Page 9 of Man Vs. Woman
Colt
I watch as a petite blonde,wearing nothing but nipple tassels and a leather thong display our $10,000 bottle of Glenfiddich. I needed something strong, rich, and indulgent tonight…just like me.
She pours us each a drink—Dominic, Austin, Taylor, and me —and hands them over, shimming her ass provocatively.
“Is there anything else I can get you boys?” She brushes her hand over my thigh, lingering as she passes me the drink. I reach up weaving the fringe material through my fingers.
If it was any other night, she’d be on her knees, sucking me dry. I’d take Ms. Leather and Fringe to a private room and watch as I make those tassels whip around like some high-powered windmill. She’d be able to power a fucking village after I’m done with her.
Don’t get me wrong, baby, this woman is fucking hot and I’m exercising a lot of restraint here. But, really, I’m just not in the mood tonight.
My eyes travel down to her thong, and I drop my hand.
Fuck me.
“Thanks, baby. But we’re good,” I say, bringing the crystal glass to my lips. I take a swig, letting the whisky burn and numb my throat.
My gaze follows her ass, enjoying how it bounces away from me and I sigh. I’m a tad disappointed, but after this week, the last thing I want is to be caught with another blonde chick. Blondes might have more fun, but damn, they cause more trouble. Even without them knowing.
Don’t believe me? Yeah, well, it’s true. They walk in, all pink tank top and perky tits, stair mastering their way into my head, fucking things up and then leave, just like that.
I’m sure you’ve already caught on by now, but if not, I’ll catch you up. I’m not referring to the slut I fucked up against the glass—she was brunette…I think. I’m talking about the yoga-pant wearing, busty blonde Goddess who walked into my gym thatfateful day. She’s was my undoing, my kryptonite.
I blame everything on her.
God, why did she have to do the fucking Stairmaster? With those perfectly sculpted tits that bounce up and down, like they’re waving ‘hi’ to me. I mean, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have fucked the slut so hard causing the glass to slip…and my swimmers to go diving into the pool of senior citizens.
Seriously, stay away from blondes.
Ok, before you get your panties in a twist, baby. I know it’s notactuallyher fucking fault. She was going about her business being a Goddess in yoga pants. But that has to be a sin somewhere, right? There’s a reason yoga pants are banned in middle schools. Boys can’t be held accountable for their actions when asses like that are wrapped in a nice, tight package.
Fuck, why can’t I stop thinking about it?
“Do you know how much fucking money I loaned from the bank for Colt Academy? Do you know how fucking much money?” I yell over to the guys, interrupting them mid-conversation. “What in the hell am I supposed to do now?” I let my head rollback, letting it dangle over the back of the couch.
“What about the other gyms?” Austin asks me. He’s a business owner like myself – running a mass market furniture brand. “Don’t they bring in revenue?”
I nod, but grimace at the same time. “The rents and setup costs for Colt Academy were so high, I’m probably going to have to liquidate them to cover the debts and that won’t be enough either with the economy the way it is,” I say.
Austin’s face goes pale. He leans back against our booth.
The booth we got—our usual—is the most expensive, ranging about $70,000 a night. It overlooks the club, giving us a good vantage point for scoping out the clientele below. The best part? It has access to every private room. It’s also the most exclusive strip club in Manhattan. Only the elite of the elite have access to it and, you’re lucky, you’re in the presence of one now.
I bet that’s not a surprise though, right? Especially if you’ve read about Dominic and Taylor. Have you read about Austin? Or is that the next book?
Never mind. Both Dominic and Taylor, who you should have read about, are fucking billionaires, hell, maybe even more than that now. Between the three of us, we have New York in the palms of our hands. I’m just have a more hands-on approach,literally.
We all react to the airhorns wailing, swiveling our heads towards the commotion. Honey comes on the stage and I see only a few of her moves before Dominic steals my attention.
“I get it, man. It’s a fucked up situation. But shit happens, especially when you can’t keep your dick to yourself. Fuck knows I’ve learned that lesson.” He smirks knowingly and sips his drink. “Have you considered filing for bankruptcy? You wouldn’t be the first one.”
“What the fuck, man? Bankruptcy? No, I don’t want to do that!” I recoil at the thought.
“Well, you might not want to, but you mighthaveto,” He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. It’s like he’s scolding he’s fucking child.
“Yeah, yeah. Uh, I really don’t fucking get it. How could the health department shut me down? It was a fluke accident. Everything at the Academy was top-notch, fucking pristine! It’s not like I used cum as chlorine or some shit!” I say in my defense. Only one fucking incident and they shut me down, no priors, warning or anything; it’s shit like this that really pisses me off.
I feel the residual anger from the past few days come back with a vengeance. So, like a good boy, I finish my drink in one gulp and grab the bottle, filling the glass to the rim.
