Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Now, I’m in a sumptuous hotel lobby, waiting for the curvy girl. Suddenly, I feel a frisson in the air, and sure enough, Rose has made an appearance. Every man with a heartbeat is somehow aware of her, and pride blooms in my chest, knowing that she’s here with me.
Rose pauses for a moment in the doorway, looking shy. The sweet girl’s wearing a tiny black cocktail dress that highlights her sumptuous assets, from those big breasts to her wide hips. Her curly brown hair gently brushes back and forth across her generously exposed chest as she pauses for just a moment. Then, she catches sight of me and smiles before making her way over in scandalously high heels.
“Hello stranger,” she says in a dulcet voice. Damn, this girl is sexy and beautiful. A rare combination.
“Mademoiselle,” I respond taking her hand and kissing it lightly. She giggles at this and her laugh is soft music to my ears.
“You look very handsome in your suit tonight, Mr. Pratt,” she smiles in return. “Or should I call you Monsieur?” she teases.
I grin.
“Call me Damon, honey. Hardly anyone refers to me as Mr. Pratt.” I say this because I want to shift the dynamic between us. I want us to be able to move beyond the narrative of me as her best friend’s father, although to be honest, Mr. Pratt never sounded as entrancing as it did rolling off her lips. My mind flashes to a fantasy of me pinning her against a wall with my body and her calling out ‘Mr. Pratt’ breathlessly as my hand slips below that tight little dress. I swallow, pushing the tempting image down.
“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” I ask. She nods in assent, and soon, we’re chatting and drinking as time slips away from us. It’s easy to talk to Rose, although I suppose she’s a professional conversationalist. We discuss everything and nothing, and it’s as if I’m speaking with an old friend. That is, an old friend that I’m incredibly attracted to.
But like a good little businesswoman, Rose makes it a point to mention her business plans. I admire her dedication. She’d never let this opportunity slip away.
“What do you think of the name Saucy Nights?” she asks.
I think for a moment.
“It could be good,” I say slowly. “But what makes it saucy?”
She giggles.
“The girls of course! That’s one of the things I hated about City Girls. Some of my fellow workers were sooooo boring. They were the type who’d watch paint dry or grass grow. Or both.”
“But they got customers, right?”
Rose giggles.
“Yes, but the customers were just after one thing, I assure you. And that one thing had nothing to do with conversation.”
Ah ha. This is the perfect opening.
“Tell me, sweetheart. So if they’re not watching paint dry, then what are they doing?”
Rose blushes. I think I already know the answer to this question because my daughter’s already told me, but it’s good to hear it from my date’s lips.
“Well,” she begins slowly. “Sometimes shenanigans take place after-hours. Don’t get me wrong, the agency doesn’t put you up to it. They make it clear that the fee is strictly for a girl’s companionship over dinner and drinks. But sometimes, if the woman is willing …”
I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“And have you been willing in the past?” I ask.
She blushes hotly and looks down at her perfectly manicured hands.
“Yes, I have,” she murmurs, unable to meet my eyes. “But really, only when the man was kind, generous, and a good person. I could never sleep with a client just for the money. That would be atrocious.”
Good. She’s showing excellent judgment.
“And me,” I say. “Am I one of these lucky men who gets to progress to the second stage?” I ask, one eyebrow impishly raised. “Do I meet your standards?”
Rose bites her lip, looking incredibly shy. It’s hard to believe she’s a working girl, but I suppose that’s part of the charm. The best ones can make you feel like you’re on a date with a real girlfriend, and not a paid companion.
“Yes, Mr. Pratt,” she murmurs, peeking up at me through her lashes. “Yes, I believe you are part of that lucky group of men.”
With that, I pull a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and place it under my empty whiskey glass on the bar top. There’s no time to wait for the bartender to actually get us the bill and make change. I need inside this woman, and I need her now.
But first, I look deep into Rose’s eyes without touching a hair on her head.
“Sweetheart,” I say. “Before we go upstairs, I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you say that you want to be with me, and this is more than just obligation or some part of your business plan.”