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Victoria takes a seat and scooches in closer to the table. “Yes! You’re the kindergarten teacher, right? I’m still amazed you can wrangle all those five-year-olds.”
“It’s not rocket science. I just tell them when to lie down and take a nap.”
“No wonder all the clients like you,” she says.
Amelia laughs. “I told her the same thing.”
I’m nice to Victoria and in exchange she’s nice to me. The three of us talk about fall fashion, wonder why Madame Germaine is so uptight, and offer increasingly silly explanations until we’re all giggling so hard Victoria pretends to face plant into the platter of wings.
She rises back up theatrically, rolling her eyes, dark red sauce on her chin. “Maybe Madame Marchand is a vampire, grooming us as bait for undead blood suckers. Maybe Ma Maison is actually a high-end sex club for vampires.”
“That kind of makes sense,” Amelia says. “Madame’s pretty cold. But except for the old guy who lost his dentures last week when he tried to kiss me, no one’s bitten me yet.”
“Ew,” Victoria says. “Hey, I’m having a party next week. Both of you should come.”
I’d planned on hating Victoria but she’s totally charmed me.
“Tell her the story,” Amelia insists.
“Which one?” Victoria hands off her credit card to the waiter before he even drops the tab on our table.
“You know. About how you started working for Ma Maison,” Amelia says. “The one about the creepy stalker.”
“Yeesh! I’m still getting over that,” Victoria says. “Don’t want to have nightmares. I’ll save that one for another night.”
“I had a great time.” I extend my hand to her and we shake affectionately. “You’re hilarious. I’m glad we finally spent time together.”
“Hello?” Amelia says and rolls her eyes.
“Ditto, Kindergarten,” Victoria says. “If you ever have any questions, feel free to ask.”
“Actually, I do,” I say. “What’s country club summer casual?”
“One of your client wants you to dress country club casual?”
I nod.
“Page through Town and Country.”
Amelia chimes in. “Check Ralph Lauren. Lily Pulitzer.”
“I can’t afford Ralph Lauren.”
“You don’t have to buy it,” Victoria says. “Just nail the look.”
I get home around eleven. I lie in bed Googling Ralph Lauren when suddenly I don’t care about fashion. I switch subjects and do a deep Google dive on what’s going on with Dylan. The gossip is he’s lost his ability to read a table. He dropped a couple hundred thousand last month and has plummeted from being a player to chum. The sharks smell blood and circle.
Glenn’s probably sharpening his knives getting ready to mince him into bits, stuff him into hot dog casings, and sell him to unsuspecting customers. I doubt the department store heiress gives a rat’s ass how much money Dylan has. She’ll seduce him if he’s loaded or down to his last chip and totally give me a run for my money. Oh wait – after I pay for mom’s medicals, Ruby’s college, and my own bills – I won’t have any.
I stare up at the ceiling and wonder what Dylan’s doing right now. Is he still in Tulsa? Back in Chicago? Hitting a club or a bar? I hope he’s not out with another girl, but hey, I’ve got no control over that and it would be silly for me to obsess about it.
Instead I obsess about our second date. Will our time together in St. Charles be any different? Will he kiss me? Will he touch me?
I slide one hand inside my cotton top and skim it across my breast. My nipple pebbles under my touch. I slip my other hand inside my briefs, glide it down to the soft skin of my abdomen, and trail my fingers through my groomed curls until I touch my sex.
I close my eyes and think of the look on Dylan’s face when he gave me the diamond necklace and I circle my fingers across my folds. His lips were so full. His eyes, excited like a kid on Christmas morning. Chills zipped down my spine when he secured the necklace around me, his hands brushing the wisps of hair on the back of my neck.
Now, I clasp the diamond pendant with one hand, part my legs a little and let my fingers toy with my clit. I’m already wet, the hard nub sensitive to my touch, waves of pleasure building.
