I followed them, and after a few minutes, I started to get the hang of it. After what seemed like my fifteenth trip down the locker room catwalk, she declared me “not hopeless.”
“You have great fucking legs. Seriously. Master the walk and you’ll have any guy eating out of—” She paused and grinned. “Let’s just say you’ll do fine.”
“God, you scare me sometimes.” I tugged her toward the door. “Let’s get this done.”
We headed down the hall. Strutting, sashaying, wiggling our butts. We probably looked like overly made-up cats in heat.
While strutting, I cast the side-eye at anyone who took too much interest in my sister. I’d recruited her help against my better judgment, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t kick some serious ass if need be.
I was kind of hoping I’d get the chance.
“Where are all the chicks?” Carly asked.
It was a reasonable question. We’d been the only ones in the ladies’ room for the entire twenty minutes we’d been puffing and buffing or whatever the hell women called that stuff.
“They’re allowed to join, but they usually don’t last long,” I explained. “This is strictly old boys’ network territory.”
“So the two of us in our push-ups will either be mocked or mounted on sight?”
My lips twitched. “We just have to keep our eyes on the prize.” This was said for her benefit, not mine, since I faced overt displays of toned manflesh on a daily basis. My sister did not. To be honest, I didn’t have a lot of faith in her standing strong in the face of temptation, but even Bonnie had needed her Clyde.
My Clyde happened to have a vagina, which suited me just fine.
“I’m still not sure how you think us looking hot will get this Costas guy to fight you.”
I wasn’t either. If I’d had any other options, I would’ve employed them. Since I couldn’t even manage to get Costas to return my phone calls, a sneak attack with thrusting breasts seemed like my best shot. I’d flirt and tease him into agreeing.
Or Carly would, since my idea of flirting and teasing consisted of trying to break a guy’s jaw. That probably wouldn’t work here.
“We have to disarm him. Right now he thinks I’m a joke. If we can get his dick in play, he’ll stop thinking with his big head and resort to the little. Trust me, I’m around these clowns on a daily basis.” I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder at Carly as I reached for the door handle to the machine room. “But remember. They’re only for looking. No touching.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She glanced down and tugged on her nipples again.
I didn’t do the same. If mine had gone soft, too damn bad.
“No riding the ponies, just a little stroking. Gotcha.”
“We’re only here to stroke one of them, Carly Ann.” I made my voice stern. “And leave most of that to me. You promised.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a good little minion for my big sister.”
“I’m serious. I never would’ve brought you along if I didn’t think I could trust you to let me handle this situation.”
“Stop wigging out and hang on a sec.” She dragged out her phone.
I sighed. “Carly—” A flash popped in my face and I snarled. “What was that for?”
She grinned and motioned for me to proceed. “Evidence for Fox that you totally can look like a hot chick. Not that you don’t every day,” she added hastily.
“Uh-huh.” But I was smiling as I tugged open the door.
Machines clanged, rap music blared, and laughter rang out, mixed with grunts and expletives. All seemed to halt when Carly and I stepped across the threshold, though that was probably just my extreme self-awareness talking. But I didn’t imagine the distinct, “Holy shit,” that sounded from a few feet away. Followed by an equally distinct, “Damn, look at those tits.”
I was reasonably sure they weren’t talking about mine. A tighter bra could only do so much.
“Stay behind me,” I muttered over my shoulder into thin air. No Carly. She had already pushed in front of me—hips working, pigtails bouncing, eyes scanning the rows of eager, drooling men draped over machines that had, for the most part, gone still.
“Do you see him?” she asked in an unnaturally loud whisper.