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prologue
You would think, if a guy knows his junk is going to be in someone’s face, he would wash it.
You would be wrong.
Here at Wally’s Boom Boom Room, the smell of man funk hangs thick in the air—a musk as inescapable as the neon pink fluorescent lighting and carpets stained with God-knows-what.
Come to think of it, I bet the smell is coming from that carpet.
Well, it’s either that or the—one, two, three, four, five, six—seven dudes who have their dicks out right now.
I wrinkle my nose at the threadbare material under my shiny silver heels. Six inches of platform still isn’t enough for me to feel safe from all the cooties swimming around down there.
Blech.
It’s actually amazing I can still get the ick from something as innocuous as a dirty floor. Especially when there’s a guy literally beating off three feet away from me.
He’s small and wiry for an alpha, but the overwhelming scent of pizza rolls makes his designation clear. Along with the fact that my perfume has apparently driven him into a frenzy.
What, does he think he’s special?
Guess again, bucko.
My perfume drives them all into a frenzy. That’s what I’m here for.
I’m still not entirely sure what all these guys think they’re here for. I see the wedding rings and bond marks while I traipse through the crowded tables. I know that, most of the time, the ones who step the farthest out of line are the ones who have someone waiting for them at home. Trusting them.
In fact, Cheap Pizza Rolls has a wedding band and a bite mark.
A familiar, sick feeling swirls through my middle. Disgust and fear—but also guilt. Because, as Wally loves to remind me, I do this to them. I’m the one they all come for.
Still, I’d really rather not witness my perfume’s effects any more than I have to.
So I lock my eyes on the wall across the room, keeping my steps slow and sensual. Wally has always made it clear what would happen if any of his patrons catch even the faintest whiff of distress from me.
Little do they all know—this scent? The one they all go feral for?
It is me distressed.
Lyrics and music play in my mind while I sashay around the dingy, ill-lit room. I smile. I flip my hair over my shoulder. I turn and pretend to shoot saucy looks at patrons.
Really, I’m looking at the door.
Specifically, the guard at the door.
Because tonight is the night.
It’s taken me way longer than I’d care to admit to find a way out of here…
But tonight is the night.
The bouncer—whoever he is; no one has ever bothered to tell me their name—sips the same coffee he always makes. About ten minutes later, I notice him squirming in his seat. Five minutes after that, his eyes start darting to the bathroom.
I’ve taken a very careful path, one that puts me right in the thick of all the nasty alphas, but gets me as close to the doors as I can without seeming suspicious.
Because the second the dude who just downed five liquid doses of Makes You Go medication finally abandons his post?
I bolt for the exit.
