Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Pet gets into it immediately. “I spy with my little eye someone tall, blonde, and sexy as hell,” she whispers in a low voice. “Goodness he’s handsome.”
With that, I turn to see a gorgeous man in a dark suit, his blonde hair waving from his forehead. White teeth flash as he smiles, but then I nudge my friend.
“He’s yummy but you better hurry, girl, because I see Carrie making a beeline over there.”
Pet merely grins.
“Well, Carrie doesn’t stand a chance against these,” my friend winks, her brown eyes flashing mischievously as she hoists her boobs up higher in her bra. “Have fun tonight and be sure to do everything that I wouldn’t do.”
I giggle and watch my friend saunter away, admiring her confidence as she teeters along in her sky-high heels and barely-there outfit. The bells on her sarong jingle and swish with each step, and to be honest, I think the blonde man had his eye on her because as soon as she approaches, he turns and they begin chatting away like old friends.
I shake my head before I turn my attention to the rest of the room. Figures. Petunia has always been popular because she’s downright gorgeous and could probably win beauty pageants if she was into it. But what about me? I look down ruefully at my sassy curves. I’ve given up trying to get skinny because after the Palm Beach Diet, Atkins, Weight Watchers, Tae Bo, and the latest thing called intermittent fasting, I’ve given up. My wide hips and ample thighs are part of what define me, and at least I have the Double Ds to go with them too!
But suddenly, I feel shy, almost lonely, standing by myself in the crowded room. It’s odd to stand in the midst of people, and yet to feel all alone. It’s as if I’m beneath a bell jar, and I can see folks talking, chatting and flirting away, and yet they can’t see me.
I’m probably just tired, I rationalize. Between working here, selling make-up, and babysitting, I barely have a chance to relax these days. The hustle is real but it’s getting exhausting. And I’m only 24 years old, I sigh deeply. Can I even last another year in this crazy place called Manhattan?
I run my hand through my dark brown hair absentmindedly, wondering how much longer I have to wait until they finally turn on the music. Maybe it would be better just to get the show started, so I can stop having these broody thoughts.
But then, my sixth sense tingles, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. What is it? I turn, and there’s a man seated on one of the plush couches in the corner, and although he’s in shadow, I can tell he’s watching me. Oooh, who is this guy? Judging from his silhouette, he’s got broad shoulders with a long, muscled frame. I see his eyes flash for a moment— are they blue?— as he observes me. Then, the man lifts his drink toward me in salutation and my insides go mushy. Even in the dim light I can tell the man is handsome. The outline of his jaw looks like it could cut glass, and I briefly wonder what those mobile lips might feel like on mine.
Wow, get a grip, Marcy, I scold myself. Don’t get your panties in a scrunch before the event’s even started. After all, we’re not supposed to catch feelings for the clients, even if it can be tricky given that our male members are usually gorgeous, handsome, and filthy rich. It’s not an explicit rule at the club, but any hostess worth her salt knows to stay on her side of the line.
But who am I kidding? These men are irresistible and at the moment, I’m intrigued by the dark stranger.
I wonder who he is, I think, cocking my head to the side flirtatiously. The man sees my movement and raises his glass in a second cheers as the connection between us intensifies.
But then, the lights in the room dim and the room grows dark. A sensuous beat begins to sound from unseen speakers, and that’s my cue. It’s time for the show to begin.
In the darkness, I polish off the rest of my champagne and then set it down, more by feel than by sight, on a nearby table. Then I step towards the dance floor and take my place in the line of women. It’s still dark, but the darkness is filled with an anticipation so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Sure enough, the lights come back on, and we girls begin to dance.
By no means are we expert dancers, but it doesn’t really matter because that’s not what the men are here for. Instead, they’re here to see female assets jiggle and shake, and that’s happening, absolutely, because the girls are dressed in outrageous little outfits that leave almost nothing to the imagination. In fact, I see Carrie purposefully pull her bra cups down so that her big breasts are bare, and she smiles and waves her arms around, swinging her hips like she’s a real belly dancer.