by S. L. Siwik
I slide the fork out of his hand and pick up the last piece of steak. Mr. Townsend leans in while I do this, close enough now to kiss. I have his full attention as he watches me, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but I never want him to move further away from me. I hold the fork out, and the corner of his mouth slides up before he takes the bite. And that’s when it happens…
The moment where years and years from now you replay the memory in your mind because it still gives you butterflies. After Mr. Townsend finishes chewing, he closes the space between us, kissing my cheek.
“Thank you,” he murmurs in my ear.
I am little more than a puddle in my chair.
“No more,” I reply, cheekily, “Guess you can’t feed me anymore.”
He smiles in a way that makes my belly tighten. “That’s a shame. Would you like another?”
I shake my head. “Time for bed.”
Trent’s hand squeezes tighter on my thigh. “I have another idea.”
I glance at Trent’s longing, then at Mr. Townsend’s adamant face. There’s really only one way out of this. Fuck it. I shouldn’t have drank so much tequila.
“Mr. Preston, I think we should show our friend here, Mr. Townsend a good time. What do you say?”
“You, me, him?” Trent asks. I nod. He glances over at my boss. “You up for it?”
“Is this what you want?” Mr. Townsend asks me, his green eyes staring deep into mine.
“Yes,” I breathe out. God, I want him so badly it hurts. I’ll settle for sleeping with Trent to secure my new job and Andrea’s help.
Mr. Townsend glances up at Trent, giving him a curt nod.
“In that case, I just need to put some paperwork away in the office. I’ll be right back.” Trent grabs my thigh before walking out.
I slip my hands beneath my boss’ jacket, my hands sliding down his well-defined abs and ask, “So, now that he’s gone, will you dance with me?
His returning smile is practically my undoing.
“Always.”
I breathe in sharply at the feel of Mr. Townsend’s hand on my lower back as he guides me through the club as we climb the stairs to the upper level.
I turn towards him, his hand still on my lower back as I run my finger down the buttons of his dress shirt. “I’m not sure you can handle the kind of dancing that I like to do, Mr. Townsend.”
“Indulge me.” I lick my lips as my heart hammers, my panties already wet. How a few simple motions or words cause such chaos inside me, I don’t know. I have never had such an intense physical reaction to any man like I do with my boss.
I wrap my arms around his neck, slipping my knee between his legs, slowly sliding it up between his. Watching him the entire time, I see his eyes start to cloud over with lust by the time my knee reaches the lower part of his thighs. Reaching the top, I brush my knee gently against his balls before wrapping my leg around his outer thigh, grinding my body against his. His hand tightens on my back, his fingertips possessively grabbing at my skin as he matches my moves, mirroring my body motions.
I slide my body as I lose myself in the music, the liquor in my blood making me forget why this is probably a terrible idea. When you’re drunk though, doesn’t every stupid thought seem like a great idea?
I roll my belly against his in waves. “Not bad for wearing a suit,” I compliment.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Miss Wright,” he murmurs against my ear.
I shudder. His voice is like hot sex in my ear.
“Oh, I have a good idea of what you’re capable of.” My finger trails down his lip. “I’m sure many women have lost their hearts to you.”
“I’m sure the same could be said about you, Miss Wright. Judging by the way Mr. Preston was looking at you, I’d say that many men have lost their hearts to you.”
I brush my fingertip against the back of his neck. “It’s a game. You just have to know how to play it right.”
“Do you know who says things like that? People with broken hearts…”
I shrug. Meeting his gaze, I admit, “True.”
“So, how did this guy break your heart?” He asks me while his other hand runs down the side of my waist.
I place my head on my boss’ chest, wanting to be comforted. “He died. But, he was never mine. It still shattered me to pieces, though.”
“Ah. I see,” he replies softly. He caresses my cheek, wiping away a tear that I didn’t even realize fell.
I rest my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me. Despite the song being a fast club song, we move slowly, our bodies swaying back and forth. It strangely reminds me of making love- the slow deliberate actions of a man trying to show a woman that she is his priority. I sigh contentedly against his chest, the alcohol making it all too easy to simply live in the moment- to not worry about Monday morning…
“So, what about you? I told you a piece of my sad story. No lovers sending gifts or coming by to see you,” I say.
“I was married. It didn’t work out. I’m a difficult person to get close to. I keep most at arm’s distance. It’s a family quirk I guess you could say. Most people never stick around long enough for me to let them in.”
“Am I one of those people you let in?” I ask.
His eyes are warm and hypnotic.
“You’re getting there,” he admits.
I smile before resting my head back on his chest. “Good. I’m glad.” After a few more minutes of dancing, I suddenly say, “I’m not opposed to being in a relationship again. I just have really high standards. Things that are deal breakers for me. No one has come close in a long time.”
“I see,” he says, “So, Mr. Preston doesn’t come close?”
“He comes close. But, not close enough. I just…I want it all. The guy that consumes you- your body, your mind, your soul. I’m looking for that person who says with his eyes, ‘I get you. And I love it all. We’re a team ‘til the end.’”
“A woman like you shouldn’t ever settle. It would…be a travesty to see,” he murmurs in my ear.
I glance up, looking at his lips, and without thinking, lean in. My fingers touch the smooth skin on his cheeks. I want to kiss him so badly that it hurts. But, we’re in public, around other wealthy businessmen. Some of these men likely know Blaze. If I kiss him now, rumors will start. People could jump to conclusions. I could embarrass him. I refrain from making a move.
“Do you want to see what I used to do here at the club before I worked for you?” I ask.
He opens his mouth to speak with uncertainty in his eyes. I take his hand, so large that my hand disappears in it, and pull him along to the bar. He sits down at the stool as I walk around the back.
As the bartenders are about to protest, I say, “Don’t worry. I’m a friend of Trent. I used to work in the lounge. You won’t get in trouble for me being back here.” Their protests die on their lips. Mr. Townsend watches my every move as I pick up the tumbler. “Dirty martini for you, sir,” I say seductively as I begin to set up the trick. I add the alcohol into the shaker high in the air, and thankfully the trick goes as expected and letting go of the shaker, it appears to be floating in air.
I hear a few customers’ murmurs as I grab the floating shaker and toss in some ice. I begin to shake the drink, but for extra dramatic flair, roll the tumbler down my arm to my shoulder before hitting it off my shoulder and into the air. I spin around and catch the tumbler mid- air. The pink neon lights that blur together as I turn around, create a beautiful light show that dazzle my eyes. I feel the energy in the room, hungry, because everyone here want something- to either be loved and admired for a little while, cash to make it through the week, or some with the hope of finding love and a rich man to take them away. The hunger of the place is palpable; I can feel it in my drunken state, and I don’t know why but it’s making me hornier. Applause breaks out in the lounge for my trick’s efforts as I pour the mixture into the martini glass. Topping it off with an olive, I hand it to my boss.
/> “One dirty martini for a man I think very dirty thoughts about,” I say suggestively before winking. Passing him the drink, he wraps his hand around mine before taking the glass. Electricity runs from his hand into mine, shocking me by its intensity. When he slides his hand off to grab the martini neck, my hand suddenly feels cold from where his had been. He raises the glass to his lips as a smile spreads across them.
A few men rush over to the bar.
“Best trick I’ve seen in years,” they say, holding out money for me. In this business, you do not refuse money from men like these, wealthy and powerful. It is seen as a form of insult.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the bills from their outstretched hand.
“Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve, Miss Wright?” My boss asks, breaking through the noise of the room.
“I do in fact. That was just a cute little parlor trick.”
He takes a sip of the martini before placing it down on the counter. “What’s your best trick?”
I lean across the bar counter top and whisper, “I fuck like a goddess.”
He licks his lips, his eyes so intense they’ve just undressed me and are now fucking me where I stand, and I’m about to come.
“We’ll see about that now, won’t we?”
I smile brightly. “Yes, we will.” Our eyes stay locked on each other until we hear Trent’s voice calling us to come.
Looking at two other bartenders who are glaring at me for stealing their spotlight, I ask, “Will you clean this up?”
They glance up at Trent then back at me. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Beneath the bar counter where the other patrons cannot see, I divide the money up.
“Here. Then take this.” I discretely hold the money out for them before palming a twenty for myself. “Thanks for letting me play.”
I know I am within my right to keep all of the money, but if I’m going to be working here again, it’s good to make friends. I have been out of this scene for a while. A little bribery never hurts.
I leave the bar, walking over to Mr. Townsend. I wrap my arm around his waist and pick up the drink, toasting him. “To one hell of a night.” I finish the martini and lick the alcohol off my lips. “Damn, I make good drinks.”
He chuckles, such a deep rumbling noise that sets my belly on fire. “I think Mr. Preston is waiting.”
He stands up, his hand on my lower back again, but stops half-way.
Leaning down, he tucks my hair behind my ear and whispers, “Are you sure about this? Whatever he has over you, I can bury him.”
It doesn’t work that way in my world, and I don’t expect him to understand.
“No, I want this,” I say, so he escorts me into the room.
***
We walk into the office, just as it was minutes before. Mr. Townsend’s sharp eyes take in everything.
“So,” Trent says, “ready to begin?”
“This room is a little small for the three of us. We could go back to my place and have a much larger space,” Mr. Townsend says.
“We could go back to my townhouse,” Trent adds, “It’s more than comfortable.”
I try not to roll my eyes at Trent. I know the thought of showing off his place and all of its bells and whistles to the renowned Mr. Townsend is too tempting for him to ignore.
“Your place sounds acceptable,” Mr. Townsend replies, to my surprise.
“Great!” Trent exclaims, clapping his hands. “My car is downstairs. My driver can take us there.”
“No,” my boss replies, “I don’t drive with anyone else but my driver.”
I stand there, staring at these two megalomaniacs, wondering if they’re going to spend the rest of the night negotiating everything. I’m antsy to begin and feel like we’re never going to get started.
“Fine. We’ll take your car,” Trent says as we all head for the door.
***
As we step into the car, Mr. Townsend speaks to Daniel quietly for a few moments before we head out.
“Mr. Preston, you’ll have to give my driver your address,” my boss says.
After Trent does so, the car pulls off and into the bustling, city night.
The air inside the car is so thick with tension that it could be cut with a knife. No one is talking, but I can feel both men’s eyes on mine. I am studiously staring at my hands sitting in my lap. This is probably the worst idea I have ever had in my life. Damn that tequila.
“We’re at Mr. Preston’s, sir,” Daniel calls out.
The car pulls to a stop, and Mr. Townsend holds his hand out for Trent to go first.
As Trent opens the door to step out, Mr. Townsend kicks Trent out of the car with his polished dress shoe, sending him flying onto the sidewalk.
Yanking the door closed, Mr. Townsend shouts, “Drive, Daniel!”
“Yes, sir,” the man replies calmly, unfazed by the scene. I turn around, staring out the back window as Trent stands up, brushing off his suit. He stares at the town car with a look so chilling that I shudder in fright. When I can no longer see him, I turn back around.
“What did you do that for?” I am barely able to hold in my panic.
His eyes narrow. “Do I look to you like a man who shares his woman? I will not accept his hands all over you.” I stare at him with my mouth wide open. Realizing what I must look like, I snap my mouth shut. “Secondly, Trent is not good enough for you. If any other man will have you, it’s not going to be that scumbag. He is beneath you, Victoria, in every aspect.” He points his finger at me. “Do. Not. Settle.”
I place my head in my hands, trying not to cry. “What have you done?”
“What are you talking about?” he asks me in the same sharp tone.
“I was going to sleep with Trent tonight because I was coming back to the club on Saturday nights. I’m behind on my bills, and I need the extra money badly. Also, my friend just lost her job there and he was going to make some calls and help her out with a new job.”
Mr. Townsend takes a deep breath, staring at me furiously. “My connections far outreach Trent’s. I’ll get your friend a new job. All she needs to do is tell me where she wants to work, and it’ll be taken care of. You won’t owe me a thing for the favor either. You certainly don’t have to sleep with me to get it. It’s already been given. That’s what real men do, Miss Wright, they take care of the women in their lives, not force them into bed as payment.”
My eyes narrow. “A free favor? Nothing in life is free.”
He shrugs. “Think of it as another office perk for five years of dedicated service to Townsend Realty Company. I couldn’t have pulled off half the sales I did without your help.”
My shock turns to anger. “Do you have any idea how much money we make at that club? On a Saturday, we make about two grand. On a slow night, we make anywhere from four hundred to a thousand. I can’t pass up coming back to the club.”
“So, you’re telling me that you can’t do anything else to make that kind of money?” He asks.
Gritting my teeth as the anger pulses hot through my veins, I spit out, “Well, it was suggested that I find some rich CEO who will pay to have sex with me. So, can you set that up for me, Mr.Townsend, as another office perk? Do you know any wealthy men who’d like to fuck me for two grand a week?”
“Done,” he replies coolly. “So, where would you like to go tonight?”
The anger switches to confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You are looking for a wealthy man to pay you weekly for sleeping with him.” He holds out his hands. “Problem solved.”
“You?” I ask, sure that my jaw is dropping to the floor.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, his voice subdued, almost vulnerable. No, that can’t be right. I must have heard it wrong, because there’s no reason in the world for Mr. Townsend to be vulnerable. The man practically owns New York City and everyone in it. No reason for him to be anything but confident. “I assure you, Miss Wright, that I’ll take ca
re of you financially and physically. Believe it.”
With my arms crossed, I pinch my bicep hard. I fight back the hiss trying to escape my lips. I’m definitely awake, which means this is really happening.
“No, there’s no problem.” Two thousand a week in cash for sleeping with my outrageously sexy boss? Oh, hell yes!