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She's asking herself if I'd call the number, pay for sex, spend a night with an escort, go for this sort of woman.
Something like that.
But there's no judgment in her expression. There almost never is. That's a remarkable trait. How the hell does she do it?
She raises a browinteresting, slips the postcard into her back pocket, and continues our trek to the Paris.
Finally, we pass the fake hot air balloon and move into the casino.
Ah, sweet air-conditioning.
So much for linen keeping me cool. Not that I can fault the fabric. With her right here, I'm not sure anything could keep me cool.
As we move through the carpeted casino, she removes the flyer from her pocket. "Do you know where we're going?"
This is another place my coworker liked. It was hard to find, but I remember where it's hiding. "Yeah."
"You lead then." She holds up the flyer. "There's a lot to consider here."
"Is there?"
I take her hand.
She follows me through the casino, past rows of slot machines and blackjack tables. "Is this your type?"
"For sale?"
She laughs. "That's darker than I meant it." She studies the escort's tan skin. "She's got that California meets Las Vegas thing going."
"Throw that away."
"No way. It's a keepsake." She slides it into her purse. "And an interesting study. Why do men find thin blondes with huge breasts attractive?"
"Porn," I say.
She raises a brow. "You watch porn?"
Not a smart subject. "I've watched it."
"But you don't watch it now." She shoots me that same coy expression.Really, you expect me to believe that?
She's not wrong, exactly. She's just not right either. I like the tease in her eyes. I like it too much. I try to find some way to respond without sayinghow about we make a video together, but I can't. I want her too much.
Thankfully, she saves me from my dirty thoughts. Daphne stops and looks me in the eyes. "It is my turn."
In the game. It is. Is she daring me to pick truth? Sort of. I nod. "It is."
"Jackson, truth or dare."
I don't know if this is bait, but I take it anyway. "Truth."
"What sort of aids do you use to masturbate?" Her tone is as clinical as her language.
Thank fuck. Even with the detached words, I still hearDaphne Webb wants to think about your dick.
I need to respond with the same clinical demeanor. As if this is only about the game. As if I'm not sayingI really want you to know about my dick.
"You mean, when I'm not on the phone with my ex?" I try to keep it light.
