The Hotel 2 (The Billionaire Seduction)(14)

I step out of the shower and towel myself off as I walk into the  bedroom, grabbing the beer I left on the desk and downing all of it.  It'll take a lot more than beer to cool off the energy that's gathering  momentum inside of me though. There's a song with a slow beat and a  growling guitar playing, and the dusty light of a dying LA sun  highlighting parts of my room through the blinds. I grab my phone as I  settle on the edge of the bed and spin through the contacts.

I pause before hitting dial on a friend. I could dress sharp and head  out to the bars of Los Angeles, get plenty drunk, and see where my  instincts lead me  –  most likely my place or hers  –  but that's not what I  want tonight. I love the thrill of the chase, but I'm ready for action  right now.

Then there's ‘Hot Ass,' ‘Kinky Blonde,' ‘Finger Sucker,' ‘Leggy  Redhead,' and all the other girls with talents memorable enough to give  them a special place in my contacts, but even that won't cut it.

Tonight I want something dirty. Something new. Something a little dangerous. My body's thirsting for a new taste.

I walk through the long hallway and down the staircase that runs to the  gigantic den of the mansion, big and empty but for the expensive toys  and random beer bottles lying around. I open the BootyCall app on my  phone and it presents me with a big green button, the word ‘chat'  written across it like a big understatement. I swipe it with my thumb  and hold the phone to my ear.

"Hey," comes a dark, husky voice on the other end. Now this is more like  it. I pour myself some of the whiskey I keep on the coffee table and  stretch out on the couch.

"Hello there."

"So. What you looking for?" she says, making it clear what she's looking for herself.

"I'm not sure. But I'll know when I find it."

She laughs, and it sounds like she's making love to the phone.         

     



 

"I like your accent," she says. "Where you from?"

"I'm Irish."

"Ooh," she coos appreciatively. "You got money?"

It's not my favorite question, but hey, this is Hollywood after all. If I  didn't fuck girls who said stuff like this I'd be a monk here.

"Yeah," I say, smiling, "I'm fucking loaded. You got a nice rack? Since we're asking personal questions and all."

"Thirty-four double-dees. As good as money can buy."

Again, it's a weird turn of phrase, but I've heard worse.

"So what are you offering?" I ask.

She laughs a little, and I can hear her tongue rolling around her lips  as she does so. The combination of a husky voice and my imagination is  pretty cock-pulling, and I'm pressing the cold whiskey glass against my  boxers to keep my dick from bursting out like something in a monster  movie.

"I'm offering a whole night of the dirtiest, nastiest stuff you could  ever imagine," she says, breathing into each word like her body's so hot  even she can't handle it. My imagination is running wild. "We can do it  slow … or we can do it fast … I'll be like hot chocolate in your mouth … "

"How can I refuse … "

" … for only three grand."

A cold shower could not have crippled my hard-on more. "What?! Are you fucking kidding me?"

Her voice is all innocence now. "What's the matter, honey?"

"I thought this was a hook-up app, not a hooker app." That's one thing I don't do.

She giggles. "It's worth it, sugar. If I like you, I'll even give you a discount."

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Paying for sex kinda kills it for me, you know? Good luck."

I cancel the call and let it show me the big ‘chat' button again. I take  a healthy swig of the whiskey in my glass and decide to give it one  more go.

I push the big button, bringing the phone to my ear. Someone picks up on  the other end, but for a few moments all I hear is silence.

"Hello?" I say. Another quiet beat. I'm about to hang up when-

"Um … hello?"

The voice sounds quiet, feminine, definitely over the age of consent, and too nervous to be a hooker. So far so good.

"Well hello there." It's not my best line, but her hesitation tells me  she's new at using the app, which means I'll have to take it slow so she  doesn't hang up before the fun even gets started.

"Hi," she finally replies back. There's an awkward silence.

Wow, we're off to a great start.

"So … " I say, trying to sound friendly. "What's your sign?"

She laughs, and it sounds nice. Genuine, soft, real  –  the kind of laugh  that you don't get in Hollywood too often. I laugh a bit too.

"Truthfully?" she says. "I'm … a Scorpio."

"Oh really," I reply, drawing out the word, insinuating this actually means something.

"Why does everyone always say it like that? I don't even know what it  means! It's the sign of revenge, right? And jealousy? But that's not me  at all."

"It's also the sign of sex, death, and reinvention," I tell her. "You  know, like rising from the ashes. Big emphasis on the sex part, as it  were."

"Oh." She giggles nervously, and I can practically hear her blushing over the phone. "That explains a lot, I guess."

"Does it, now?" I'm intrigued. "Explain it to me. I'm all ears."

She huffs out a breath, exasperated. "That's not what I meant! I meant,  it explains why people assume things about me, not that I'm some kind of  nympho or something. I mean, it's garbage, right? Nobody really  believes in this stuff." She laughs again, and I can feel the warmth in  it. Or maybe it's the drink, because at this point I've lost track of  how many in I am.

"How very sensible of you," I say.

"I don't know if I'm sensible. I mean, I'm talking to a stranger on a booty-call app."

"Booty-call app? I thought this was for ordering pizza."

She giggles again, letting her nerves out, and something about it makes me smile.

"Sorry, this is my first time using this. Have you done this before?" she asks.

"What? Spoken to a woman with an incredibly cute laugh? Sure. Not that often, though."

"Haha! Very charming. But I meant used this app."

"A couple of times," I say, figuring the white lie will help increase her comfort level. "You? Any internet dating, or-?"         

     



 

"Never. It's not really my … thing. I guess you'd say. This is pretty out of character for me."

"Oh yeah?" There's just something so undeniably appealing about breaking  in an uninitiated new booty-caller, I'm happy to listen to her talk  about her lack of experience.

"Yeah. I just saw something about it on TV and figured I'd give it a shot."

"People still watch TV?" I tease.

"Haha! Yeah … I dunno. It was kinda like … fate. The timing was just a  little too … perfect." She sighs. There's clearly something upsetting her,  and although normally I'd do a 180 at the first sign of baggage in a  woman, right now it's nice to know I'm not the only one having a rough  time.

"So signs are garbage, but fate is a thing?"

"Haha, I know. I'm a mess." She tries to laugh again, but I hear a tremor in her voice.

"Maybe. Aren't we all?"

"I don't know. You sound like you've got it all figured out."

"Believe me, I really don't." For some reason, being honest with her is  coming to me easily. Partly it's the whiskey, but she's just shown me  her vulnerability, too. Normally I'd put on my game face and flirt my  way past anything heavy, but with the anonymity of this app I can  actually just be … myself.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice is genuinely curious, coaxing more out of me. And I  realize: I want to tell her more. Some part of me needs this.

"Yeah. Right now I'm all alone in a house that's bigger than the  neighborhood I grew up in, I've drunk an entire bottle of whiskey since I  got up this morning, and if this booty-call app thing doesn't work out,  all that's left for me to do is hit the gym for the sixth time today."

"You still sound better off than me," she says. "My roommate just kicked  me out and I had to move into a studio apartment that's about the size  of my parents' bathroom, I'm drinking something that's supposed to be  alcohol but which I'm sure is some kind of tractor fuel, and I don't  even know if I'll have a job to go in to tomorrow. So … yeah." Her voice  catches on this last line, and then I hear her sniffle and take a sip of  something.

"Sounds rough," I say, meaning it. "But things could be worse."

"How?"

"You could have been connected with somebody else, for one. Rather than  this charming drunk Irishman with an absolutely out-of-this-world six  pack that you'll just have to take my word about, unless you'd care to  see it for yourself."

She laughs, and I can hear a rustling as she adjusts herself. The nerves are gone.

"Confident, aren't you?" she says, a little sultriness entering her voice.