The ringing phone on the nightstand wakes me from the most restful sleep I’ve had in weeks. Fuck.
I smile. That was a good fuck. I left her up there all sweaty and flushed from the sex and then came back to my room and passed out. I was up all last night putting together that proposal. And it looks like it was worth it. Because Tiffy Preston was impressed enough to give me a brand-new once-over.
Not that I care about her. I don’t. And now that I’ve had her, I can forget about her. She won’t be firing me for dating show patrons. And she doesn’t know about any of the other stuff I’m doing. So good. It was an excellent move taking her up on that roof. And I mean that in every way possible.
The ringing phone makes me turn over and pick up the receiver from the nightstand. Room phone means front desk. “Yeah?” I say, annoyed.
“Mr. Novak,” Kristen from guest services says. “You have a visitor down here. Her name is—”
Shit. It doesn’t matter who the girl is, it’s someone I don’t want to see again. Once is enough. “Tell her I’m unavailable at the moment.”
“Sure thing, Fletch. Sorry to bother you. I know you don’t like to get calls. But she’s feisty. And she looks mad.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Kristen.” I hang up the phone and check the time. I’m hungry. I skipped breakfast this morning and now it’s well past lunch. So I force myself to get up and take a shower.
I think about work as I wash up. Not this stripper job. That’s not work. Katie, she’s work. I mean, the stripping pays decent. But the contracts, those are priceless. Katie is my only client at the moment, but I need her. So I better come up with a plan to get her the man of her dreams so I can keep things moving forward. We’ve got daily calls for the next week to plan shit out.
I get out, towel off, and then tug on a pair of jeans, a Mountain Men t-shirt, and my boots. Time to head out and see how my little world is turning downstairs.
I get to the bar a few minutes later and greet Sissy at the bar. “Hey, Sis. How about a Dos Equis and a large order of chicken nachos?”
Sis winks at me. “You got it, Fletch.”
I wait for my beer and then turn around on my stool so I can see the whole bar and adjoining restaurant. This place isn’t always so busy, but the Shakespeare Festival runs all summer in the Village up north, and people swarm to that shit, so the casinos are hopping right now. I grew up here, so I’ve seen every Shakespeare play live, ten times over. If I’m having a dry spell with the stripper-lovers from the show, I can usually pick up a girl by quoting that old bastard.
Good stuff. Tahoe is filled with good stuff. And if I can just get this last little bit of shit together, I’d be able to enjoy it more.
But it’s within reach. Finally, I feel like life is about to go my way. And I can’t wait.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
I study the room and the people as I wait for my food. Girls—plenty of lookers. Guys, mostly gamblers, and mostly local. Some rich professional types, here to play golf and pretend that they brought the family for the boating. And an energy in the air. An energy I have come to appreciate since I took this gig as a stripper.
It was a good move.
“Hey, Fletch,” Britt, one of the day waitresses, says as she drops off my plate of nachos. “How’s things?”
“Perfect, Britt. Thanks for the chips.” I’ve never fucked a waitress. Or anyone who works here, for that matter. But I go out with them every now and then. Britt likes to rock-climb. Sis, the weekday bartender, likes rafting on the river. The Truckee River is not fast and challenging, so we usually get a big raft, some beers in a cooler, and spend the day floating down to the pool a few miles away.
I’d say they are friends. Decent friends, if pressed. I don’t talk too much shop with them, but I don’t talk shop with anyone, not even the other guys in the show. It’s nice. And casual. Which is how I like my life. Casual. It says it all, right? Easy-going. Light-hearted. Fun.
Life and fun go together like shits and giggles. But it hasn’t always been this way.
I shake that last thought out of my mind as I munch on my food and drink my beer. The past is the past. Complicated.
I don’t like complications. I’m like the river. Smooth and peaceful. I don’t get riled up, I don’t get hung up, and I don’t get serious.
At least with women. I’ve seen too much over the past ten years to fall into that trap.
I sit there and enjoy the view, the bustle of the casino out past all the tables, and the—
Wait a minute. Is that…?
Aw, fuck. Tiffy Preston is heading my direction and she’s got a huge smile on her face. Jesus Christ, didn’t she get my note? I mean, how much clearer could I have made it? One time only, Tiff. One time only!
Double fuck. She’s waving. I give her a sheepish smile and sink into my chair. Do I wave back? I mean, she’s the big boss’ daughter. Do I have to be polite and shit? Why the hell did I bang the boss’ daughter? She’s an employee. Just like Sis and Britt. Why the fuck didn’t I realize that before my cock got the best of me?
I know why. She kept me up all night working on that proposal. And she got me so fucking hard at the show last night. Add in the exchange at the door when I was ready to jump her and she ambushed me. Well, it was sorta well played on her part. She got me. And that business suit is so not my type.
I have no clue what I was thinking.
I slump down a little more in my chair and give her a wave, hoping this convo won’t get ugly. “Hey,” I say weakly as she beams another smile, still making a beeline for my table.
“Tiffy,” a voice booms from off to my right. The guy from her room last night. Cole. “I was starting to think you were standing me up.”
Tiffy laughs and allows him to give her a polite hug as he puts his hand in the small of her back and leads her away from the bar towards a table on the other side of the restaurant.
Fuck. I sit there, a little embarrassed, then a little relieved that I didn’t have to have that awkward conversation with her.
Dodged another bullet, Novak, I tell myself.
“I heard she tried to fire you this morning,” Sis says, opening another beer and taking away my empty. “And you gave her a run for her money.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the meeting. “It was fun. I got her all flustered.”
“You usually do, Fletch.” Another customer calls for Sis and she skips off down the bar to fill his order.
I got Tiffy flustered upstairs as well. She’s quite pretty, if you’re into those career women. Her dress this morning was sophisticated business attire. White, sleeveless, hit just below the knee, and absolutely no cleavage. Even her little white shoes were office-approved two-inch heels.
But now she looks… different. Her pink dress isn’t exactly casual, but not professional either. It’s flirty. It’s short. And very low-cut. Her shoes have some little sparkly things on them and that is definitely a four-inch heel.
She’s sexy.
Damn. Tiffy Preston doesn’t look as buttoned up as I first thought.
I picture her legs spread open before me. Her soft mewling as I licked her pussy. Her manicured fingertips digging into my hair.
Fuck. I’m hard again.
I watch her as that Cole guy pulls out her chair and then scoots it in as she sits. She’s facing me, so I see her smile a little as he walks around to take his seat.
Hmmmm. What’s going on here?
I study her face, waiting for her to notice me as they chat. But she only has eyes for him. Did she see me earlier? Is she trying to make me jealous by having lunch with another guy after fucking me? After I gave her three goddamned orgasms not three hours ago? Really?
“Pfft,” I mutter under my breath. Gonna take more than that to make me look twice.
But then she licks her lips.
Wait. Did I just imagine that?
Nope. She’s chewing on them too. And then her fingertip sweeps up and traces her plump lower lip as she casually pretends to wipe away a drop of the pink champagne Mr. Fancy-Pants greeted her with. Pink champagne? Who the fuck drinks pink alcohol?