Alicia worked the door at Sultan’s by herself on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so Sonya was free for the next two nights.
She made good money her first weekend, and this week she’d work Thursday night as well, so she’d pull in even more cash.
Halim hadn’t lied to her about how much a hostess could make, that’s for sure. And she was starting to get used to working in such a scandalous environment.
Sonya slept in until close to noon on Tuesday. When she woke up, she decided to treat herself to a mocha latte with whipped cream at one of the fancy coffee shops in Westshore Plaza. She’d been craving that for days and couldn’t resist any longer.
Anna had mentioned to her that they should meet up sometime and hang out, so Sonya called her and asked if she wanted to meet up for coffee.
But Anna sounded groggy and disoriented when she picked up, like she’d still been asleep when the phone rang, and said she couldn’t make it.
Sonya took a shower, ate some strawberry yogurt, then put on a pink tank top and blue jeans, tied her hair in a ponytail and went out the door.
She worried enough about looking hot and wearing makeup at work, so she wasn’t about to bother with that stuff on her day off.
It’s not like she had a date…
She got in her 1991 Corolla and turned the ignition. She was always glad it managed to start one more time.
The car wasn’t that old, but she’d bought it used with more than a 100 thousand miles already on the odometer. And she wasn’t good at remembering to do things like get the oil changed.
Sonya got the wrong type of surprise that day. Her A/C was dead. It was blowing air, but not cold air. She felt like a bunch of hair dryers were pointed at her.
It was about 98 degrees outside, and her car was, of course, much hotter inside. The Florida humidity made it feel like she was in a sauna.
Which would be okay, except I wouldn’t wear jeans in a sauna, she thought with a frown.
So she rolled down the windows, put on her sunglasses and hit the gas as she pulled out of her apartment complex’s parking lot.
The breeze refreshed her face and arms, but her legs were already getting sticky with sweat and clinging to her jeans, making her wish she’d worn shorts.
Traffic was awful heading down Dale Mabry Highway, as usual.
Ugh, this is not even worth it. And to get coffee? That’s the last thing I want right now. Maybe a smoothie.
Eventually, she got there, parked on the second floor of the garage and walked into the mall.
It was so cool inside, she could feel the sweat evaporating from her skin. And it smelled wonderful, like fresh cookies and chocolate and perfume – the nice kind of perfume, not that slutty stuff from the club.
She looked in the window of a shop filled with gourmet chocolates.
I shouldn’t eat any sweets. Gotta look good for Sultan’s, damnit. And that stuff looks expensive, too.
She couldn’t afford a classy perfume yet either. Kelly always gave her a few sprays of Chanel No.5 in the dressing room, but it got smothered by all the trashy brands the other dancers wore, so she didn’t really get to enjoy smelling so elegant.
Sonya went into the new Starbucks and ordered the latte she’d been craving. It seemed like a good idea again now that she was cooling off.
She sat at a small table against the wall, opened a romance novel, and ate the whipped cream with a little plastic spoon as she read a steamy passage.
She began grinding her legs together as she imagined being taken roughly by a man.
It’d been too long since she’d been in the arms of a man. Way too long. And she’d never had the type of experience she was reading about.
She wanted to. She certainly wasn’t lacking for libido. It’s just she hadn’t dated anybody who could compare to her fantasies.
The guys at the restaurant where she’d worked were all so immature. Most had no goals in life. All they cared about was smoking pot, playing video games, and maybe hooking up with waitresses.
And the ones who were more ambitious, well, let’s be serious, they were dorks. Nice guys, but not men who could take charge and give a girl what she wants and what she needs.
Sonya sucked on the spoon as she neared the climax of a sex scene. Her legs were crossed and her top foot was bouncing, toes squirming in her sandals.
She set the book down, marking the page with a clean plastic straw, then took a gulp of her latte, which had cooled down enough.
“No vodka today?” somebody behind her said.
When she heard that deep voice, that sexy Russian accent, she almost choked on her coffee.
Her heart had already been pounding from reading the hot book passage, but now it thumped against her chest like a hammer.
She set the book down and looked up at Dmitri. He loomed over her like some colossal statue in a park. She felt tiny beneath him.