Page 235 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Then—

Ding.

Ben shoots me a stupid, knowing grin as the elevator doors slide open.

And they walk in giggling, their voices slithering through the hall—two friends of mine in the adult entertainment industry.

“Housekeeping,” Sasha, a blonde bombshell, purrs with a duster.

Gia, a brunette goddess, rings a bell.

“I’m here for the filth.”

The sound of a rolling cart echoes in the hall, and the guys exchange glances.

Soon as the girls turn the corner, Honor jumps from the couch, his milk sloshing over the rim and splashing his hoodie. “The fuck,” he groans, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Are… are you serious right now?”

Six-inch heels, bald coochies, perfect tits,

ribbons of hair falling down their backs.

Ben’s rubbing his palms together. “Yerrr, now we’re talkin’.” He points to Gia's chest, then Sasha's. “See, now these are tits,” he says, flashing me a white grin. “No offense, buddy.”

Huh. Bold opinion from a dick that has to stand on another dick's shoulders to reach average height.

Can't even call him a dick.

He's just a dic.

A DicDac.

Gia swipes up the remote

and clicks off the TV.

Seconds later, their stereo’s turned up, and Dirty Diana pumps out through the speakers, the tempo wearing stilettos and strutting down a blacked-out hallway.

Strobe lights flicker on with the heartbeat of a nightclub, color gaudy against the morning gray.

Andrew looks down into his coffee, contemplating how he’s gonna play this one, when Gia snatches his hand and pulls him out of the chair.

“Nah, I ain’t in the mood,” he mutters.

But Gia puts on a pouty face, walking backward with his hands in hers. “If not for me, then for Baby?” she says sweetly.

He doesn’t hesitate for long and takes the couch opposite of Honor. Ben, wearing a virgin smile, drops between the two.

An electric guitar riff snakes in distorted, a haunted-night hum following close behind.

Sasha bends down, forehead nearly to her calf, then whips her hair, the strands fanning through the air as the bass guitar slides in silky. And I imagine them in their element at the club,

red lights pulsing across their skin,

smoke crawling around their ankles,

all sweat and glitter and velvet walls.

Gia closes in on Andrew,