Page 10 of Sexy

My eyes go big.

Jesus. Every one of them is in metallic silver briefs. And their… yeah, it’s all packaged up into one nice neat little—maybe not so little—ball.

Oh my God, I said ball. I giggle and take a long sip of my Scotch.

Then each of the guys is featured one by one. Fletcher is last. The star of the show, it seems. How does a guy do all this in only nine months? It’s like he’s got his own PR campaign going.

But that speedy intro is not enough for me. There’s something about him. Something that says he’s hiding something. And that gap in his Wiki profile was the first clue.

Yes, Fletcher Novak is not what he seems. That might not even be his real name.

So I go looking for more videos. And there are plenty. Some professional ones just like the last one. But lots of them are from women who went to the show. Fletcher has more than all the other guys put together. And in all of them he has the same charming smile, the same wandering hands, and the same raunchy hips in a strange girl’s face as he had for me.

It was an act. No, I correct myself. That is his act.

I go back to all the other guys and watch their routines in various clips. They have their own style. And in most of the acts you can tell they are singling out women to make them feel good. Some who look reserved and nerdy. Some who are heavier than the rest of their companions. Some who are older. Some who are even very old. That makes me smile. It’s sweet to give a grandma a thrill, I think.

But Fletcher picks the sluts. They are all sexy, just like him. They have confidence and big tits. They scream his name and paw his body when he approaches.

I know why he picks them. Because he wants to fuck them afterward.

So why did he pick you, Tiffy?

I fill my glass again and gulp it down.

Why did he choose me? I’m not any of those things he looks for. I was frowning, buttoned up in my work suit, and out to get him—but not in a sexual way.

Hmmmm.

It wasn’t innocent, I know that much. He wanted to fuck me. And if I wasn’t Tiffy Preston, and if I wasn’t sent here to check the place out, and if I wasn’t—such an uptight prude—so serious, I might be in bed with him right now.

Warmth floods between my legs and I blush, even though no one is here to see me, let alone read my thoughts.

He is sexy, that’s for sure. But he’s a liar too. I just know it.

I pour some more Scotch and go back to my search results, paging through videos until I get one that has different lighting and style from the ones with the show and there’s a girl on the still image.

Now we’re talking.

I click it and she whirls around, slapping Novak in the face with a crack. “Asshole,” she screams at him.

“Haha,” the girl behind the camera laughs. .

It cuts away to another scene, which plays out the same way. An angry girl, a slap across the face for Fletcher, a laugh from the cameraman, and a fuck you from Fletcher.

He seems to have a pattern.

And let me guess who these girls are. The one-night stands after they realize he’s a bullshitter.

Oh, fuck, yes. I have this asshole now. All I have to do is walk in to that meeting today and show this to Cole. Then he’ll be on my side and Novak will be history.

I gulp the rest of my drink and go back to the videos. There might be more evidence, after all. And I need to watch every single one.

Chapter Five

“You whore!”

“What?” Oh my God. My head. It’s spinning.