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"With your," and I hesitate, trying to find just the right word, "assets … you'd make any man happy, and lucky."
She doesn't reply, and instead simply smiles, and goes back to her drink. I notice her legs are angled toward me now, and she seems to have scooted in a little closer. I take it as a sign to try and dish out the charm.
"Want to make a bet with me?" I ask.
"Depends," she smiles, hesitating ever so slightly. And I swear she opens her legs a little.
Am I just imagining that?
It takes everything in me to not reach over and rest my hand on that butter-smooth crevice between her legs.
I hand her the cherry from my drink. "You know what they say about a woman who can tie a cherry stem into a knot without using her hands, right?"
She shakes her head no, so I continue. "Well, it means," and I lean into her ear and whisper it for emphasis, "that she's a phenomenal kisser."
"Is that so?" she purrs, a wide smile lighting up her face.
"But I bet you can't pull it off," I say, teasingly.
"That little stem?" she laughs, looking at the cherry pinched between my fingers.
"That little stem," I confirm, and smile. "And I'm gonna bet you can't do it. But if you prove me wrong, I'll owe you an entire dinner."
She seems to perk up at the challenge. She's competitive. I like that in a woman.
"Do I get to choose the place?" she asks.
"Of course. Anywhere," I confirm.
"Considering what I do for a living," she smiles, "challenge accepted."
"Wait, what does your job have to do with tying a cherry stem with your mouth?"
Now I'm really fucking curious. I can't possibly imagine the connection.
"Let's just say I'm a sex worker of sorts."
Wait, what did she just say? I nearly choke on my drink. Instead, I cough into my napkin.
"Sex worker?" I ask. "You're joking, right?"
"Is that so hard to believe? Especially from a man like you, Mr. Parker 'Pleasure' Trask—the man who was caught with his pants down, with three different women at once?"
"Okay, okay," I shrug. "I get it—you're right. So, what exactly do you do?"
"I basically run my own online porn presence with an online peep show," she smiles. "Our jobs are more alike than you think," she continues, when I don't respond right away.
"I'm not sure about that," I say, shaking my head. I really don't see the connection.
"It's true. We both know how to work an audience," she purrs, and now she's so close that I feel her knee pressing against my thigh and it sends an electric current up and down my body.
"Maybe," I smile, not totally convinced, but not wanting to say she's wrong either.
"I want to help you with your campaign," she continues, in all seriousness.
"I don't know… I don't think that's a good idea," I say. "I've already given
the media enough to talk about lately."
