For the Show (All for Love #2)

Chapter 1

1

Millie

If I were a vibrator, I’d be this one.

“Aren’t you going to put it back in the box?” the salesperson asks.

“Nobody puts Baby in a box.” Winking, I carefully place the curved silicone vibrator directly into my purse. Designed for internal A-spot stimulation? Sold.

It’s not until I get home that I discover it has eleven vibration speeds.

Unable to keep this beauty to myself, I FaceTime Joey. When my cousin spies the rose-gold disco ball on one end, she gasps. “That vibe is your doppelg?nger. It’s sparkly and complex, but it looks eager to please.”

“You bitch.” I throw my head back and cackle. “You’re not wrong.” When we’ve both calmed ourselves, I wipe the tears from my eyes and take in a cleansing breath. “Are you coming home soon? I washed your sheets.”

“For someone who doesn’t like to be domesticated, you sure enjoy doing laundry. ”

“Do not confuse liking clean things with domestication, darling.” I preen, pulling my shoulders back.

Joey rolls her eyes, but there’s no hiding her smile. “I’m just waiting for Cam to get out of the shower, then I’ll head over.”

Three hours later, she waltzes in the front door.

“That was one long shower,” I call from my bedroom.

She plops herself onto my bed, cheeks flushed. “I doubt there’s any hot water left on this side of Manhattan.”

With a chuckle, I pull a plum sweater dress from my closet, then shuffle over to the floor-length mirror and hold it up to my body.

“Is that what you’re wearing on your date with Sam?” she asks.

Sucking my lips in to keep myself from grinning, I nod. The date is a ruse, my alibi. While Joey thinks I’m out with Sam, I’ll actually be setting up for a surprise party being held in her honor. Her boyfriend and I have been planning a private get-together to celebrate the publication of her debut novel.

By the way she’s acting, she doesn’t suspect a thing.

“That color looks amazing on you. It makes your green eyes pop.”

“Thanks, boo,” I reply, hanging it on the back of my door.

She sticks her lower lip out in a mock pout. “How come you got all the great features in the family while I’m stuck with these poop-brown eyes?”

“What are you talking about? I’d kill to have your thick, dark hair. And those eyebrows? You could stop traffic with those puppies.”

She giggles. “You’re right about that. Cam said they were one of the features that drew him in.”

“Of course they were.”

Joey scoots up to the top of my bed and makes herself comfortable with my two hundred throw pillows. “How are things going with you and Sam, anyway?”

My chest pangs at the question, but I collapse onto the mattress and go with the truth. “Not much better than the last time we talked.”

Early on, I wasn’t sure Sam was into me. Then she was totally into me. Then she wasn’t so sure. I backed off and let things cool down for a while, but when she flew out to Vegas to see me on tour in Funny Girl , I couldn’t help but read into it.

“I thought things would come together now that I’m back in the city, but she’s been distant lately, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

Joey loops an arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “Hopefully your date tonight will give you clarity.”

My chest tightens at the sincerity in her tone. “Since when are you the one doing the comforting in this relationship?”

“You must have rubbed off on me.”

Not so long ago, she wasn’t sure about committing to Cam. But she’s come so far since then.

“I’m proud of you, Jo.”

When she pulls me in for a real hug, her stomach growls.

“Want me to make something to eat?” I ask.

We burst into laughter because cooking is not my forte. Nor is it Joey’s. Unless Bagel Bites and Pillsbury cinnamon rolls count.

“Bubbe’s Nosh Pit?”

I fling my hand out, smacking her in the stomach. “Gimme my phone.”

Thirty minutes later, the owner of our favorite Jewish deli—who also happens to live in our building—hand delivers our takeout.

“I’m sure going to miss you,” Mark cries for the umpteenth time this week .

Joey hugs the teddy bear of a man. “You act like I’m dying. I’m just moving.”

“Can’t Cam move in here?” he teases.

Right . This is a one-bedroom, and our landlord has been generous enough to let Joey live here without a sublease. I doubt we could convince him to add one more, even if we had the space. And I really don’t want to be the third wheel in their lovefest.

“All right, I’m starving,” I announce, breaking up their sappy moment.

While we eat, Joey and I veg out on the sofa, which doubles as her bed, and listen to my latest audio recording before I submit it to LULU.

For the last few years, I’ve worked as a voice actor for Let Ur Love Unleash , an erotic stories audio app. Working for the female-owned company means I can record from home—or anywhere, really—and the hours are flexible. It’s ideal when I’m touring in a musical production. Plus, it’s like getting free sex advice. The things I’ve learned while recording would make my grandmother Ruth blush from her grave. May her memory be a blessing .

I click submit, then close the lid of my laptop. “If you and Cam can’t find a place right away, you can stay here while I’m gone.”

“When do you leave for rehearsals?” Joey asks.

“Next week. I head up to Syracuse right after Thanksgiving.”

“I can’t believe you landed the lead in Mamma Mia . You’re a badass bitch.”

I don’t even try to fight the smile that spreads across my face. While I usually keep my strawberry-blond hair at shoulder length, I grew it out months prior to my audition and box-dyed it platinum the night before, which, in hindsight, could have been an epic disaster .

The casting director was a real stickler about appearances and made everyone cover their tattoos. Thankfully, I only have a small cluster of birds on the back of my arm, just above my tricep. Joey has them too.

After cleaning up and getting dressed, I leave to meet Sam for a quick drink before I’m due to help set up for the surprise. As I head for the pub, I shoot Cam a message to let him know that the coast is clear. He’s been texting me so incessantly that I had to silence my phone so Joey wouldn’t ask questions.

“How’ve you been?” I ask Sam as I approach the booth she’s chosen in the corner. I invited her to join us for the party, but she already had plans, so we agreed to meet beforehand instead.

She stands to greet me, planting a chaste kiss on one cheek. “Busy.”

“Yeah?”

Two drinks with cherry garnishes sit on the table. I don’t like when people assume my drink order. In fact, it’s a pet peeve of mine. Some nights, I want the strong buzz of a gin and tonic; others, I want the comfort of a full-bodied cab.

I swallow back my annoyance and focus on Sam. “What’s going on?”

Her cropped blond hair really makes her brown eyes shine. Tonight, she’s wearing a killer black corset top that lifts her small tits deliciously. A black leather skirt hugs her hips, and her toned legs are covered by tights and ankle boots. With a shrug, she slips back into her seat. “Not much. Just working a lot.”

This girl gives me whiplash. For the last six months, it’s been nothing but ups and downs with her. When I met her last spring at FrenchSHEs, the drag and cabaret club where I occasionally bartend, she was super flirty with me. I discovered quickly that she’s flirty with everyone, so I didn’t think much of it. Then, once she found out I’m bi, she’d come in with question after question for me. How did you know you were bi? How many girls have you been with?

It wasn’t until I crashed at her apartment for a week while my building was undergoing structural repairs that she admitted she’d never been with a woman but had a crush on me. I almost never let girls “test drive” me, but she was so damn endearing and, well, hot , so I asked if she wanted to kiss me.

“That was your first girl-on-girl kiss?” I gasp when we finally break away. That kiss felt seasoned. It was kneaded and smooth and moist, like baking bread. (Or what I imagine baking bread would be like; I wouldn’t actually know.)

That kiss felt like it was made on purpose .

She studies my face, her eyes alight, like she’s found the missing puzzle piece that’s been hidden under the sofa for years. She looks like she never wants to stop kissing me. Like she wants to devour me. Eat the entire loaf.

So she does. I follow her lead, which rapidly turns into ripping each other’s clothes off.

With my back against the pillows on her bed, she insists on going down on me first. But once she’s settled between my legs, she hesitates, her brow furrowed. “I thought, you know, because I have the same parts, I would know what to do, but…” She buries her face in my thigh adorably.

I sit up and pull her on top of me, kissing the tip of her nose. “It’s a lot like putting makeup on someone else, huh?”

“Exactly.” She giggles.

“We can slow down.” I give her an easy smile, hoping to take away some of her discomfort.

Rather than back off, she slips right back down until she’s between my legs again. “No. I don’t want to. Will you talk me through it?”

Though Sam’s movements are tentative, she takes my instructions with humility, and soon, she finds her own technique, letting my moans guide her. And when she slides a third delicate finger inside me and curls it just so , I lose it.

We were inseparable for months after that. After I left for rehearsals for Funny Girl , we talked often, so when I returned to the city, I expected to pick up where we left off. Instead, I’ve found that sometimes she’s available and eager to hang out, and other times she’s aloof and ghosty.

Now, tucked into this corner booth, I’m not sure where we’re headed.

After one drink, Sam’s much more relaxed, and when she slides her hand onto my leg and leaves it there for more than a beat, I take it as an opportunity to touch her back.

“Where’ve you been?” I ask, mindlessly twisting the rings on her fingers. Her usually short nails are long and manicured.

“What do you mean?” When she shifts in her seat, I can’t help but peek at the apex of her thighs, but black tights block what I really want to see.

“You seem distant,” I say as our server brings Sam another dirty Shirley. “You didn’t answer my texts about getting together last week.”

She takes another swig of her drink, nearly sucking it dry. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Life has been so busy. My mom was in town.”

“She was? I would have loved to have met her.” Moms love me.

Head lowered, she says, “Yeah, but I’m not out to my family yet.”

“Oh?” I could have sworn she planned to tell them a while back. “Maybe someday soon, then.” I shrug. The last thing I want is to push her. I understand how hard it is to have one foot out of the closet, and I’d never want to rush anyone’s coming-out process.

“Totally.” She grabs me by the inner thigh and pulls me in close. “When do you leave for your show? Let’s do something before. Maybe get out of the city? Think your brother will let us use one of his cabins?” Her breath skates across my neck, and she nips at my ear. “I got a new toy.”

Chills erupt beneath my dress. “Yeah? How is it?”

“Dunno,” she whispers. “I was saving it for you.”

Now my goose bumps have goose bumps.

“You’re so generous.” I steal a kiss, testing to see if she’s into it.

Why is it so hard to tell whether this girl is into me? I never have that problem with guys.

Her mouth covers mine hungrily, and the chatter in my head is forced to shut up. She tastes like cherries. It’s a real Katy Perry cliché, but it’s true. When she pulls back a fraction of an inch, I trace the soft fullness of her lips with my tongue.

She releases a moan only I can hear before recapturing my lips and demanding more.

The alarm on my phone goes off, reminding me I have other obligations, and we finally break apart. Sam insists on paying, and with one more kiss laced with the kind of passion that should be illegal, she promises to call me tomorrow.