Page 8 of Drive Me Crazy
I navigated to the Wet & Wyld website and logged in to the Princess Peach Party Room. I did something I hadn’t done since I’d been working and closed all private bookings for the night.There goes my bonus for the month.
After typing up a quick note to let people know I’d still be live but not available for one-on-one’s, I felt ready. If the site administrators got wind of what I was doing they’d probably fine me, but I’d deal with that when the time came. A smile pulled at my lips and I did my best to ignore the nervous butterflies that had taken up residence in my belly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grady
You can dothis. Man up. This is every man’s dream. Get ahold of yourself.
I gave myself a mental pep talk as I sat in my truck sweating through my shirt. Men would kill to be in my place, and here I was having to force one leg after the other out of the truck and up the sidewalk to Naomi’s apartment.
I was already hard. My dick was raw from jacking off, but the fucker wasn’t satisfied with my hand. I was afraid it wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything or anyone except Naomi.
I knocked on the door and shoved my hands into my jeans pockets wondering what torture I was going to be in for tonight. More anal play? More screams and moans with another man’s name on her lips?
Balling my hands into fists inside the stiff denim, I relished the stinging sensation of the hard fabric biting into my knuckles. I needed to get laid.
I was running through the list of girls I could call later tonight, already imagining the peace I’d feel after a good lay, when the door swung open and all the air left my chest.
“Hey, you made it on time.”
I opened my mouth to respond but closed it not trusting myself to speak. She hesitated, holding the doorframe with one manicured hand. Her long, painted nails were a blood red color and I stared at them trying to un-see the spandex material practically painted on to her body. If anyone had told me that a fully covered Naomi was even better than a lingerie-clad Naomi, I would have laughed in their face just two minutes ago. I wasn’t laughing now.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered and swept past her, getting a nose full of her light perfume as I did. She smelled of soap and something clean and fruity.
I heard the door close behind me, and Naomi appeared in front of me with big, wide eyes. “Do you like my new outfit?” Her voice was earnest and sincere.
Cocking an eyebrow, I moved my head in a noncommittal nod. “I need to be out of here in an hour.”
She laughed. “Got a hot date or something?”
“Something like that.”
Her laugh died off and a hurt expression crossed her face. “Oh.” She moved past me, leading me down the hall. “Okay then.”
I had a game plan tonight. I wasn’t convinced it was going to work, but I thought if I could keep her talking about the business side of her job, then I could keep her clothes on longer and maybe, just maybe, I could get out of here before she got into any one-on-one dates where I had to listen to her screams. If I was honest, I hoped it also meant one less dude that got his opportunity with Princess Peach. In the grand scheme of things, one guy wasn’t really making a difference, but the hell if I could convince my head of that.
“So,” I cleared my throat. “You do this five nights of the week?”
“Sometimes six, but yeah typically Tuesday through Saturday. Sometimes I work Monday night, but it’s not as busy as the rest of the week.”
“Why not Sunday? Resting for the Sabbath?” I asked with a smirk.
“I have dinner with Granny on Sundays.”
“Right.” A pang of guilt hit me in the chest that I hadn’t been by to see Grandma Violet since the funeral. I’d been a regular guest at her Sunday dinners when Nathan had been alive, and she’d always treated me like another grandson. She had some difficulty getting around and had moved into an assisted living community across town shortly after Nathan died.
“How is she?”
“She’s as sassy as always.”
“I’ll bet.” I smiled at the image in my head.
The room was set up like last night. The laptop was open on the coffee table in front of the couch pointed toward the makeshift bed on the floor. The drawers of toys were pulled out of the cart and laid on the blankets.
“What’s it cost you to run the business?” I asked, crouching down beside the drawers and absently shuffling through the toys.
“I spend about four hundred dollars a month between the site fees, costumes, toys, and upkeep.”
