Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
As Kara accepts the large ‘trophy’, Jaxx leans over. “Have you been keeping track of your sales?”
I glance at the table, which is still full of display products. “I was, but we got so busy that I kinda lost count.”
Jaxx arches a thin brow and purses her lips. “I think you’re gonna be more than satisfied,” she taunts, “because that last sale you made?” I nod, remembering the woman who bought a gift box, lube, and a cock ring. “That was your twelfth one. You earned the bonus.”
“What?” I gasp, looking under the table for the stack of boxes but finding none. “Are you serious?”
“We both did. Dolla, dolla bills, bitch.” She feigns making it rain money while spinning in a circle.
Okay, maybe a Diamond Dick wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, I wouldn’t have to display it on the shelf in my therapy office, but I’d be quite happy to earn that baby. Especially given the fact that if I just earned two thousand dollars in two weeks, how much did Kara make?
“Dayum!” I grin as excitement and relief wash through me. So much so that I’ve almost forgotten falling on my face and spilling a bag of dicks in front of a room full of guys. But definitely not forgetting the blond sex god’s glare or the gentle but firm way he helped me up. I’ve got some fantasy plans for that and the Velvetream Rabbit I decided to treat myself with. I can’t sell it without trying it, after all.
We don’t make it far after the quarterly party wraps up. Jaxx informs me that we’re celebrating our success with drinks and steers me toward the bar in the hotel’s basement. I definitely don’t argue with that plan, but when she pushes the ‘B’ on the elevator, I worry the bar will be a smoky cigar lounge or something.
Thankfully, it’s nothing like that. It’s classy and upscale, just like the hotel, with a long, gleaming wooden bar along one wall, booths with tall dividers that lend privacy, and a piano player subtly tickling the ivories in the corner.
“That was amazing,” Jaxx sighs as she falls into a booth. “So many satisfied customers.”
I laugh at her obvious double meaning. “It does make me a little sad for them, though. I mean, yeah, a toy can be fun, something to spice up the humdrum maybe, but there’s something to be said for communicating your needs with your partner too. If he doesn’t know where a clit is, show him. Let him watch you and learn how you want to be touched. Don’t just say ‘oh, well’ and handle things yourself after he’s rolled over.”
Jaxx rolls her eyes. “You’re going therapist on me. We’re celebrating toy triumphs tonight, not solving the flaws in the sexual patriarchy.”
Before I can argue, a waitress stops by. I order a frozen margarita, and Jaxx asks for a whiskey with an orange garnish. “Don’t start without me, but I’ve got to piss. Be right back.”
I giggle a little as she slips back out of the booth. Her crude language and zero fucks given attitude are somehow charming coming from her.
A moment later, the waitress returns with our drinks plus a plate of tiny sourdough bread toasts, hummus, and olives. “Oh, we didn’t—" I start to tell the waitress, but she cuts me off.
“Your friend ordered it on her way to the restroom. Said she’s hungry enough to, uhm . . . eat hairy ass?” She seems more than a bit confused by Jaxx and basically runs away while the plate is still clattering to the tabletop.
I take a sip of my margarita, closing my eyes to savor it. I probably should’ve ordered a water before the waitress scampered off because I’m realizing that I’m thirsty after the day’s work. And hungry. I don’t want to end up on my ass drunk.
I dig into the toast and hummus too, not waiting on Jaxx despite her instruction to do so. I’m three toasts in when a throat clears beside me. “Oh!” I exclaim, shocked at the man standing there and the dribble of hummus that’s escaping my bottom lip. I swipe at my mouth with a finger, slipping it into my mouth to lick it clean.
I’m stunned into silence by his sudden appearance, not to mention his blond, blue-eyed, well-dressed, magnetic presence. Even if I hadn’t seen him front and center on stage, everything about him says Head Mother Fucker In Charge.
“Surprised to see you’re still here after that stunt earlier,” he says. His voice is deep, smooth, and edged with anger.
“Stunt?” I echo. “More like the most embarrassing moment of my life.”
I don’t extend the invitation, but still, he annoyingly slips into the booth across from me, making himself at home with one arm stretched out along the seatback and the other resting casually on the tabletop. If I were a gambling woman, I’d bet he’s manspreading beneath the table, claiming space in that annoyingly, presumptive male way. Like, we get it, you’ve got big balls, but if they need that much breathing room, you should probably see a doctor about that.