Some of the guys in our fraternity house razzed Josh for essentially paying to work. But I totally understood: Josh wanted the same thing I’d wanted when I’d paid that sorority girl to eat her pussy a few years before—all the pleasures of a job he thoroughly enjoyed, without any of the associated hassles or commitments. As far as I was concerned, Josh was a genius for striking that deal with the bar owner, Bernie. In fact, he was my fucking hero.
I nudge Josh’s shoulder and motion to the pool table. “You and Henn get next game while I get our drinks.”
“You bought dinner,” Josh says. “I’m buying drinks.”
“Fuck off, Faraday,” I reply, already walking away. “I could buy dinner and drinks for three lifetimes, and still not repay you for everything you bankrolled in college.”
When I arrive at the crowded bar, I elbow my way to an open spot at the far end... and promptly lose my shit.It’s her.The sultry, sassy brunette from the music school event this afternoon.She’s the bartender. And she’s every bit as boner-inducing as she was this afternoon. More so, actually, now that she’s dressed to maximize her curves—and, surely, her tips—in a low-cut tank top, push-up bra, and skin-tight jeans.
She’s standing in profile to me at the moment, taking orders from a rowdy group of frat boys, all of whom plainly think she’s as big a knockout as I do. And who wouldn’t? She’s a bombshell, this girl. A bodacious siren plucked straight out of a Fellini flick. Thick, dark hair. Full, tempting lips in the perfect shape of a bow. Eyes that blaze with confidence. Sass.Charisma.Her skin is olive. Her limbs long. And those curves! Jesus Christ. They’re enough to make a careful man do some seriously reckless shit.
When she left the lecture hall with CeeCee without saying a word to me, despite all the winks and smiles and heated smolders we’d exchanged for a full hour, I was shocked. Also, impressed. But, mostly,intrigued. Was she a wannabe pop star playing a master game of chess by ditching me—gambling I’d track her down through CeeCee? Or had I pegged the girl all wrong, and she was merely CeeCee’s new personal assistant or niece?
The latter scenario seemed like a long shot, given the nature of the event and the girl’s pop-star good looks—not to mention her brazen flirting with me. Nobody her age would ever flirtthataggressively with me, just because. They always want something. But I had to know for sure. Hence, my decision to do the very thing she was most likely counting on: I resolved to call CeeCee tomorrow to track the bombshell down, even if it turned out she was a music student wannabe pop star who was decidedly off-limits to me.
It’s funny. Dumbshit guys at parties always assume I fuck aspiring artists, the same way I snack on kale chips. All the time. Without a second thought. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. In actuality, I don’t touch anyone who’s hoping to further her career by fucking or blowing me, no matter how attractive she might be. It’s the samewhether she’s an aspiring artist, an artist I’ve already signed, or one of my employees. They’re all off-limits to me. No exceptions.
See, what I’ve learned, after a few unfortunate missteps early on, is that even the hottest sex isn’t worth risking the possible fall-out—the risk that the same woman who throws herself at me on Tuesday will claim I’ve used my power and influence inappropriately with her on Wednesday, once it’s clear I’m not going to give her what she wants.
I mean, sure, I’ll fuck models or actresses who want to use meindirectlyto boost their clout or Instagram following or finagle an introduction to a powerful friend. That’s the way of the world. But fucking a woman who thinks giving me a BJ willdirectlyadvance her career—whether that’s getting her signed to my label, or assigned to a headlining slot on a tour, or getting a promotion at one of my companies? Nope. I won’t touch that woman with a ten-foot pole. Ever.
Well, until today, apparently, when I saw this bartender and immediately started flirting with her, without knowing for sure if she was free and clear or not. And then, to top off my recklessness, started telling myself all sorts of things I never tell myself. Stuff like,Rules are made to be broken.And,Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I fucked a wannabe, just once...All the same things I’m telling myself now, yet again, as I watch this siren mesmerize that pack of fraternity boys into handing over all their cash.
Holy shit, she’s mouth-watering. If I were casting her in a music video, I’d make it a tribute to old, black-and-white Italian flicks. The video would take place on a vineyard. She’d be The Vineyard Owner’s Daughter in a peasant dress with a low neckline. The sultry virgin bursting out of her dress, who comes out of her villa with a jug of water and a basket of grapes, just as a group of soldiers shows up demanding lodging...
“Can I get you something?”
I peel my eyes off the siren to find a male bartender standing before me, his eyes narrowed. He looks like a younger version of Henn. A wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly kind of guy with a goatee, the same as my sweet best friend—although, unlike Henny, this dude has forearm tattoos. Clearly, the ink is his attempt at “edging up” his classic nerd-vibe. It’s not a bad look for him, actually.
“I’ll wait to order from her,” I say, motioning to the object of my lustat the other end of the bar. “We met today on-campus. I’d like to say hello.”
The guy flashes me a look of disdain that says,You and every guy in this bar, douchebag. But all he says is, “I’ll let Georgina know.”
Georgina.It’s the perfect name for her—a name I’ll enjoy growling into her ear as I fuck her raw, without mercy...
No, Reed.
Stop.
You’re almost certainly not going to fuck this little college kiddie, with or without mercy, because she’s almost certainly an off-limits wannabe. Not to mention, quite possibly, a fucking teenager. Although, come to think of it, if she works behind the bar, she’s got to be at least twenty-one...
It doesn’t matter,my brain says.She was at an event for music students. Walk away.
But I want her, my dick replies, rather forcefully.
Well, tough shit, my brain replies.You can find out why she left with CeeCee today, simply to satisfy your curiosity, but that’s it. After that, you’re going to walk away and shoot pool with your best friends, and forget this gloriously endowed goddess with the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen exists.
My dick laughs heartily at that. And so, I laugh, too. Out loud. Like a fucking lunatic.
The bartender whispers something into sultry Georgina’s ear that makes her turn around. And when she spots me, a wide smile spreads across her sensuous mouth.
Returning her smile, I put my arms up like,I guess it’s fate, huh?
She saunters over to me like she owns the joint, places her elbows onto the bar, and leans over, giving me a much-appreciated view of her pushed-up tits in her tank. “Well, well, well,” she says. “Look what the cat dragged in. Did you follow me here, Mr. Rivers?”
Up close, she’s mesmerizing. Irresistible. I swear, if this supernatural girl can sing a note, and maybe even if she can’t, I’m going to launch her to the top of the pop charts, even if I have to buy stock in Auto-Tune to do it. “I wish I could take credit for this happy reunion,” I say. “But this is pure coincidence...” I look down at Georgina’s nametag, just for appearance’s sake. “Georgina. Or should I call you Miss... ?”
“Ricci. But, no. Call me Georgina or Georgie.” She extends her hand with full confidence, and when I slide my palm in hers, my skin ignites at the point of contact.Lust. It’s palpable. Undeniable. Sending my heart rate skyrocketing and my dick tingling.
