26
The rest of the morning with the girls followed the club's familiar rhythm: Amanda and Isabella teasing Brandon relentlessly, sneaking discreet touches whenever they could, murmuring filthy whispers into his ear every time he bent down near them.
Amanda took her cruelty to new heights this time, leaning hard into her "furious" act over the gold bracelet and his secret afternoon with Isa.
It peaked while he was clearing empty glasses beside her; out of nowhere, a sharp sting flared high on his inner thigh.
Amanda had dug her nails deep into his flesh, marking him right where his uniform shorts would keep the bruise hidden from view.
When he whipped around, startled, he caught the blaze in Amanda’s eyes. The blonde bit her lower lip, shifting her legs together in a tight, restless cross that betrayed just how much it was turning her on.
It was hours of delicious torture just like that, and Brandon loved every single second of it.
Now Isabella and Amanda were gone, and the club seemed to lose all its color. He still had half a shift left to grind through, but all the excitement in the air had walked out the gate right alongside his girls.
Still, he had Saturday’s date with Amanda to look forward to. That was infinitely better than pacing around, wondering when he’d see them next. If it went anything like his afternoon at the mall with Isabella, Brandon's weekend was going to be perfection.
Anything with those two makes the day perfect, he realized, catching himself off guard with just how effortlessly the thought surfaced.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did those two take all your sunshine with them?”
Brandon turned to find Sally standing right behind him on the stone pathway. He hadn’t even heard the widow approach.
“They definitely did, ma'am.” The words slipped out before his brain could filter them. The moment they hung in the air, heat flooded his face, his mind racing with panic that he’d just given away his relationship with the club’s VIP members.
He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Amanda and Isabella—and he sure as hell didn’t want to get fired.
Sally laughed, pressing a delicate, manicured hand over her mouth in a polite little chuckle.
“Relax, darling. You don't have to worry about me. Your secret’s safe.” She pinched Brandon’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You do need to be more careful, though. Even if it is adorable seeing you light up around them, practically tripping over yourself running back and forth. Come on, walk me over to the spa.”
Brandon offered to carry her tote. Sally smiled, nodding, and linked her arm through his as they strolled.
“They’re good girls. My late husband was in business with their families, you know.
Always well-mannered—far more than most of the people around here, to be frank.
I’ve lost count of how many gala dinners I’ve suffered through with them.
Though they always seem to find an excuse to sneak away early. ”
Gala dinners, Brandon thought, immediately conjuring up a lavish ballroom with red carpets, sculpted marble stairways, and a chandelier worth more than everything he’d ever owned in his life.
A hundred caterers in crisp uniforms pouring vintage drinks he couldn’t even pronounce.
The kind of world you'd never belong in.
“I hope you’re treating my girls right, young man.” Sally chuckled again. “Then again, I suppose I should be saying that to them, shouldn’t I? Seeing how thoroughly they boss you around.”
“I... think I like it, ma'am.” He felt another blush warm his cheeks. Hearing the confession out loud felt surreal.
Sally laughed softly, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. They stepped up the three wooden stairs leading into the spa. The hallway was quiet, though he could hear the faint sounds of Monica bustling around near the thermal baths.
“You ought to see them in an evening gown and stilettos, darling. That’ll really have you on your knees for them.”
“Sally!” Brandon chided playfully, and the widow let out another laugh, eyeing him with wicked amusement.
His imagination raced ahead anyway, conjuring Isabella and Amanda in slinky dresses and killer heels, gliding into the lavish ballroom he’d just pictured.
Then Saturday flashed through his mind. What if she’s taking you to a dinner like that?
No way, right? Brandon wasn't cut out to be an escort at high-society functions. ...Or was he?
Anxiety spiked for a second as he wondered how he’d even be expected to act, what he’d wear—not that he owned anything remotely fit for high society.
“Everything alright, darling?”
“Well... it’s just, you mentioned those dinners. There isn’t one happening this Saturday, is there?”
“Why? Are they threatening to drag you to one?” Sally gave another knowing little chuckle, nodding toward his visibly worried expression.
“Sort of... Amanda didn’t say what we’re doing, and I...”
“And now you have pre-date jitters? Nothing more natural in the world, sweet boy.”
Brandon placed Sally’s bag in a locker and pulled up her intake card. The masseuse was already prepping the private room for her.
“Yeah... but I kind of...” Brandon trailed off, nervously tugging at the hem of his club polo.
I don’t own anything nice enough to be seen with Amanda or Isabella.
I have a drawer full of threadbare tees and a few worn jeans, and anything I could scrape together the cash to buy by Saturday would look like a cheap costume next to whatever Amanda wears.
Brandon kept the spiral locked in his head, fighting not to let the panic show.
“Oh, sweetheart. I can assure you Amanda doesn’t care about trivial things like that, so you can stop fretting.” Sally placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I know. Just jitters, like you said.”
“You’re right—easier said than done, isn’t it?” Sally smoothed the collar of Brandon’s shirt, making him feel like a looked-after little boy all over again.
Then Sally paused. She looked Brandon up and down, measuring his frame with a discerning eye. “Actually... I think I can help with that.”
“How?”
Sally gave another teasing chuckle, letting him go as she turned toward the massage suite. “Come back here once my session’s done, okay?”