Page 16 of Bad Boy Next Door
“You seemed to be watching pretty intently.”
“Sweetheart, I watch dancers every night. Professionals. Takes more than a bit of cleave to get me hard.” I shifted behind the counter, hoping she hadn’t spotted my obvious boner.
“You hang out in strip clubs every night? Classy.”
“That’s where I work.” I shot her a wicked grin. “You too, starting tomorrow tonight.”
“What?” She sat back on her heels, her nipples hard under that thin grey shirt, now soaked in places with sweat.
“I told you.” She pointed her sponge at me. “Sex. That’s where I draw the line. I don’t care how much I owe you.”
“Did I ask you to have sex with me? With anyone?”
“I’m not going to be a stripper.” Her jaw twitched. “That is not part of the deal.”
“Of course not. The girls at the club are pros, trained.” I grinned. “Speaking of trained, do you have experience waiting tables?”
“Sure.” She tossed her sponge into the bucket of water. “But I hoped I’d be working in a kitchen. In a real restaurant.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Do you see me begging?”
“You are on your knees.”
“Fuck you.” She gave me the finger.
“Now who’s suggesting sex?” I chuckled. “Let’s see how it goes tomorrow night.”
Clearly fighting a grin, she put in her ear buds and went back to cleaning the floor.
Stan was always looking for kitchen staff, but she’d hate it in there. Especially if she was hoping to work in a nice restaurant. At Solid Gold, most of the food went straight from the freezer to the deep fryer and no one in the kitchen was remotely chef-like. If Stan didn’t have a few crooked cops and health inspectors in his back pocket, the kitchen would’ve been shut down years ago. No one went to Solid Gold for the food.
“If you can’t cut it as a cocktail waitress,” I shouted, “don’t worry. You’re not bad at washing floors. The tiles in the private rooms can get a tad… sticky.”
“Gross,” she shouted back.
“Gratitude?”
Without looking up, she gave me the finger again.
