Page 40 of Scoring the Player
Flustered, she’s quick to say, “It’s no big deal. I’ve worked with male models before. Be careful. There are still pins at the bottom.”
I carefully pull on the pants. She watches my every movement. She’s hesitant at first to touch me. Her hands come forward and then she pulls them back. She walks around me to check the fit, I guess. Seconds tick by and she doesn’t say anything.
Finally, she brings her fingers to the front of the pants where a button would go. She holds the material together and then runs her other hand down my thigh. Every muscle contracts on reflex and my dick twitches. A hot girl is touching the front of my pants. She’s basically undressing me. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s the opposite but tell that to the dirty fantasies flashing through my brain.
“Eddie is a little bigger than you,” she says.
“Way to ruin the moment,” I mutter under my breath. That killed any movement south.
“I mean taller. What are you, six-two?”
“And a half.” That half inch seems super important right now.
“How do they feel?” She’s standing so close, fingers still brushing my skin as she holds the material together at my waist.
“Good.” I clear my throat. “They feel good.”
“Okay, hold still.” She leans around me to get something from the desk behind me and her boobs press into my chest as she does.
Aaaand, we’re back in business. I wonder how these pants are going to look and feel with an erection. If it were anyone but Dahlia, I’d be convinced she was fucking with me or doing it on purpose. But I know that isn’t the case. She’s so unassuming, so naive in a lot of ways. The other night she had no idea when people were checking her out or being a little too friendly. I could tell. Usually when a girl notices a guy giving her attention, she alters her behavior. A little more hair touching, more smiling and dainty laughs. But Dahlia didn’t do any of that. She has no idea, and that turns me on so freaking much.
I’m in a haze of lust-filled thoughts when she squats down in front of me, her face eye level with my crotch. Jesus fucking Christ.
I wonder if she’ll be honored or horrified when my dick is tenting these pants. Before it fully inflates, she works a safety pin through the front of the pants and stands.
“Okay.” She smiles at me so innocently. “Walk around in them. I want to see how they look while you move.”
“Walk around? Just walk?”
“Sashay, prance, whatever floats your boat, Walters.” She crosses her arms over her chest and amusement twinkles in her eyes. “And lift up your T-shirt a little bit. Eddie likes his shirts tighter than the one you’re wearing.”
“Now I know you’re fucking with me.” But I do it.
“Good. Walk the length of the room. Eddie uses the entire stage when he performs. He moves around and dances. I need to see what the pants look like in those scenarios.”
I do as she asks and start walking slowly away from the table. “You into this guy?”
“Eddie Dillon?” She laughs.
“Just saying, you know an awful lot about him.”
“It’s my job.” She follows behind me, eyes on my ass. “Can you stop there and move in place a little?”
“Uhh…” Still holding the hem of my T-shirt up with one hand, I absently run my other hand through my hair.
Suddenly EDM music starts playing in the room. Robby wears a mischievous grin as he watches along with Dahlia. “Show us what you got, Walters.”
“This is not the kind of stuff Eddie Dillon sings. Even I know that.”
Robby moves to the beat likes he’s up in the club. He struts toward Dahlia and takes her hand. I expect her to hesitate or wave him off, so imagine my surprise when she starts to dance alongside him.
Neither of them are even looking at me for a few seconds as they get into a rhythm dancing together. Dahlia looks up at me first then breaks away from Robby, facing me and silently encouraging me.
“I don’t dance,” I say.
“Just humor me.”
Cursing myself for agreeing to this and not just going to the party by myself, I shuffle side to side.
