Red Hot Rose Boxed Set
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© 2012 Kandi Kayne, all rights reserved, worldwide.
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Red Hot Rose
A Serial Erotic Romance Novel
Kandi Kayne
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To the sexy girl who lives in each of us.
I walked down the sidewalk, pulling at the bottom of my skirt, trying to cover more of my legs than the material was meant to.
“Stop fiddling with it, Rose.
Just
leave
it,” said my best friend Jessica, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.
“This is stupid.
I don’t want to go.
Please just give me the keys and let me leave.”
I jerked my hand out of her grasp and used it to try and pull my tank top up higher.
My boobs were practically falling out of it.
It’s not that they’re huge and would cause a fuss if they did or anything, but still … I wasn’t the public exposure kind of girl, preferring instead to keep myself covered in way more clothing than I was currently wearing.
“Hell to the
no
.
You’re coming.
And I promise, you’ll thank me for it later.”
She shot me a million-watt smile, showing off her perfectly straight movie-star teeth.
“It’s going to be fun
and
educational.”
“I doubt that very highly.
Applying for an escort job doesn’t sound fun or like something that will teach me anything but the ultra low levels I’m willing to stoop to in order to pay for my last semester of college.”
“Shush.
And fix your lipstick,” Jessica said, frowning at me in front of the escort service office.
I reached up tentatively.
“What’s wrong with it?”
She slapped my hand away and leaned in closer, brushing her finger under my lower lip.
“I swear to God, it’s like you’ve never worn makeup in your life.
You’re such a dork.”
“Hey,” I said, pushing her shoulder gently in mock offense, “I wear makeup.
I just don’t like to wear the heavy stuff.
This lipstick makes me feel like a prostitute.
And so does the outfit.”
I yanked on my top again.
“You just need to show off your assets, that’s all.
When we go out on jobs you don’t have to go so balls-out.”
I smiled.
“Balls-out.
Ha!
If I
had
balls, they
would
be out with this skirt being so short.”
I snickered, the image of a girl with a set of testicles dangling out of a skirt assailing my mind.
“That is so gross, I’m not even going to comment,” said Jessica, looking through her little clutch purse for a mirror to check her own lipstick.
I pulled the mirror away from her and grabbed her arm, dragging her through the door with me.
“Come on.
Your face is perfect.”
I dropped my voice to a whisper.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The woman wearing a pencil skirt and shimmery blouse walked around me slowly, tapping her finger to her lips as she appraised every inch of my body.
I tried not to squirm but it was impossible.
I felt like a piece of cattle getting ready to hit the auction block.
I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, opening and closing my hands which had suddenly gone sweaty.
“Hmmm … long legs, that’s a plus.
Hourglass figure … nice.
The hair’s a bit of a mess, but that can be fixed.”
I frowned.
What’s wrong with my hair?
Jessica said it looked nice.
I looked over at my friend, but she shook her head rapidly in tiny movements, wrinkling her lips together in a way that I knew meant I should keep my comments to myself.
She was always such a killjoy.
“Breasts not too big, not too small.”
The woman lifted up my hands and examined my manicure.
“Nice nails, but they need to be painted.
Preferably red.”
She held onto my hands making me even more nervous.
If she tried to kiss me, I for sure was going to head-butt her.
I don’t care what Jessica said, some things were just too outer limits for me.
I was almost done with my undergraduate degree in marketing and public relations and was willing to do nearly anything to pay for my last few classes - as evidenced by my standing here.
But kissing girls?
No.
Not gonna happen.
She stared into my eyes for a minute before dropping her gaze to my nose, chin, neck and then chest.
“Decent face.
A little innocent-looking which could be a huge plus … if she fixes the hair.”
She let my hands go and stepped back, turning to look at my friend.
“Thanks for bringing her over.
You know we appreciate referrals.”
She left her examination of me and returned to her desk, lowering herself into the seat as she smoothed the back of her skirt towards her knees.
“So, does she have the job?” asked Jessica anxiously.
The woman looked at me, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
“The question is, does she really
want
the job?”
Oh damn.
I’m busted.
I felt my face getting hot and the sweat starting to flow under my arms.
I opened my mouth to say something, but my traitor voice crapped out on me and wouldn’t formulate the words that would assure her that this is definitely something I wanted to do.
Apparently,
want
and
need
were very clearly defined deep down inside me.
Jessica jumped to the rescue.
“Of
course
she wants the job.
She’s
desperate
for the job, in fact.”
Jessica spared me a scolding look before continuing.
“She gets nervous during interviews.
It’s the lipstick.
I made her wear it.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, looking from my friend to the woman.
Jessica was nothing if not creative with her excuses.
I wondered if the woman would fall for it.
“Is that so?” asked the woman, giving Jessica a watery smile.
“Yes.
And the top.
She prefers strapped and not strapless.
I promise, I will make sure she’s dressed appropriately for the next event.”
The woman sighed, moving some papers around on her desk and then tapping away at the keys on her computer as she examined the screen.
“Well, we have something tonight and two of our girls called in sick.
It’s not your usual event, but if you’re up for it,” she turned and gave me a penetrating look, “and are willing to watch over your friend here, I’ll give you both a shot.”
Jessica jumped up and down a few time with her hands clasped together.
“Yes, yes, yes!
Thank you so much!
I promise, I’ll totally keep an eye on her and make sure she behaves herself.”
“And I don’t need to remind you that we don’t need teenage cheerleaders at our events, that our clients expect sophistication and beauty, yes?”
Jessica stopped her jumping, and her enthusiastic response disappeared, replaced by serious self-possession that was almost shocking in its contrast to her earlier excitement.
“Of course.
I know what our clients expect and I always deliver.
Don’t I?”