Page 34 of Tease Me

“Bonjour.” I tried to emanate his sexy inflection. Feeling stupid, a red flush burned up my neck as I turned to the check-in cards and flicked through to find his name. Sebastien De Marco—it sounded as exotic as he looked.

“What brings you to the Gold Coast, Mr. De Marco?”

He tugged on the dark ponytail positioned neatly at the back of his neck. “I’m competing in the dance audition at the casino tomorrow.” His accent was an aphrodisiac.

Trying to ignore my uncontrollable libido, I plucked a blue pen off the desk and twirled it in my fingers. “A dancer? I’ve never met a dancer before.” That would explain his smooth stride and incredible physique. “I hope you’re successful.”

“Moi aussi.” He flashed a delightful smile, and hints of gold lit up his green eyes.

“Are you checking in alone?”

“Yes, everyone else is errr . . .” he looked to the ceiling, “habiter at the casino. But the noise . . . it drive me --.” He rolled his finger around his ear.

I nodded, completely understanding. “Yes, it’s very noisy at the casino.”

He nodded. “The beach is more tranquille.”

My birthday boy and I shared a common sentiment. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Sebastien had flawless skin and a trimmed three-day growth that perfectly matched the sexiness of his slicked-back hair. He had it all going on, and if things played out well, he’d be getting it on with me very soon.

I passed his registration paperwork to him. “Well, I’m glad we could help. You’re staying in room fifty. It’s a penthouse suite; you’ll have a wonderful view of the beach from there.”

“Perfect. Exactly what I need to clear my mind.” He twirled his left hand in the air in an elegant expression of grace and poise, and when I noticed no wedding ring on his finger, I decided this was an invitation.

I have some ideas to clear your mind. Maybe we could do our own little tango. I shoved that delightful idea aside and tried to remain professional despite my libido doing a little jig inside me.

As I watched his graceful glide toward the elevator, I flopped back into my chair. Sebastien ticked all the right boxes—sexy, handsome, excellent body, no wedding ring.

I checked the clock. It was only ten-thirty. It was going to be a long eight hours if I spent the whole time picturing my birthday present, dancing around upstairs wearing nothing but a black bow tie.

Oh shit . . . I bolted up straight. If he was going to be my birthday present, I had to do this in the next ninety minutes.

I glanced around the empty lobby. Thursdays were unpredictable—sometimes quiet, sometimes crazy busy. I grabbed the check-in cards and flicked through them. Nobody else was scheduled to arrive today, so unless there was some kind of catastrophe, I could sneak away for a little bit. Couldn’t I?

Hell yeah. It’s my birthday.

I threw the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter and practically ran to the elevator. Up in my room, I fiddled with my makeup and chose the blue contact lenses to go with my long, blonde wig. Suddenly, Memphis was back.

Rather than wearing a bra and panties, I selected a little black lace teddy that I stepped into, eased over my torso, and fixed in place with thin shoulder straps. The lace was so sheer that my nipples and belly button were easily visible, and it gave me about as much support as my pajamas. Oh well.

I couldn’t waste time on my dress choice, so I decided on the same one I’d worn today. The dress had no zips or buttons; he could simply untie the knot and it would fall away. Perfect for a quickie. I giggled at that wonderful thought.

The boots I wore today weren’t right for the French man, though, so I searched my closet for the sexy black stilettos with a gold trim that I’d bought online sometime last year. I found them and pulled them into the light. The heel was high—too high, really. But it wasn’t like I’d be dancing in them or anything. All they needed to do was get me up to his penthouse and into his lounge. Once there, I’d have them off in no time.

Over one of my coat hangers, I spied a sheer, lacy black shawl that was woven with slivers of gold thread into a complex cobweb-like pattern. Aunty Ann had bought this for me for my twenty-fifth birthday. When I’d unwrapped it, I’d been both overwhelmed at how beautiful it was and saddened that it would probably never see the light of day. On impulse, I grabbed my phone, and with the elegant shawl draped over my shoulders, I smiled for the camera. I checked the photo and was delighted at how lovely my outfit looked.

Except it wasn’t me in the picture. It was Memphis.

Disregarding the idea of sending the picture to Aunty Ann, I grabbed my black bag with the emergency supplies of money and condoms, dropped my phone into the pocket, grabbed my master access card, and headed out my door.

I had an epiphany in the elevator and knew exactly how I was going to greet Sebastien at his door.

By the time I wiggled my way in my eight-inch heels to his door, my insides were curling with a greedy need to be satisfied. I hoped like hell he was ready to be ravished.

At his door, I plumped up my boobs in the non-existent support of my teddy, rubbed my lippy to smooth it out, and silently sang ‘happy birthday to me’ as I knocked twice. I was nearly all the way through the song when the door swung wide.

The song vanished as I stared at the sexy Frenchman. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore downstairs, but now his hair was out. His dark tresses tumbled around his shoulders, taking the sexy man he’d been downstairs to a whole new level.

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