Page 7 of One Taste
After starting her coffee, she reaches in the cabinet above it and pulls down a bottle of Kahlúa. “Well?” She asks topping off my coffee.
I sigh and take a generous sip. “The first douche didn’t stop staring at my tits the entire time, and I’m wearing a fucking turtle neck, it isn’t like he had any cleavage to check out.”
For most of the interview, I kept wondering if maybe the thin sweater material of my favorite sleeveless turtle neck had become too worn and my bra was visible. Nope, it wasn’t. I checked as soon as the interview was over. I dashed to the ladies’ room in the lobby to find that my bra was not visible through the maroon fabric of my blouse. Jack Rossi was just a pig. There’s no way I could work for that man day in and out. I felt like I needed a shower after spending forty-five minutes with his eyes roving all over my chest like it was a discovery mission.
“Eww,” she sneers. “Let me guess, he was over-weight, balding—probably a comb-over—and called you sweetheart at least once.”
“Two for three,” I nod. “He called me doll face not sweetheart.”
“What a douche.”
Unfortunately, this isn’t something new to me. I’m used to men thinking they can do or say whatever they want to women in the office. A man’s world and all that. Misogyny is far more common than it should be, but I choose to stay far away from those situations by following my gut. My gut tells me Jack Rossi is not someone I want to be around.
“What about the second one?”
“It was a drama zone,” I say. “I felt it the moment the interview started. The interviewers were two snotty bitches who kept sizing me up like I was the competition for their jobs. One introduced herself as the head of HR, so I don’t get the attitude, it’s not like I was interviewing for her job, but whatever, and the second was the campaign manager. She didn’t seem to like anything I said. She looked like she was smelling something bad the whole time. I don’t have time for high school drama at this point in my life. “
“Fuck those twats,” Brielle says raising her mug in the air. “You’ve gotNBCtomorrow right?”
I nod excitedly. “Yes, and one more Friday evening that my recruiter just left a message about. He better get his shit together because one more shitty interview and I’m looking for someone else to find me a job.”
Sebastian
The club is chaos. Peopleare packedfrom one end to the other, and the women…fuck me.The women are gorgeous this evening. This place just opened about six months ago and is becoming one of my favorite places to be. The music is always great, the women are fine as hell, and they treat me like royalty whenever I come in.
Having myfaceeverywhere may be a detriment to my work life, but it has elevated my social life afewnotches. Like tonight, for instance, I’m in analcove surrounded by beautiful people with bottle service. What more could you ask for on a Friday night?
“I saw you in thepapera few days ago,” the blonde sitting on my lap purrs in my ear. This is another example of the good it’s done. The beauty trying to ensure she keeps my attention strokes her finger up and down my bicep. A seductive smile scrawls her lips. “You’re so much hotter in person, though.”
She almost falls from my lap as she leans into me, and I pull her closer. She’s tipsy, but it won’t stop me from taking her home tonight if she stays that way and doesn’t turn into a sloppy mess. Drunk women are not my thing. It gets way too messy. I’m trying to blow off steam after a shitty week, and I want smooth. Not problematic.
This week has been rough. Madison has been in a fierce mood, and it’s making my life a living hell. She’s been shuffling in person after person for interviews and spending more time on than off the phone with the recruiters. She spent yesterday morning with some image restoration guru to plot out a plan to makeMidtownstand out by getting good press instead of press associated with my life at night. I’m stillbitter about the whole thing. Nothing about this is making sense.
I won’t focus on any of that now. It’s Friday and I want to forget all about my work issues and my sister’s plans until Monday morning.
The horny woman occupying my lap shifts and most of her full tits are on display for me, bringing my attention back to the present.See what I mean? Easy pussy.
“They forgot to mention something in that article,” I whisper, tracing my tongue across the curve of her ear. Her entire body shivers, and her nipples stiffen under the thin fabric of her dress.
“Oh yeah?” she mewls as she settles deeper into my lap. “What’s that?”
My cock grows hard as she wiggles her ass against it. If she keeps doing that, we won’t make it out of here. We’ll end up fucking somewhere in this building. That’ll give the gossipmongers a great headline for the morning edition.Sebastian Brooks Makes Woman Scream Down Platinum.
Although, I’m sure she doesn’t care where I make her scream my name just that I do it. She’sexhibiting all the signs she wants my cock. The sultry stare, constant touching, and uneasiness. She wants me bad.
“How the womanwith me that night was so satisfied by my cock, she swore she didn’t know how she’d live on without it.”
Excitement paints her face at the mention of fucking. It’s always the same.
“Wanna get out of here?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Yes.” She places a kiss on my lips. “Please, yes.”
Taking her hand, I help up the woman whose name I haven’t gotten yet and make sure she’s steady on her feet.We shuffle through the crowd, dodging people left and right.
Just as Ipush openthe door to leave,the familiar crowd of nuisances with their cameras have me stopping in my tracks and receding back into the club.
A loud squeal eruptsas I drag the blonde bombshell behind me in my haste to make sure no one catches a photo of me.What feels like a million sets of eyesstaring at mehas the hairs on the back of my neck standing at full attention.
