It’s showtime.

Oh ya, by the way, this is all happening a few hours before the last chapter you read from WineBar. Just making sure you realize that. We figured it was important for you to understand why I called him that night.

Once again I’m in front of my dress, readying myself for what I hope to be another wonderful night with Freeway himself. Except this time we’re not going out… he’s coming over to my place.

After our amazing date a few nights back, I spent the whole next day thinking of him. Sure, thoughts of WineBar creeped up as well, but things are going so well with Freeway that I simply couldn’t resist and invited Freeway over. I was afraid that he’d say ‘no’ but, to my surprise, he accepted.

Taking a deep breath, I take one more look at my bedroom’s full-body mirror, carefully analyzing every wrinkle in my dress, and the way the fabric clings to the curves of my body. There’s some cleavage showing, and the dress is short enough to make a man start wondering about what kind I’m wearing underneath it; in short, I’m more than ready.

Oh, yeah, and I also have some La Pearla on underneath. And you know what that means, don’t you? That’s right, it’s time for some fun tonight for sure. He’s been a good gentleman. But time for the animal to come out.

I’m downstairs, I read Freeway’s text on my phone, and I have to take another deep breath in order to control my nerves. Walking out to the living room, I go up to the door and open the building’s entrance via the intercom. One minute later and I hear him rapping his knuckles against my door, each time he does it making my heart skip a beat.

Grabbing the handle, I close my eyes for a second and breath in as deeply as I can. It’s showtime, I repeat to myself. It’s been my mantra since I texted Freeway, inviting him over, and I’m not sure if it’s working; I’m still as nervous as a schoolgirl. God, what’s happening to me? Being with two hot men is frying my brain, that much is for sure.

“Wow,” Freeway whistles as I open the door, his eyes lingering on my silhouette. “You really outdid yourself.”

“Thank you…” I whisper, biting on the corner of my lower lip. “You don’t look too bad either,” I laugh, stepping back so that I take in his figure all at once. Dress pants, polished black shoes, and a crisp white shirt that hugs the outline of his muscles in the most delicious way… Yup, he doesn’t look too bad, not at all.

“And I brought you this!” he announces as I step out of the way and invite him in. He shows a bottle of red, and my mind immediately conjures images of Kirk, the WineBar ghost. Oh, stop it, just enjoy yourself, I think, pushing all thoughts of Kirk to the back of my mind.

Going straight toward the kitchen, which shares the same space as my living room, I take two glasses out of a cabinet and set them on the counter. I hand Freeway the corkscrew and, in a just a matter of seconds, he opens up the bottle and pours the wine onto our glasses.

“Here’s to a promising evening,” he says, raising his glass up in the air. I touch my glass against his, smiling as I look straight into his eyes. A promising evening, huh? It seems like Mr. Marshall Kane has grown tired of making me wait.

All for the best.

Two glasses of wine later, and I simply can’t help myself; I offer him one devilish smile, take one step toward him and grab him by his shirt, pulling him into me.

“Oh, what’s this?” he laughs, resting both his hands on my waist.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” I whisper seductively, running my tongue between my lips.

“That sounds perfect.” With that, he places one hand on the small of my back and leans in, his lips reaching for mine. My eyelids droop by instinct and, the moment our lips touch, I feel a pleasant electric feeling climbing up my spine. He’s a good kisser, not as good as Kirk is, but I guess we can work on that.

“C’mere,” I whisper, pulling back from his kiss and leading back to my couch. The moment he has the back of his knees against it, I rest my hands on his chest and push him back, forcing him to sit down.

“No, you come here,” he chuckles, grabbing me by the hand and pulling him into. I let him do it and, opening my legs, I jump on top of him. Straddling him, my knees on either side of his thighs, I throw my arms over his shoulders and press my forehead against his.

“Mm,” I sigh as I buck my hips against him, pressing the wetness between my thighs against the bulging shape growing inside his pants. I sway my hips back and forth, grinding against him as we surrender to a long kiss.

Placing both his hands on my knees, he slides them up the hemline of my dress; he waits for a couple of seconds, and then his long fingers move under the fabric, moving straight toward my inner thighs. “Wet… I like it,” he whispers, flattening the palm of one hand against my drenched pussy.

“Is that so?” I whisper right back at him, and then I push myself off the couch. Standing in front of him, I slide one hand under my dress and pull my thong down, allowing to slide down my legs. The moment it lands around my ankles, I bend over and pick it up.

Taking one step toward him, I bring my wet thong to his face and brush it against lips, grinning as I do it. He moves fast and, curling his fingers around my wrist, he makes me press the thong against his mouth. As he breathes in the scent of my pussy, his eyes seem to light up, his cock pulsing viciously under his pants.

“Your turn,” I tell him, going down on my knees as he spreads his legs wide. Without a moment’s hesitation, I reach for his belt and unbuckle it; I keep going, unzip his pants and then pull them down his legs as fast as I can. “Much better,” I purr, reaching for his cock with one hand and — WHAT THE FUCK?

His cock is hard, alright, but all that hardness isn’t hiding under a pair of boxer briefs.

Or boxers.

Or briefs.

Instead, he’s wearing a thong.

Yes, that’s right—a thong! And not a man’s thong (I’ve heard that’s a thing now), but one that’s bright pink… and it has frills around the edges!

In fact…oh no.

It’s La Perla.

“Do you like it?” he whispers, and I look up at him, too stunned to say anything.

“I… I…” I can’t say a damn thing, that’s what. Slowly going up to my feet, I grab back my thong and put it on, my mind working fast. “Marshall… I’m sorry… I can’t do this right now.”

“But —” he starts, but I just cut him short.

“Please, leave. I...I have work to do,” I tell him as I walk back toward the kitchen counter. I refill my glass of wine and down the whole thing at once, waiting for him to get dressed. He does it silently, and I don’t even turn to him as he stands up and walks out of my apartment. I simply can’t look into his eyes after seeing him in a pink ladies thong.

“Jesus Christ…” I sigh as he finally leaves, closing the door behind him. Grabbing the bottle by the neck, I amble back to the couch and sit down, pouring myself another glass.

What the hell just happened now? I thought that Freeway could be the man I was looking for, but this… I don’t even know what to think about it. There was never any of this insanity with Kirk. OMG, Kirk…

Before I can think twice about it, I reach for my phone and go through my contacts list. The moment I see WineBar spelled on the screen, I press my thumb over the green icon and take the phone to my ear.

Two seconds later and I hear his voice from the other side of the line.

“Hey.”