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I bow my head again, too ashamed to look into his eyes.
“I know,” I acknowledge in a low voice. “Again, I don’t know what I was thinking because obviously, Monica and I look very similar, so it probably wasn’t rocket science to figure out that we were related. I didn’t know about the speech patterns, but I suppose that’s possible too. The anal prolapse though …”
Brant quirks a dark eyebrow at me.
“What about it?”
I shake my head in confusion.
“Well, we definitely didn’t coordinate that. I had no idea that my mom was even capable of doing an anal prolapse.”
Brant snorts derisively.
“Who knows if she can? I haven’t seen it,” he clarifies. “It’s not something that I ever did with her, but Monica texted me earlier this week trying to get back together and tempted me by offering me an anal prolapse scene. I wasn’t interested because I can’t imagine fucking another woman’s prolapse, or fucking another woman at all, period. But yeah, that’s weird, isn’t it? I wouldn’t say that prolapsing is the most common party trick around.”
That makes me gulp because I have one more secret that I need to reveal to Brant, and he senses the tension in the air immediately.
“What is it?” he demands.
I swallow thickly before meeting his eyes.
“Well, I think I told you that when I was in Chicago, I was trying to break into the entertainment sector, specifically modeling, acting, and that kind of thing. But the truth is that I wasn’t just doing acting and modeling. I was working as a bartender too.”
Brant nods, his blue eyes shuttered. He’s obviously expecting the worst and my heart falls because this isn’t going to be easy.
“And?”
“Well, I was bartending at a private club,” I begin in a tentative voice. “I was working at a sex club, actually, called Club Z. It’s just something I did to pay the bills because I wasn’t exactly raking in the dough as an actress, so I needed to take a second job. That’s where I learned about things like anal prolapses.”
Brant stares at me, those blue eyes fierce.
“Did you prolapse for the men at the club?”
“Oh no!” I exclaim immediately. “I was a bartender, so I served drinks and food. I swear, I didn’t let any of the clients touch me. But the thing about Club Z is that they’re very open, so the hostesses and the male customers often … well, let’s just say that there are very few rules. I saw girls prolapse for their lovers at the bar, and basically taught myself how to do it using a pump and a dildo at home.”
Brant’s silent for a moment, merely reflecting on this new information.
“I see,” he says in a deep baritone. “So you used to work at a sex club.”
I nod quickly.
“Yes, but I swear, it was only as a bartender. No man has ever seen my prolapse except you. No man has ever touched it, and I’ve never let another man kiss it either. It’s only been you, Brant.”
The older man stares at me.
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this, Peyton.”
I shrug helplessly.
“Well, I was just hoping that we could come clean with each other and maybe … start again? Is that okay? What do you think?” I hate the pleading note that’s crept into my voice, but I have no choice at this point. Brant Harrison holds all the cards, and what happens now is up to him.
I take a deep breath, trembling on his couch with half-anticipation, half-dread at his decision. The air vibrates, but I don’t let myself think because anything could take place at this point. Brant could thank me politely and then escort me to the door. He could say he needs more time to think about things. Or, he could shrug and say it’s no big deal. We were just a hook-up anyways, and so it doesn’t matter.
My heart cracks a little at that realization because it’s not what I want. I want Brant to stroke and caress me, to cuddle me close and tell me that everything’s going to be okay. I want him to say that he cares about my welfare and forgives me for embarking on such a crazy scheme. But judging from the stern expression on his handsome features, I don’t think that that’s going to happen.
“Brant?” I manage in a small voice. “So where do you come down on all this?”
The huge man is motionless for a moment, but then he lets out a big exhale as his broad shoulders slump a bit.
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think,” he says in a low voice. “I mean, this is the craziest shit that’s ever happened in my life. I break-up with a MILF, only to hook up with her adult daughter, who’s scheming to reunite her mom and dad. What is this, the Parent Trap, but with only one daughter and not two? I swear, you’ve outdone Lindsay Lohan, and there were two of her in that movie because she played twins.”
