I was about to blow my load down this woman's throat when the text came in. The woman on her knees in front of me was obviously forgettable. The text though...it would change the course of my life forever.

Shoving my phone back into my shirt pocket, I looked down at the random blonde who had her mouth full of my cock. From the moment I walked into this small club in the West Village an hour ago, she had set her sights on me. I felt her stare and her not-so-subtle gestures to get my attention. It worked. Plus, I wasn't one to turn down getting my dick sucked either so...here we were in a disgusting woman’s bathroom stall. She was thorough with her suction and overall technique, but not that good if I was reading texts while she was working me. But beggars can’t be choosers and a blowjob was a blowjob, especially if it fell on your lap out of the clear blue sky like the tiny miracle it was.

“Are you close, baby?” she asked, pulling away for a second. A string of saliva was connected from her bottom lip to the tip of my dick. I had to admit, it was kind of porny-hot.

I wasn't one for small talk. Never had been. Instead, I answered her by grabbing the back of her head and guiding her mouth back for more sucking and less talking. The corners of her lips quirked upward in an attempt to give me a sexy smile before taking a mouthful again. Since, yes, I was close. And I had to get the hell out of here and answer the text from my boss that had come in a little while ago.

Because when your boss texts you at damn near midnight to say that the opportunity of a lifetime was knocking at your door and was flat-out demanding that you be available for a meeting first thing tomorrow morning, the only answer, at least for me, was a resounding yes.

So, I tried one more time to block out all thoughts of that text, my boss, and the noises coming from outside the bathroom door. It worked. The familiar sensation started at my balls and then crept up and around my entire cock until I had to take matters into my own hands, literally. The blonde, thankfully, got the hint and sat back onto her haunches. I tugged for a little bit more and positioned myself to shoot my load just over her shoulder, but hit her hair instead. Oh well. I never said my aim was perfect.

“That was so sexy,” she said in a throaty whisper. “Is it my turn now?”

Trying my best not to laugh at the glob of cum that was coagulating by the second in her blonde tresses, I tucked myself back into my boxer briefs and zipped up my pants.

“Maybe another time,” I lied. It seemed to do the trick though because her eyes lit up in excitement.

I had no intention of ever seeing her again, just like I had no intention of staying a minute longer than I had to in this disgusting bathroom stall. As if I couldn't plan my escape any better, a loud banging started up on the actual bathroom door, which I had locked for privacy. God knows, I had been interrupted in the past when I was having a random bathroom hook-up. Personally, it never bugged me out. But the women, yeah, they didn't appreciate it much.

“Looks like we have to get out of here anyway,” I said to the blonde.

“Hurry up in there,” a muffled woman's voice said from the other side of the door. “Some of us have to actually use the bathroom, you know?’

“Just a minute!” I yelled and the banging stopped.

Like a gentleman, and not the full-on prick that I was most of the time, I held the stall door open wide enough to let her out. She thanked me under her breath. I could tell she was already regretting the decision to suck my dick. As well she should, since mentally, I had already checked out and was lumping her in with the other women who became instantly forgettable to me after a random hook-up.

My hookup made her way to the sink and checked herself in the mirror. And in three, two, one...

“What the hell?! You came in my hair?”

Yeah, she finally noticed it.

I shrugged my shoulders and then nudged her to make some room for me at the sink. While I washed my hands, she was huffing and puffing about how much of an asshole I was. I couldn't be bothered to correct her. And truthfully, she wasn't that far off the mark.

I was an asshole.

In my defense, I was mostly an asshole to people I felt were inconsequential to my everyday life. I loved my family; my brothers, my nieces...they were everything to me. I respected those who demanded respect. A woman who was willing to get on her knees and suck my dick within minutes of meeting me, not so much. So, if that qualified me for being the asshole of the year, then so be it. I wouldn't be losing sleep over it any time soon. Or ever.

“Okay, so thanks for that,” I told her. “I'll see you around.”

“Go to hell!” the blonde yelled to my back just as I was pulling free the flimsy lock.

Standing right on the other side of the door, and now, in my way, was my least favorite person in the world: Daphne Rodriguez.

“Oh. My. God,” she said, punctuating each word with equal parts hate and boredom with a hand on her hip. Her face did not hide the fact that she was completely disgusted with me, per usual. And I wasn't going to hide the fact that I felt the same way about her.

I had never hated anyone before. It was against my nature. To everyone else in my personal life, I had always been an easy-going, carefree, roll-with-the-punches, kind of guy. You had to be when you were the baby in the family with two older brothers who took pride in busting your balls so often it felt as if that was their calling in life. So for me to admit that I hated someone, anyone; it had to be bad. The hate I had for Daphne was eating away at me. It was an all-consuming thing whenever I started to think about her, or someone even mentioned her. And therein lies the problem, because I was thinking about Daphne all the goddamn time now. And day by day, minute by minute, the lovable, laughable, and charming parts of me that made me, well, me, were slowly being chipped away at by a cold and calculating person who delighted in trying to outsmart me at every turn.

Sure she was the most gorgeous, exotic looking, sexy as hell woman I had ever laid eyes on. Period. She could make my dick start to rise to the occasion with the mere mention of her name. She was beauty personified. She carried herself with confidence and demanded attention from anyone and everyone around her. One look from Daphne, and fuck...my heart started to hammer in my chest, my pulse raced through my veins with the speed of a runaway train, and my dick would beg me to put aside our differences so I could finally have her.

She was that beautiful.

Her attitude, though, was pure shit.

That right there put a kibosh on any possibility of us ever being anything other than enemies. Because Daphne was all about stealing my thunder. She wanted to be me.

No, seriously.

She wanted to have the same following and attention I had on social media and the same job I had that created such a following. Basically, she wanted to be famous.

Was I famous?

Eh. Kind of.

I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me backtrack a bit. My name is Max Allen. Yes, that Max Allen. The same Max Allen that society columnists had christened as “Max-A-Million” since I was barely eighteen years old and photographed coming out of an after-hours nightclub with two women hooked onto each arm as if they were my trophies for making it up so late that night. Truth be told, they were my trophies and it was spectacular. Anyway, I was never one to go into the family business, which, if I were being honest, I wouldn’t even know what the hell the family business was other than sit around and be rich. My parents had done a swell job of playing that part all of their lives on their own and I wasn't about to follow in their footsteps any time soon or follow them period. My older brothers, Jack and Trevor, well, they were more business savvy minded than me and decided to go into business together a while back. Both of them doing pretty damn good with their investment company too.

But none of that was for me. I wanted to be known by everyone and be a household name. I wanted to be famous-ish. If you looked up the word “narcissist,” you'd find my face staring right back at you. And I'm proud of it. See, I never minded the attention the page six types threw my way. As a matter of fact, I thrived on it. And I parlayed it into my career as a host of my own show about New York City nightlife. As my brother Trevor would like to remind me, it was barely seen by many people since it originally aired on a very obscure cable access channel that had it running around three o-clock in the morning on even more random nights.

But it paid off.

Because the right someone happen to catch my show one night about eight months ago. And that right someone happened to run the programming for one of the local channels right here in the tristate area. A few contract negotiations later, and here I am: the television host of a show that airs on Tuesday and Thursday nights, after the local news, about the same nightlife I had been featuring on my other, lesser known show. And how this tied into the beautiful Daphne Rodriguez you're wondering? Relax, I was just getting there. Because with more exposure came celebrity status...and copycats. And that, my friends, is how Daphne came under my radar to begin with.

They say that imitation is supposed to be the highest form of flattery. If that were actually true, than I should feel honored beyond belief that Daphne took my show idea and used it as the basis for her own. Granted, her show was via her YouTube channel, but still. It was the principle of it all. She stole my idea. It was downright scary how closely she followed my format, down to the song playing over the closing credits by the same exact band. Scarier still, was the fact that she would beat me to the punch and spotlight a nightclub or bar a week in advance that I had on my schedule to hit up. All the while, she was building up her audience base. I can attest to that since I was one of her freaking followers. And by follower, I literally mean I was following her around New York City into the wee hours of the night like an idiot. What I was hoping to do when I caught her was anyone's guess. Because the handful of times we had actually spoken to each other, it never went well. Then again, if she hadn't made a concerted effort to steal my thunder, maybe I wouldn't be so testy around her.

“How ironic to run into you here, of all places?” I asked her.

“Where? The ladies room?” Daphne answered. “Gee, of all places to find a woman waiting, Max. Who would have guessed you were so smart.”

“Not the bathroom, slick.” She scoffed at the nickname. “I meant, here. This club. It's really a coincidence I run into you yet again on a night that I'm scoping out the place for a possible feature on my show.”

She licked her lips and then tilted her head to the side as if she were trying her best to read my thoughts. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in that gorgeous head of hers. As that idea sprung into my mind, she narrowed her eyes at me like she was imagining gutting me open like a fish right here in this nightclub. I shuddered at the thought as she pushed off her long, wavy brown hair from one shoulder and said something in Spanish.

“What was that?” I asked with a smirk.

“She called you an imbecile, you jerk,” this came from the blonde I had forgotten about as she elbowed her way past me and a now laughing hysterically Daphne.

Through her laughter, Daphne said, “Looks like another satisfied customer, Max.”

“Okay, so I'll catch up with you later then...” I trailed off trying to remember the blonde's name. I knew it began with a “C,” but couldn't for the life of me recall it.

A cackling Daphne chimed in. “You don't know her name, do you?”

“Pfft! Of course I do.” Clearing my throat, I yelled to the blonde's back so I could be heard over the music thumping all around us. “Thank you...Candy!”

We both tracked the blonde into the crowded club. Not bothering to turn around, she lifted one perfectly manicured middle finger into the air and then yelled back, “It's Collette, asshole!”

“Smooth, Max. Really, really smooth,” Daphne said through her giggling.

“Whatever. I was close.”

I was still staring off into the distance, not even slightly embarrassed. It wasn't the first time I had forgotten a woman's name before, during, or after a hookup. I'm sure I wasn't the only man that happened to either. And plus, I got the first letter of her name right. That ought to count for something, dammit.

Turning my attention back to Daphne, who was enjoying herself a little too much for my tastes, I decided to turn the tables on her. “Jealous much?”

Her laughter died down, but a smirk blossomed in its place. That killer attitude was written all over her face, too. I hated to admit to myself, but damn it was sexy. And I found myself being turned on by the sheer force it.

Daphne took a hint of a step forward and then another until our bodies were pressed so closely together that those nuns back in my grade school days would be saying that we hadn't left room for the Holy Ghost between us. I wasn't complaining, though, because it meant that I could feel every single one of her luscious curves fitting perfectly against my body. The heat between us was palpable and my mind warred with the knowledge that I hated this woman. But my control on that hate wasn't helped by the fact that she smelled so fucking good. Like a delicious blend of exotic flowers. I didn't know if it was an actual brand of perfume or just her, but whatever it was, it fit her perfectly. And it was wreaking havoc on the logical side of my brain.

Her dark brown eyes were fixed on mine, studying and assessing me. And then she started to stare at my mouth for a long moment that stretched the silence between us to a slow crawl. Time seemed to stop as I imagined taking Daphne's mouth, plunging my tongue inside, licking and nipping to taste and tease her. I continued to watch her carefully while I let her see every sinful thought that crossed my mind and hoped for a split second she would let me act on them.

But then her lush, pink and pouty mouth opened and out came the Daphne that I knew and hated. “Poor, poor Max. Save your breath, since you might need it to blow up your next date.”

The moment was gone. If even what I had felt was real and not just wishful thinking on my part. She had broken the spell and it left me feeling more irritated with her than usual.

“You wish,” I said hastily.

“You wish, what?” she asked and took a step back. Daphne's eyes were teasing as we slowly started to circle each other as if we were in a boxing ring. When we stopped and squared off once again, we had switched places so that her back was against the bathroom door.

I felt uncomfortable, pissed, and turned on more than I had been even while that blonde was sucking my dick a little while ago. I couldn't think of anything witty or halfway decent to repel this demon woman back to whatever hell she crawled out from. Or even think of anything to say that could have made our mutual hate disappear long enough to get Daphne into my bed.

I paused as that thought danced around my head.

Daphne in my bed...naked, skin upon skin, touching, kissing, fucking.

Hell no! This woman was my sworn enemy, and I'd be damned if she was going to make me forget it.

“It must be tiring,” I said barely loud enough for her to hear over the crowd in the club. Taking a step forward, she took a step back. One more and she was leaning against the bathroom door gazing up at me.

Daphne asked just as quietly, “What must be tiring?”

“This,” I answered. My hand reached up to touch one of her long brown locks. We both watched in a trance as I let the strands disappear, one by one from my fingertips. “This act of yours. The fact that you have to latch onto my success to make yourself worth a shit to anyone who will listen and give you the time of day.”

She barely moved, barely breathed. Daphne's eyes grew darker with rage that she kept checked and reigned in. Like a storm cloud brewing in her eyes, I could tell that I had hit a nerve. And I didn't care.

Daphne smiled a serpent's smile. “Just like a man to think the world revolves around him. You know what, Max?”

She was still smiling as I leaned forward and rested my hand against the bathroom door, caging her in. “I can't wait to hear this,” I said with a conniving a smile as hers. “Tell me.”

“Acting like a dick won't make yours any bigger.”

Quicker than a blink of an eye, she opened the door behind her, making me lose my balance. Thankfully, I didn't fall. But when I straightened, I caught her pleased as punch gaze in mine for a fleeting second right before she slammed the door in my face.

And that was that.

“That went a lot better than expected,” I said to myself.

I turned around and hesitated before heading back into the heart of the nightclub. Whatever research ideas for the TV show I had before stepping foot into this place were long gone; ruined by my run-in with Daphne. I wish I could say that it wasn't the usual for me, but it was. And I had to stop it—her, from spoiling my success, my career, my life.

That was it! This was the very last straw for me! As I made my way through the very crowded club and reached the doors that spilled onto the bustling streets of New York City, I vowed to myself that starting tomorrow I would wake up and never, ever think twice or worry about Daphne Rodriguez again.