Chapter Thirteen #2
Thiago crossed back to the sofa, a Faygo Red Pop in one hand and another bottle of water in the other. “Ava, your death water.”
She took it, rolling her eyes. “T doesn’t do fizzy drinks,” she told Nash, twisting off the cap.
“God, no.” Thiago chose the chair next to Nash and smiled at him. “Do you know what they put in that stuff?”
“No, and I probably don’t want to,” Nash replied.
“Smart lad.” Ava lifted the bottle to drink, then lowered it. “So, Nash.”
“Yes, Ava?”
Those lush lips curved into a smile, but her eyes were sharp, shrewd. “Tell us about this gang bang you’re wanting to set up.”
Buying himself time, Nash lifted his water and drank. When he’d finished, he said, “Sawyer didn’t fill you in?”
“He did,” Ava replied, her gaze steady on his face. “But I’d like to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Fair enough,” Nash said. “It’s for my ex-girlfriend, Bailey.”
“How ex are we talking, here?”
Nash glanced at Thiago. “Eight years.”
His eyebrows inched up. “That’s pretty ex.”
“It is,” Nash agreed. “We’d planned to do it when we were together, but, well…”
“You broke up,” Ava finished.
He nodded.
“And now you’re…what? Friends?”
Nash nodded. It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth. “And roommates.”
Interest lit Ava’s steely gaze. “Why you?”
He met it squarely. “Because she trusts me to keep her safe.”
“Well. Good for you.”
Nash couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or not, so he just continued. “Plus, I know what she wants.”
“What does she want?” Thiago asked.
Nash wished briefly they’d all sat together, so he didn’t have to keep turning his head. “To be used.”
“Hot,” Ava murmured, and Thiago nodded.
“Very hot,” he agreed, but his eyes were serious. “There are a lot of ways to use someone. How does she want to be used?”
Nash took a drink of his water, then set it aside. “Here’s how I see this going.”
He laid it out for them, answered their questions, elaborated when more details were needed. By the end of it, he’d gone through two bottles of water and felt as though he’d run a marathon.
“I think I’ve got a handle on the emotional side of this,” Thiago commented. At some point he’d dug out his phone and started taking notes. “What about the physical? I assume vaginal intercourse is part of this fantasy.”
Nash nodded. “Yes.”
“What about oral, anal?”
“Yes to both.”
“DP?”
“Definitely on the table, but we’ll need to work her up to it.”
Thiago nodded and made a note.
“Will she eat pussy?”
Nash turned to Ava to answer her. “Yes.”
“Nice. Will she fuck me with a strap-on?”
“Yes, but…” Nash paused, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “I think it’d be better if she didn’t. She wants to be used, not do the using.”
Ava’s mouth curled in a smirk. “You think if she has a cock she can’t be used?”
Nash shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“We can play it by ear,” Sawyer interjected. He’d been largely quiet, letting the others talk, but Nash knew he hadn’t missed a single word. “You okay with that?”
“Fine,” Nash said, and Ava nodded.
“Good. What else?” Sawyer prompted.
Thiago kept throwing out questions and suggestions, with Nash giving either a thumbs up or a thumb down. When he was out of questions, Thiago put down his phone. “That’s all my questions. Anyone else?”
Ava shook her head. “Anything I had, you covered. Sawyer?”
“Safeword. We need one.”
“Bananarama,” Nash said, and had the pleasure of seeing all of them go blank.
“The eighties girl band?” Ava finally said.
“Yep.”
Thiago picked up his phone and made another note. “Well, it’s not the weirdest safeword I’ve heard.”
“It’s a good one,” Ava mused. “I might borrow that.”
“Where do you want to do this?” Sawyer continued. “Hotel, here, or home?”
Nash glanced around. The house was nice, comfortable, and if Bailey had been uncomfortable having it at home, it would definitely have been his first choice.
But he’d thought a lot about what Sawyer had said, about the advantages of being able to care for her in her own space. “Home. I’ll text Sawyer the address.”
“Good enough,” Sawyer said as Thiago made another note. “Do you have any questions for us?”
Though he’d gleaned a lot from the discussion already, Nash nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
Sawyer gave a come-ahead wave. “Bring ’em on.”
He did. They answered his questions easily, with a candor he appreciated and a humor he thought Bailey would enjoy.
“Last question,” he finally said after about twenty minutes of Q&A. “What am I paying you?”
The three of them exchanged a quick glance. “We’ll need to talk about that,” Sawyer said. “When do you want to do this?”
“Bailey’s off work Sundays and Mondays, so Sunday would be best.”
Thiago’s fingers froze on his phone, and his head popped up. “Tomorrow?”
“I thought next week.” Tomorrow was too soon. Nash wanted to give Bailey plenty of time to anticipate what was coming.
“I’m free next Sunday.”
Sawyer nodded at Ava, then looked at Thiago. “T?”
Thiago swiped through his phone, ostensibly checking his calendar. “Me, too.”
“I don’t usually take weekend bookings, but I can make it work.” Sawyer’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “And that’s my ride.”
Figuring that was his cue to leave, Nash rose. “You’ll get back to me on the fee?”
“Give us a day or two.” Sawyer rose to walk Nash to the door.
“No problem.” On the threshold, Nash turned. Thiago and Ava had both risen and stepped forward, and the three of them standing together formed a diverse and beautiful unit. “Thank you all for meeting me. I really appreciate it.”
“It was our pleasure,” Thiago said.
“Or will be,” Ava said, and Thiago sighed.
“You just can’t help yourself.”
Sawyer just grinned. “See you later, Nash.”
“Later,” he echoed and stepped off the porch onto the steps, the door closing behind him.
The SUV that had dropped Sawyer off sat idling at the curb behind his car, and this time he could see the woman behind the wheel. Another beauty, with a wildly curling mane of red hair, she sent him a jaunty wave as he walked to his car.
He waved back, amused, then climbed into his car, cranked the AC, and drove away.
When he got home, he stretched out on his bed, already working on a plan. He had a week to get Bailey ready for this, and he intended to use every moment of it to drive her wild.
* * * *
Bailey let herself into the house at six-thirty, ready to eat and collapse, in that order. Or not—thanks to delivery, she could collapse first, then eat. But then she’d have decide what to order, and she’d had enough decision-making for one day.
She loved her job, she really did. Owning her own salon had been her dream since she was a teenager, and she’d suffered through four years of college for a business degree to prove to her parents that she could do it. But some days she really wished she wasn’t the boss.
Leaving her purse and shoes by the front door, she trudged into the kitchen for a beer.
She pulled it out of the fridge, popped the top, and drank. With the first cold, crisp sip under her belt, she peered into the still-open fridge to see what she could eat.
There was deli meat and bread, so she could make herself a sandwich. But that didn’t sound good. She briefly considered a salad—she had cucumbers about to go bad—then shook her head. Too much chopping, and she was out of her favorite dressing anyway.
Chicken nuggets, she thought, shutting the fridge and opening the freezer. But when she opened the bag, there were only three left, and that just wasn’t enough.
Disappointed, she put the bag back and shut the freezer door and with her beer, shuffled back to the living room to collapse on the couch.
She was still lying there ten minutes later, wondering if she had the energy to get up for another beer, when Nash came through the front door.
“Thank God, you’re home.” Keeping her eyes shut—the dark was so peaceful—she held up the empty bottle. “Can you get me another one of these?”
His warm chuckle reached her ears a second before the click of the front door closing. “How do you know it’s me?”
“I don’t know, I just did.” She waggled the bottle back and forth. “Please? I had a shit day.”
“Poor baby,” he mocked, his voice coming closer, and she would’ve stuck her tongue out if he hadn’t plucked the bottle from her hand. “What happened?”
Satisfied that her second beer was on the way, she wiggled deeper into the couch cushions. “I had to break up a fight between two of my stylists.”
He whistled, low and long. “Over what?”
“Meg’s client decided she liked Jeni better, and switched.”
“Uh-oh. That happen a lot?”
“Not often, but sometimes, sure. It sucks, but you just have to roll with it.”
“I take it Meg didn’t roll.”
“Nope.” Something nudged her hand, and she opened one eye to see the beer bottle, frosty and perfect. “Thanks.”
“Sure. So what happened?”
Bailey sat up so she could drink the beer without spilling. “She took a swing.”
Nash sat on the other end of the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Did she connect?”
“No, but only because Jeni saw it coming.” Nash was wearing shorts, and his bare thigh was far too close to her bare toes. She drew her knees up to put some distance between them. “Then it was just screams and accusations and tears.”
“Did you fire Meg?”
“I had to. I can’t have my employees brawling in the salon.”
Nash sipped his own beer. “No, you can’t.”
Holding the beer to her aching head, Bailey looked at him. “At least she waited until after closing to do it.”
“Considerate of her.”
“I don’t think she did it on purpose, but at least I didn’t have to contend with clients during that mess. Or, God forbid, someone filming it.”
“No one got out a phone?”
“Oh, a couple of the other stylists did.” She stopped to drink beer. “I had to tell them to knock it off or they were getting fired too.”
“Sounds like a fun day.”
“And now I’m hungry, but I don’t want to cook anything, and I can’t think of anything that sounds good to order.”
“How about sushi?”
She considered that. “It sounds good, but it’ll take an hour to get here. At least.”
“It’s already here.”
“Huh?”