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CHAPTER ONE
“Would you like lube with that?”I try to keep an unfazed expression as I place the pocket pussy the old man just purchased in a bag, and he glances around the store.
“Um…” He lets my question hang in the air unanswered.
He’s probably embarrassed that someone much younger than him now knows his dirty little secret, but I couldn’t give a fuck less. It’s one of the only great things about this job. People come in for their dirtiest desires and expect me not to talk about it outside these walls, so they do the same. It’s not like it would matter if they did because my life sucks. It isn’t exciting in any way, I have no family, and I’ve been stuck doing retail at this adult store longer than I’d like to admit.
“Sir?” I try again.
He shakes his head. “No, thank you.” Then snatches the bag with his artificial vag and dozen Hot Teen pornos he just purchased off the counter.
I let out a heavy sigh as he walks out of the door. I figured by this point in my life I would be doing something great—something amazing—but instead, I’m just an average twenty-seven-year-old woman with no major accomplishments.
I have basic muddy-brown hair that sits in the middle of my back and a smile that isn’t white enough with some slightly chipped teeth. My body that is riddled with stretch marks and scars is no man’s fantasy. With my wide hips and large thighs, I’m not huge, but I’m not a supermodel either. I do have great boobs though, so at least that’s something.
I glance to the counter and see the evil white envelope I was about to open before the old man needed help. I glare at it, not sure if I even want to open it because I already know what it’s going to say.
When I decided to apply for loans and financial aid for college, I was drunk. I was down in the dumps, just like every other day, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine. I kept telling myself I want to do something other than work at mediocre jobs for the rest of my life, so I did the one thing I thought would change that.
Stupid? Most definitely, but drunk Juliet is an entirely different person. She has confidence and a more positive outlook on life, unlike everyday Juliet.
I snatch the envelope from the counter and rip it open. Bracing myself, I take a deep breath before unfolding the single piece of paper that was inside.
Dear Ms. Miller, we regret to inform you… I stop reading.
My name isn’t even cool enough to make the rejection letter sound interesting. But that’s me. Boring life. Average name. Dull personality.
I rip the paper in half, then toss it into the trash can behind the counter.
“Fuck them,” I whisper. “Their loss.” I try to hype myself up, but it doesn’t work because no matter what, I know who I am.
A complete fucking loser.
I fall into the chair behind me and lay my head back. Trying a new approach to make my night less pitiful, I tell myself it’s not like I really wanted to go to college anyway. It works for maybe three seconds before I’m ready to let my self-pity eat me alive. My only saving grace is the bell above the door ringing, letting me know another customer has come in.
Snapping up from my chair, I plaster a smile onto my face. “Welcome to Devilish Delights!” I all but scream, completely embarrassed when I see who said customer is.
Normally, the only people who see the inside of this place are me, old geezers wanting to restock their DVDs because they can’t seem to figure out the internet, or couples looking for items to spice up their dull marriage. But the man standing just beyond the entrance is different.
He’s tall, like freakishly tall, in a three-piece navy suit complete with gold cufflinks and designer loafers. He’s handsome too with bright green eyes, dark hair with the slightest touch of gray, and a jaw that looks like it was carved from marble. His eyes travel the length of my body through the glass counter separating us, and it makes me feel small. He’s too handsome for this earth, and I’m… me.
Clearing my throat, I smooth my hair back and speak again. “Can I help you find anything? Lube, toys, penis pump?” I cringe as the last words leave my mouth.
He laughs, sending heat straight to my core. “No, thank you…” He trails off and lets his eyes move to the silver name tag pinned to my shirt. “Juliet. I’m just browsing.”
God, it’s me again,I start to pray silently as he walks away, hoping like hell my weak knees don’t give out from under me. Please for once in my miserable life let me have this one chance.
For the next thirty minutes, my prayer goes unanswered as Tall and Delicious lingers around the store. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he picks up different instruments—whips, rope, a ball gag—then sets them back down. Finally, he makes his way back to the counter with nothing but a blindfold.
When he sets it down in front of me, I get busy scanning the tag and grabbing a bag as he looks at our pricey merchandise that’s locked in the glass front of the counter.
“Your total is $13.73.”
He nods with a sexy smirk, then pulls a billfold from the inside pocket of his suit. Handing me a black Amex card, he makes conversation about the latest erotic novel on display by the register. Picking the book up from its cradle, he flips it in his hands and starts reading the synopsis. “Is this really what women fantasize about? A man paying a woman to be his fuck-toy for a single night?”
The words I want to say lodge in my throat as I swipe his card, and I’m thankful. I’m pretty sure Mr. Delicious wouldn’t be too keen on someone like me saying money wouldn’t matter to me if the man looked like him.
As the register dings, letting me know the card was approved, I rip the receipt from its spot and hand it to him. “It’s a bestseller, so I assume so.” I shrug.
