Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

He wanted slutty…. he’s getting super slutty.

I'm wearing a white, short, tight dress, with a red lacy bra peeking out. I'm in matching red stilettos, holding a matching clutch, too. I wouldn't be surprised if you can see my red G-string through my dress. I'm cringing just thinking about it. I even got a spray tan to complete the whole look.

I look like a hooker—a cheap, dirty hooker.

My hair is down and curled, pinned back on one side, and my lipstick matches my shoes. I reapply my lipstick in my compact, and I smirk. I spent a fortune today looking this cheap.

He’d better appreciate it.

The driver comes around and opens my door, smiling at me as I get out. He’s probably hoping I will pay for my cab ride with a blow job.

“Thank you,” I offer.

My stomach churns as I walk into the foyer and follow the signs for the Scarfe Bar. I stand at the door and I psyche myself up. Should I take the jacket off?

Yes, you’ve come this far. You came to London to break free of your constraints.

Just do it.

I slide my coat off and give it to the cloak man, and he raises his eyebrows, clearly excited. I look at him deadpan. I don’t think so.

I exhale heavily, drop my shoulders, and then I walk into the bar looking for my date.

Wow, this place is something else. My eyes roam around the exotic space. There is a rosewood bar that runs the length of the large room, with different luxury velvet color stools lining it. Behind the mirrored bar there are shelves filled with every expensive looking drink you could imagine. There’s even a huge fireplace in here, as well as beautiful, big sofas in the same exotic colors of the bar stools. A piano is being played and the room is filled with people having Friday night cocktails. Their chatter and laughter fills the room.

Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m wearing a white dress and red underwear.

Help me! My eyes go over to the fireplace. I scan every chair, then I look over to the bar along the stools in search of him. Is he even here?

I glance at the tables just in front of me, and I see him sitting back in his chair, wearing a dark charcoal suit. His handsome face and big brown eyes are watching me, wearing a sexy grin.

He stands and comes to greet me. “Hello,” he purrs.

He kisses my cheek and the skin on my arms bursts to life. “Hi,” I whisper.

He stands back and his hungry eyes drop down my body. “Please, come and take a seat.”

Julian takes my hand and leads me to the table in the darkened corner he was sitting at. My heart feels like it’s seriously trying to escape my chest. I sit nervously, and he takes the seat opposite me. He leans back and rests his elbows on the side of the chair, his pointer finger trailing across his big lips as he smirks. “You look as sexy as fuck,” he whispers.

Oh man, I may not be able to take this night. It seems so weird seeing him in this context, and I smile awkwardly. I go to pull my dress down and he holds his hand up. “Don’t pull your dress down, I want to see.”

My eyes widen.

I sit back nervously.

A bartender walks past. “Can I please have a Blue Label Scotch on the rocks? And what would you like, Bree?”

“I’ll have a margarita, please.”

The bar

tender disappears back to the bar and my eyes fall back to Julian. “This is gorgeous.” I smile.

“Like you.”

“You make me so nervous,” I whisper.

His smirk grows. “You should be nervous. I’ve never been this physically attracted to a woman before.