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“Tell me,” I say.
“We’re got time to talk about my life as well as yours on the flight there,” he says.
“My life’s boring,” I say.
“Hah hah. Right. You need to tell me why you got into this nutty gig.”
Yes, dying to tell him about my crazy mom and the sister who’s dating the meth head. My phone pings and I check it.
Amelia: Haven’t talked. Are you still creeped by the letter?
Evie: No.
Amelia: Good. This stuff is usually nothing.
Amelia: A fourteen-year-old saw a pic of you online and he’s jerking off in the bathroom.
Amelia: How’d your date go?
I glance at Dylan. He’s scrolling again.
Evie: Great.
Amelia: Can’t wait to hear all!.
Amelia: Meeting Victoria for happy hour tomorrow. Join us.
Evie: Sorry can’t. Got a date.
I backspace, erase “date”, and replace with --
Evie: Sorry can’t. Got a personal thing.
Amelia: Say hi to your mom. Check in later.
Evie: Have fun.
Dylan was the first client I had sex with and I did it because I liked him. Wholly. Unequivocally. Purely. We fly to Nashville, arrive early afternoon, and he rents a motel room close to the game’s location. We catch a nap, wake up, and fool around. I cheer on his stripper moves. Not only is he enjoying his new ‘talent’, he’s now striving to be the best male stripper ever. Gotta love a competitive guy.
“Woo hoo! Smoking hot! Take it all off!” I shove dollar bills down his underwear, then reward him for real by dropping to my knees in front of him. I slide his briefs down his legs with one hand, grasp his hard cock with the other and take it in my mouth, circling my tongue around the head as he moans. I lick the length of him.
“Evie.”
“What?”
“Take off your top.”
I pull off my T-shirt and toss it.
He looks at me, licking his lips and my nipples pebble. “Gorgeous.”
I take him in my mouth, clasp his muscular ass, drawing him in further and he bumps the back of my throat, over and over.
“Evie. Oh, God.” He shudders, groaning, his hands tangled in my long hair, my eyes watering as I take him in, not letting go while he comes in spasms.
We shower together, ostensibly to prep for the gig, but one thing leads to another. He kisses me fiercely, one hand playing with my hair, the other massaging my breasts, teasing my nipples, his erection pushing against my abdomen. My sex is throbbing, my breath coming quicker. “Inside me, Dylan.”
He steps a foot out of the shower and grabs a square from his wallet on the bathroom counter. He rips the package open with his teeth and rolls on protection. “Turn.” Back in the tub he stands behind me, his hard cock pushed up against the crease in my ass, one hand between my legs playing with my clit. “Lean forward, baby. Hands on the wall.”
