped to one side, sending a tumble of dark hair down over her shoulder. "You should be paying me, anyway," she countered laughingly, her own eyes making an appreciative sweep over him, lingering however briefly on the skin peeking beneath his open collar before rising to his face once again. "When are you going to admit your true calling, and come to work for me in a full professional capacity, Scotty?" she asked him with playful good humor. "I have many uses for your particular brand of stamina, you know."
"Because I am the talent scout." Scotty accentuated every word in that sentence. This was an age old argument between the two of them. "And you know as well as I do that you'll never find anybody better than I am at it." He sat there confidently, without a single squirm under her sweeping gaze. Lifting his hand, he even unbuttoned one more button to reveal a little bit more skin. He knew he looked good, and often used it to his advantage. There was nothing overt about it; he dealt in subtleties all day long.