Chapter 129
I turned my head. A man in a tailored gray suit was sitting at a VIP table flush against the stage. He looked older, his face etched with the kind of boredom only a lot of money can buy. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a thick, rubber-banded stack of cold, hard cash.
He slammed it onto the table.
“Crawl to it,” he ordered, his eyes tracking the line of my throat.
I shifted my weight, dragging my knees across the velvet, my eyes locked onto his. I stopped right at the edge of the table, my chest heaving, my face inches from his.
He leaned forward, the smell of expensive scotch rolling off him. He tapped the stack of money with a manicured finger.
“This is yours,” he whispered, “All of it. But I want to see how much you want it.”
He tilted his head back slightly, a smug, expectant look on his face.
“Spit on me,” he said. “Right here. Do it, and take the money.”
What the actual fuck? Men are such disgusting creatures. I looked at the stack of cash, then I looked at his smug, punchable face. For me, this was a total win-win. You’re telling me I get to treat this guy like the literal human trash can he is and I get paid for it?
God, I love this job sometimes.
I leaned in, my lips parting with a dark, mocking clarity. If he wanted to be my personal sidewalk, who was I to deny him?
I did exactly what he asked for, watching the way he leaned into it like a freak. He looked thrilled. I was disgusted. It was perfect.
I turned away, my hips hitting the beat again as I left him there in the smoke, five grand richer and ten times more convinced that the world would be better off if men were just replaced by high-end vibrators and robots that can actually cook.
“Wait.”

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