Free The Dirty Girls Book Club by Savanna Fox Page A

called—what was it now?—
The Cowboy Way
.”
    “Oh, yes!” Viv said, but Terry shrugged, clearly not recognizing the reference.
    Viv filled him in, then Georgia said, “The designer thought an underwear line could be a special feature of the Canadian launch.”
    “I’m guessing our Woody will look even better than Woody Harrelson did in a pair of tighty-whities,” Viv teased.
    Woody gave a third groan.
    It was interesting, but despite Viv’s attractiveness, Woody wasn’t flirting with her the way Georgia’d expected. He treated Viv and Terry equally, nodding in agreement or groaning or making a face when he hated an idea. As for Georgia herself, she’d catch him watching her; then he’d look away. He probably wondered what crazy impulse had made him come on to her, just as she was wondering why she’d been insane enough to go along.
    Well, there had been those two orgasms. …
    No, this was a business meeting, and they’d been discussing … Right. Underwear.
    Ignoring Woody, Georgia addressed Viv and Terry. “The question is”—she held out both hands, palms up—“would underwear ads be effective, or tasteless?” She jiggled her hands up and down, weighing alternatives on an imaginary set of scales.
    Viv ran the tip of her tongue around lips painted hot pink. “Hardly tasteless, I’d say. And just what are you juggling there? Could it possibly be balls?”
    Terry snorted, and the double entendre hit Georgia. She dropped her hands immediately. “It was scales! I was weighing … Oh, never mind.” She took a breath, then said, knowing she sounded stiff and self-conscious, “Obviously, Viv thinks underwear ads would be effective, at least with female buyers.” It was hard to argue with that.
    “And gay men,” the other woman added. “Terry, how about straight guys?”
    “So long as the ad’s masculine and not too arty. Arty works for metrosexuals and gays, but not guys who think of themselves as ‘real men.’ Maybe have him in his gonch doing stuff like sharpening his skate blades.”
    Georgia typed the idea, trying very hard not to imagine that picture. “Would that work for metrosexuals and gays? And women?” It sure worked for her, if the throb of need between her thighs was any indication.
    “Yes,” Terry and Viv said simultaneously.
    “Shit,” Woody said.
    She ignored him, drumming her fingertips reflectively along the bottom of her keyboard. “Good. That’s an idea to develop.”
    “No thongs.” Woody’s voice grated and his gaze met Georgia’s, pleading. “Please, Coach, no thongs. They’re not, you know, dignified.”
    Dignified?
This, coming from a man in a ratty jersey with a cartoon beaver on it? Still, she could sympathize. “It might turn straight men off,” she mused.
    “Kids watch the games,” Terry said. “Thongs don’t project a family image.”
    “You can say that again,” Viv agreed.
    “Fine. No thongs.” Georgia typed it as Woody said a heartfelt, “Thank God.”
    She turned to Viv. “Moving on. Viv, you can handle physical appearance. We’ll want to play on his, uh …”
    “Sex appeal?” Viv provided.
    “Yes.” Georgia eyed Woody dubiously. He was handsome, physical, and masculine, but his lack of polish and questionable clothing choices diminished his appeal.
    He caught her gaze, raised an eyebrow, then ran a hand over the conference table in slow, caressing circles. Reminding her that her bare butt had been plunked down on the matching table in the room next door, as she let him spread her wide—in fact virtually begged him to enter her.
    Ooh, he wasn’t playing fair. He’d agreed they would put the sex behind them.
    But yes, he had effectively made the point that, despite his flaws, he did have sex appeal.
    Deliberately, she typed “sex appeal” so the words sat up there on the screen, and said in an all-business voice, “We can’t alienate the male half of the market. Woody has to be a man they identify with.”
    “He’s all