C6 6

There are two closed offices up here and a bank of monitors behind a huge curved desk in between, where one solitary security guard keeps an eye on the downstairs and other floors. Not that there is much to watch in an empty flat, a storage floor which houses nothing but excess from the bar and dusty boxes or empty rooms. This level has only him and Luciano most of the time, while the bar is only busy from seven p.m. until four a.m. The rest of the time it’s closed. The other office is always locked, so I presume it belongs to our missing hunk of the moment and I wonder when the hell that one is going to dazzle me with his presence.

My underwear has been feeling considerably tight since I first laid eyes on him and it’s wholly frustrating to find something that piques your interest insanely, and then just goes AWOL indefinitely. He spiked my interest and since then I have been having lucid dreams about that man and his sexy body, waking up all hot and bothered and craving sex.

That’s not like me at all.

I pull out my gold swipe card that gives me access to one of the two lifts and all four floors of this building. I noticed when Luciano gave me this the day I arrived that he has a silver one and I guess it means he cannot access the apartment upstairs; not that anyone can! It’s locked with a keypad that the guard had my palm scanned for on arrival. It’s very high tech for somewhere Carrero rarely uses, and I wonder why he went to so much expense upstairs but left his club to run in incapable hands and still look like it was decorated in the nineties.

It’s a complete contradiction to both the man and his apartment upstairs.

I wander into the open space of the lift and lean back against the railing, sighing heavily. I can already hear the thrum of downstairs and impatiently run my fingers through my long, straight locks, admiring my reflection as the chrome doors close. I quickly check my flawless makeup and red pout and give my ample breasts a little jiggle in the moulded lingerie to sit higher under my fitted dress. Looking good is an art form that I have mastered.

Despite not having anything but long slender legs on show when I work the bar, men just fall over themselves to be served by me. I guess I was lucky to be born with a naturally pretty face that can be a knockout with the right eyeliner and lippy, and a body I work hard to keep toned and fuckable. Experience taught me that I have to live on my looks as much as I do my skills in this cut-throat world I exist in because women are second-rate citizens among gangsters and completely disposable. We are ten a penny and most women in this world will drop their knickers for any guy with money or a hint of power, so you must stand out as something else.

I aim to be more than just another forgettable whore, I have skills and ambition.

The girls here all hate me, and I don’t really care. I never came here to make friends and technically I am still their boss too, even if Luciano forgets it and treats me like his skivvy. I am harsh-tongued and intolerant, and I am not shy to tell them when they are pissing me off.

I must admit though, the bar is running a lot more smoothly since I picked up the slack than when I first arrived. Just small changes to the rota, booze brands and how things are done, have made a world of difference. I could teach them a few things if I could be bothered to up the standard and class to try and pick up the tips a little. I don’t see the point though; I’m hoping the bar goes under and Alexi has to find another use for me to work off the money I owe him.

I would happily sweat it out under him in any position he required and revel in letting him find interesting ways to extract every last dollar. I could teach him a few boudoir tricks and show him just how good a girl can be with nothing but a tongue and a fair bit of practised suction. I did spend my adult life and half my childhood learning how to work sex to my advantage, and I am not against using every tool in my arsenal to achieve my goal.

Alexi would be fun to use it on, seeing as he is the first real crush I have ever had in my life. That man makes me wet just thinking about him. Since that certain tall dark Italian piqued my interest I have my eye firmly on that rich and powerful package for sure. I can’t help the little fantasies I have been having about him.

Sex is something I miss, even if it’s what screwed me up early in life, and I am more than ready to flex those pelvic muscles in the name of some fun now I have an opponent I’ve found to be worthy.

I got so embroiled in selling other girls to rich men when pushing Tyler’s product and surrounding myself with spoiled and fetish-fuelled creeps, that along the way I just lost all interest in fucking anyone.