Free Poor Little Bitch Girl by Jackie Collins Page B

couch. “The word makes us sound like whores, and we’re not. We’re professional career women making a lot of money doing something other women do for free.”
    “That doesn’t answer my question,” Annabelle said, not interested in Bethany’s analysis of the call-girl business.
    “Your question, hmm . . .” Bethany said, giving her a piercing look. “I didn’t think you went out on jobs, Belle.”
    “I don’t,” Annabelle answered quickly. “I’m asking for one of the other girls. She got . . . abused.”
    “Abused, how?” Bethany asked, raising a penciled eyebrow.
    “The uh . . . guy was very rough with her. He practically raped her.”
    “Had he paid?” Bethany inquired, all business.
    “Yes.”
    “Then it’s not rape, is it?” Bethany said, sipping her Mimosa. “It’s a done deal.”
    Annabelle was getting more aggravated by the minute. Why couldn’t Bethany understand? “But let’s say she didn’t want it,” she said, pressing on. “How about she changed her mind – wasn’t happy with the look of him.”
    “The real question is,” Bethany said wisely, “did she take the money?”
    “I told you – yes.”
    “Then as I said, it’s a done deal, no rape involved. Closed case. Now,” Bethany continued brightly, “do you have any Peach Schnapps? If we add it to our Mimosas you’ll be one very relaxed cookie. And then you can tell me all about who pissed you off.”
    An hour later, still upset and verging on slightly drunk, Annabelle managed to get rid of Bethany. It wasn’t easy because Bethany was on her third Mimosa, and although Annabelle had thought she needed company, she’d realized she was better off alone.
    Nursing a pounding headache, she made it into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed.
    What if Sharif’s no doubt illegitimate fat slob of a son had given her a disease? Or even worse, gotten her pregnant?
    She’d carried condoms in her purse, but the horny little bastard had prevented her from reaching them.
    She could sue. Yes, sue Sharif Rani and his whole fucking family. He probably had a whole slew of sons from different women. White, black, Arab, American, Asian.
    Yes, but how could she sue without giving the game away? Her game . . .
    She could just imagine Mommy and Daddy’s movie-star faces if they ever found out what kind of a business their dear little daughter was running . . .
    After a while she fell into a half-sleep.
    Frankie would solve everything.
    Frankie always did.

 
Chapter Ten

Denver

    M ario is a total, all that I could ask for – and then some. He’s way hot, from the tip of his beautifully shaped toes to his deep olive skin. And about his abs . . . well, all I can say is gimme more! They are world-class!
    I have a thing about abs – I guess I feel about them the way most men feel about boobs. Kind of obsessed.
    Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped into bed with him the night of our first drink together – an occasion I can hardly classify as a date. But what the hey – two Cosmos and it’s all bets are gone with the wind!
    And yes, we were wild. We headed back to his place pronto. Leaped into bed with a feverish discarding of clothes. Thankfully he made a grab for a handy condom because I certainly wasn’t thinking in a rational fashion. Then we were hitting it all the way and then some. It was sooo good.
    Now he’s asleep, and I’m checking out his body first, his house next.
    You can find out a lot about a person from the way they live, and since Mario wasn’t expecting me to come back to his small house on Fountain, I’m impressed that it’s so clean and tidy. Not much mess at all, just a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, and a crumpled shirt scrunched up on the bathroom floor. Everything else is kind of neat.
    Too neat?
    I can only observe that he’s a hell of a lot neater than Josh, who was a basic slob when it came to cleaning up after himself.
    As for the bed activity . . . double, triple WOW!! Not to mention