Chapter 32 A Man To Do The Deed
SANCIA
“What about him?” I asked, checking out an average-looking guy. He'd been dancing like he was trying to show off his dancing skills, which were lacking, in my opinion. But I wasn't here to judge anyone, I'm here for a specific reason, and don't care who helps me get my job done.
The club we were in was new and located underground in the Vegas strip; Tina had assured me that she'd heard from her brother Adamo that this was a rival club, so there was no chance of any of Papa's men coming here.
“No, definitely not him,” Tina said, making a face, even as she shook her head to the music playing. We were both sitting at the bar pretending we were older than we actually were, not that the club has many rules, as long as you can pay the entry fees, which to me were exorbitant.
I didn't even think we had to pay for the club entrance, which shows my ignorance. Fortunately, I have Tina with me; she was an expert in this field, a fact which baffles me.
“Why not?” I asked, tired of Christina's pickiness. This was the fourth time she had rejected my choice. Well, not exactly my choice because, as far as I was concerned, I didn't care.
As long as it's a man and not an asshole or dead-ass drunk, he will do it. Talking about being drunk, I was already on my second glass of tequila, which I'd ordered to bolster my courage for what I was about to do.
And it's starting to work; I'm already feeling it. Fortunately, I'm not a lightweight and I can handle my drink.
“He's the selfish type, the one who only cares about his pleasure. He'll stick it in, grunt a few times, and he's done.”
“Christina, how would you know if he's that type?” I asked incredulously.
“I just do okay, trust me. I know what I'm talking about,” she said as though she were a connoisseur of men.
“I think you are forgetting something. I'm not here for pleasure, Tina. I need this done so I can get my freedom, not because it's fun,” I said, exasperated.
“I know, but it's going to be your first time, Sia, and people always say that you remember your first, whether he's a good lay or a terrible one. I know you're not doing it for fun, Cuz,” her voice dropped low.
“But I would rather you give it up to a man who knows what he's doing, and if you orgasm from it, that's even better. I'm only looking out for you; I don't want you to have to remember an idiot who hurt you for the rest of your life.”
I squeeze her hand in gratitude. “Thank you for looking out for me, Christina. But at this rate. I will be a hundred-year-old virgin by the time the perfect man who ticks all your boxes appears to pop my cherry.”
“Oh, we'll get him; I swear this is the last time,” she assured, but it's always the same thing she said the other times.
“Or we could settle on the third man; he's still looking over here,” I said, trying not to stare at him too long so he wouldn't know I was talking about him.
“Who, baldy?” she said with disgust and gagging, exaggerating.
“God, Sancia, I know you don't care who gets your cherry as long as it gets done. But your taste can't be that terrible,” she shivered and glared at the man when he winked at her. If I weren't anxious and nervous as fuck, I would have laughed at the way she glared at him.
“As I've said earlier, I don't care about looks as long as he's not old, doesn't stink, and wouldn't crush me with his weight. I don't care who takes my virginity since it's not going to be Antonio.” Christina stared at me, concerned.
“Not even a little bit?” she asked, curiously.
“No, I would rather anyone take my virginity than let that monster take what was never his,” I yelled louder than I intended to.
I cautiously glanced behind me, but no one was looking. The man at the nearest table with the hat was busy sucking faces with his girlfriend and wasn't paying attention to us.
“I get it, okay, but…” she started. “Oh my God, he's here,” she gasped.
“Who?” I asked, frowning, even as I shrank into my seat in case it was someone who would recognize us. I even went as far as to comb my fake blonde hair in my face to help hide my identity.
“The man who is going to pop your cherry,” Tina said with a wink.
“Look to your left, three o'clock.”
I sighed and turned around. I don't know how she could see much in this dark place. The disco ball was the only thing that cast light on the pack club.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see more clearly this man was younger than the last two, probably twenty-five; I don't know about his look, but he was dressed smart, his blonde hair cut short. And he was coming towards us.
My eyes widened when he sat on the chair opposite me and grinned at me. Yeah, okay, he was good-looking, or I'm just talking drunk, and he has one of those faces that makes you comfortable around them. I smiled back and nervously took a sip of my tequila.
“Hello, darling,” he said with a thick British accent.
“Hi,” I muttered softly.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I raised the drink in my hand. He laughs and scratches at his hair.
“Well, since I can't buy you a drink. Can you buy me a drink?” he said in a flirty voice, smiling charmingly. I laughed nervously, my palms getting sweaty as Tina melted in the background.
This is new territory for me, being flirted at. I have no idea what to even say. Though Tina has coached me on the hard part, I still don't know the rules of flirting or whatever.
But I know how to get a man to do my bidding besides what kind of man says no to sex? My heart aches at the thought that there's one such man, but he's now out of my reach. I shook his thought away before I could change my mind.
“Do you want to…” he began, but I lost the rest of his sentence when the DJ changed the music from slow music to a popular hip-hop song that had the crowd in a frenzy.
“What?!” I yelled. I'm not sure, but I think he just asked me to dance.
“Do you want to dance?” he yelled back, tilting his head towards the packed dancing floor. I bit my lip and glanced at Tina, who nodded vigorously.
“Yes.” Grinning like he won the lottery, the man who didn't know he was about to be my first took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
While I had been secluded most of my life and didn't know much about life outside of my family, dancing is one of the few things I know how to do, too well, if I may say so myself.
And when we joined dozens of others in the darkest part of the dance floor, I let myself go; I'll say the alcohol in my blood helps. I danced, gyrated, and contorted my body with the music; my partner was a decent dancer, too, and seemed to know all the right moves.
And he's a bit touchy, too, his hands lingering on my ass and thighs, which gives me an uncomfortable feeling, but I know it must be my fear and anxiety.
This is a famous place for hooking up and getting sex partners. What else was he supposed to do, hold my hand?
“What's your name?” he asked, yelling in my ear as I forced down my unease and pushed my ass against him, and he moved with me, his hands on my hips.
“Lucia,” I turned and yelled back.
“I'm Jonas.”
“Nice name,” I said, looking at where Tina was. She was tapping her hand with the watch. Which means it's time I make my move; my stomach cramps with nerves.
I swallow and remind myself of why I'm doing this. It's now or never, Sancia—a little pain for your freedom or a lifetime of pain with Lorenzo Marchetti.
“Jonas, do…do you want to go somewhere more private? There are rooms at the back.” I blurted, blinking at him even as my face burned with embarrassment.
The only thing that gave me courage as I ran my hands down his body suggestively was the fact that just like I couldn't see his face clearly, he also couldn't see much of mine.
“But…only if you want to,” I whispered; I was nervous he would turn me down, but at the same time, still nervous he would say yes.