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From: "Wine Maker" <wine_maker@eknifeshop.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Finding Elvis Chapter 02 (MF, MFF, Slow, Romantic Thriller)
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Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2006 21:10:26 -0500
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A Hawk Romantic Thriller. A romantic thriller that starts slowly, but
the passion builds as the plot unfolds. A Texas vintner meets a lady in
blue at a private club. Sparks fly and tensions build as they tease
each other, or as his brother would call it, doing the "Do Me" dance.
Then tragedy strikes close and as they explore their relationship, they
also find something new as a sexy cop becomes part of the dance. Has a
real plot and three dimensional characters. It's more than just a
wanker.

Read this story on several sites and vote on each for me. Voting for my
stories encourages me to write more. Remember to vote for each chapter
on Literotica and on the last chapter on Storiesonline.

http://storiesonline.net/auth/Wine_Maker

http://english.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=560253&page=submissions



Chapter Two: Family Counseling
(c) 2006 by Wine Maker



I shook myself out of my stupor and grabbed Kit, yanking her back. She
fought and screamed imprecations at Gretchen. Ted and Lisa held
Gretchen back after she took another swing at her step-mother. It
looked like they had their work cut out for them. Gretchen was really
straining hard.

"Enough! Ladies!" I shouted, to no avail as they both continued to
struggle against our restraint. Gretchen was finally pulled back by Ted
and Lisa's combined strength.

Kit turned to me and hissed, "Let me go right now or I'll see you
broken so badly you won't be able to get a job waiting tables! Take
your hands _off_ of me!"

"No," I said firmly. Kit looked shocked, so I explained the word to
her. She probably didn't hear it much, after all. "That means I'm not
going to do it until you behave in a civil manner. I don't care who
you're married to. You don't get a free pass to brawl in public. Calm
down or walk it off. I don't care. But, if you keep fighting, I'll have
to make you stop. Do you understand that?"

"You low-life peon!" she snarled. "I'll crush you and your piss-ant
friends like an egg! You release me this very instant!" She began
struggling again so I turned and gave her a light shove into the ring
of spectators watching us in horrified delight. A curl of dark
amusement touched my lips. Amazing how alike crowds were, no matter
their social standing. They wanted blood. It must be the human
condition.

"This fight is over," I said loudly enough to cut through the chatter.
"Anyone else disturbing the peace will find their well-financed asses
hauled off to the lockup and I assure you that the cuisine is less than
one star. Move on."

The crowd came to its senses and began moving off, but Kit wasn't done.
She started back toward me, murder in her eyes, but was yanked up short
by her husband stepping through the thinning crowd and confronting her.


"What in blue blazes is going on here?" he demanded of Kit. "I won't
have this! These are my guests restraining you from fighting and
screaming. I wouldn't expect that kind of behavior from a common
showgirl. Both of you, stop it this instant!"

Kit turned bone white, her eyes almost bulging from their sockets, and
her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then she turned
bright red, sending a scorching glare at Gretchen and myself before
turning and stalking off in a snit. The remaining spectators pulled
back from her like she had the plague.

Hans turned his back on Kit and went to his daughter. "Gretchen, are
you all right?"

She shook off his hands. "I haven't been all right since you married
that bitch, Daddy. Can't you see that she's using you? She doesn't love
you! She only loves your money! She couldn't give a crap about anyone
besides herself! How can you love her?" she asked with a bite of
anguish.

I caught the unspoken part of that. How can you love her more than me
would be more what Gretchen was thinking. I stepped back beside Ted and
Lisa.

Hans wrung his hands. "It's complicated, Baby. I know she's abrupt, but
underneath that she's a good person. I love her _and_ you."

"She drove a wedge between us, Daddy." Gretchen stepped back. "I should
have known better than to come back. She still has you wrapped around
her little finger. You won't ever understand why I left or why I do
what I do. Let me go, Daddy. Go back to your wife."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she half turned before her
father shouted, "Wait!"

He moved between her and the door. "I may never understand, you're
right, but I still love you and I don't want to lose you again." He
looked back at me and his eyes lit up in a way that filled me with
foreboding. "I know what we need," he told her, his eyes lingering on
me for a second more.  Turning back to Gretchen he said, "We need
someone to help us from outside the box. Hawk can do this for us."

My eyes bulged. "I can do _what_?" I half shouted. "Now, hold on..."

He rode right over my mounting objections. "Yes," he said with a
headshake. "Perfect! She's a skilled negotiator and I think you'll find
her more interesting than the last counselor."

Gretchen looked as astounded and just about as happy as I felt. "Daddy,
I don't have the time to waste on working this out. I have a living to
earn. Just mark it down that you tried and go back to _her_."

"No! I'll pay for your time. Your highest rate for the next seven
days." His eyes glittered.

"I have clients already booked..." she started before he cut her off.

"This is business, I know. I'll pay the penalty of your choosing for
you to re-schedule those commitments. I want you to spend all the time
you can with Hawk.  It can't make things any worse, and perhaps it
might help. I'll listen to everything she has to say. You do the same."
He looked up at her. "You have nothing to lose. Please try this for
us?"

I tried to form words of protest. "Hold on a minute there, Buddy! I
already have a job and a life of my own. I can't just drop everything
I'm doing when it suits someone else and I _am not_ some kind of family
therapist!"

Hans looked surprised. "One call and your employer will be happy to
allow you the time. As for the rest, I will pay very well for your..."

I cut him off, trying hard to remain polite and not lose my temper.  I
was still blunt, though.  "Look, Mister Werner, I'm not for sale to the
highest bidder. You can't just wave a wad of cash under my nose and
have me trot off to do your bidding. I told your wife I wouldn't bow
and scrape to her and I won't do so for you, either." I waved my finger
under his nose. "I do what I want, not what someone else wants me to
do. You got that?"

Over his shoulder I saw a spark of intrigue slide across Gretchen's
face. I suppose nobody ever talked to Daddy Warbucks like that before.
Tough.

Hans held up his hands. "You're right. I wasn't thinking. You don't
work for me, but I still think we can make this right and both get
something we desire. What if I find mutually beneficial ways to work
with your friends and I pay you the same as I pay my daughter?" He
looked at Ted. "I know that I can help Mister Stansbury expand his
business and I'll wager that Miss Davis would do much better in a
partnership than working for the government."

Now I saw both of my friends startle and open their mouths to protest,
but I cut them off. While I wouldn't let some rich guy push me around,
I also knew my price when it was met. My friends would never ask for
something for themselves and if a week of my time helped them, I'd try
it. "That's between you and them, but since you'll do that for them,
I'll cooperate. But I _do_ have some business of my own to pursue. She
can go with me while I take care of that, too. That's the deal. Take it
or leave it."

As Ted and Lisa gaped, Hans smiled. "Excellent. Gretchen? Will you
try?"

Gretchen looked at him and then back at me. She smiled. "For you,
Detective Hawkins, I think I will." She looked back at her father.
"I'll send the bill tonight. Payment in advance for all parties. I know
you negotiate in good faith, but it's all off if they decline, so I
suggest you convince these two nice people to take you up on your
offer," she said, gesturing to Ted and Lisa. "And I'll get to know my
new companion for the week. When the week has passed, I'll come and
tell you where we sit. Deal?"

"Deal." Then Hans turned and took Ted and Lisa by the arms, dragging
them back toward the table. "Come, we have much to discuss."

I chuckled at their discomfort and amazement before Gretchen held out
her arm to me.

"Shall we go get something to eat and talk about this, Detective?"

I took her arm and nodded. Perhaps a little time away from Ted and Lisa
would be helpful. We all needed time to think. The marriage, the
anxiety the threesome seemed to be feeling, and this family counseling
thing had happened so fast. "Let's go." The touch of her skin felt hot
under my fingers and my stomach lurched. This could be a _very_
interesting week.

-----

The hotel doorman called for her car and we waited in silence, eyeing
one another, no doubt wondering what we had let ourselves in for. When
the car came around, it was a sleek black Ferrari of some kind. It
looked pricey. The leather interior smelled new. Like any other
red-blooded American, I had to fill my lungs and sigh. The seat was
warm and seemed to fit my butt like a glove.

I buckled in as she started it up. The engine sounded powerful. This
car could probably take my bike any day of the week. "Nice car," I
said. "Looks fast and expensive."

She laughed and slid out into traffic. Even with her dress mussed and
her hair a disaster, she still seemed almost unearthly in the effect
she had on me. I firmly told myself that this was _not_ the time to
fall for someone.

"It's a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti. Just on the market." She looked over
when she stopped at the light, the engine growling powerfully under the
hood. "Well, maybe not _quite_ on the market just yet. Soon, though. I
have a friend in the business and he got me one of the first ones. It
is fast _and_ worth every penny."

I rubbed the console. "You must do well, then. I know I couldn't afford
something like this car. We were never properly introduced. My name is
Shauna Hawkins, but I'd rather be called Hawk. I'm a homicide detective
from Houston."

She reached out and took my hand over the stick shift for a moment that
almost made my heart stop. "Gretchen Werner, black sheep. As you could
no doubt tell." She looked over at me. "You do know that this whole
arrangement has less than a snowball's chance in hell of working,
right? That bitch has ruined my family and my father let her do it."

"I don't know anything yet," I responded. "So, where would you like to
eat? Someplace quiet so we can talk." I looked over her figure as she
drove the car. She was even hotter up close. "What do you do that has
an income to pick up one of these?"

She glanced over at me, her eyes light blue under her lashes. "I'm an
escort. Companion, and more if I choose. It pays the bills. You can't
imagine what people will pay to spend some time with the daughter of
one of the wealthiest men on the planet." A hint of bitterness crept
into her voice. "Not that it would do them any good. I ran off to do
this and he disowned me. Pleased the hell out of that hag he's married
to. Without me in the way, she gets the cash in spite of the prenup.
She got the only thing that meant anything to me. She got him. I'd
rather let her have the money and me have him, but he won't let her go.
I wish she'd just drop dead." Her voice had trailed off to a cold
whisper.

"I don't think that you should say something like that. Karma is
nothing to tempt. We should probably save talking about them until we
get to know each other a little bit better," I added quietly. "And to
answer your earlier question, I don't expect to make much of an impact,
really. I can't imagine what he was thinking. I am not trained for
this." Interesting. Mommy Dearest had been insulting and accurate when
she called Gretchen a whore. A rare combination in a bitch like Kit.

Her cold face lightened a little. "Well, neither can I, really. Neither
one of us is willing to compromise on the one issue separating us. Kit.
We've had counseling. The best money can buy in fact, but you have to
be _willing_ to compromise to make it work."

As she took a corner just a bit fast, I held onto the seat.

"Changing the subject again, isn't it a bit illegal to be more than
just a companion?" I asked with a smile. "I'm not vice, but even I know
sex for money is frowned upon. Not that I plan on turning you in, mind
you," I added.

That elicited a laugh. "Actually, it's not illegal in some counties in
the State of Nevada.  I made an arrangement with one of the brothels
that works for both of us.  Las Vegas has a city ordinance covering
solicitation, though. If there is going to be more than dancing and
dining, I close the deal at my place. All
legal."

I pursed my lips. "I didn't know that. Why the hell aren't there
hundreds of bordellos out there, then?"

"Economics and political pressure brought to bear on the ones that do
open. It's always cheaper to peddle less expensive nookie when you
don't have the overhead of a real business. Add in the politicians and
religious right and you have powerful people that can make doing
business difficult." She looked over and smiled. "At least for the
organized places. Most that have tried went under within a few years.
People like me, well, I'm just too small to hit their radar. And, for a
classy date, some people are willing to shell out serious money."

"Does it bother you sometimes? Selling yourself?" I asked.

If she was offended by my question, it didn't show. "Actually, it's
more like renting myself. Surprisingly, the sex is not as big a part of
my business as you might think. I'd say that less than a third of my
companions ask to have sex with me, and I decide if that happens." She
shrugged. "Some take it badly, but then I never see them again and they
get blacklisted by the all the high-end places. With the class of men
we're talking about, it's not as much trouble as you might think." She
pointed to a Denny's on the corner. "Denny's coffee isn't bad and
there's less chance of someone I know overhearing us. Here we'll just
blend in."

I laughed. "Like we'll would blend in anywhere dressed like this."

She smiled back at me and climbed out of the low-slung car, gathering
the stares of several men. I almost laughed out loud when one man's
obviously peeved wife smacked him in the back of the head. Gretchen
used her keys to lock the door and set the alarm.

As we headed in I looked back. "Is it safe out there? For that kind of
car? Someone could take it in plain sight."

She nodded her head and smiled. "It's possible, but if they do it's
fully insured. It's a nice car but it's still only a car. If they want
it, they can have it. With the tracking system in it, though, it's a
good bet the cops will have them inside half an hour. Or so the
salesman said."

I shook my head and smiled. "How can a woman in the world's oldest
profession be so na�ve? Anything man can devise, man can defeat."

The server seated us and took our drink orders. Shortly, we were
sipping our coffee and picking at nachos. I had used the last few
minutes to try and get myself into some semblance of control.

"So, Gretchen, if you don't think this has a chance of working, why
even try?" I asked. "Why not just turn up your nose and walk out? Hell,
why go to that little soiree in the first place?"

She bit into a nacho chip and crunched thoughtfully. "I went to annoy
Kit. I hoped for a big fight, but you spoiled my fun," she pouted
before grinning. "When you put her in her place, I thought she'd
swallow her teeth. She hasn't been talked to like that since she was a
showgirl, I bet." Her face darkened. "Since my idiot father married her
money-grubbing, power-hungry ass."

She sipped her coffee and looked at me with some consideration in her
eyes. "And that is why I agreed. I've never seen anyone else willing to
stand up to her _or_ my father. You seem mighty impervious to being
bullied. Is that because you're a cop or are you a cop because you're
that way?"

I shrugged. "I've always been stubborn, so I'll have to go with door
number two. My family despaired of me before I took off. Now, both my
parents are gone, and I wish I could have made things better before the
end." I waved my coffee cup. "That wasn't some slick sell job, by the
way. This situation just brought it back into mind."

"What was the wedge in your life?" she asked quietly. "If you don't
mind my asking." She had the kind of voice that inspired trust and
confidence. I guess that wasn't so surprising, really, given her choice
of professions.

I spent a moment gauging her before I spoke. "I came out of the closet
and my parents freaked. Started thumping their Bibles and even called
the minister over to try and cast out the demon inside me. It was like
a circus with bad clowns."

Gretchen arched an eyebrow. "Ahhh! So you play for the other team. Very
interesting. I've only dated men, but I _was_ rented to you for the
week so we'll have to see what happens."

I fixed her with a stern look. "I haven't ever paid for sex before and
I don't intend to start now. I think you're gorgeous and I wouldn't
kick you out of bed even for eating crackers, but I refuse to pay for
sex."

"So, what you're saying is that you think I'm hot, but sex is out while
I'm on retainer?" she asked archly. "Interesting. I like a challenge,
but don't mistake me," her expression hardened a touch, "Daddy paid for
companionship, not sex. If I choose to do more, that's my decision and
it won't have a damn thing to do with money."

She sipped her coffee, her expression changing yet again, this time
showing just a hint of shyness and making her look younger, even more
angelic. "I horsed around a little, back when I was in high school, but
nothing serious. Kissing practice and such with a close friend, but
never anything more than a mild grope. Not that some men haven't
encouraged me to do more with a woman of their choice, but none of them
ever approached it in a way to make me want to try it."

I was about to speak when her bare foot rubbed my leg, sending shivers
up my spine and making my stomach do a little dance. "That's not
playing nice," I grumbled.  And doesn't indicate a _shred_ of timidity,
I added to myself with a suppressed grin.

She pulled her foot back with a laugh. "Why? Are you in a committed
relationship?" How did she look so angelic even with her hair looking
like she'd just been in a WWE match?

I shook my head. "No, not committed. You met my friends before your
father dragged them off. I've been..."

Gretchen arched her eyebrow again. "You've been what? With her? She's
really good looking," she admitted, "but he was _very_ easy on the
eyes, too."

I cleared my throat. "Well, not exactly."  I felt a little heat reach
my face.  God!  I do _not_ blush!  What the hell was wrong with me?

Her other eyebrow joined the first. "Him, too? I thought you played for
the other team?" A hint of a wicked smile crossed her lips. "Or is it
both of them together?"

I sighed, then matched her infectious smile.  "How do I get myself into
these messes?" I asked rhetorically. "Yes, I was seduced by the Dark
Side, but only because he's such a sweet guy. It's okay, but not like
making love to a woman."

Gretchen smiled past my shoulder and I felt my eye twitch.

"The waitress is standing right behind me, isn't she?" I asked, already
knowing the answer. I turned in my seat and the waitress was blushing
right behind me. Jeeze, this was Vegas. How could everyone here be so
na�ve?

"Um... Can I, like, get you some more coffee or something?" she asked
nervously. She was young and I swear young people were getting more and
more incomprehensible every year. What the hell ever happened to proper
grammar?

Before I could answer her, Gretchen cut in. "Some more coffee would be
good, Sweetie. I'm getting real thirsty trying to talk this pretty
woman into getting sweaty between the sheets with me."

The young woman (girl, really) blushed and bolted with a jerky nod as
Gretchen started laughing. I kicked at her under the table. "That was
so bad," I told her, "getting that poor girl all flustered like that!
It'll serve you right if you end up getting decaf." I shuddered. "No,
on second thought, I take it back. No one deserves decaf."

She laughed unrestrainedly for the first time since I'd met her. "I
can't help teasing the lab rats. Couldn't you tell? I always have to
push and poke, to get a reaction."

I was afraid the girl would spill coffee all over the table when she
came back. Gretchen was no help either, smiling seductively at her.
"What time do you get off tonight, Sweetie? Want to go dancing with
us?" I thought the waitress would vapor-lock. There was no shame in
Gretchen.

"That's enough," I said firmly and looked at the girl. "She's just
teasing you. We're going out dancing, alone, and then I'm going to drag
her home, alone, to lick her like a popsicle."

The waitress stepped back and her eyes bugged. She dropped tickets
everywhere while trying to get ours. I couldn't help it. I joined right
in with Gretchen's laughter as the girl rushed back into the kitchen.

"I take it back. _We_ are so bad," I chuckled. "Is it the water around
here? Everyone seems so na�ve."

"I'm not na�ve," Gretchen insisted. "I've been around the block."

"Hmmm. How much did that car cost you?" I asked.

"With or without the discount for services rendered?" she shot back,
not thrown at all by my sudden change of topic.

"Fair market value, Sport," I laughed. "I want to know how much those
gang bangers just boosted you for."

She stood up with a squeak and stared at her car outside, all alone and
unmolested. She frowned at me and swatted my hand. "Don't scare me like
that!" God, her chest was hypnotizing. "Hawk. Hawk! Yoo hoo? Up here!"
I looked up and blushed. If I blushed twice in 15 minutes then this
woman was definitely getting to me. Her eyes twinkled. "Like what you
see? Come on, let's blow this joint." She tossed a twenty on the table.
"Just to make up for teasing her like that."

We went back out to the car and climbed in. "To answer your question,
it's about a quarter of a million, I think. It's a business investment,
though."

As she started up the car, I raised my eyebrow in disbelief. "Really?
Uh huh."

"No, really!" she insisted. "With the level of clientele I work with,
showing this level of affluence actually increases business enough to
more than cover the cost of this car and the ones that came before it."

With a chirp of tires, she pulled into traffic and headed towards the
strip. Now that is was dark, other expensive and fast looking cars were
putting in an appearance. I think I even saw a DeLorean. The ladies of
the evening were starting their shift, city ordinance or no.

"How much do you pull in a year, if you don't mind my curiosity?" I
asked at last.

"Let's just say I don't have to work this way and keep my class of
living anymore and I haven't for years." She glanced over. "My rates
are pretty high, but I don't have trouble filling my dance card for a
half the nights in a week. I have a tiered rate that runs from four
thousand an hour to forty thousand for twenty-four hours." She laughed
at the look of astonishment on my face. "Look on the web. Porn stars
get half that and advertise for anyone to see. The really classy women
ask for more and get more business. I'm double their rate and the
wealthy men pay it without a qualm. Daddy will be paying my base, and a
fifty percent penalty for pre-empting my schedule like this, and
another fifty percent levied on the higher rate if we decide to have
sex, all for you to have the pleasure of my company for this next
week."

Now I almost vapor-locked. That was close to half a million dollars
without sex! "Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "For that kind of cash, these
guys could have women draped all over themselves. You're great looking,
but why pay out that kind of cash?"

She smiled, not offended. "A few reasons. One, they think it is a rush
having the daughter of Hans Werner on their arm, or in their bed if
they can manage it. If I sleep with one of them professionally, it's
even more expensive for them. Two, the more expensive something is, the
more a certain class of men want it. Three, I'm a really good date.
When I'm with someone, the world really does revolve around them. I'm
interested in so many things, I don't have to fake interest. I'll talk
about everything from stamp collecting to bondage. And I dance really
well."

-----

She revved the car and powered across the street and into a club
parking lot. She popped out of the car and handed the keys to the
attendant. "Hi, Kyle! How's Jenny?"

The large black man grinned and took her keys. "Jenny's fine, Miss
Gretchen. I'll tell her you asked about her."

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "She's, what, five months
along? Six? Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet?"

He shook his head. I couldn't tell with his skin tone if he was
blushing, but I would bet money on it. "She doesn't want to know; says
it would spoil her fun."

Gretchen laughed and shooed him away before she headed to the roped off
area where a line of people snaked around the building. Another large
black man, this one _really_ large and bald as an egg, opened the rope
for us.

"Miss Gretchen, welcome back to Club Gitmo! You and your friend have a
wonderful evening!"

"Thank you, Jimmy!" she said with a wide grin before making her way
into the packed dance club.

"Club Gitmo?" I asked her. "Like the place in Cuba?"

She nodded. "The owners liked the name and cribbed it."

The place was as hip as I could ask for, if I were about ten years
younger, but that didn't seem to bother Gretchen. She moved through the
crowd like a pro of the dance club circuit, greeting people and giving
hugs to more people than I knew in the whole world. How many people did
she know in this town?

As if she had read my mind, she turned to me and placed her mouth to my
ear. "I have a really good memory, almost perfect. It really comes in
pretty handy," she told me before she turned back to meeting and
greeting.

When we finally edged our way up to the bar, we were wedged together
face to face. She might not have any experience with women, but she
knew how to work a man and that was serving as a fine substitute right
now. Her soft breath caressed my cheek while those magnificent tits
were rubbing right against mine. I _know_ she could feel my nipples
poking through my dress. In fact, it was suddenly obvious that neither
of us were wearing bras and the cloth between us was so thin and silky
that I could tell she was at least interested. I grabbed my lust with
both hands and forced it down. I was _not_ going to throw myself at
this woman! I was not! I hoped. No! I wasn't!

She leaned in and spoke into my ear again, the only way I could really
understand her with all the dance music. "Drink?" Her scent flowed
straight from her hair to my pussy. I was drenched and I could feel my
clit throbbing with desire. Oh god, this was going to be hard.

"Yeah, good idea," I enthusiastically agreed. It might give me some
space to get a hold on my rampaging hormones before I took her in the
middle of the dance floor.

She ordered us two highballs and we sipped the tall glasses while I
brought my body back under control. The warm feeling of the alcohol
slowly spread fire along my limbs and the arousal started dampening
down.

"Why are we here?" I asked her during a pause in the music. "Surfing
for guys?"

She smiled that smile that made me want to be naked and rubbed herself
against me. "No, silly. We're here to dance and I don't dance with
other people when I'm out with someone."

My throat dried up and I had difficulty speaking. "Gre... Gretchen,
this isn't a lesbian bar. They might..."

She laughed. "Silly, girls dance all the time. They even dance sexy
sometimes to work up the guys around them." She trailed one finger
across her pouty lips in a way that over-rode my senses and fired up my
sex drive again. She leaned over and slid her lips across my cheek to
my ear. "What's the matter, Hawk? Afraid you'll lose control? I can see
you're attracted to me and that excites me. Dance with me!"

We shotgunned the last of our drinks before she dragged me out and onto
the packed dance floor. I didn't know the number they were playing and
I didn't care. It could have been a polka and I would have been out
there shaking my thing with her. Maybe that drink wasn't the best idea.
I wondered if what happened in Vegas really _did_ stay in Vegas.

I had been right, I decided. She was a dancer, and she wasn't kidding
when she said she was a _good_ dancer. Her body moved with a kind of
grace and ease that only many, many hours of movement can give. She
danced like a kung fu master did katas, a master on the floor. She
raised her arms over her head and danced seductively in front of me. I
clomped and tried not to step on her feet. I felt like a complete
idiot, but I didn't care. If idiocy was the price for this dance, I'd
cheerfully pay it. That dress flowed around her lush figure in ways
that would make a man blow his load just looking. If I'd had anything
more than my thong on to give me more friction, I would have been in
serious trouble. As it was, I ached with need as I watched her troll me
in toward her, wrapping an arm around my waist.

Her voice in my ear raised the heat in my loins. This shouldn't be
happening, not to the old Hawk. I used to do the stalking. I had been
the alpha. How the last three years had changed things. Before Ted and
Lisa, I had just coasted and now another woman was calling the shots.
If I was going to regain my self-confidence in the dating game, I
needed to get back on top. Figuratively speaking. I frowned. What had
she said? Her eyes laughed at me and she repeated herself.

"You're really fit, Hawk. A hard body. I like hard bodies against my
soft skin." Her smile curved her lips and she kissed my ear. Nipped it.

God! I wanted to touch myself, but I was _not_ going to just roll over
like this! I took charge and wrapped my arms around her, dancing with
_me_ controlling the tempo. She still managed to rub against me in ways
that were probably illegal in public. She really _was_ trying to seduce
me! I felt like I was losing the control to keep from ripping that
little dress off her and dropping to my knees right here with everyone
dancing around us. I forced myself to pull back.

"Let's go back to your place," I said huskily. "Just to talk. I'm not
this easy."

She pulled my arm close and started for the door. "You're the boss,"
she said back with the same heat in her voice. "And as long as you say
no, it's no. But I've never had someone hold out for long when I say
yes."

She leaned against me and whispered in my ear. "And just to be
explicitly clear, I'm saying yes. Personal, not part of Daddy's deal."

I wondered if I had better call Ted and Lisa or at least leave a
message. I wasn't sure I could keep holding out. If I caved, I wouldn't
be coming home tonight. And if I _did_ cave, I wanted some time to get
to know her right.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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