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He seemed like such a nice guy and everyone knows nice guys usually aren’t very good in bed but maybe that was reserved for the Caucasian world.
Maybe in Mexico a gentleman was a clit ravaging, pussy pounding, cock thrusting madman.
Hey, a girl can hope.
I realized Valentino was staring at me and I remembered he’d asked a question. What was it? Oh…my name. What was my name again?
“Amanda,” I said. “Mandy.”
“Amanda,” he repeated.
“Mandy,” I corrected him. “Only my mother and telemarketers call me Amanda.”
“But why? It’s a beautiful name.”
I must have been blushing because he reached out and touched my cheek.
“You turn a beautiful red color, like a rose,” he said.
I was so embarrassed. I hated my blushing cheeks. They always made me look so stupid. I closed my eyes, still behind my glasses, and took in the feel of his hand on my face.
If he hadn’t been gorgeous I might’ve wondered who this guy thought he was putting his hand on me. But he was. And I didn’t. I liked it there.
Until he suddenly removed his fingers from my cheek.
“I almost forgot I am at work. I should not touch a guest like that. I am sorry, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him.
“No, I can get in much trouble. It’s just you are stunning, like a masterpiece hanging in a museum full of boring paintings. You umm. You attract me.”
I had to reach down and scoop my jaw up off the floor. Was this guy not perfect?
Holy cow.
He was sexy, employed, well-mannered, and slick with his tongue. I wondered just how slick that tongue could get. I wanted to find out.
“I like you,” I blurted out.
I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. Did I mean that I liked him in the way that a woman really likes a man she’s dating? Or did I mean that I liked him like a friend? If I was confused by my outburst then he must have really been baffled.
Valentino smiled and I felt my ass tighten and my pussy moisten. Because he was looking right at me, letting his eyes trace along my legs from my feet to my waist before looking over at the v-shape at the bottom of my bathing suit. He licked his bottom lip and smiled again.
“I have to go back to work, but do drink that, and I WILL see you later.”
“When?” I asked.
“I will find you,” he promised.
Then he was gone.
I sipped my drink, some kind of strange concoction that had orange juice, tomato juice, and something else sweet that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t delicious but it seemed to instantly refresh my body.
I’d had no desire to go out for the evening, but suddenly I felt the urge to hydrate quickly, shower, drop some Visine in my red eyes, slip into something sexy, and get back out into the clubs.
Valentino had invigorated me.
I had a purpose again.
