2 Aubie #2
A heated look passes between us. Yes, I could probably go back to my table and wait for his shift to end before taking him back to my place for what I know would be mind-blowing sex, but where’s the challenge in that? Besides, this crush I feel for him only thrives if I deny it.
Jimi grins at me as if he can follow my thoughts. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, reading the subtext. “Who is he?”
He nods behind me. “Table fourteen, blond hair.”
I give a discreet peek over my shoulder. “Blond, huh? Stepping out of your comfort zone.”
“I know. But…there’s just something about him. I want to eat him up.”
“Slut.”
He winks. “Takes one to know one.”
“Touché. I’ll leave you to your lusting. Give me a bottle of Patrón Silver and three glasses.”
“How about I class it up and have it delivered to your table by a server?”
I pucker my lips and blow him a kiss. “And I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
“I’ll even throw in some limes,” he calls as I turn to walk away.
I get accosted multiple times on my way back to the table.
Fans who recognize me and want me to sign their napkins or drink receipts.
One woman even asks me to autograph her chest. I kiss her cheek and she squeals.
I get the cutest blush from a pretty twink when he introduces himself as my biggest fan.
I can’t stop from running my fingers through his hair and telling him he’s beautiful.
I think I may have given him a heart attack.
When I finally get back to our table, Steph and Jerome are making a dent in the tequila that made it to the table ahead of me. “You’ve got some catching up to do,” Steph laughs as she points to my empty glass.
Guess I’m Ubering home tonight. “Hit me,” I say, pushing the glass toward her. The first shot burns and spreads that familiar death-to-inhibition warmth oozing through me. I lick my lips in anticipation of the evening’s promise as I push the glass toward her again.
“How’s Jimi?” she asks as she refills my glass.
“Horny.”
She rolls her eyes. “What else is new?”
“How about you? Are you horny yet?”
We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the revue takes the stage, the DJ cranking out fuck me music that keeps the audience in a fever pitch.
“I’m waiting for the main event.” She laughs at my pitying expression. “I know, I know. They all bat for the opposite team.”
“Well, not all of them. There is Dominic, their leader. But he’s a busy man.”
“I can imagine,” she snorts.
One of the women at the next table leans over to me and asks if I’m Chaton.
“That’s me,” I answer with my best smile, then endure her excited praise.
“You’re my favorite,” she says, then gets the attention of her friends, who all start fawning over me.
Steph groans from beside me. “Now I see why you like it here. Deliver us from your ego.”
“Don’t be jealous,” I smirk.
I’ve now not only got the attention of the whole table of women, but the men sitting on the other side of us.
Jerome starts chatting up one of them while another one jokingly asks if I’ll sit on his lap.
It’s not the worst thing someone has asked of me in here.
I brush him off with my best fake demure smile. Yeah, like he’d make me blush.
We’re having a great time making new friends when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glance around the packed house and that’s when my eyes lock on him.
Cutter.
Why do I suddenly feel guilty of something?
He’s standing against the wall directly behind us, as usual on no-fun patrol. I tell myself to look away. That he’s the last person I want to be staring at.
Our gaze holds for a long beat, and I feel something stir in my chest.
Hate?
Interest?
Lust?
Who can say?
He breaks the spell when he looks away first. Steph leans over to me and says something, pulling my eyes away from him, but it’s like my brain and my body are out of sync.
What did that look mean? I pretend to know what Steph just said as she continues with her conversation.
When I turn back around, I spot Cutter ducking out the door.
What the fuck? He’s the last person I want to give up head space to.
Obviously I need more alcohol and a fresh ass to sink my teeth into. I survey the room, looking for hopeful targets, but nothing tweaks my radar yet.
When the revue takes the stage, I decide to sit back and observe the show like a fan.
I even try to drum up a fantasy or two about each member.
Unfortunately, after three months of sharing a dressing room with them, I know all their individual dramas and faults.
That much reality kind of kills the romance.
There’s a reason why I rarely stick around for seconds.
By the time the second bottle of Patrón arrives, the only pain I’m feeling is in my dick.
Jerome is sucking face with the cute guy from the next table, oblivious to the fact that grown men are taking off their clothes in front of him.
I need to find something that consuming right now.
Maybe a trip to the restroom will give me a change of scenery.
The people at the tables between me and the other side of the room have become a little drunker and lot more handsy.
I flirt with the ones who recognize me and assess the ones who don’t for potential.
Either this crowd is a dud or I’ve suddenly become picky.
And that just doesn’t sound like me. I’m the king of the shallow hookup.
Who cares what kind of personality they have if I’m going to forget their face an hour after they leave? I don’t even bother asking for names.
I break through the logjam of tables and saunter into the hallway leading to the restroom. There are a couple of doorways along here, though I don’t know where they lead. I rarely spend time in front of house unless I’m on stage.
One of the doors is cracked open and I can hear half of a conversation. Someone obviously talking on the phone. It isn’t until I’m almost past that I recognize the voice and slow down to listen.
“I can tell him, but you’re not going to like what he has to say,” I hear Cutter say tersely.
“Because I know him…Tell you what, why don’t you come over here and tell him yourself?
…That’s what I thought…Don’t threaten me…
” The pause is longer this time. Finally I hear him sigh and respond.
“As long as you remember that…Yeah, later.”
He must’ve hung up, because a second later, he mutters, “Asshole.”
Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, I hurry down the hall. What was that conversation about, and why do I care?
As I reach the restroom door, I glance back and catch Cutter standing outside the room, watching me.
Fuck him. I push my way through the door and put him out of my mind.