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My mind raced. Thank God I hadn’t kissed him. Kiss a guy like that, a womanizer, and he immediately wants more. Maybe I would’ve let him take my virginity, and you know what? It would’ve meant nothing to him. Zero, zilch. I would’ve just been another scratch on his bedpost. And though he could buy escorts and anything else he wanted, my virginity wasn’t for sale.
Well, at least not for him.
“Kiki, please listen—”
“Go fuck yourself!” I shouted, placing my hands in the center of his muscled chest and giving him a firm shove backwards.
He stared at me, open-mouthed, and I suspect for the first time in his life, absolutely at a loss for words.
Without so much as another glance in his direction, I turned on a heel and ran out, pushing past onlooking party-goers who were staring at the Boy Wonder and me, his cheap, trashy cocktail waitress. What must they think of me? Probably that I was trying to sleep my way to the top, one dick at a time. I shriveled in shame as tears slid down my cheeks. All I wanted was to be far, far away from Dazzlers.
“Kiki!”
His voice pierced through even the din of our fellow club patrons, but I was so over him. I’d let myself get lured in by good looks and easy wit once. Shame on me if I did it again.
I resisted his siren call and finally, at long last, made it to an exit, pressing open the door.
Turns out, I’d run right into the backroom of the club.
A hoard of red-clad waitresses turned to look at me, eyeballing my frazzled state.
“What’s up, girl?” one asked.
I panted, putting my hands on my thighs. “Tate. Fucking Tate.”
“Mmm, yeah, that sounds familiar,” another replied.
They all nodded, and I said, “I was stupid. It’s fine, it’s over.”
I moved past them, shuffling to my locker. Had I been about to run out sans trench coat, just into the open night with nothing but a bodysuit and heels? Man, my brain really had been fried by Tate.
I was frantically spinning the lock back and forth, trying to open it, when a French-tipped hand slid past and did the combo in three smooth spins.
“Hey Anaia,” I sighed, recognizing the fingers.
“I heard Tate was a dick,” she noted in an even tone, clicking open the locker door.
“Was I that loud?”
“Only a little.”
She put her lanky arms around me, cradling me in a soft hug and resting her chin against my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You deserve better.”
“He was meeting escorts. It makes me feel… so stupid, I guess. Like he was clearly just trying to pick me up for sex, not because he actually wanted to connect.”
“And you came free,” she finished with a shake of her head. “Gross. Opportunistic.”
Her words triggered a light bulb in my head.
Maybe Anaia was right — maybe the dumb part had been thinking I should have sex for free. If men like Tate were just gonna take advantage of me, vulnerable as I was that day, why not make them pay for it?
I took a deep breath, then said:
“Anaia, I’d love the number for that virginity sale.”
She grinned.
CHAPTER 10
Tate
“GODDAMNIT!”
I had been getting so close to Kiki when my stupid, so-called friends had to interrupt to talk about some harebrained evening they’d cooked up with a couple of hookers.
Of course she’d gone running. Had the roles been reversed, I would’ve done the same.
But for fuck’s sake, I deserved a chance to explain, to at least say, ‘hey, I don’t like these guys either, and I never pay for sex.’ She was gone before I could even get to the ‘hey.’
My dick was so stiff I thought it might snap in half. I brought my hands in front of my pants, hoping that the other partiers wouldn’t see my massive hard-on.
I’d had it all planned out in my head when I was dancing with Kiki. We would kiss, dance, flirt, then go to my reserved penthouse upstairs and fuck until the wee hours. It’d be electric and tantric and totally wild. Maybe she hated what I stood for, but she’d love how I laid down pipe.
And I had hoped to, like, talk. If that’s stupid, so be it. But we’d been having a pretty great time. Nobody ever chatted with me that way, just so open and free of expectation. It was as if she didn’t want anything from me except, well, me. No money, no networking, just… me.
Anger rose in my chest once more. I spotted my entourage plus their hired companions across the club and made a beeline for them. Patrons jumped out of my way, careful that my feet didn’t step on their exposed toes. I knew I was making a scene, but I owned the stage. Literally.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I shouted as soon as I got within earshot of the men.
