Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
The door opens, and I start to climb out.
But then she asks, “Why me?”
I pause and glance at her, but I just chuckle. She will find out.
I help her out of the car, Dallas following, and the three of us filter through the antechamber, putting up phones, wallets, and her clutch.
Letting her go first, I put myself in the middle as, one by one, we enter the dark, fog-filled room.
Slow, sexy beats hit my ears, couples appearing through the smoke, watching the girls on poles. Mrs. Allhouse rides a Sybian, a table full of men she still refuses to fuck enjoying the show that she’s willing to give them. Edward Templehof gets a lap dance; his wife watches.
I might tolerate this place more if they had anything for me. Like the sight of our new football coach on his knees for someone in a suit.
Aracely slowly takes her surroundings in, her gorgeous legs drifting one after the other as she absorbs the room, the music, and the view. I take in her, still confused about how I can appreciate the nice-looking, healthy, and fit body of a beautiful woman and have no desire to touch it.
Honestly, though, my life wouldn’t be easier if women did it for me. I’ll never fall in love and have to be tormented about missing out on business opportunities I could have if I would just bring my wife in here.
Men turn, their eyes climbing down her body, her poor-girl outfit too perfect with the show she puts on. Wide-eyed, with uncertain steps, she looks like a nice little street urchin we pulled out of a public school.
Jerome approaches ahead of us, dressed well in black suit and black shirt. His eyes are on me, but as he passes Aracely, his gaze locks on hers. “Hi,” he says, almost breathless.
He finds his way to my side, questions in his eyes.
Milo better not fucking be here.
An attendant holds open a curtain for us, and I gesture to Aracely. “Please.”
She heads inside, and I follow, “Lost in the Fire” playing throughout the Wolfe Room.
“Can I join you?” Jerome asks me.
But Dallas answers, “No.”
I hold back my snort.
We move to the couches, Dallas taking a seat across from me, and the curtain starts to close. I catch Jerome’s eyes and dart my gaze to the mirrors. Grinning, he takes off.
It’s perfect he’s here, and I want him to see.
Taking Aracely’s hand, I lead her up to the riser that I had brought in, in place of the table. “Up here.”
She positions herself on the circular disk in the center of the room, the two-way mirror in front of her.
“Do you see some clothes you like?” I ask her.
She lets her eyes wander over the rack in the corner and the table next to it, an array of dresses, skirts, shirts, and lingerie displayed about. The ladies who manage the Wolfe Room are good at accommodating strange requests.
Aracely nods, tipping her chin down with doe eyes looking up, shifting into the role she’s being paid for.
“You can keep anything you want,” I say clearly for whoever is listening. “But you have to try it on for us.”
Biting her bottom lip, she lifts her eyes to the clothes again. I take a seat to her right as she steps off the riser and peruses her options, Dallas and I facing each other. No tie tonight for him. No vest. Just a crisp white shirt, three buttons open. His collarbone peeks out, a V of skin showing down his chest, and I can smell his signature scent. I have no idea what it is, but it reminds me of the Ministry library. Old paper, a rocks glass filled with bourbon, vanilla, and a hint of tobacco. I won’t ask him what it’s called, because when I smell it, I want to believe it’s just him and that he’s near.
He stands up and moves to Aracely’s side, sliding his finger through some lingerie and picking for her.
Leading her back to the riser, he looks up at her. “You okay?” he whispers.
Her gaze lifts to the mirror, something in her expression like excitement.
“I think I might be,” she whispers to us.
Does she know Jerome’s watching her? Probably a few people, actually. My father has people he speaks to regularly. They’ll let him know what I’m up to.
I watch Dallas slide his hands up her skirt and pull down her black panties before holding out the lacy ones with shades of pale and dark pink. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she fits her legs through the openings and lets him pull them up.
He winks at her, and she quickly flips up her middle finger in his face.
My eye twitches as I watch their easy amusement with each other.
Smiling, he returns to the couch, and she removes her shirt, to my surprise, diving right into the role.