I want Rhys. And he must want me at least a little. He did make me come, after all. I can't imagine men make women come if they're not at least a little interested. Plus one of the times he saw me his gaze lingered on my lips. I think. I can't exactly be trusted when it comes to Rhys so I can't be certain but I'm pretty sure it happened.
"I need a Rhys badge," I declare as I set my lunch down and slide into a seat next to Payton in the employee cafeteria. It's been two weeks since he rolled me off his lap and left me with the parting words that we weren't happening. I still think we are.
"Are you really sure that's what you need?" Payton answers, fiddling with a straw wrapper and avoiding my eyes.
"Well, what I need is a plan, and positive reinforcements have always done wonders to motivate me. Why do you think I sold so many freaking cookies?"
"Because you're a goody two-shoes?"
"Yes," I agree, pointing at her with my fork, "that is true. But I find the badge reward system very satisfying and I'm sure once you make a Rhys badge, a plan will come to me." I smile and fork a heap of mashed potatoes into my mouth.
It's a comfort food kind of day. It's been a crazy two weeks. We had our soft opening this week, meaning the doors opened and the first guests have checked in, but it's mostly journalists and travel industry executives with comped rooms. It's allowed the staff to get their feet wet before the official grand opening in two weeks. We're already booked to ninety percent capacity for that week, so they don't have much time to get their routines down and work out any kinks.
"There's something I have to tell you," Payton says, and it turns out I've got some kinks to work out too.
Thirteen
LYDIA
"So he likes to pay for it? Is that what I'm dealing with here?" Lord, he's really not making this easy on me. I know they say nothing worth having comes easily, but this is asking a lot out of a virgin. Yet… I'm strangely attracted to the idea. But is that fucked up? Being turned on by the idea of him paying me for it?
Probably.
But I am.
Imagining Rhys picking me, it makes me warm, makes me flush in places I shouldn't. The idea that I could control the experience. The when and where. The idea that I'd turn myself over to Rhys, let him spread my legs and fuck me, without even taking me to dinner first… it turns me on.
It's so backwards. Upside-down and confusing and wrong. But it removes the doubt, doesn't it? If he picks me, if he pays for me, he wants me. And that is thrilling and freeing and liberating in ways I wouldn't have thought. I won't have to question if he's interested. If I'm his type, if he's sexually attracted to me. If my boobs are too small or my inexperience too off-putting.
Maybe my lust is making me delusional, but it makes sense to me. It's just so oddly clear-cut this way. It feels right to me, it turns me on, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?
"He loves paying for it. Allegedly. Per my source," Payton says, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper even though we're alone.
"Your source is a bellhop who swipes his keycard so the girls can access the elevator to the executive floor."
"I confirmed the story with my new friend in housekeeping!" Payton's done speaking softly, clearly outraged by my assessment of her intel. "I didn't bring this story to you without confirmation. This isn't Watergate."
"Nope." I shake my head. "I agree, this is nothing like Watergate. Not even a tiny bit."
Payton nods smugly as she takes a bite of her lunch and while I think.
I spend the rest of lunch lost in thought—the rest of the day, if I'm being honest. Then I hatch a plan. A completely crazy plan.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" Payton asks for possibly the third time since last night. "Or that this idea you have is even feasible? Maybe you could try propositioning him again first? It seems like that would be a lot easier. And saner. I feel like we might be getting a little carried away here with this plan of yours."
"Possibly. But I'm a very goal-oriented person and I want to lose my virginity this century. Preferably to Rhys. There's definitely chemistry between us, and he's clearly on the licentious side so he's either rejecting me because he's got some kind of fetish for paying for it or some hangup I haven't figured out yet. Or he thinks I'm too much of a good girl to be interested in what he's interested in." Spoiler, Rhys, I'm not that good.
Also, I read a romance novel once about a virgin auction and it ended in a happily-ever-after. But I keep that to myself because it's too crazytown to say out loud, even to Payton.
Payton plucks her Del Taco cup from the cup holder in my car and takes a sip. Their java iced coffees are life-affirming, and the value size is only a buck and less than a hundred and fifty calories so I can have one without fat or financial guilt. Plus, we deserved the caffeine this morning because we're on our way to Double Diamonds, which is reported to be a frequent club of choice for Rhys.
"Are you sure this place is open before noon on a Saturday?" I ask again, because why would a strip club be open before lunch? I'm in no position to judge anyone's life choices but I'm having trouble visualizing a scenario where one would need a lap dance before noon. Which is precisely why we're going this early, so we won't accidentally bump into Rhys before I'm ready.
"Twenty-four hours. I checked their website."
"They have a website?"
"Who doesn't have a website?"
Hmm. "Should I have applied online, do you think?"
Payton chokes on her iced coffee before setting it back in the cup holder. "No, I don't think you should have applied to be a prostitute online. I think that's an in-person kind of application."
"Okay."
"Besides which, their website is just for the dancers. I think the hookers are all very hush-hush."
"That sounds right."
"Totally."
"You know what I don't get though?"
"What?"
"Can't he find women willing to have sex with him for free? Clearly I would. Look at him."
"Well, you know what they say."
"What do they say?"
"Men like that, they're not paying for sex. They're paying for her to leave after."
Wow. That's really sad.
"You know he's gonna want anal, right?" Payton adds.
"I assumed so," I reply with a shrug.
"Don't worry," Payton says breezily. "I'm gonna make you a 'butt stuff' badge."
"You're a good friend."
"I really am," Payton agrees, rattling the ice in her drink.
When we arrive at Double Diamonds and step inside it's not what I expected, not at all. It's as awkward as I'd expected, two women walking into a strip club before noon. We're immediately asked if we'd like applications.
"I'd like to speak to the owner," I reply, doing my best to sound confident.