“Yeah, something is fishy,” Bobby says, agreeing.
“Hmm... Find out who this fucker is, Locks, and get back to me. I want everything, from his real estate to who he has in his pocket,” Bull announces. Usually powerful, wealthy men like Stevin have lots of people on their payroll; greedy fuckers only wanting money. Maybe if we can find one of them we can buy some information and get a lead on Stevin.
“Let’s get the safe house cleaned and stocked up; get the girls out there. I want three men on them at all times. Shadow, I want you on Dani, she seems to like you.” Bobby snorts, at that comment; fucker. I kick him under the table to shut him the fuck up.
“Bobby, follow Lady around. Good luck, she’s a bitch,” Bull laughs, “and get a prospect, too. If you two need to be elsewhere you get someone to cover your spot,” he commands as he stands.
“You got it,” Bobby replies.
Bull slams the gavel down and everyone gets up to leave. I look over at Bobby who is red in the face from trying to keep his laughter in.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
“You are so fucked, man,” he laughs.
I throw the crumpled up piece of paper I held in my hand at him. Fucker, so glad he thinks this shit is funny.
A vibrating noise on the night stand next to the bed catches my attention. It is Shadow's cell phone. In his rush to avoid me this morning, he forgot it. I pick it up. It reads '1 missed call'. I wonder who called him. I can't stop the suspicion in my gut, so I open the cell phone. The missed call is from someone he's dubbed 'BITCH'. I’m sure he has lots of bitches. He should probably number them, bitch 1, bitch 2, I could be bitch 3. I growl at myself, thinking I, too, am just some bitch to get his rocks off. I bet tonight he will be in bed with a different bitch. Well, I'll just make sure he thinks of me while doing it.
I open the contacts to put my cell number in. For a contact name, I start typing 'Dani'. Unexpectedly, his voice echoes in my mind from last night; “Goddamn, you smell like heaven”. I smile at the memory. I delete what I typed and put in the name, 'Heaven'. I angle the camera at myself, sex up my bed-head with my fingers and pinch my cheeks. I pull the sheet up over my breast, bite my lip and take the picture. Not too bad. I look like I was just fucked seven shades from Sunday; exactly what I was going for. It will make a great contact photo. If he doesn’t delete the picture, he will always remember me and him last night.
How pathetic am I? Even with the thought that he used me, I still want him.
I get up to put some clothes on. Stepping over my white panties reminds me of the loss of my purity. My clit tingles just thinking about how Shadow took me with his deceitful ways. My body betrays me as easily as he did. Grr... I need to push him out of my mind; forget him. But having given Shadow something as special as my virginity makes me feel connected to him in a way I know he doesn't share. I feel stupid, and to be honest, a little hurt.
I grab my suitcase to see if I have any clean clothes left. I should probably see if there's a washer and dryer in the clubhouse. How convenient; a black bra and panties set; that should match my promiscuous ways. When I start to slide on my panties I see blood between my thighs. Shit, I need a shower.
I let the hot shower wash off everything from last night. It is bitter sweet. I want proof of what happened off of me, but don’t. I grab some soap and lather it up between my hands, it smells like Shadow. I smile at the recognition. I rub the dried blood off with the soap, the smell of Shadow soaking into my skin.
I slip my sinfully colored panties and bra on and open the closet to see if there's any kind of shirt I can throw on. Luckily, there are a few with the Devil's Dust logo of a skeleton hand crushing a skull. I grab the black one and put it on. It engulfs my slim figure, so I tie the bottom corner hem into a knot. Reaching back into my bag, I find some blue jean shorts to put on.
A smooth voice startles me. “Damn, you were born to wear that shirt.” It's Shadow, studying me from top to bottom with beastly eyes. The sound of his voice brings hurt to my soul and desperation to my loins.
“You're back,” I respond, trying not to sound excited. “I didn’t think I would see you again today.”
“Yeah, I forgot my phone,” he says, grabbing it off the night stand.
Awkward silence fills the room; neither of us knowing what to say about last night.
Great, here it comes: “I didn’t mean for last night to happen,” or, “it's not you, it’s me”. I don't think I can handle the rejection. Even though I knew this was a probability, actually hearing I was just a one-night stand coming out of his beautiful mouth might kill me.