Page 36 of Sexy

Yacht. What kind of douche has a yacht? “Maybe it’s not golf and yachts that attract him, Tiffy, but the fact that they’re…” I want to say snobby bitches. But I realize Tiffy might fall into this category as well. “Refined and cultured.” Good recovery, Fletch. Besides, Tiffy’s not snobbish. Sure, I can tell she comes from money. She has a polished sophistication about her. Nice clothes, precise speech, and dignity. Mostly it’s the dignity. But she’s polite, resourceful, and hardworking too. “And you’re refined and cultured too. So this is an easy fit.”

“Can I put my clothes back on?”

I laugh. “Why? We’re just getting started.”

“But we’re not going to fuck again, right? I mean, that’s pleasure and this is business.”

“We don’t need to fuck to work. But if being naked makes you uncomfortable, then that’s something you might want to work on.”

“Why? Cole is not a stripper, Fletcher. He’s not going to morph into some sociopath BDSM guy and expect me to crawl on the floor and sit at his feet naked.”

I picture that and actually get hard. “Have you ever done that?”

“No.” She laughs. “No. I’m so not into experimenting. I like the normal stuff.” She takes a few steps towards her dress on the floor, but I grab her arm and make her stop. “I want to get dressed.”

“I want you naked.”

“I’m sure you do,” she quips with a tip of her chin. Superiority, that chin tip says.

“And that,” I say, taking her face in my hands and kissing her softly on the lips, “is sexy. Confidence is sexy, Tiff. So if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

“Have I got it?” she asks, the insecurity spilling out again.

And fuck if that isn’t sexy as well. “In spades, princess. More than you even know. Cole is stupid for not noticing what’s right in front of his face. But maybe he’s just one of those workaholic types.”

“He is. He works like sixteen-hour days.”

“So where did he take these women he dated?”

“Um…” She thinks for a few moments. “Well, I think they mostly came to see him at lunch and they dined in his office.”

“So he likes lunchtime quickies.” What a dick.

“Quickies? He didn’t fuck them in his office, Fletcher.”

“Tiffy, please. If a man invites a woman to his office for lunch, he wants to fuck her on his desk.”

“That’s not true! My mom had lunch with my dad—Oh my God.” She waves a hand in front of her face. “Make it go away. I just pictured my mom and dad having sex on his desk.”

I laugh at her naiveté. “Did Cole take them out on any real dates? Maybe they were whores?”

“Whores! Jesus Christ, Fletcher. Cole Lancaster does not date whores.”

“Call girls, I mean. You know, high-class sluts? Cater to businessmen who are too busy to fuck?”

She screws up her face. “That is not a real thing.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “OK, let’s move on, pretending that Cole is not into whores or fucking on his desk. Where do you think he fucks the girls?”

“Do I have to think about him fucking other people?”

“No, I just need you to think up a place where he fucks any people. So we can prepare for it.”

“I think he fucks people at home in his bed, like everyone else.”

I place my hands on her shoulders and pull her close so I can whisper in her ear. “Like we did this morning?”

“That’s different.”