Page 10 of Sex Coach

Three

Jake

S he wasn't beautiful,but she was pretty and the blushes that kept coloring her cheeks were pretty damn cute .

One thing was certain – she wasn't what I'd been expecting .

But then again, I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting. When a woman contacted me out of the blue about an article she wanted to do with Jake King, the King of Multiple Orgasms – shit, what a name – I'd been tempted to say no .

But I'd been tempted to say no to a lot of things in the past decade of my life, and I hadn't. All for one reason. If it could serve as a mean to an end, then I wasn't saying no .

And while I wasn't sure if somebody who wrote for a woman's magazine like Coterie was considered a reporter or a writer – was there a difference? – one thing was certain. Anybody who worked for an outfit that big would have connections. I'd spent my entire adult life cultivating any and every connection I could get .

Why stop now ?

I'd been right though .

The woman who'd requested the interview was Gina Goddard, one of Coterie's top writers .

The woman sitting next to me had nervously given me her name – Michelle .

They were two different people. There was no doubt in my mind. Different styles, different approaches. I didn't even have to ask. Gina Goddard wasn't a woman who'd blush about asking a man how he'd gotten his start at fucking women for money .

The woman next to me with her pretty blushes and her uncertain glances was a different matter entirely. And those blushes were proving to be far more enticing than I'd imagined possible, and I wanted to see just how far down they went .

Finally figuring out the right way to approach all of that, I studied the interior of the tequila bar where we'd agreed to meet and decided that the ideal way to handle this – her – was to tell her we needed more privacy .

That plan got dashed to all hell less than five seconds after I hatched it .

The last thing I needed was to see a movie star come in .

No, the last thing I needed was to get intrigued by the cute little redhead conducting the interview. But that was what happened. And it had been followed by the second to the last thing I needed to happen – the entrance of a movie star followed by paparazzi .

Now I was stuck in this damn bar with a writer, paparazzi, and the problem of how to get out. I never should have agreed to this damn interview. Women didn't need to read articles on how to achieve multiple orgasms. They needed a really good vibrator, or better yet, a really good partner .

That's where I came in .

With the right dollar amount, I would give a woman as many orgasms as she wanted .

Sometimes, I didn't even need the dollars thrown in there .

I dated, had sex off the job. A busman's holiday, maybe. I didn't need to get paid to get off. It was just...what I did. It was what I was good at. And it was a means to an end .

Michelle wasn't exactly the sort of woman I would have sought out on my own, but having her dropped into my life was...well, who turned down such a sweet surprise ?

Granted, there was nothing about sitting there with Michelle that was helping me accomplish that end I'd set for myself a long time ago, teasing and flirting with the sexy redhead who had actually come out in the freezing weather wearing a strapless dress under a coat that had almost convinced me she wasn't the woman I was looking for. Right up until she shrugged out of the coat to reveal that dress, and that body .

All those curves had been perched on a pair of fuck-me heels, done in a shade of blistering red – the high heels sans pantyhose and a pink miniskirt. It was possible there could be a woman wearing that same get-up but nobody else but the woman I needed to meet would be likely to be alone as she approached the seat my bartender buddy always kept open for me on the nights I told him I had a meet .

Now, here I was with a woman I wouldn't mind being alone with, but the one thing I didn't have time for was convincing her of that – not when the camera flashes were getting as consistent as lightning during a summer thunderstorm .

Michelle crossed her legs, murmuring something under her breath, and I was acutely aware of the way one shoe dangled off the tip of her toes .

I had to get the hell out of here, or I wouldn't care enough to do it later .

Buck, my faithful bartender sidekick, glanced my way and I gestured toward her glass, already knowing how much the wine would cost – and calculating how much of a tip I should leave to cover his trouble .

He glanced at Michelle, but gave a single nod .

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