Chapter 15

“Not yet. I have an idea that I will need about 20 minutes or so to complete. Then you can see it.” He had this ... enigmatic look on his face like he was up to something.

“Ummm ... okay.”

He got up and walked over to me, and we exchanged a hot little kiss. “I loved that, Jenna. I can’t tell you how much I love being with you,” he said sensually.

“I really loved it, too, and I love being here with you.”

“Hon, how about you order us some dinner, whatever you want? While you’re doing that, I will work on my little project, okay? When the food comes, bring it up to the bedroom. My wallet is on the table. Use the red debit card, okay?”

“Okay.”

He walked inside the house, and I grabbed my phone. After a quick search, I found a Chinese take-out place and ordered our food. His semen was oozing out of my asshole, and since I had 45 minutes to kill before the food arrived, I grabbed my overnight bag, which I guess he brought down, and I took a quick shower in one of the downstairs bathrooms, scrubbing myself clean. After I dried off, I put on a little jean skirt and a pretty pink lace top. Just as I finished dressing, the doorbell rang, and I got our large bag of food from the delivery kid and then made my way upstairs into the bedroom.

“Derek?” I called out.

“One second! Just finishing up.” He was in an office that adjoined the bedroom; I had thought it was a closet door earlier. He came out wearing shorts and an old polo shirt and carrying a thumb drive that he set on the nightstand. “Let me help you with that,” he offered, and we spread the food out on top of the comforter.

As we settled into our feast, I popped the question. “So what’s on the memory stick?”

He smiled and passed me a soy sauce packet. “You’ll find out soon enough, little darlin’.”

I figured he’d put the pictures on there, and maybe we were going to look at them on his iPad after dinner, which was good because I didn’t want to see any of them while I was eating.

“Fair enough, good Sir. So, how many dealerships do you have?”

He smiled at me. “You’re so cute for asking. A lot of my dates just want to know how much my house cost.”

“Well, that’s rude, to ask about money, I mean,” I said with my mouth full of eggroll. Oops!

“Yes, I was taught that also. I’ve got nine locations in Dallas, six in Ft. Worth, some scattered around here and there, and I’m just opening up one in Austin in a few weeks.”

“That’s really impressive.”

“It’s a lot of work, but I have good managers who really run things. But I still have to keep on top of them. How about you? Have you always lived in Dallas?”

I hesitated for a moment. Some of the guys in the club had asked me this question a few times, and I’d always resisted answering them. I was always very cautious about giving them personal information, but if this was going to work, I knew I’d have to be more open and willing to share, so I let my guard down. “I’m from way over in West Texas, a little town called Salome.”

“I’ve heard of it. It’s a pretty small place. I don’t think I could put a dealership there. That’s quite a change, then, a small town to Dallas.”

“It’s a huge change, but I love living in a big city now.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child.”

“You must have kept your parents busy, keeping all those boys away from you,” he teased.

I blushed slightly. “Well, they tried.”

He took another bite of his Kung Pao chicken. “What did you do before you got into ... you know ... dancing at the Rhino?

“I’ve always been a dancer. I started stripping at 13. I wanted to get an early start,” I teased. He laughed and then waited for me to continue. “I was a server during my last two years of high school at a small café in Salome, and then I worked at Hooters for a couple of weeks before I ... you know ... started dancing.”

“Is it difficult taking off your clothes in front of strangers?”

“I was a nervous wreck the first time I did it,” I admitted. “But then, I don’t know ... I guess I just got used to it.”

“What made you get into dancing? I’ve heard servers at Hooters make good tips.”

“I was making pretty good money, but I ... you know ... I make a lot more now.”

“So, it’s all about the benjamins, huh? You’re going to dance until you’re 65?” he teased.

I laughed. “Well, I don’t know if the Rhino has a 401(k). Besides, no one’s gonna want to see me dance when my breasts are sagging to my waist,” I joked. Time to open up a little more. “I’m not going to lie, but part of me likes it, likes the attention I get, and likes the reactions from the guys. You know what I mean? It’s like, I feel wanted ... or something, it’s hard to explain. Anyway, I’m going to start classes at SMU this fall, so dancing is just a temporary thing.”

“So you’re planning on quitting in a couple of months?” he asked hopefully.

He’s not demanding that we be exclusive, at least for now, but he doesn’t like me dancing. “I haven’t really decided yet, but I may still dance on the weekends as long as I can keep my grades up and it doesn’t cut into my study time too badly.”

“So, then, it is about the money.”

“Of course. I don’t make a living pushing old, beat-up cars on people like someone on this bed,” I teased back.

He laughed. “So the money is a lot better on the weekends, right?”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, my take-home is cut by almost half during the week,” I admitted.

I took a bite of General Tso’s chicken and decided to turn our conversation away from money and my job. “So, you’re not married, right? Any kids?”

“Right, not married anymore. I’ve been divorced for about ten years now. I’ve got a son who I put through college and law school, but he lives in New York.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “I don’t see him as often as I’d like.”