Page 9 of Tempt you…not!
Major Hutton holds his phone out to the general, and I can only assume it holds the infamous spring break video of the Bastion girl.
Alysanne was a hellcat in her youth, rivaling Hollywood divas and even Marie Antoinette.
Her debauchery culminated with the release of a video taken during spring break of her friend lapping beer as it ran down her body. I’ve watched it half a hundred times, pausing at the parts where tongue connects with flesh and wondering what it would be like to be the owner of said tongue.
She relaxed after that, focusing on school and business. My sister was livid at the attention it received, and conspired to release a video of her own.
Father gave her a big promotion to thwart her efforts, making her the company’s figurehead, even though I was older and more experienced.
“Ya wanna see this?” Major Hutton holds out his phone to me, and I decide that the situation does not call for manners.
“No,” I say in a deadpan tone, then move to take my seat without waiting for a reply.
The whole exchange reminds me why I detest these functions, but my father insisted I go, saying the future is in space, and we aim to be a part of it.
The presentations begin, and I try not to let my mind wander, but it’s all terribly boring. I just can’t seem to pry my mind from Erica. The way her body moved so fluidly. Her breathless moans. Her smell.
Finally, it’s my turn to present, and I put on a good dog and pony show, discussing lightweight metals and radiation barriers before reclaiming my seat.
“Next up, Alysanne Bastion,” the host announces, which is met with a few chuckles from the audience.
Coming to her aid would only make her look weak, I remind myself. Our families might be rivals, but I don’t engage in underhanded tactics to gain an advantage.
I listen to her more than I do the others, partially to size up our greatest competitor, but also because no one else seems to be affording her any respect.
She’s well-spoken, in a cream-colored pantsuit that is stylish without being flamboyant. If she didn’t have her past, every pair of eyes would be glued to her. Well, not that they aren’t, but they’re not paying attention to her. They’re leering.
Not that I blame them. She’s a gorgeous woman, smart, with a girlish face. Watching her full lips pronounce words like ‘constraint’ and ‘intermodulation’ is borderline arousing. Still, I give her the respect she deserves and stop just short of undressing her with my eyes.
There is something familiar about her, though. I can’t seem to put my finger on it.
We met years ago at a function where she ridiculed me, but there must have been a more recent event. There’s just something so familiar about here…
Oh—fuck…
“Is it just Chad?”her voice echoes in my mind.
And now I know why she threw me out of her room.
Sexy and sultry Erica is Alysanne Bastion.
Her eyes scan the crowd as she talks, noticeably skipping over me. Her hair is different, and my guess is those aren’t real glasses. She doesn’t want me to recognize her.
Before she finishes, Barton Mills gets up from the back of the room to ask her a few questions.
Up until now, he’s been silent, so his interest in Alysanne is curious. He’s said to have MENSA-level intelligence with none of the awkwardness that eggheads usually have.
He asks her about the communication satellites her family has been working on. She answers well enough, then returns to her seat.
I need to see her again.
She’s the daughter of my father’s arch-nemesis, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Alysanne Bastion is leaving with me today.
I just have to convince her of that.
Alysanne
