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“Robert. My name is Robert,” I found myself saying, inwardly cringing at breaking Darla’s number one rule.
Tiffany’s answering smile wasn’t steamy or sexy or sultry. It was simply lovely. “Robert. It suits you. But can I call you Robbie?”
Ugh. I hated the nickname Robbie, but she was the one paying for this whole exchange, so I guess what the customer wanted the customer got. I nodded. “Sure.”
She took another long drink of her whiskey then handed the glass to me. “Here, have some. You must be thirsty. They sure do keep it hot in here.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I guess it makes it more comfortable when you take your clothes off.” She lifted an eyebrow and I found myself relaxing. There was something easy about Tiffany. Despite the weird situation, it almost felt like we were just two people hanging out.
I took a drink of the whiskey, enjoying the way it warmed my belly. I handed the glass back to her but she waved it off. “You take the rest. It’s already gone right to my head.”
I knocked back the rest of the drink and put the glass on the table against the wall. “Should I start—?”
“So tell me, Robbie, what do you do when you’re not taking your clothes off?” Tiffany interrupted, putting her hand on my thigh. I would have thought it an innocent gesture if not for the way she curled her fingers into my flesh. Or how close her thumb rested to my ball sack.
“I’m pre-law. I plan to go to law school when I graduate,” I found myself telling her. She had started rubbing her thumb in gentle, persistent circles. The tip of her nail brushed against the material over my balls. My groin tightened in response. I couldn’t help it. The whiskey had gone to my head and I was definitely buzzed. I had never been much of a drinker.
Tiffany’s face brightened. “Law school? Wow! You must be so smart.” She angled her body toward me, her hand inching further up my thigh until she was practically cupping my junk. This wasn’t going at all how I expected it to, but I found myself going with it. Enjoying it even. I like the way she made me feel like the most amazing, interesting man in the world. Men are egotistical creatures by nature. Get a guy talking about himself and act like it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard and we’re eating out of the palm of your hand.
No one said males were particularly deep.
“I guess so,” I shrugged, enjoying her attention.
“What kind of law do you want to practice?” Tiffany asked, seeming to genuinely care about what I had to say.
“I’m not sure yet. I have time to figure it out. But I love the law. I just want to make the world a better place.” God, I sounded like a moron.
Tiffany pressed herself closer to me. “I can see that. I knew as soon as I saw you up on that stage that you were different. You were special.” She lifted her hand from my thigh and placed her fingers on my arm. A soft touch. Intimate even. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
I swallowed thickly.
“I thought you paid for me to dance,” I questioned.
Tiffany smiled. “I paid for your time. What we do with it is our business.”
I started to shake my head. “I can’t just leave. My boss will be pissed—”
“What if I paid for the rest of your shift?” she countered.
“Um…”
“Let me talk to your boss.” Tiffany got to her feet and left me alone in the seventies porn room.
What the hell was going on? Where was this going?
Tiffany seemed like a nice lady. She seemed into me and not just for my body. This entire exchange had thrown me off.
Tiffany returned ten minutes later and motioned for me to follow her. “Darla says it’s fine. Come on. My car’s out front.”
I looked down at the tight-fitting suit with the Velcro seams I was wearing. “I should change.”
Tiffany’s eyes heated. “Don’t. I like it.” Her voice became husky and I knew, without a doubt, where this evening was going.
**
“Ahh, Robbie, oh my god!” Tiffany screamed as I pounded away, my cock thrusting so deeply into her pussy I wondered if she could feel me in her throat.
We had gone back to her apartment—a massive space in the middle of the city. It used to be a warehouse and had been gentrified in the last few years. It was one giant room separated by plants and thin, gauzy dividers.
Tiffany had opened a bottle of wine. We talked a little more. I found myself telling her about my brother. About my financial responsibilities. About how much I wanted to take care of my family. She had a way of getting me to open up. She didn’t prod. She asked me questions. She let me speak without filling the silence. She wasn’t expectant. And because she wasn’t pushy, I found it easy to talk to her. I unloaded on Tiffany in a way I hadn’t spoken to anyone. Ever.
