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Jade rolled her eyes and drifted off. Scarlett crossed her legs, her knee resting against mine.
“Good choice,” she said. “Tell me about the week.”
So I did. I don’t know why. The job, the girlfriend, the kettle. She laughed in the right places and touched my arm in the wrong ones, and somewhere around the kettle I realised she was actually listening.
“I’m twenty-seven,” she said when I asked. “Been here four years. Paying off a nursing degree I’m nearly finished with.” She smiled. “That’s the truth, by the way. Most girls lie. I can’t be bothered.”
Up close she was even better. Freckles across her chest, disappearing into the lace. Green eyes. A tiny silver ring through her navel that caught the light every time she breathed.
“So, Owen.” She leaned closer, her breath warm on my ear, her hand resting high on my thigh. “You didn’t come here for therapy. You want a dance?”
“I do.”
“Out here on the floor, it’s twenty a song.” She nodded across the room at a velvet curtain guarded by a bald man in a black suit. “Or there’s the VIP room. Private booth, half an hour, just you and me. It’s two hundred.” She shrugged one bare shoulder. “Totally up to you. I’ll be nice either way.”
Her fingers drew a slow circle on my leg. My cock was already hard in my jeans, and she glanced down at it and smiled like it was a compliment.