Chapter 3

“Where’d you get that?” Shelly tapped the business card with a shaky fingernail. It was bubble-gum pink, to match her lipstick.

“At lunch. Last week. Just treating myself, doing a little shopping downtown.” She nodded at the card. “That guy was with a couple of buddies. He dropped it on my table.”

“And?” Shelly’s shiny eyes gazed at her, deep enough to spark a nervous shudder.

“And”—she sucked in air before words tumbled from her lips—”um, he had the softest fingers.”

“Oh, do tell.” The other server tittered before tapping the card once more. “You know who this is?” When Daisy shook her head, Shelly snatched the small rectangle with its shiny gold lettering from the bar and passed it to her. “Put it away, sweetie. Forget about it. Not sure you need him in your life.”

“Why?”

“Mighty Cock van Dienst is the city’s number one perpetually eligible fuck machine of an asshole bachelor, that’s why.” She paused to scan Daisy’s frame before chuckling. “And you ... Well, Sweet-tits, you fit the bill. He’d have you naked and panting like a two-bit whore in seconds. Before tossing you, the latest in a long line of women, to the curb in the morning. Done and done.”

“Done and done,” Daisy repeated in a whisper.

As her heart hammered, the memories of the party flooded her throbbing skull. Not only the shock at meeting the wives of Cheeser and Skink. Who were both drop-dead gorgeous. Plus, not at all stunned their husbands had fucked her.

While she drank the most delicious wine, their hands wandered her. Between soft kisses, the most wondrous joints were passed. It was a blissful, floaty paradise, except the whole time, she’d found herself scouring every dim corner in a vain attempt to spot Dan.

Of course, he wasn’t there, just as he’d said. And unlike at the highway motel, nor was he even nearby.

The clink of glassware brought her back to the Hoot. After stifling a sob, she crammed the towel into another glass. A swirl of emotions, plus rising arousal at both the memories and the night of big tips to come, was battering her core. Sharp teeth gnawed at her lips. With every forceful beat of her heart, both aching nipples were drummed into the tight top.

Yet Dan was still nowhere to be found.

At the sharpest images of that hazy party, a rippling flutter slid through her. Hot-as-fuck, Lana, Cheeser’s lean, platinum-haired wife, had guided her between sculpted hedges in an enormous garden behind their mansion. With a knowing grin, she’d stripped the dress from Daisy. At no point had she resisted, not while plunging further into such mystical eyes.

Hands shaking on the glass, Daisy gazed deep into the reflection in the bar’s wavering mirror. Yes, she’d let Lana strip her. Then hadn’t said a word as the giggling woman offered her to one of the well-shaped servers.

Unlike at The Hoot, where Geoff insisted on hiring only waitresses—the owner didn’t want the temptation—this wide-jawed stud was definitely a male. All-over tan. Muscles on muscles. When he pulled aside his tiny shorts, there was no question. A gorgeous, stiff, throbbing shaft proclaimed to her and the blurry universe that he was very male.

After only the gentlest press of manicured snowy nails on her shoulder, Daisy’s knees bent until she kneeled before him. Of course, she’d performed. No, it wasn’t the fault of the exquisite booze or the weed’s calming buzz. Nor was it dancing, but Lana was stunningly beautiful. With the blonde holding her hair to watch and whisper the naughtiest things, Daisy had slurped until that hefty, smooth cockmeat bucked deep in her throat.

Even as The Hoot’s mirrored wall began a funhouse spiral, Shelly’s muffled voice said something in the distance.

But Daisy was still far away.

With Lana squealing like a schoolgirl, the handsome waiter had pumped thick, warm man-sauce into Daisy’s belly. After a quick round of muted applause, she’d hauled Daisy to her shaky stilettos and ... They’d kissed, sharing what little salty cum hadn’t been swallowed.

As she stared into the bar’s mirror, a surge of heat sped through her. Just as one hand squeaked on the trembling glass, her other shot forward to clasp the edge of the bar top. More memories bubbled. In her skull, her pulse was a continuous roar.

Back in the dim garden, using calm motions and sultry whispers, Lana had taken her to a remote corner. There, wispy steam swirled into the night sky from a steaming hot tub.

Amid its speeding jets, the woman became a virtuoso, playing with her. Such talented fingers. Long. So deep. So forceful. Sleek, warm alabaster skin skimming across Daisy as she’d bucked, moaning into Lana’s mouth. The woman’s tongue had plunged. Oh, and no question: she’d kissed the enticing blonde beauty. So much for that rule.

Afterwards, she returned the favor, fingers and lips wandering that slender pale frame. A sometime singer, Lana unleashed the most melodic screams to the stars.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. Her entire body vibrated.

Almost two months ago. Two long months! The last man to get her panting like that was Dan. Her missing husband. Who wasn’t even at the party. Who hadn’t seen her suck off that gorgeous, curved cock. Nor watched as Cheeser’s wife did anything she wanted to her.

At Shelly’s snapping fingers, Daisy jolted and restarted wiping the glass in her shaking hands. Her friend was silent for a long while before sighing.

“Then again.” After settling a hand on her shoulder, Shelly gave it a firm squeeze. “Maybe that’s what you need. A good hard fuck to clear that fool of a husband from your mind.”

Later that night, back in the cold, dark apartment, Daisy kicked off the torturous heels. With a sigh of relief, she rubbed her aching feet. While crossing the icy floor, she peeled away the blouse. The one she’d re-tied seven—no, eight—times during the game.

“Wandering hands,” she murmured, then managed a tired grin.

After dropping the purse on the kitchen counter, she looked at the plant. The only thing Dan had left behind. Well, other than her. Long, leafy, dark green branches dangled from the pot to meander across the surface. With a slow exhale, she went into the bedroom and tossed a rubber-banded wad of bills to the dresser. It landed on the top with a thud.

“At least I made decent money,” she whispered to the empty darkness.

Although not nearly as much as Shelly, who’d asked Daisy to cover for her before dragging a pair of college football players into the men’s room. That had taken longer than usual. When she staggered out, face crimson and wearing that ‘I just got the shit fucked out of me’ expression, Daisy couldn’t help giggling. Nervous, perhaps, although there was a sliver of jealousy as the two guys high-fived each other while swaggering back to their table. Plus, at the wobble in Shelly’s stride.

As the night progressed and beer flowed more freely with each winning goal, Shelly took on the rest of them. But one at a time.