Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
He must be fucked-up.
Something has to be wrong with him.
I mean, apart from the fucked-up shit he always tells me.
Who says that kind of stuff so casually?
I killed a man…
What the fuck does that mean!
I have another job working at a bar dressed as a cowgirl, complete with boots, a pair of shorts that ride up my ass, and mini shirts.
That job I don’t hate quite as much. The tips are good, but the pay is way better at my telephone sex job.
It’s how I’m able to afford my condo.
We didn’t have money when I was growing up. So now that I have it, you bet your ass I’m spending it on shit I like which includes living lavishly. I have no man to pay for luxuries, so I work two jobs and have for years. And it works for me.
“Alaska.” My boss grinds his jaw when he sees me. “You knew tonight was pink.”
I glance at my black boots in my hand, black shirt, and booty shorts and smirk at him. “You know I don’t own anything pink. Why would you even suggest such a thing?” I give him an eye roll and stroll past him.
“If you didn’t have VIPs who come only to see you, you know I’d fire you, right?” he yells out after me as I walk off. I give him a wave but say nothing in return.
I’m sexy. It’s something I own. I paid a lot for my tits and workout regularly to keep my body in shape. I am proud of it. I know I can’t do these types of jobs forever. Well, not this type of waitressing, but the other I can. So I milk it, and why the fuck not? Men have milked women for their appearance since the beginning of time, and now it’s time we took back our power without the judgment that comes along with it and milk that shit ourselves.
So I sell my voice for sex over the phone.
Let men ogle my body for great tips that put a marvelous roof over my head.
What’s the fucking issue with that? Nothing.
“Alaska, gosh. Thank fuck you’re here.” Louise puts me in one of her awkward hugs. I swear she does it knowing how much I hate them.
Hugging is awkward, and nobody can tell me any different. For the most part you are getting someone else’s boobs or crotch pretty damn close to your own. You then have to contend with said person’s perfume or cologne or God forbid body odor. And I’m not even going to talk about breath. So yeah, awkward.
I shrug her off, but she isn’t offended. She never is.
“We have super-duper VIPs tonight. And I know you have your regulars who book you well in advance every weekend, but do you think you can help your best friend out?” She pouts, her bottom lip sticking out.
“Who said you are my best friend?” I ask, brow raised.
To be honest, she’s probably my only friend. Louise is loud and speaks to everyone, but she talks to me the most. Only fucking God knows why.
She waves me off. Not only does she not care about my hug brush offs, but she’s also never offended by my rude comments either.
Why? Again, I have no idea.
I guess it’s one of the reasons I like her; she doesn’t get offended by what I say, where the other girls here call me a bitch.
I am, and I don’t give two fucks about what they think.
I have no qualms with the other girls hating me or talking behind my back.
I’m here to make money, not fucking friends.
“What do you need help with?” I ask, opening my locker and putting my things inside.
When she doesn’t answer right away, I turn to look at her. “Louise, spit it out.”
“Jeff told me not to ask for help.”
“That ship sailed, didn’t it? Besides when do I ever listen to Jeff?” I smirk. “Now, tell me, what do you need help with?”
“Well, I know the men coming in tonight. They’re from where I grew up. They are…”
“What?” I ask when she trails off.
“Scary. And they terrify me.”
“You can’t have my area, Louise. You know you can’t. My regulars don’t want you.”
“I know. They want you. But I was hoping I could help you, make it easier for you to help me.” She bites her lip.
“Louise, you know how to make people warm up to you. Are you sure you can’t do this one yourself?”
She starts shaking her head, slowly at first, and then picks up the pace the more the panic rises in her eyes. “No, please don’t make me.” Her eyes are wide, and then I notice a visible shudder run down her body. Louise never shows fear. She’s always bubbly. Always.
“Okay, I’ll help. I’ll take their orders, and you deliver. That’s the best I can offer. I have my own tables I need to manage.”