Yes, that is very discouraging indeed.

I push off my desk and turn to the condiment tray so she cannot see the disappointment on my face. There’s a polite smile there when I turn back to her. “Here you go. Take this in the locker room and get dressed. I’ll wait for you outside so I can explain to you how this works and where you can get the supplies to fill it.”

Trista doesn’t take the tray from me, only stares at it as if it’s a snake ready to strike at her. I know this is a huge leap to go from wearing clothing that covers from neck to toe to an outfit that’s not going to leave much to the imagination.

I’d like to provide her some reassurance, but I’ve got none to offer. If she is in any way shy, unsure, or has major inhibitions, nothing I say is going to put her at ease.

I will, however, spend the evening walking her through the job, and not for any altruistic reasoning. It’s the first step in getting those pretty legs to open for me. My instinct is that Trista is turned on by this, and I want to watch that blossom even further.



I sit in the dressing room on the padded bench with one leg crossed over the other and my arms folded over my bare breasts. I’ve been sitting here for five minutes trying to work up the courage to put on the condiment tray and step out of the locker room.

So far, all I’ve managed to do is to take my clothes off and put the slinky black thong on. I looked at myself in the mirror for all of three seconds before my butt slammed down onto the bench, and I covered myself.

I cannot do this.

I cannot go out and look Jerico in the eye while I have silk running up the crack of my ass and my boobs squished by the straps of the tray. It is completely odd and a little humiliating that I’m more worried about Jerico seeing me in this getup than I am the hundreds of other people in this club.

But there is no way Jerico is going to let me hang out in here all night, so I take a deep breath and resolve to get this over with. I stand up on the exhale and jolt when I hear Jerico call out, “Trista… are you okay in there?”

My ass slams back down to the bench as my arms cover my chest protectively. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“Trista?” Jerico says, his voice practically on the other side of the dressing room door.

I’m still not able to answer him, and frankly, I’m barely able to breathe. I just saw this man get a blow job… watched his face morph into pleasure so intense I wondered what it would be like to be that woman, and…

I have no words for him.

There’s a gentle tapping on the louvered door that separates me from Jerico, and he asks again, “Trista… is there a problem?”

I swallow hard, and my voice practically squeaks, “No, I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay,” Jerico says, and it pisses me off that I hear humor in his voice.

Pisses me off so much I can’t help but snap at him, “I’m a little embarrassed to be wearing this.”

Jerico doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he cautiously points out, “You had no objections to this when I told you about it a few days ago.”

“I know,” I snap at him again. “Just give me a minute.”

“Sure,” he says congenially, as if he has all the time in the world to wait for me.

I hear him take a few steps back and then what sounds like his body leaning against the wall opposite the dressing room door. I can imagine him looking all sinfully sophisticated, replete with male satisfaction, while he waits for the scared little girl to get over herself.

“Surely you know you have a beautiful body,” Jerico says, and the shock of his words cause me to jolt even as I tighten my arms over my breasts.

I don’t even know what to say. In a million years, I would never think a man as gorgeous as Jerico Jameson would consider me to be beautiful.

Apparently, Jerico doesn’t expect a response from me because he continues. “You truly have nothing to be embarrassed about, Trista. No one in this club will think twice about you wearing that uniform. Besides that, I’ll stick with you tonight to ensure that everything goes okay.”

I still don’t know what to say.

The silence continues, but then it becomes awkward.

Finally, Jerico commands in a low, firm voice. “Trista… open the door and step out here.”

I hesitate only a second. This is my job, and I need the money Jerico is going to give me. I’ve got to suck this up, put on my big-girl panties—or thong—and get this over with. It’s only twenty-seven more days of my life, and then I can move on.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett The Wicked Horse Vegas Billionaire Romance