Lola

The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and without having to turn around I know William Fox is close by.

When I got the job at Panic, I was happier than I’d been in years. Knowing how packed the club gets and the prices of the drinks, I knew my tips would double my income. But then I crashed into Fox. Literally. And that feeling of happiness changed into something I hadn’t felt in years.

Yearning.

For a long time my existence has consisted of work, sleep, eat—rinse and repeat. I’ve been so focused on survival, I’ve pushed all my needs and wants aside for so long that I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed having a connection with a man. And, the connection I had with Fox was serendipitous. It was immediate, intense, and electric. I’m not talking love at first sight. No, I’m talking lust and hunger, and a desire to pull that thick beard toward me and kiss him with reckless abandon.

Sometimes I think I can feel his deep, gravelly voice when he’s near or maybe I can just sense he’s in the room by the way women turn their heads and stare.

Even after half a year of knowing the man, I still don’t really know much about him except that people seem to gravitate toward him. He’s charismatic and funny and talks a lot. I also know he’s confident and a little bit arrogant, and there’s an air to him that screams money and power.

From the moment he crashed into me, I’ve known we’re as different as two people can be. From his designer suits to the way he styles his hair; the man is obviously well-off. He always smells of that men’s cologne, the expensive one that they give samples of at the mall. I don’t know how much a bouncer at a nightclub can possibly make, but Fox has it in spades.

And because life isn’t fair, God has been abundantly kind to the man by not only blessing him with wealth and charisma, he also has sex appeal the likes of which I’ve never experienced, which is why every time he walks by, I want to jump him like a cat in heat.

So, naturally, I avoid him. And have since the day I crashed into him.

I ignore the little pinpricks on the back of my neck and refuse to look back at him.

My palms sweat and my heart starts to beat faster every time he’s near. On a normal day, I’m awkward, but when he’s around I’m just…weird. I mean, the man had to ask me for his hand back when we first met. I was mortified.

I see the way other women look at Fox; the smiles that spread across their faces when he lets them into the club. As if he’s Saint Peter standing in front of the pearly gates. Except club Panic isn’t heaven and Fox is no saint.

Fox…the name suits him. His hair—more salt than pepper—makes him look like a silver fox. As does his sly smile—the one where the corners of his lips stretch to make a perfect half-moon that ends high up on his face, forming little crinkles at the edges, like the Joker. His beard, full but manicured to perfection. It’s like he knows the effect his smile has on the opposite sex, so he makes sure that his lips are the focal point, the beard just an adornment to draw attention to his mouth. And he’s smooth. So smooth, he’ll swallow you up, then spit you out, and you’ll let him because he looks like the kind of guy who’ll show you the best time. Tell you all the right things. Show you all of life’s decadent luxuries. I can tell all of this just from that devilish smile. Because it’s not just a smile. It’s slow-forming, it’s devilish, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in the most alluring way.

Which is why I avoid him.

I’ve been hurt before, by a guy less intense than Fox. A guy who wasn’t worth one single tear, yet I foolishly shed many tears over that jerk. I lost Gus at the same time I lost a part of myself—literally. And then I vowed never to open my heart again. So I’ve focused all my energy during the last seven years on my goals—and Fox is the antithesis of my goals.

I’ve had enough crap in my life, thank you very much. I don’t need Fox putting me through the wringer. So, I keep my head down and work but that doesn’t mean I don’t see everything.

And one thing I can’t ignore is how he is always just…there. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for the last six months, and I keep rejecting him. He’s not a creep about it, but I’m starting to think that my rejections are just fueling him on.

I’ve become that one thing he can’t seem to catch.

From the corner of my eyes, I catch him stepping out of his flashy car, a dark gray Armani suit stretched tightly around his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound muscled frame. I hope he hasn’t seen me but I can’t tell with those dark sunglasses over his eyes. I shuffle faster into Panic so I can disappear inside the dark crowd of the nightclub.

Fox

I step out of my new yellow Corvette and pat down the front of my suit jacket to check for wrinkles or lint. It’s hot and humid outside, like every Miami Beach night, and I can feel my crisp black shirt start to stick to me almost immediately. As one of the bouncers at club Panic, I can’t look anything but pristine, and sweat doesn’t say “pristine.” It says “messy and inferior,” and we’re trying to sell an image here. Luxury, superiority, exclusivity, and yes, pretentiousness, and I’m the first face people see when they arrive.

As I walk around the building, I spot the woman who’s been driving me crazy ever since she started working here, and I can’t help but stare at her. I don’t know what it is about her that I find so damn irresistible. She’s not particularly tall or curvaceous. She doesn’t dress scantily or flirt with me. Yet, I’ve never been more drawn to a woman before in my life, nor can I remember the last time I found a woman as attractive as I find her. If I didn’t catch the way she stares at me when she thinks I’m not looking, or the way her eyes wander to the front of the club where I’m normally stationed, I would think she found me repulsive.

I don’t know what kind of game she’s playing, but I’m into it.

I have to go through security footage often, and I’ve caught her biting her lip unconsciously when she looks at me, or her eyes searching me out in the room. Yet, she avoids me when I’m near her and it’s damn infuriating. I’m not used to this hot and cold treatment from a woman, and I don’t know how long I’m willing to put up with it.

She’s a few feet ahead of me, a big colorful bag crossing her torso. She’s wearing a black tank top with black jeans that end right by her ankles and boots. The uniform requirement for the bartenders at Panic is just to dress in black. And she does. But she always has something colorful on, I’ve noticed. Either in her hair or her jewelry or her bag. She walks in confident strides with her lean legs and perky ass swaying with every step. If she turned around I know exactly what I’d see. Pale skin, blue eyes, long dark lashes, and red lipstick. There’s something almost innocent looking about her, even with the bold lipstick choice. Maybe it’s the paleness combined with the dark features. Whatever it is, she is fucking stunning. And I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since I met her.

I have no idea why I have such a visceral reaction to this woman, this woman who tries very hard to ignore me.

“Hey, Fox.” Helen, another bartender, stops me just as I’m about to walk inside. It pisses me off, but I don’t let it show. I wanted to try to catch up to Lola but Helen’s cockblocking me from my goal. “Looks like it’s going to be a busy night, huh?”

I glance at the line that’s already forming around the corner. “Always is,” I answer distractedly.

“Maybe we can take a shot later?” She flirts with a wink.

“Yeah, maybe,” I respond distractedly.

She turns and saunters away and I hurry toward Lola, who’s walking briskly to the “red” bar on the left side of the club. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was running away from me. Why else would she be walking that fast? It’s not like she’s late to work or anything.

Lola

I move briskly, hoping that I can avoid him because I don’t know how much longer I can turn him down. Part of the reason he’s wearing me down is that he isn’t vulgar or pushy in his pursuit of me, he’s persistent yet careful, as if he understands I’m skittish and he needs to proceed with caution.

How I wish he was creepy.

How I wish he was a jerk.

Jerks, men who want hassle-free sex, douchebags, those I can handle. Those are the ones that have turned me so skittish toward the rest of the male population. Sweet men, well, that’s something I’m unaccustomed to. Slowly, he’s chipping away at my set notions that all men are assholes. But for the safety of my heart and my independence, I need to believe that men are assholes.

As I reach to open the top of the bar, I’m momentarily startled when I feel a solid wall of male press against my body and reach an arm around to hold it up for me. I can feel his breath behind me and it stirs something inside me. I know it’s Fox and not just from the clunky silver rings and tattoos on his fingers gripping the top or the pricey cologne he wears, but by his wide consuming presence. By far, he is the biggest man I’ve ever met. He fits the definition of a bouncer, from his large frame to his intimidating smile.

And, God, how I hate to admit that I want him pressed close to me. I want his face nuzzled in my hair and his fingers digging into my skin.

I remove my earbuds and with a palm over my heart, I turn around to face him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I called out for you.”

“Oh…uh…didn’t hear you.” I hold out my earbuds.

He has a smile on his face and his features are soft and relaxed. “You’re avoiding me?”

I swallow. “No.” I shake my head.

“I should move back. You look scared. Do I scare you, Lola?”

Yes! I almost yell. “No,” I whisper instead. He scares me but not physically. I’m afraid I’m going to throw everything away just to finally say yes to this man and succumb to the lust I feel every time he’s around.

But nonetheless he takes a half step back, giving me some space. “Grab coffee with me after work?”

“I’m off at four,” I answer and immediately realize this is the first time I don’t say no outright.

“Yeah, I know. I’m off at five, but I can get someone to cover for me if you say yes. Say yes, Lola.” I don’t answer. I have to think. Maybe I can just get coffee. What’s the big deal?

“You know if you keep rejecting me, I’m going to stop asking,” he adds.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” I say as I stare at his mouth, his gorgeous mouth with the sexy smile. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, I’m so distracted.

His smile widens and I know that he knows that I’m full of shit. “Or, maybe I should be even more persistent? Maybe we’ll have to have drinks right here.” He pats the bar top. “I’ll woo you in front of the entire staff if that’s what it takes.”

My eyes narrow and I can feel my cheeks warm. I thrust my hip to the side and my fist goes to my waist and I look up at him with conviction that I don’t necessarily feel. “You can’t force me to date you, Fox. You’re my boss.”

His smile is wide now, and he laughs, I think heartily. “No, I’m not.”

“Well, you’re…” I don’t really have another answer..

He leans casually against the bar with a smirk. “I’m…? Come on, I’m waiting for your next excuse, or have you run out? Was that the last one?”

“Maybe I’m just not interested,” I say, and it’s not a complete and total lie. I’m not interested in dating at the moment. Now sleeping with him, that’s a different thing altogether.

“Bullshit. I’m not blind, Lola. You can’t stop staring at my mouth.” And the sonofabitch licks the bottom of his lip, and the action almost makes me groan out loud. “This attraction, it’s mutual. Because your mouth, it does things to me too.”

Cocky bastard. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. Time to end this conversation and get my head back to work, where it needs to be. “I don’t even know what that means. I’m not your type, Fox. Trust me,” I say, turning around and ducking under his arm to get inside the bar, essentially ending the conversation. I don’t know what else he says because I put my earbuds back in and begin prepping for the night.

Fox

Like most Friday nights, Panic is packed. Not only am I responsible for who gets inside the club, I’m also in charge of who stays out. Panic is strict about its no-drugs policy—hell, even people who are visibly inebriated aren’t allowed in. So, anyone who is already fucked-up can’t get inside. And more often than not they put up a fight. Sometimes with words, sometimes with fists. But at my size, the idiots who try to get tough usually end up losing. I’ve been working out and playing sports for as long as I can remember. My childhood was basically a vicious cycle of shitty grades and a pissed-off father, and me acting out by concentrating on what I was actually good at and not giving a shit about school, which circled back to my father getting pissed-off even more.

The worse my grades in school got, the more I concentrated on things I was actually good at, which at the time was throwing a ball or a fist.

I have a list of all the people that are on the VIP list in my hand, but mostly, I ignore it. The way the words are all pressed together and the darkness of the club make it hard to read. I already know our VIPs, I don’t need a list. Anyone particularly special, the owners would’ve already talked to me about. When I’m given the list early in the week, I take it home and study it, google some of the characters coming so that I know who they are before they have to tell me their names and I waste time scanning through a long list.

A few times during the evening I rotate with Toro, the head of security and my direct boss, and go check out the inside of the club while he handles the outside. Always, my eyes automatically wander to Lola at the bar. She’s so quiet. I’ve never met anyone that quiet and shy before. She keeps her head down and does her job efficiently and when her shift’s over she leaves. She doesn’t make waves; she’s like a ghost—in and out—barely noticeable. But I notice her. In fact, I can’t help but notice her. I think I’ve become a little obsessed with her. I can’t help it. She intrigues me in ways I can’t explain.

Tonight, she looks up as if she senses I’m watching her. The club is dark and smoky, and with all the strobe lights, it’s hard to see but when her gaze finally lands on me, she smiles and shakes her head. I think she’s laughing at me. She knows I’m not going to give up and, unless I’m reading her completely wrong, I know she doesn’t want me to.

“Fox!” Nick yells, trying to get my attention. “Fox!”

Shit. I’ve been standing here staring at Lola instead of working. “What’s up, boss?”

“Stop staring at the poor woman. She’s going to think you’re some sort of creep.”

Nick and his brother, Matt, have been giving me a hard time about my crazy infatuation with Lola. Matt’s girlfriend, April, even went so far as to say that maybe Lola just didn’t find me attractive.

I’m still trying to process that…

“I’m making headway, man,” I protest. “She just smiled at me.”

He looks over my shoulder. “That’s not a smile. The lights are in her eyes; she’s squinting. Now, let’s talk about the group coming in tonight.”

I follow him to his office but not before looking over my shoulder, hoping Lola’s still watching me. But she’s not.

Shit, maybe the lights were in her eyes.

Lola

I yawn as I climb into bed. Tonight was a great night. I just finished counting my cash tips and tucked it all away in a sock under my mattress to deposit tomorrow. “I’m so close,” I say out loud, happy that I have most of the money for the next installment for my master’s degree. In two and a half months I leave Miami, and I’m not planning on looking back. I’m spending my last semester abroad in Ecuador and I can’t wait.

Unfortunately, I had to put the internship program on hold for a year to save up for it but I’m finally going to do it, now that I’ve saved enough and have been able to make the installment payments. I’ve never been more excited about anything in my life. I can’t wait to leave this place that brings nothing but bad memories.

Maybe I can pull some overtime at the animal clinic in order to move things along. I’m already working as many hours as I can at Panic, so that’s not an option.

I make sure my alarm is set to vibrate at eight, giving me three and a half hours of sleep, then I turn off my bedside lamp. I close my eyes trying to think about my day tomorrow and how I’ll be that much closer to my dreams. Instead I find myself thinking about the man who stares at me from the dark corners of Panic. Instead of finding it creepy I find it frustratingly sexy how much he intrigues me. I’ve seen so many women flirting with him, I’m probably just one of a thousand he hits on. He’s so handsome, with his silvery white hair and that dimpled smile that softens his hard edges. I wonder how old he is. He could be in his twenties or his fifties. It’s that hard to tell.

I wonder what he’d think of my tiny apartment in the worst part of town. Where would he even park his brand-new sports car or plant his expensive silk–trousered ass? Not on my orange Goodwill couch, that I am sure of.

I’ve made peace with the life I have and have set my sights on goals that I’m about to reach. But there’s one thing—just one thing—that I really miss.

Sex.

A relationship would be wonderful but that’s unrealistic at the moment.

Vivian, my friend and boss at the animal clinic, is always pushing me to date.

“There has to be someone who interests you? Someone who’ll make you want to break your no-dating, men-are-assholes rule,” Vivian says.

“When would I date? I work all day. I don’t have time for that. And anyway, men really are assholes.”

“Not all of them. And there’s always time for a little fun, Lola,” she says as she finishes filling out a chart. “How about that guy who’s always asking you out, that bouncer guy you’ve mentioned?”

“Fox?” I say, shaking my head no.

“Why not? Speaking as your friend and not your boss, honey, you need to get laid. You’re young and pretty and it’s not normal to just close yourself off.”

“I’m leaving in a few months, and Fox changes women like most men change socks. Plus, he’s wealthy and ambitious, and he’d probably throw up at the sight of my shitty apartment and…we’re just too different, Viv.”

“Have you seen him with a lot of women?”

Have I? I think back to what I know about him. “Well, no…”

“So, who’s the judgy one now?” That shocks me. Maybe I am being judgmental. I haven’t really seen him with anyone else. He’s been flirting with me relentlessly, and I’ve never actually witnessed him leaving with the women who approach him.

“I have too much going on to try to fit in all the headache and heartache that comes with dating. Plus, I’m about to leave the country. A relationship is impossible.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?”

For the second time in the last few minutes Vivian surprises me.

Just sex? Is that what she’is suggesting?

Sex is something that seems attainable. But I’ve closed myself off from people for so long, I’m not sure how to open myself up again. And it scares me. Even admitting that it scares me is a big deal for me.

Fox seems to be a fun guy who just wants a date and to get laid. Similar goals, right?

“Why not give him a chance? Why not start with Fox? It’s not like he’s asking for marriage. Who cares if you’re not compatible, right? An attractive, confident man wants to sleep with you, and you’re saying no?”

“Shit, I’m an idiot!”

“My work here’s done,” Vivian says as she leaves me to go tend to a litter of kittens that was brought in earlier.

As the conversation with Vivian replays in my head, thoughts start forming as I doze off to sleep…Maybe Fox is actually the perfect guy for no-strings sex. Why didn’t I listen to Vivian before?