Текст книги "Sexy"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Chapter Nine

 

When I wake up, he’s gone.

I almost smile. Like for real. Jesus fucking Christ. That was amazing. My first one-night stand. Only it happened in the middle of the day. I have to laugh at that.

Fletcher Novak. He made me come three times.

I roll over and have a moment of fear that he might still be here watching me. That’s enough to make me sit up and cover my bare breasts with my arms.

But he’s really gone. And I breathe a sigh of relief until I spy a note on the footlocker.

Shit.

I reach for it and then squint my sleepy eyes at the sloppy writing.

Hey, princess,

 

It was fun and all, but you know me. I’m only into the one-time thing. So don’t take it too hard¸ OK? Just accept it for what it is. And hey, I get points for leaving a note, right? I left the roof doors propped open with stones so you can get out of there all covert and shit.

 

Love ya,

Fletch

Holy hell. Thank God. I had a moment of fear that he might actually be interested in me. Sex on the roof is one thing, but dating an asshole like Fletcher is not in my future. At all. And I’m a little bit amazed that I feel this way. I mean, aren’t girls supposed to feel used after this sort of thing? And I admit, there were a few moments during that whole thing where I might’ve felt a little vulnerable. But not now.

I feel… satisfied. And happy. And ready to try out my new moves on the guy I really want.

Cole.

Shit! I scramble for my bag, dropped carelessly on the floor as I entered the little shed, and check my phone for the time. One o’clock. I have to meet Cole in an hour.

I jump up and find my clothes and shoes, then shrug into them as I grab my bag and stumble my way to the door.

Wow. I had a one-night stand.

I grin a little at that idea. I mean, I have never done that before. But Fletcher Novak was the perfect guy to do it with, right? No-Strings Novak. It should be tattooed on his chest. Plus, he really did give me some tips on how to seduce Cole. I need to make a change. Cole just doesn’t see me as girlfriend material and I think if I sexy myself up a little, I might be able to go from little sister to hot prospect.

I open the door and skip down the steps. I have not felt this good in so long I can’t even remember. Sex. Who knew it was just what I needed?

I giggle a little at that as I get to the door that leads out to the penthouse hallway. I open it just a crack, peek out, and then slip into the corridor and power-walk to my room.

Jesus, I sure hope Claudio hasn’t been looking for me. Fletcher was fun, but I’m never—like ever—gonna tell anyone I had sex with that slut.

I key the door, open it, listen, get silence, and then scoot inside, closing the door softly just in case.

“Claudio?” I call.

Nothing.

Sweet. I jog down the hall, throw my bag on the floor, and then take my clothes off and go into the massive bathroom. It’s spectacular. It’s got a huge tub. Which I’d like to take advantage of right now. I’d love to just soak up this good feeling, relax the muscles that were strained during my secret sex, and enjoy the afterglow.

But I can’t. Date with Cole in T-minus fifty minutes.

We’ve had lunch lots of times and I’m sure he thinks this one will go the same way. Me pretending it’s a date, him clueless as ever. But he’s wrong.

I’ve got seduction tips from a semi-famous stripper. And I’m gonna use every one of them.

Well, maybe not all of them. Not the getting-naked ones. I mean, Cole isn’t a one-night stand kinda guy. He’s a serious guy. Career-minded. Stable, reliable, and maybe even slightly predictable. I like all that stuff.

But none of that says we will be fucking on the roof after we eat. No. Cole is a slow and steady kind of conquest. I need to take this one step at a time and the first step needs to be subtle. Just make him look at me differently. Make him see me as a possibility, even if it’s only for one moment. If I could do that at lunch today I’d call it a success.

I start the shower, which is penthouse perfect. The temperature preset is hot enough to make you steamy, but not enough to burn. In other words, sublime. And it’s a rain shower. So wow. Just what I needed after that romp on the roof.

I look in the mirror for a moment and run all of Fletcher’s tips thorough my mind. Make him look at my mouth, Fletcher said. That was the big one. Make him look at my mouth and then bite my lip a little. Maybe if we have dessert I can stick my finger in some chocolate and then lick it off. Or maybe I can do that move men do in movies all the time and swipe some chocolate off his lip.

Oh my God, I’m dying to get started. We really need to have dessert. Chocolate is perfect.

I get in the shower and smile as I wash the musky scent of Fletcher off me and briefly wonder if I should feel guilty for fucking him as I plan my date with Cole.

Hmmm. It’s kinda skanky. But necessary. It’s research. Besides, Cole and I are not a thing, so it’s not cheating. And I know he dates. I don’t date. So if we’re not allowed to have fun before we date, then he’s cheating on me.

I laugh out loud in the shower. He’s the cheater if this fling with Fletch counts. And that’s ridiculous, so it doesn’t count.

Guilt trip over.

“Tiffy?” Claudio calls out from the door. “What are you laughing about?”

“Oh, hey,” I call. “When did you get back?”

“I was looking for you in the casino. Where the hell did you disappear to?”

“I took a cab down to the shopping district,” I improvise. I did that last night. Before the whole Fletcher thing at the show and while Claudio was getting his spa treatment in here at the hotel. But the shop wasn’t going to deliver the dress until today since I didn’t have time to wait for them to wrap it up.

“Oh, that package that came for you?”

“That’s the one,” I say, relieved my cover story has a bit of truth to it. “I’m wearing it to my lunch date with Cole. Go open it and tell me if you like.”

“It’s not a date, Tiff. You’re gonna be depressed afterward, as usual, when you finally have to accept it.”

“Just go look at it,” I call before squirting shampoo in my hair and lathering it up.

“I like,” Claudio calls from the living area a few minutes later. “Great color. Pink always looks good on you.” He walks back into the bathroom and takes a seat at the vanity. The shower glass is as clear as the window with the mountain view in the bedroom, but this is Claudio. He’s not even remotely interested in seeing me naked in the shower. In fact, he’s checking his hair in the mirror. “So how did the Fletcher rendezvous go?”

“What?” I almost choke on the shower water.

“The meeting this AM. Did you fire him?”

I chuckle to myself.

“What’s so funny?”

“No. he came in prepared with a proposal to take the show to the next level. And it was good, Claudio. I probably can’t ignore it.” I rinse the shampoo and work the conditioner in, and then rinse that and finish up. Claudio is putting makeup on when I step out of the shower wrapped in a towel.

“Do you like the eyeliner?”

I glance down at him as I walk past, my wet feet slapping on the Carrera marble floor. “You know I do. Especially when you’ve been drinking.”

He gives me a smile. “When in Vegas…”

“We’re not in Vegas, you dummy.”

“Tahoe, Vegas, same thing. Slot machines and strippers everywhere I look. That one guy in the show is so gay, he walks on air. I have my eye on him.”

“Oh, God,” I say as I step into the bedroom and hold the dress up. It is the perfect summer dress, classic with a floral pattern. It’s not quite sleeveless—there’s a hint of a ruffle up there. And it’s got two tiers, with the bottom one hitting me just above the knee. If I twirl, and I did twirl when I bought it last night, then it flares out and an interested man might even catch a glimpse of the perfect pink panties. Not too revealing, a lady doesn’t show too much. And I think Cole likes conservative women. Soft, pretty women. Like me. I always have pink on. I imagine him loving pink.

I’m conservative in just the right ways. I like classic things. Especially fashion. And Cole wears classically cut clothes. Not those skinny pants trendy men wear with their suits. No, Cole likes a cut that flatters, but isn’t too flashy. His style says business.

“Did you even hear me?” Claudio is asking with irritation.

“What? Sorry, I was lost in thought. Isn’t this dress perfect? Cole is going to love it!”

He crinkles his nose at me in disgust. “I don’t want to talk about Cole. He’s boring.”

“He’s not boring. We like all the same things. Classic movies, quiet nights at home, and the symphony.”

Claudio snorts at that statement and now I’m annoyed. “I’ve never seen the two of you at the symphony,” he says.

“But he likes it, Claudio. I know him. I’ve seen his playlist at work. It’s all classical music. I bet once we hit our stride we’d frequent the ballet and everything. Oh my God,” I squeal, turning around to look at my BFF. “I bet we go see The Nutcracker together at Christmas.”

“Girlfriend, you are delusional. I’ve seen him just as much as you and he does not look even remotely interested in a Sugarplum Fairy. But that stripper in the show, now that fairy can dance. Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

“You’re not helping, Claudio. I have confidence right now that this is gonna work out. I need your support.”

He eyes me up and down and then tilts his head and gives me a sidelong glance. “You do have confidence. Where did that come from?”

“Gee, thanks. I’ve always had confidence. But now I feel like I have a plan. You said he sees me as a sister. Which I don’t believe,” I say, before he can put the kibosh on my momentum. “But maybe there is a smidge of truth to that. So all I have to do is change his mind and make him see me as a desirable woman. Right?” I beam a smile at him.

He scratches his head with one dainty fingernail. “OK. You know I’m on your side, and if you feel Cole is your forever man, then I’m there for you, sweetie. But—”

“No buts! Now let me get ready. I only have thirty-five minutes to turn into the woman of his dreams.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’m gonna go stalk that hottie and see if he’ll let me lick his abs.”

I just shake my head. But my tryst with Novak really has given me a new perspective. Seduction is a skill. All I need to do is learn it. And I’ve got good tips to try out today.

Cole will be mine.

It’s only a matter of time.

Chapter Ten

 

The ringing phone on the nightstand wakes me from the most restful sleep I’ve had in weeks. Fuck.

I smile. That was a good fuck. I left her up there all sweaty and flushed from the sex and then came back to my room and passed out. I was up all last night putting together that proposal. And it looks like it was worth it. Because Tiffy Preston was impressed enough to give me a brand-new once-over.

Not that I care about her. I don’t. And now that I’ve had her, I can forget about her. She won’t be firing me for dating show patrons. And she doesn’t know about any of the other stuff I’m doing. So good. It was an excellent move taking her up on that roof. And I mean that in every way possible.

The ringing phone makes me turn over and pick up the receiver from the nightstand. Room phone means front desk. “Yeah?” I say, annoyed.

“Mr. Novak,” Kristen from guest services says. “You have a visitor down here. Her name is—”

Shit. It doesn’t matter who the girl is, it’s someone I don’t want to see again. Once is enough. “Tell her I’m unavailable at the moment.”

“Sure thing, Fletch. Sorry to bother you. I know you don’t like to get calls. But she’s feisty. And she looks mad.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Kristen.” I hang up the phone and check the time. I’m hungry. I skipped breakfast this morning and now it’s well past lunch. So I force myself to get up and take a shower.

I think about work as I wash up. Not this stripper job. That’s not work. Katie, she’s work. I mean, the stripping pays decent. But the contracts, those are priceless. Katie is my only client at the moment, but I need her. So I better come up with a plan to get her the man of her dreams so I can keep things moving forward. We’ve got daily calls for the next week to plan shit out.

I get out, towel off, and then tug on a pair of jeans, a Mountain Men t-shirt, and my boots. Time to head out and see how my little world is turning downstairs.

I get to the bar a few minutes later and greet Sissy at the bar. “Hey, Sis. How about a Dos Equis and a large order of chicken nachos?”

Sis winks at me. “You got it, Fletch.”

I wait for my beer and then turn around on my stool so I can see the whole bar and adjoining restaurant. This place isn’t always so busy, but the Shakespeare Festival runs all summer in the Village up north, and people swarm to that shit, so the casinos are hopping right now. I grew up here, so I’ve seen every Shakespeare play live, ten times over. If I’m having a dry spell with the stripper-lovers from the show, I can usually pick up a girl by quoting that old bastard.

Good stuff. Tahoe is filled with good stuff. And if I can just get this last little bit of shit together, I’d be able to enjoy it more.

But it’s within reach. Finally, I feel like life is about to go my way. And I can’t wait.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I study the room and the people as I wait for my food. Girls—plenty of lookers. Guys, mostly gamblers, and mostly local. Some rich professional types, here to play golf and pretend that they brought the family for the boating. And an energy in the air. An energy I have come to appreciate since I took this gig as a stripper.

It was a good move.

“Hey, Fletch,” Britt, one of the day waitresses, says as she drops off my plate of nachos. “How’s things?”

“Perfect, Britt. Thanks for the chips.” I’ve never fucked a waitress. Or anyone who works here, for that matter. But I go out with them every now and then. Britt likes to rock-climb. Sis, the weekday bartender, likes rafting on the river. The Truckee River is not fast and challenging, so we usually get a big raft, some beers in a cooler, and spend the day floating down to the pool a few miles away.

I’d say they are friends. Decent friends, if pressed. I don’t talk too much shop with them, but I don’t talk shop with anyone, not even the other guys in the show. It’s nice. And casual. Which is how I like my life. Casual. It says it all, right? Easy-going. Light-hearted. Fun.

Life and fun go together like shits and giggles. But it hasn’t always been this way.

I shake that last thought out of my mind as I munch on my food and drink my beer. The past is the past. Complicated.

I don’t like complications. I’m like the river. Smooth and peaceful. I don’t get riled up, I don’t get hung up, and I don’t get serious.

At least with women. I’ve seen too much over the past ten years to fall into that trap.

I sit there and enjoy the view, the bustle of the casino out past all the tables, and the—

Wait a minute. Is that…?

Aw, fuck. Tiffy Preston is heading my direction and she’s got a huge smile on her face. Jesus Christ, didn’t she get my note? I mean, how much clearer could I have made it? One time only, Tiff. One time only!

Double fuck. She’s waving. I give her a sheepish smile and sink into my chair. Do I wave back? I mean, she’s the big boss’ daughter. Do I have to be polite and shit? Why the hell did I bang the boss’ daughter? She’s an employee. Just like Sis and Britt. Why the fuck didn’t I realize that before my cock got the best of me?

I know why. She kept me up all night working on that proposal. And she got me so fucking hard at the show last night. Add in the exchange at the door when I was ready to jump her and she ambushed me. Well, it was sorta well played on her part. She got me. And that business suit is so not my type.

I have no clue what I was thinking.

I slump down a little more in my chair and give her a wave, hoping this convo won’t get ugly. “Hey,” I say weakly as she beams another smile, still making a beeline for my table.

“Tiffy,” a voice booms from off to my right. The guy from her room last night. Cole. “I was starting to think you were standing me up.”

Tiffy laughs and allows him to give her a polite hug as he puts his hand in the small of her back and leads her away from the bar towards a table on the other side of the restaurant.

Fuck. I sit there, a little embarrassed, then a little relieved that I didn’t have to have that awkward conversation with her.

Dodged another bullet, Novak, I tell myself.

“I heard she tried to fire you this morning,” Sis says, opening another beer and taking away my empty. “And you gave her a run for her money.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the meeting. “It was fun. I got her all flustered.”

“You usually do, Fletch.” Another customer calls for Sis and she skips off down the bar to fill his order.

I got Tiffy flustered upstairs as well. She’s quite pretty, if you’re into those career women. Her dress this morning was sophisticated business attire. White, sleeveless, hit just below the knee, and absolutely no cleavage. Even her little white shoes were office-approved two-inch heels.

But now she looks… different. Her pink dress isn’t exactly casual, but not professional either. It’s flirty. It’s short. And very low-cut. Her shoes have some little sparkly things on them and that is definitely a four-inch heel.

She’s sexy.

Damn. Tiffy Preston doesn’t look as buttoned up as I first thought.

I picture her legs spread open before me. Her soft mewling as I licked her pussy. Her manicured fingertips digging into my hair.

Fuck. I’m hard again.

I watch her as that Cole guy pulls out her chair and then scoots it in as she sits. She’s facing me, so I see her smile a little as he walks around to take his seat.

Hmmmm. What’s going on here?

I study her face, waiting for her to notice me as they chat. But she only has eyes for him. Did she see me earlier? Is she trying to make me jealous by having lunch with another guy after fucking me? After I gave her three goddamned orgasms not three hours ago? Really?

“Pfft,” I mutter under my breath. Gonna take more than that to make me look twice.

But then she licks her lips.

Wait. Did I just imagine that?

Nope. She’s chewing on them too. And then her fingertip sweeps up and traces her plump lower lip as she casually pretends to wipe away a drop of the pink champagne Mr. Fancy-Pants greeted her with. Pink champagne? Who the fuck drinks pink alcohol?

Britt comes to their table with plates of lobster tail and a new bottle of champagne. She laughs with them and I get a little pissed off.

Is Tiffy practicing my seduction tips on that guy? That guy? Really? He’s like ten years older than her. He’s huge. Like six foot four at least. And he’s got to weigh two-twenty. I bet he shops at Big & Tall. She cannot be serious. No way is she interested in him.

And that just pisses me off more. Because, oh, hell the fuck no. I do not dish out trade secrets to a one-night stand only to have her go use them on a worthless prospect. Anyone can see he’s all wrong for her. He is not a possibility. Not at all.

I sit there at my table, sipping my beer as I process what’s happening and how I feel about it. I’m not jealous. I’m not. I’m pissed off. Why the fuck did I give her tips? I charge good money for that shit. Hell, I made Katie sign a six-week contract and I haven’t even given her one tip yet.

And yet Miss My Father Owns This Town is practically giving them away to every wandering eye in the whole place.

And that’s a lot of wandering eyes. All the employees know who she is by now. Britt is chatting them up like they are old friends, probably taking notes.

There it is again. Holy fuck, Tiffy just licked her lips and practically winked at that guy. And Britt saw the whole thing as she set down a dainty cup of chocolate mousse in front of two-timing Preston.

Hell the fuck no. I never let my clients work my magic here at the casino. Otherwise I might lose business. Hell, I’ve helped more than one cocktail waitress hook a rich dude over the past nine months. They paid dearly for it. And signed a NDA. Trade secrets are trade secrets. And I have spent years coming up with my methods. I’m not gonna let her get away with practicing them on this asshole for everyone to see.

I push away from the barstool, straighten my t-shirt, and walk over to ask her just what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.