Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(81)

Don't fucking lie to me. After you read that Out and About piece I know a part of you imagined what it would be like.

Take your closest friends and go check it out. Don't tell the husband though.

No honestly, don't. He'd be fucking insecure as fuck when a 6 foot 3  inch guy starts waving a long thick foot-long cock in your face.

Maverick points to a woman sitting in the front row. "Come up here," he says.

"Me?" the woman squeaks, questioning Maverick. She's looking around, wondering if he may be pointing to another woman.

I sit back.

I fucking love this part.

Maverick nods his head. "Yes, you. Come up here and join me, woman."

The crowd is screaming and clapping and urging her to get her ass on that stage.

Once there, Maverick sits her in a chair and thrusts his hips in her  direction. He grabs a can of whip cream that he's been keeping on  stage-it's one of his final moves-and he squirts some on her neck and  collarbone. Then he leans in and slowly licks it off. Her face is  growing flushed and it's clear that she's enjoying every minute of his  performance.

That dude's an industry veteran-a fucking legend.

Don't get me wrong. Even if these guys are built, it can be  intimidating, stripping in front of a hundred frenzied women yelling,  "Show us your Python!" But Mav's a pro, and when he lowers his fucking  g-string, they go fucking crazy.

That's what Python's does best. It's what we're fucking known for,  pleasing the ladies. And tonight, I'd say we're doing our job well.

Almost too well.

A group of women are sitting around a table, and I notice that they've  brought props. They're sipping their drinks from plastic straws in the  shape and color of purple cocks, and they're wearing light-up tiaras  with flashing cock LEDs.

Fuck, I love it.

I laugh out loud.

Don't get me wrong, doll. I'm glad they're having fun. Everyone could use a little more fun and escape in their lives, right?

Especially nowadays.

In fact, once you're done reading about this place, fucking come on  over. There'll be a complimentary guest pass waiting for you at the  door. I guarantee you'll have the fucking time of your life.

There's always a good mix of broads here-some young, some old, some tall  and some short. There's some hotties. And then there are some plainer  ones-according to society. I mean, I like all women. I think they're all  fucking sexy. Why do you think I made this club, anyways?

Anyways, fuck that. What I'm trying to say though, is that no matter  what skin color or how much money these broads got, there's one thing  that makes them all the fucking same.

They're all looking for a good time.

I'm hanging in the back, leaning one shoulder against a wall, and  surveying the crowds of women at each table and booth. I'm taking a  mental head count. It's a full house, which means we're doing great  business tonight.

Then one woman in particular catches my eye. As soon as I see her, that  headcount I was just keeping gets erased as if my brain's a fucking  Etch-a-Sketch and someone just gave it a quick and vigorous shake.

She's new. I haven't seen her in here before.

And she's hot, that's for fucking sure.

Fuck. Quick and vigorous shake is what you need when you look at that fucking broad.

I'm serious. I'm not just being crass to be crass.

I mean, look at those fucking gorgeous tits. I just want to push them together and stick my cock in between them. Fuck.

That ass. Tight fucking ass. Makes any man want to slap it. Squeeze it. Spank it.

My cock is fucking twitching with its own fucking heartbeat just looking at her.

She's got a slender body and a fucking tight waist. Golden fucking tresses coiffed beautifully.

If I don't go over and talk to her now, my brain is going to explode.

But something else catches my eye-I can tell she's fucking confident.  Like she's casing the joint. Like she fucking owns this place already.

I'm going to fuck her.

I'll try tonight. But I actually want to enjoy this.

Look at her. Fucking money. I fucking love that attitude she's giving.

I mean, I'll beat it down when I beat up that pussy, but I fucking love it.

She's talking to the bartender, Ben, a young college kid I recently  hired. She's leaning over and they're deep in conversation. It's a  fucking shame I can't hear what they're saying, but her mouth is open in  a wide smile and her plump lips are the color of red wine.

She's wearing long, gold, hoop earrings that catch the lighting of the  club and it bounces off her neck in quick sparkles. There's an intense  look in her eye that says she's driven, and smart. I fucking love a  woman with ambition.

I need to know who this woman is.

Right fucking now.

I need to put a name to a fucking face.

I leave my spot in the back of the club and walk toward the bar, and to  the mystery woman. I pull up a barstool and sit up right next to her.

"Let me guess, Sex on the Beach?"

"Excuse me?" she asks, turning in my direction.

"Your drink," I say, pointing to the rose-tinted cocktail in her glass. "It's fucking surprising, that's all."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, raising her eyebrow but playing along. "And why's that?"

Good. I definitely have her attention.

"Because it's so fucking typical," I say with a smirk as I look at her, "and you're anything but."

"You wanna know what's really typical?" she asks me, a smirk on her lips. "Is flirting with women at a bar."

"I'm just making an observation," I say, smiling and shrugging my  shoulders. If I'm honest, I'm fucking enjoying this game. "Ordering a  Sex on the Beach is a stereotypical girly thing to do, that's all."

She smiles and thinks for a moment before responding.

"And how would you know anything about women?" she asks me, turning to me. I can see her eyes fucking twinkle.

"Seems to me like you don't hire enough in this place," she says. "It's all men. Like someone likes the sausage."

"That's kind of the point," I laugh. "A fucking sausage fest is what the females want."

"What goes well with sausage?" she asks me, a coy smile.

"Mayonnaise and buns," I reply back and she gives me a nasty grin that seriously leaves my knees fucking weak.

Fuck, I've never been like this before with a girl.

But I'm still cool. I still got my swagger. Not done with this rodeo just yet. "So how did you know I run this place?" I ask.

"I have my ways," she says coyly. She notices the confused look on my  face and continues, "I'm kidding. Your picture and title are hanging on  the wall behind the bar. It doesn't take a genius to put the two  together."

Not sure what her angle is, but I'll go along for now.

"Well played," I smile. "What's your name?"

"I'm Destiny," she says, extending her hand to mine. It's warm and  slender and I notice her fingernails match the color of her lipstick.  Her petite hand makes mine look massive, which brings a smile to my lips   …  and makes my fucking cock twitch.

"So Destiny  …  you looking for a job?" I ask.

"What, here? In this place?"

"You just called me out for not hiring enough women  …  and if I'm honest,  this place could use a woman like you. Come join our team as a  manager."

That's right.

You fucking heard me. Sure, it's a snap decision. But I never get this  far without not trusting my gut and making snap decisions.

Besides, I'm in rare form tonight. Fuck. Here I am offering a manager  position to a woman I've never met in my life. I don't even know if  she's qualified. But something tells me she's fucking worth it.

"I don't know  …  I'd be awfully outnumbered," she hedges playfully.

"Which is exactly why you should accept," I say, making my point further.         

     



 

"I'll consider your offer," she says, grabbing her leather jacket from  the back of her stool and slipping it on. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Wait," I say, not letting her leave without a commitment. I know  better. Besides, I know she's feeling this. She wants to ride. "Let's do  brunch tomorrow. 10 am. I'm making this easy for you. All you have to  do is say yes, doll face."

She's now standing and slings her purse over one shoulder.

She looks at me for a moment without saying anything, and for the first  time in my life, I think a fucking woman might actually say no.

But instead she smiles and the first thing out of her lips is, "You've got yourself a date then, Python."

That's all she says before she turns and without looking back walks out.

I can't move.

I'm staring at that ass sway back and forth. Back and forth.

Fucking juicy ass. Makes me want to grab it. Squeeze it.

Python, eh?

She has no idea.





65





Destiny





There's a slight breeze in the air but the way the morning sun falls on  my skin makes it worth it. I lay back against my seat, taking in the New  York atmosphere as people around me engage in idle conversation. To my  left, a couple is talking quietly, sipping lattes and nibbling at bagels  while exchanging quiet looks of shy complicity.

I always liked the 230 Fifth bar because of this. There's an inviting  atmosphere, and it almost seems like you're sitting inside a magic  bubble while the true grit of New York stays outside. Not to mention the  view-the bar sits on the 29th floor, right on the rooftop, and it  stands right in front of the Empire State Building. That's why I chose  this bar as the place for my ‘date' with Austin … no, sorry, I meant to  say Mr. Python himself. I could've settled for neutral ground, but why  do something like that when I can have the home advantage?