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“I know, so that’s why I’m being hush-hush about it. But yeah, that’s why I haven’t been at the club either. Sam made it clear that if we’re going to be together, then I can’t be with other men,” I shrug. “He’s a possessive alpha male.”
Ramona nods.
“Yes, but you really like working at Club Z,” she reminds me. “I mean, you’re one of our best girls. Besides, what are you going to do with so much time on your hands now? Get another job?”
I’d been pondering this very question myself over the last several days because although I get to enjoy wild, sex-filled nights with Sam, the reality is that he still works long days as a doctor. So I’ve got a lot of hours on my hands, and lounging by the pool every single day seems like a bit of overkill.
“I tried my hand at bread-making,” I confess to Ramona. “It turned out horrible. Even with a bread machine and a pre-made mix, the result looked like an animal. One that grew,” I shudder.
Ramona giggles. “OMG, bread-making? Are you shitting me? You’re like Ms. Slut Extraordinaire, not Miss Domestic.”
“Yeah, it’s not the role for me,” I chuckle, not at all offended. “But you know I’ve always wanted to be a singer, so I’ve been practicing. I even signed up for lessons.”
“OMG, that’s amazing, Harlow,” my friend gushes. “I’d love to hear you perform sometimes.”
I nod.
“Well, don’t tell anyone but I looked into getting some gigs. I mean, things book up pretty far in advance, but I put my name on a few lists as a back-up, in case anyone drops out last minute.”
“Wow,” Ramona says enthusiastically. “You’re going to rock, hon. In fact, we should figure out how to get some of those main acts sick so that they have no choice but to call you in as a sub. How come you never told me you like to sing before, anyways? I had no idea!”
I blush at her enthusiastic response. “I don’t know, I guess it always felt so private. I used to sing when I was younger, and I only started really getting back into it over the last few years. I’m not that good, don’t get me wrong,” I say in a hasty voice, “but I enjoy it. I’ve performed at small venues a few times, and it was cool.” I shrug, trying not to make too big a deal out of my private hobby.
“No, but that’s amazing!” Ramona gushes. “And you’re so brave too, girl! I couldn’t imagine performing in front of a room full of people like that. Do you get nervous?”
I shrug modestly.
“Not really. It’s honestly almost soothing, like it’s not really me on stage. It’s hard to explain,” I say.
Ramona giggles.
“Well, can you please let me know the next time you’re performing because I’d love to come see you,” she enthuses, her expression full of support.
“I will, I promise.” Then, I sigh deeply. “So what do you think about the whole Sam situation? Is it too crazy?”
Ramona shakes her head slowly.
“Honestly? We’ve seen a lot of crazy things at Club Z, and done a lot of crazy things too,” she rationalizes. “If Sam’s hot, you’re hot, and you’re both clearly into it, then I say why not give it a shot?”
I giggle. “I agree. This is going to sound insane, but I’m really happy being with him. Is that fucked up? I know, it’s totally cornball to say that after two weeks too, but Sam is gorgeous, generous, and a lot of fun. I can talk to him so easily.”
My friend nods and smiles. “Then I think you should totally go for it,” she agrees, her eyes flashing. But her face falls. “But what does that mean about Club Z then? Are you never coming back? I’m going to miss you, Har!”
I stretch my legs out in front of me as I ponder her question.
“I don’t know, to be honest.” I shoot her a look. “You know I don’t work at Club Z for the money, right? I have a trust fund from my mom, so it’s not the paycheck keeping me there.”
“Yeah, you’re super lucky that your financial situation is so healthy, but that’s awesome,” my friend says. “I’m happy for you.”
I smile gratefully at Ramona. “I guess I’m just going to take things slow then. I’m not going to give it up permanently right now, but I don’t want to screw things up with Sam either. I kind of want to see where things go.”
My friend nods. “Yeah, no need to rush a decision anyways,” she says wisely. “Just take things slow.”
But then I turn to my buddy.
“Enough aboutme,” I say, my tone teasing, “what about this hot man you met at the pool? Did you get his name? Do you think you’ll see him again?”
My friend merely shrugs sassily. “No names because that would ruin the fun. But oh god, Ineedto feel his finger in my bottom again. Girl, I can’t tell you how good it felt, stirring around back there.”
