Contemporary Erotic Romance
Nicole Davis is kept busy owning her own bar, and is too busy to find love. But, if she can’t find love, she’ll settle for sex—even if she has to pay for it. She knows she could never love a man like Jack, whose job requires him to sleep with women, but that doesn’t mean she can’t hire him for a few hours.
Warning: This short story contains graphic language and sexual content.
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Nicole Davis looked down the bar in what she hoped was disgust. He was back again, pretending to be some single bachelor–handsome, charming, seriously looking for Mrs. Right. Yeah, he was looking for Mrs. Right, or rather Mrs. Married to the Right Guy Who Hired Me. Some rich asshole who neglected his wife would hire this clown to seduce the unsuspecting woman while she was drunk, so that they could catch them in the act of having an affair, and could get a divorce without having to pay alimony. She’d seen many things since her bar, Onyx, opened, but this one was pretty low.
Nicole poured a shot of tequila and helped herself, tipping back her head. Her black tank top stretched up, showing her flat stomach. The bar belonged to her, so she could do whatever she wanted in it and right now she felt like drinking in the middle of the afternoon. Turning around, she set the bottle down and stared into the dark brown eyes of her reflection.
Onyx was a cozy place. Shaped like a long rectangle, it was much bigger than it looked on the outside. A row of booths lined the wall opposite the bar, with high backs for privacy and dark green leather cushions. Dark wood was polished to a high gloss along the walls with lighter wood tabletops and bar top. Stained glass fixtures hung over the seats and pool table. A jukebox was in the corner, playing only songs she liked.
She contemplated throwing Mr. Jerkoff out, telling him never to come back. She considered it every time he came in, but for some reason held back. Watching him seduce unsuspecting women became almost a sick fascination for her and she often wished he’d try to seduce her just so she could reject him.
At first, she thought he was just a charmer, until she noticed he gave a different name each night he came and changed his appearance like a chameleon. Only after overhearing him talk to a client did she realize what his game was. Hey, a man who merely liked sex and seduction, she could respect. A man who got paid to seduce women for bored husbands was just plain wrong.
Nicole shook her head. Peeking through the mirror, she studied the handsome stranger. The bar wasn’t too packed, but it was still early. In fact, it was a lot earlier than she usually saw him come in.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t call him ugly. He looked softer today with a loose t-shirt and blue jeans. His short dark hair wasn’t slicked back but hung easily to frame his light brown eyes.
Nicole bit her lip. She wondered if he was all talk, or if he actually was good at his profession. She’d never been with a man-whore before, but having spent at least two months memorizing the firm curve of his ass, she bet he was good in bed. Her body heated, making her realize she stared a little too long and hard at his reflection.
“Can I get a drink, or are you going to keep glaring at me for no apparent reason?” the man asked, his voice sending chills up her spine. He didn’t even look up from the book he held.
“Going for the reading, sensitive type tonight, eh, Bobby?” she quipped, moving to pour his regular–Jack and Coke. She slid the glass in front of him.
“I am the reading type,” he answered, not even looking up. Nicole noticed he didn’t say sensitive.
“Whatever you say, Ron,” Nicole answered, pretending she was bored as she answered the call of one of the back booths. She came out from behind the bar, walking past him with two bottles of beer. Under her breath, she added, “Last week you were the animal trainer type, Chester.”
The man actually laughed. Nicole dropped off the beers at the far booth, smiled kindly for the thought out come-on line she’d heard a million times, politely declined a ride on the baloney pony, and made her way back behind the bar. As she passed Mr. Jerkoff, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. His fingers wrapped all the way around her and overlapped. A spark of desire went through her, spiraling all the way to her toes.
“It’s Jack,” he said, not looking up and not letting go of her wrist.
“Yep,” Nicole answered. His hand was warm and suddenly all those late night fantasies that had preoccupied her about him came to mind. Forcing a light tone, she said, “You got it, Alan. Jack and Coke.”
“My name,” he said, finally turning to look at her. A small smile curled the side of his mouth, as he finished, “is Jack.”