Stacey winks. “You, me, and half the women in the Western world.”
We both snigger.
“I can dream about that fantasy all night, but if a fella comes near me with a whip, I’ll break his fingers.” Stacy screams with laughter this time, but I can’t.
Instead, I imagine Bryce brandishing a whip and wearing nothing but a leather thong, and a blanket of sweat covers my back.
“Of course,” my voice shakes as I speak, “he may well be a psychopath who wants to cut me into a thousand pieces and feed me to his cannibalistic Dom chums.”
We go silent, and the atmosphere is tense when we look at each other.
“No way. Why bother with the conversation, the contract offer, or the card. He could have just chatted you up, took you on a date, pretended to like you, then cut you up into a thousand pieces.”
This shouldn’t reassure me, but it does. “Good point.”
“So, what’s he look like?” She grins, rubbing her hands together. “This wealthy Dom of yours? Is he worth the money?”
“Oh yes,” I gush, “You have never saw anyone like him. I mean, models have nothing on this guy.”
“Details please.”
“Okay, well. He has the palest, deepest set eyes; green, I think. Maybe pale blue-green? Piercing, brooding. We weren’t close enough for long for me to get a good look. Plus, I was too nervous to stare.”
“Sounds dreamy, but screw his eyes.” Stacey’s brows pinch. “What about the size of the bulge in his crotch?” She grabs my hand. “What about his body?”
“Never noticed his crotch, thanks. But he’s super tall and lean. I imagine he’s all muscles under the Italian suit he wore.”
“And his mouth? Is he kissable?”
“Hell yeah. His lips are the softest part of him, like two pink cushions in a diamond sculpture.”
“What? So his face is supposed to be the diamond sculpture? You’re no poet, Amelia. Sounds like the annoying Twilight guy who everyone got the hots over. I’m still in the wolfs’ corner.”
“I wanted both,” I snort, recalling my ménage à trois fantasies of nights with a vampire and a werewolf—both demonstrating a delicious blend of dominant consideration. Arousal builds inside me, remembering Bryce’s high cheekbones, strong jawline, and lofty height. In my mind, he’s already naked, beckoning me into his bed.
“Oh stop. I just mean he has a striking, angular face which encases achingly feminine eyes, and a voluptuous, oh-so-kissable mouth.” I try to explain.
“You got me, he sounds hot. Scorching hot. So what’s the problem?”
I imagine him beneath me as I ride him to orgasm...
“He wants to pay a life-changing sum of money to spend time with you. Sounds to me like you’d go there for free. Hell, so would I. Actually, I could join you. We could go halves in the money.”
I stop imagining him for a minute and consider Stacey’s justification. “You think I should do it then? Whore myself out like that?”
“Don’t get bogged down by labels like whore. He’s a gorgeous guy who wants to spend a night with you but without strings presumably, and is not only prepared to pay for dinner, like a normal date, but a whole lot more. It’s not like you’d have to screw a man you don’t fancy. Look at you. You’re already doing it in your head, aren’t you?”
It’s like she can read my mind, I swear. “How do you do that?”
“You’re an open book, sweetie. That’s why I love you, but why guys leave footprints on your forehead. And it’s exactly why this offer is a potential lifesaver. Bryce can wipe away your troubles, give you a little loving, and feed your fantasies for a lifetime. Don’t think about it as being a whore just because he’s offering to pay. He is fate’s gift to you, and you deserve it. If you go about this with your eyes open, you can make this work for you. You’re in control here, not him.”
She actually thinks it’s okay?
Am I making a big deal out of nothing?
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but this still feels strange, Stacey. Even dangerous.”
She holds the card up in front of my face, ready to rip it in two.
“Best get rid of this then. Don’t want you taking a chance on something incredible if it feels ‘strange’ now, do we? Anyway, I have a shift to get ready for.”
I’d have to wait tables for a lifetime to earn $100,000.
“Stop!” I yelp.
“Oh yes?” Stacey questions with a smile.
“Don’t rip it, I’ve not made a decision either way yet. But what if he’s a psycho? Seriously, what then?”