Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Stepping away, I really hope it was a dream. Maybe it was all in my imagination, but my cut fingers tell me otherwise.
2
Elicea
I swear to God if he grabs my ass one more time, I will shove my heel in a place he’ll never be able to retrieve it from. Taking a deep breath, I try my hardest not to do something I shouldn’t do, because I really, really, need this job. Walking back to the bar, Tracey smiles because she knows I’m close to losing it. I’m on my last and final warning, if I lose my shit again with a paying customer my ass is fired, and I really need this job.
“Just take a breather, go out back to Billy. He always makes you smile.”
“I got this,” I say with a nod.
Tracey shakes her head. “No! No, you don’t. Go.” Her thumb points over her shoulder to the kitchen.
I place my tray on the counter and follow her advice. Billy’s making a dessert, it smells divine back here—like chocolate and cake. Everywhere. I moan and my stomach rumbles. Billy laughs, tapping the counter for me to sit. What can I say, I’m a regular in these parts.
“Strawberry or chocolate?” he asks. He’s young, too young to be the master chef. He’s great though, I haven’t met anyone who can create half the things he can with minimal effort.
“Do you have to ask?” I laugh.
“You’re right, you always choose chocolate. But one day I’ll get you tasting other flavors.” He winks, and it’s cute. His feelings for me are clearly visible, but I try not to play into them. He may be the cute boy that I should date, but honestly, my track record is absolutely terrible—those bad boys suck me in every time. Then break my heart. Well, not literally. More like a day’s worth of sitting on my couch eating too much ice cream and watching too many horror movies. Great times.
Billy presents me with the most beautiful chocolate lava cake I’ve ever seen, decorated with small petite flowers.
“If I could do dirty things to this cake, Billy, I would.” I take the first bite and it’s heaven in my mouth.
Just then Tracey opens the door, and I take another bite as she looks at me with her eyebrows scrunched. “Elicea, you better come, some of our elites just walked in.”
I haven’t served them before, only heard about them. Tracey speaks of them like they’re untouchable. That they should be whispered about and not spoken to. They are the highest-paying customers we have, they just don’t come in as often as the boss would like. When they do, though, we make a week’s takings in one day.
“Do I have to?”
Tracey shakes her head and laughs as she walks out. Getting off the counter, I pull my skirt down, the one that rides up when I walk. Our dress code is ‘Sluts Are Us.’ We make all the hard-working lawyers, judges, and rich pricks happy to come here and see beautiful women on display, but not enough where they think they can have us. The boss calls us the tease factor.
I look up to thank Billy and catch his eyes on my legs. He quickly looks up, cheeks reddening, and he averts his eyes while busying his hands.
“Wish me luck, Billy. I need it. Don’t want to kill anyone.”
He laughs nervously but doesn’t look my way.
Pushing the door open, I notice the place is busier now. A group of ten men just walked in, going straight to the bar. I grab my tray.
“Best behavior, El,” Tracey warns. “They’re our elite customers. Boss’ll be mad if we lose them.”
I nod.
The guy who’s grabby, though, I don’t think I can be civil if he touches me again. Walking past grabby hands, I head straight to the large group of men. They’re sitting in black leather seats—our bar is considered high-end with dark wood countertops, large dark tables and subtle lighting.
“What can I get you, gentlemen?”
A voice which I barely hear, and certainly have no idea what he said, comes from the man closest to me. I look up with a smile etched on my face, but he doesn’t hold my interest. Then my eyes rest on the man next to him. My eyebrows pull together, and I think, it’s not right, right? I mean, he can’t be that good looking and have friends to match. Were they bred in some factory I wasn’t aware of, each one better looking than the last?
“Miss.” Before I finish surveying the group, the gentleman next to me brings me back to his attention.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Bourbon, straight. All around.”
“Got it.” The smile on my face is starting to hurt it’s so bright. These men. Holy shit. Don’t get me wrong, we get some good-looking men in here often. We are a high-profile bar who caters to the perverted upper-class. But these men? They don’t need to be in a place like this. They could walk down the street and women would stop and drop their panties without hesitation. Me included.