The Bachelorette 2: Office Intrigue

Charlotte blinks awake, heavy with the night before. Her palm presses against her forehead. The memories arrive like warm breath at her ear: her fingertips sliding over silk, then damp heat, the stripper gasping as Charlotte worked her open. Everyone watched. Charlotte swallowed the room whole. The last fragment lands like a bruise—Kira recording the whole goddamn thing on her phone. Charlotte scrambles for her own, thumb shaking as she dials. “Pick up,” she whispers. Kira stares at the caller ID. Charlotte again. She kills the call and glances at her monitor just as Jade Baker bursts in. “The hell are you doing here?” Kira snaps. Anyone could walk by—some of them had front-row seats last night. Jade folds her arms. She isn’t leaving without the rest of her money. Kira gave her two grand to dance; the “extra” service, though—that had a separate bill. Kira laughs once, dry. “We agreed the extras come free if the client’s hot.” Jade steps closer, voice lower. “That changed the second you pulled out your phone. The camera wasn’t in the contract. Unless the rest of the cash lands in my hand right now, I tell sweet little Charlotte exactly who set her up.” Kira feels the weight of a recording she can’t afford to own. Jade watches her try to strategize in real time. “What do you want?” Kira spits. Jade grins. “Besides cash? Your tongue, for starters.” Kira’s spine hits the wall behind her. “You’ve got a hundred apartments and this is the one you pick?” She strains to listen for footsteps, clocks clicking in desks beyond the glass. “They’ll hear.” Jade sinks to her knees anyway, hikes the pencil skirt to Kira’s waist, tongue already slick with promise. “Say the safe word,” she purrs. “Payment due.” Kira bites the inside of her cheek and parts her legs. The point of her stiletto nudges Jade’s shoulder until the girl dives in, lips sealing over wet silk. The flat of her tongue drags across cotton until it clings. Kira exhales through her nose, pulse knocking beneath porcelain veneer. Outside her cube someone passes with a cappuccino. Inside, Kira flinches as teeth graze the lace band. The hand that steered her into career-building meetings now fists at the lip of the desk. She swallows a moan whole, leaves it burning behind her ribs.