Jas replies, “Not good. Ducky is staying with her until she’s better.”
Foxy says, “She’ll pull through. She’s a tough gal.”
We arrive to the new store that the girls have been talking about. It’s packed and the clientele all look the same.
I ask Jas, “Is this a stripper store?”
She grins and pulls me through the doors with her. I’ve never been to a stripper store before, but right away I see the appeal. We each go off in different directions. The store is arranged by colors, which is seriously pleasing to the eye.
A sales associate comes over to me. He’s wearing heels that make him over six and a half feet tall, but he’s rocking the hell out of them.
“I love your shoes!”
He pops his brown leg to the side and says, “Aren’t they to die for? We have them in eight colors.”
“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to wear them.”
“Girl, I saw your legs when you walked in. The shoes will give you courage and bring your man to his knees.”
Several faces cross my mind and I grin.
“Lead the way.”
A few hours later, the girls and I arrive at the club and park in front. It’s early, so there’s no one to help with our bags, but we manage. When I drop everything on my bed, I laugh. I didn’t realize I’d bought so many things. I quickly cut the tags off the clothes and put them away, but leave out my new shoes, a pair of shorts, and a bikini top. I might not be as bold as the other girls, but I’m going to give this a try.
My phone dings and I glance at the screen. Agent Hill. The club’s been quiet and he’s been pissed that there’s no news. He just can’t seem to fathom that nothing is going on. Well, that’s not true. Something’s going on, but, after last time, I’m scared to say something. What if someone else dies because of me? Besides, I don’t have concrete information for him.
Douchebag: My sources say you left the club today. Where did you go?
Me: If your source knows I left, then shouldn’t they know where I went?
Douchebag: I’m in no mood to play games.
Me: That makes two of us.
Me: For your information, the girls and I went shopping.
I snap a picture of my shoes and hit send.
Me: See? Nothing wild.
Douchebag: Was anything said?
Me: We mostly talked about how one of the girl’s might not get over losing the love of her life who was murdered during the run.
He doesn’t reply and I toss my phone on the bed. Prick. I go to the bathroom, undressing. When the water is hot, I step in, letting the steam surround me. Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. I grin over my shoulder at Razor.
“How do you always know when I’m in the shower?”
“You’re predictable and I’ll take any chance I can get to see your fine ass naked.”
Turning so we’re chest to chest, I kiss him. He’s already hard, as he usually is. I thought I liked sex. I think Razor’s sex drive might just beat mine.
“I want to try something different this time,” he says against my lips.
“I already told you I don’t want to do anal.”
He grins. “As much as that breaks my heart, I was thinking of something else.”
Reaching between us, his hand goes between my legs where he rubs my clit until I’m gasping.
“I had a test done today and I’m clean. How would you feel about letting me go raw?”
Suddenly, this shower is too small and he’s too close.
I lie. “I’m not on the pill, Razor. It’s too risky and I don’t want a kid right now.” Or ever.
He nods. “No biggie. It was just a thought.”
I’m not in the mood anymore, but he is, so I drop to my knees.
“No, babe. I don’t want to do this if you’re not into it.”
He pulls me to my feet leaving me feeling even more conflicted. Why am I so worried about how he feels? And why does it bother me that I think I might have hurt him?
I decide to be honest. “Razor, I’ve never had sex without a condom. Not using one seems too serious, and I thought we were just having fun. Sex is sex, remember?”
“I know. I guess I’ve been getting caught up in my own thoughts.”
“Such as?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why can’t we make this more serious? I like you and I think you like me.”
“It’s not that simple, though.”
“Because of Bash?”
And Saint. And maybe even King.
“Yes, because of Bash. I blew him off because I’m not looking for a relationship. It’s not fair of you to ask the same thing.”
“You’re right.” He pauses. “You’re the only person I’ve ever slept with more than once. I usually fuck ‘em and leave ‘em.”
I nod. “Me, too.”
“Then, how in the fuck do you explain what we’re doing? This is something neither of us do and yet here we are.”
“I don’t know, Razor. The only thing I know is I don’t want anything serious.”
“If this is about Bash, then I don’t have a problem sharing with him. I want you to be happy. If that means you’re with him, too, then I’m down with that.”
“I’m not sure what I want.”
He sighs. “I guess let me know when you figure it out.”
He leaves me standing there feeling like the world’s biggest bitch. Maybe I am. Maybe this is what I get for going against the rules I’ve set for myself. Maybe I’m too fucked up to ever be happy.
18
Bash
I debate going to the club tonight. There’s no need, other than I must enjoy torturing myself by seeing Olivia and Razor together. When I arrive, the air is thick and storm clouds loom in the distance.
I stop by Saint’s office to check in, but he’s not here.
King says, “Hopefully he’s out getting his dick sucked. He’s been in a worse mood than you have.”
“Fuck off.”
King snorts and I head to the main room. Karma passes me, wearing matching black lace bra and panty set.
“Hey, big boy. You should come find me later.”
She saunters off without waiting for a reply. I know she’s wanted me for a while. Maybe I should fuck her, just to get over Olivia. But the thought makes me cringe. One of the other whores passes me wearing a similar getup as Karma. There must be some kind of theme going on tonight. When I get to the main room, I stop dead in my tracks.
Olivia is serving a table, which isn’t unusual. What is unusual is what she’s wearing. She’s got on these fucking short shorts that makes her legs look like they’re a mile long. She moves and I let out a groan. She’s wearing heels that ought to be illegal. They’re so tall that it looks like she’s walking on toothpicks. Her ass sways as she goes to the next table. She’s not wearing a lacy bra like the others are. Instead, she wears a red crop-top with fringe that jiggles as she moves. She’s like a walking wet dream.
Razor bumps into me and says, “Sorry.”
His eyes are on Olivia, not that I can blame him.