Page 71 of Pretty Little Thing

I wander down the hall to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Their voices are barely audible, meaning I can probably get away with a whisper or two. I slide my phone from my pocket but quickly stop when I realize that I don’t have Clive’s number.

“Dammit…” I say to myself.

I set a hand on the counter to keep the floor from slipping out from under me.

Maybe the club has a number.

Yes, I’ll call the club and ask for him.

I sit on the toilet seat lid and run a search. Thank god for auto-correct. I don’t think a Red Crick Board exists in Chicago.

A girl answers. “Red Brick Road. What’s your fantasy?”

“Clive,” I say.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uh.” I clear my throat and sit up straight, just like I do at work when I have to make official business calls. “I would like to speak to Clive Snow, please. Is he avurlable?”

“I think he’s walking the floor right now. Do you mind holding?”

“I do not. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

The line changes and soft hold music plays. I close my eyes, bouncing along to the smooth elevator music. Actually, I think that’s the same music they play in elevators in my building.

“Clive here.”

I startle. “Hello!”

“Nora?”

“Yes, hey. It’s me. I’m Nora.”

He chuckles. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not. I’m just a little tipsy… and thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I lean back on the toilet. “And I want…”

“Want what?”

“Body-tingling, mind-blowing,” I say, licking my lips. “Sex with lots of water drinking.”

“You’ve never made a booty call before, have you?” he asks, amused.

I gasp. “I am not calling for booty… Okay, maybe a little.”

“Nora, even if I could leave here right now, I wouldn’t have sex with you tonight.”

“Why not?” I ask, frowning.

“Because you’re drunk,” he says. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Well, that’s… respectful.”

He laughs. “Sleep it off, Nora.”

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