Midnight Cocktail

Midnight Cocktail - Chapter 2

Cherry picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hey, babe."

She sounded breathless when she answered the phone. It would be great to think it's because she loves me so hard, but it's more likely because she's in the middle of fucking my chauffeur.

"You're in the limo again."

"Shit." Followed by her girlie laugh.

"We need to be at the airfield in two hours."

"I know."

"Tell Ray to have the car outside in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen? Really?"

"And clean the seat properly this time."

"I'll tell Jimmy to do it when I get there."

I heard a grunt that sounded very much like the noise a guy makes when you grab his dick and put it back in, in a hurry.

"Fifteen minutes," I said.

I wasn't going to get any more sense out of her, so I hung up.

I named her Cherry because she was still a virgin when I turned her. She was one of those cute rich girls who acts street but knows precisely fuck all about how the world actually works. She came into Ded o' Nite every Friday and Saturday for seven straight weeks, letting me catch her looking at me every time I was there. On the seventh Saturday I had one of the barmen take a tray to her table. On the tray was an Amaretto Cranberry Kiss and a pass for the VIP lounge. The Kiss was a vodka cocktail in a martini glass. The pass was an invitation.

When she knocked on the door of the private booth, I was sitting on a black suede chaise, pretending all I was interested in was the lock screen on my phone. The throb of music from the floor below was creating a subsonic ambient hum that always gets my nipples hard.

"Come in," I said.

The door opened and she was standing there in a silver sequin clubbing dress that barely covered her ass, trying her best not to look nervous. She had the cocktail glass in her hand, little gold purse on a strap over her shoulder. Her hair was blonde, halfway down her back, and she had the kind of curves that stop traffic.

"Hi," she said.

I stood up, knowing how good I looked in my blood red mini-dress. She glanced at my legs and the next thing she knew, I was standing right in front of her.

"I said you could come in."

She walked into the booth, little gold purse swinging at her side, and I took a deep, silent breath of her. The shampoo was fresh, less than four hours since she had showered. The perfume was designer, not one of my brands but the musky amber scent suited her. The undercurrent of nervous perspiration was what really got me, that and the pheromone buzz of a young woman running flat-out on barely contained desire.

She also had the most incredible ass, easily one of the best I had ever seen, and I haven't exactly lived a life of short-changing myself when it comes to looking at asses.

I closed the door and she turned to look at me.

"Thanks," she said, holding up the martini glass like a prize from a sideshow shooting gallery. "How did you know I liked...?"

"Do you know who I am?"

She swallowed, tried not to look flustered by the interruption.

"You're Lana V. You own this club."