CHAPTER SEVEN
Paolo
“I’m glad I caught you,” I said as we headed to Nico’s favorite table at the strip club. “I really needed to sit down with you in Sugar tonight. I have an idea to run by you.”
He gave me a look. “Right. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the strippers,” he chuckled.
It didn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
Nico kept talking. “I’d actually planned to bring you up here tonight anyway. There’s a hostess I’d like you to meet. And I made sure we were here in time for Abbi and Madeline’s sets.”
I didn’t want to admit that I was clueless as to who Madeline was and hadn’t known who Abbi was until he’d pointed her out to me.
I thought all the strippers at Sugar were hot, but I usually spent all my time in Cayenne.
I’d been in the VIP rooms at Sugar a few times to get sucked off, but I didn’t even remember which of the women I’d been with.
“I really do have something to go over with you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So tell me why you wanted to come to Sugar,” He said as we sat down and made ourselves comfortable at the premier table.
“I had something to run past you.”
“Ah. Okay.” He waved at a group of men. “Hold that thought. I’ve got to go talk to these guys. They’re new members, and I want to make sure everything is living up to their expectations.”
He was always leaving me, it seemed. But I understood this was his livelihood. It’s not like I’d leave a patient waiting around at the hospital so I could hang out with a friend.
“Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder, “I requested Jelly. She’ll take care of you.”
“Jelly?” I asked, confused. But he’d already walked away.
I moved seats so I could see both the bar and the main stage.
Abbi was dancing now. That’s all I could call it.
The way she moved felt like art, not like something raunchy.
She moved like a ballet dancer. She was a beautiful woman with an amazing body and the prettiest hair I’d ever seen.
And while she was naked except for a thong, she held herself with a grace and elegance that made her seem different from any other stripper I’d ever watched.
She was performing her set to sexy French jazz music, and I found myself getting lost in her routine.
Maybe that’s how the hostess snuck up on me.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
I looked up with a smile, ready to greet whatever beautiful woman stood in front of me. All of the hostesses at Sugar were beautiful.
But I froze when I saw this one. She was…
incredible. She was medium height, but with her heels she seemed taller than that.
Her legs were incredibly long and shapely.
Her ass wasn’t large, but it was plump and heart shaped.
I could imagine holding her there while I drove into her from behind.
Her waist was very small, and I ached to have my hands there.
And then there were her breasts. My mouth watered looking at them.
They weren’t as big as I normally liked.
They were probably only a D cup, maybe even just a full C cup, but they were perfect.
Her tight corset top pushed them up into the most perfectly rounded mounds I’d ever seen.
Some of the hostesses looked almost obscene, their large breasts were hiked up so much.
That had never bothered me a bit before, but now that I had seen this gorgeous creature nothing compared to her.
I could picture it; her standing between my legs, my hands squeezing that tiny waist, her breasts close to my face. It would be incomparable; heavenly…
“Sir?”
My eyes shot up from her body and looked at her face.
And I gasped. I literally gasped. It felt like a cliché to say she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
But she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She had smooth, ivory skin, a long, elegant neck, full red lips, jet-black hair that reached half-way down her back, luminous crystal blue eyes, and a poise and refinement that belied the fact she was a hostess in a strip club.
I couldn’t speak.
“Are you… okay?” She looked concerned.
“Yes. I’m… I’m fine. Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I haven’t seen you before. I’m Paolo Lanetti.”
I instantly wished I hadn’t said my last name. Most people, especially if they were originally from West Bay, knew the name and associated it with my father. But she just looked at me with a bemused smile.
Her eyes twinkled with intelligence and good humor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lanetti. I’m Jelly.” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “But if you see Carmen around, you have to call me Ray Ann.”
“Jelly,” I breathed as if it was an incredibly lovely name instead of… well, weird. “Please. Call me Paolo.”
“Alright.” She smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed as taken with me as I was with her. “Paolo, can I get you something from the bar? It’s just after last call, but since you’re with Nico it won’t be a problem.”
“Yes, please. Can I get a whiskey?”
“Sure. Would you like American whiskey or Scottish whisky? We have Jim Beam or Macallan.”
“Jim Beam is fine.” Living in the South had given me a taste for American bourbon whiskey instead of the luxury brands like Macallan.
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched her walk away. Now there was a woman I’d love to have on my arm at hospital galas and high society events.
I winced inwardly. But she was a hostess in a strip club. No matter how pretty she was, the chances of her being able to carry on an appropriate conversation with West Bay’s society elite were slim to none.
I sighed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nico said, lowering himself in the chair across from me and turning to watch the end of Abbi’s set.
“Nothing.” I forced a smile. “I just have another black-tie charity gala to attend this weekend. And I don’t want to go.”
“What’s the big deal? Just take some woman you want to fuck and kill two birds with one stone.” Nico leaned his arms on the table as a large-breasted blonde started her set onstage.
“I don’t have time to meet the kind of women I can take to events like that,” I sighed. “I go to work, and I come here. I won’t fuck anyone I work with, and I won’t date anyone I fuck here.”
Nico frowned and gave me his full attention. “You should do the auction. I could call Carmen out to talk to you about it.”
I shook my head. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to sell me on the sugar baby-style auction his younger sister had started. Of course, she didn’t call the women sugar babies. She called them Cinnamon Girls. But it was the same thing. Basically.
“No. I’m not interested. I’m looking for women I can take to charity events and work functions.
I can’t take someone like that,” I said, gesturing towards the woman on stage performing raunchy dance moves.
“I’d fuck her, sure. But I’m not going to try to have a conversation with someone who probably can’t string together a complete sentence. ”
“Are you serious?” Nico shook his head at me. “You know, you can come off like a real snob, Paolo. You did just talk to Nora, who’s studying to be a librarian, remember?”
I shrugged. “I’d say she’s the exception to the rule.” I wasn’t trying to be snobby or elitist. Just realistic.
“I’m just saying,” Nico Salazar continued, as I stared absentmindedly at the naked woman dancing onstage, “we do have several hostesses, dancers, and bartenders who are very classy. These are women in college, women in graduate school, women in medical school, women in law school—you catch my drift?”
I nodded, still not convinced.
“These are women who would look good on your arm at society functions…”
I waved my hand in the air, cutting off my friend.
“I’ll tell you what I want. I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now.
I want a separate, elite auction with society types who don’t work here.
Like debutantes whose parents have lost the family fortune or something.
Maybe they’re a bit down on their luck, but they haven’t fallen so low they’d work in a place like this. ”
Nico stiffened, and I realized what I’d said. “I mean…”
But he cut me off, his blue eyes focused on someone behind me. He was pissed but doing his best to hide it. “Here’s the hostess I wanted you to meet.”
I fought back a sigh. He’d told me there was some hostess I had to see. That she was beautiful and didn’t put up with any shit. He thought I’d like her. I knew I wouldn’t—at least not as more than a quick fuck, maybe.
I turned and did a double take as Jelly, the gorgeous hostess I’d already met, stood in front of me. Maybe Nico knew what he was talking about after all. She really was one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen. I grinned at her.
She didn’t smile back at me.
“Hello again,” she said with a slight uplift of the corners of her mouth. “Can I get you a refill?”
I turned on the charm. If this girl was in the auction, I’d bid on her. She had a sort of standoffishness about her that screamed class, even elegance.
“A date?” I gave her my best smile, the one that made panties drop and legs open. She cocked an eyebrow at me, clearly unimpressed. I was confused; why had her attitude changed from before?
“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in the kind of trashy women who would work in a dump like this.” She gestured around her at the luxurious surroundings.
I winced. I was an idiot, and she’d heard me. “That’s not what I meant…”
“I’ve found people tend to say exactly what they mean,” she said. “Don’t mind me. I’m not here to try and attach my classless ass to you like a barnacle. I have no desire to date you. I’m only here for your drink order.”
I gaped at her.
“And I have other tables.” She stared at me pointedly.
This woman was rude. I turned to Nico to see if he would reprimand her but he wasn’t even trying to hide his amused smile.