Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“No,” I say, wondering why I’m answering such a private, personal question, asked by someone I hardly know.
There’s nothing logical about any of this.
9
Leo
I nearly curse after bringing up her ex. The mention of him was a conversation-ender this morning, and I want to keep talking to this woman — unless we stop talking and start kissing.
It’s unreal how sexy she is. And the more I see her, the more I want her.
“My brother and our friends could show you how much fun fantasies can be,” I say.
“You and Troy and your friends?” Her voice isn’t so soft now, and I’m afraid I ruined the mood. “You mean watching your show at Club Red?”
“No, no. I was talking about something … more personalized.”
“More personalized.” She echoes my words like she’s trying to make sense of them. She uncrosses her arm, revealing the lush fullness of her breasts as they press against the thin shirt she’s wearing, and when her eyes linger on mine, I decide to go for it.
Resting my hand on her waist, I bend to bring my mouth to hers, but it’s a mistake.
Lorraine turns away from my kiss and takes a step back, putting distance between us.
Too soon. She has me off my game somehow. Too much in my own head.
“I think you’d better get the rakes and go, so you’re not late for the club,” she says. Her voice isn’t angry, so that’s something.
When I grab the tools, she leads me toward the gate. I’m being escorted to the nearest exit, but I’m not defeated.
“Think about it,” I tell her, giving her a smile like she hasn’t just shut me down.
It’s just a setback, not a defeat.
10
Lorraine
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking; I was just feeling. I shouldn’t have let him get so close, and I shouldn’t have allowed the conversation to get so personal. At least I snapped out of whatever trance he had me in before things went too far.
It’s ridiculous, really. Such a young man. My landscaper. It’s almost a cliché. Divorcée fools around with the gardener. If I had a pool, maybe it would be the pool boy. I roll my eyes at my own self.
But, my god, that man has the moves. I’ve probably spent less than twenty minutes total in his presence, not counting watching him on stage or working in my backyard, and I was thisclose to letting him kiss me!
And what is he even talking about, he and the others giving me a personalized experience? Is it another side business of theirs? Or does Club Red hire them out for private events?
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I return to the strip club’s website, where it doesn’t take long to verify that yes, the men can be hired for off-site events. For a minute, I’m glad to have confirmation, but then I grow irritated.
I’m not going to pay for sex. I’m not that desperate for it. Not yet, anyway.
Though even as I think this, I can’t help but imagine that it would be sex very much worth paying for. How could Leo not be good in bed, with moves like he has?
I pay for facials and massages, so maybe it would be another type of self care … but no, it’s ridiculous. I’ll buy a vibrator if it comes to that. I should’ve bought one years ago, actually.
I close my laptop with a frustrated sigh. Despite how turned on I was earlier, I’m no longer in the mood to get myself off. Leo is such a flirt, but it turns out it’s all a sales pitch. With our age difference, I should have known better. He and the others probably think I’m a lonely, pitiful woman, and I’m not, despite current evidence to the contrary.
When the next landscaping day rolls around, I consider staying inside the house. I’d prefer to avoid Leo after the awkwardness of his evening visit, but I don’t want to be rude. The four of them are doing a great job in the yard and they’re very reliable, and I don’t want to have to search for a new company to do the yard maintenance.
That’s what I tell myself my reason is for taking drinks out to them when they’re almost finished. It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s a warm day and Leo, Dante, and Darian have all taken their shirts off. I’ll just pretend the whole “personalized experience” conversation with Leo never happened.
Their greetings are friendly, as always, but the looks they give me are different, more curious, longer, lingering, as if there’s something unspoken bouncing around between us. I’d bet money that Leo told them about our conversation, and I really wonder exactly what he told them.
“The yard’s shaping up nicely,” I tell them as I pour their drinks. By now, I know what each of them prefers. “You’ve worked wonders out here.”