Page 78 of Sinful Escape

Tied up as a SEX SLAVE for the rest of eternity

Sounds like fun

I chuckled.

Funny. Not funny

Oh come on. That was funny

I guess so

Daisy, listen to me. This could be one of the most incredible moments of your life. What have you got to lose? You wanted to explore as much as you could before you left Europe. No reason why that exploration can’t include the odd James Bond or two

I sighed.

Okay. You’re right. Thank you

You’re welcome. You can thank me with dick pics

I burst out laughing.

I’m going now

Zali finished with a series of eggplant emojis.

Smiling, I slipped my phone back into my clutch and as I readied myself to stand, I noticed I hadn’t finished my drink. I reached for it and clutching the crystal tumbler, I sipped at the potent liquid, contemplating the situation I’d stumbled into.

At least somebody knew where I was going. But it was still crazy. In the space of three days, my nice, controlled world had gone completely mad. If I’d had a year to explore this potential situation, I would never have pictured this.

I’d never have pictured a man like Oscar either.

The last two erotic interludes with Pierre and Luca had been spontaneous. They’d just happened. Oscar was different. This time, it was planned. I was making a conscious decision to go to a stranger’s room, and if I’d read all the signs correctly, I was about to have sex.

The implications of that were huge. Something in me had changed. Previously, I’d been happy to drift from month to month without thoughts of male company entering my mind. Now, it was like I’d become a porn queen.

Sex and men were suddenly my thing.

Like my internal clock was ticking down to a grand finale. Was the end of my visa driving this sense of urgency? Or was it more? Was it my age? Was twenty-nine the time in my life when my body said, ‘Fucking hell, sister, it’s time to party hard before your girly bits shrivel up and die?’ Or was it my body clock telling me to get some bootie action because one day I may settle down?

God no.

Settling down wasn’t even on my radar. In fact, come Christmas, my life was about to flip right on its head. I had no idea what my future held.

None of that mattered.

My immediate future was my sexy stranger, Mr. Oscar LeRoche.

I stood, placed my clutch beneath my elbow, and concentrated on exiting Bar des Privés without tripping in my heels. My nanna knickers had traveled so far up my crack I could barely breathe.

I made a beeline for a restroom. In the cubicle, I yanked my knickers to my ankles and sighed with relief. As I sat on the toilet, I did two things at once—admired the most luxurious restroom I’d ever had the pleasure of peeing in and wondered what the hell I was going to do about my ugly underwear.

Don’t wear any, sprang to mind.

My bra wasn’t optional. If I didn’t wear it, I’d be constantly wondering if my tits were poking out beneath the hem of my dress. My knickers, however, were another story. I’d never had a day in my life when I didn’t wear panties. While it would solve my dilemma, what kind of message would that send Oscar? That I was a girl who liked to experiment? Or would he think I was a slut?

Crap.

Oscar was a gentleman. Already out of my league. I didn’t need to lower my status any further.

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