Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,17
his; taste them, tempt them and satiate them all at once.
Abby turned to put her key in the lock and he stepped back. That was the thing about moments; they came and went too quickly sometimes.
“Goodnight, Chris.”
“Goodnight,” he said, feeing wistful as she stepped through the doorway.
Chapter 5
“This guy sounds pretty great,” Marla said after Abby described her evening with Chris.
“He is.”
“You have stars in your eyes, Abby, I didn’t think that was possible.”
“I know. I thought the club had made me immune to men. It might be nice if something could happen between us, but it can’t.”
“I have to go read that sales report I’ve been putting off,” Marla said. “So where do you stand with Chris?”
“We’re having lunch this week.”
“Good. Okay, time to hit that report. Wait…what is that?” Marla craned her neck to look through the open doorway of Abby’s office. A man made his way toward them and Abby admired the giant bouquet of flowers he carried.
“Did Jack send you flowers?” she asked Marla, who cast a look of doubt at her.
“Those are so for you, Abby.”
“Abby Gillis?” the deliveryman asked, looking around the large bouquet.
“Yes, thank you,” Abby said, slipping him $5 and reaching for the card before he had even set the vase down.
“Read it!” Marla cried, her hands pressed to her chest in excitement.
“To new friends – Chris,” Abby said, grinning.
“I love it. And those are gorgeous,” Marla said, admiring the arrangement of pink and white blossoms.
“Is this normal?” Abby asked.
“Normal?” Marla asked, confused.
“You know, like…what normal friends do for each other? I’ve never really had normal.”
“It’s better than normal, honey.”
“Shake those tits in my face,” Abby’s customer ordered as he stared salaciously at her. “Yeah, perfect. You’re fucking hot. So much hotter than my drag of a wife.”
Abby ignored him, staring at Mickey instead, who was behind the bar taking stock of the way the bartender had organized the bottles. He was involved in every aspect of his business, wanting to make sure everything was just so.
It was early in the night, but the man leering at Abby’s breasts was drunk already. The earlier it was, the better the tips, she reminded herself.
As the song ended, she eased herself out of his lap, smiling at him.
“Yeah, I could tell that was good for you, too, baby. You probly wanna give my money back, don’t you?” he crooned, his breath reeking of alcohol. Abby just raised her eyebrows and gave him another smile before heading backstage.
She couldn’t get her mind off Chris. They had gone out for lunch Wednesday, and she had hardly been able to contain her excitement to see him. They didn’t have the same night off anytime soon, so they hadn’t made more plans, but he called or texted daily.
Abby flipped through the messages on her phone as she drank a bottle of water, her heart skipping when she saw one from Chris.
Can you come by when you get off work?
She smiled as she typed out a reply.
That depends. Will I get another foot massage?
She waited, tapping her toe impatiently.
“That fucker Ron just about stuck his finger up my ass,” Amber said, fuming as she walked past Abby. “Where the hell are the security guys?”
“Sometimes they’re not watching well when it’s this early,” Abby said. “Maybe it was an accident. I think Ron’s harmless.”
“He’s a nasty bastard and I wouldn’t do his dances if he didn’t tip so well,” Amber growled.
Abby looked back at her phone as it buzzed with an incoming message.
I want to massage more than your feet…
Her eyebrows shot up and her pulse quickened. Finally, some sexual innuendo. She had started to wonder if he would ever really come on to her. A little flirting was fun and harmless.
“Nikki, there’s a bachelor party requesting you,” Mickey barked, heading her way.
“Amber, you want to help me?” Abby asked. A natural redhead, Amber was always popular at the club.
“Sure, I’ll be right there.”
Abby grabbed her phone, typing out a fast response.
You had me at massage. See you soon.
The Benedict Emergency Room was a flurry of activity when Abby walked in. The sounds of a drunk man’s loud singing and a wailing baby filled the air. When Abby had nearly made it to the front desk, a teenage girl standing in front of it turned around and vomited on the floor.
Abby jumped back, avoiding the splash. The girl’s mother walked her over to the chairs and sat her down.
The receptionist busied herself with paperwork, not acknowledging Abby for more than