Free Craved (Twisted Book 2) by Lola Smirnova

the moving car. ‘He is going to be all right.’
    Natalia stops at the red light.
    ‘Jul is right. Let’s focus on the things we can do instead of this useless crying. Mom needs ten grand for the surgery. We have to send it to her tomorrow.’
    ‘Ten grand of what? Dollars?’
    ‘Jul, it’s a stroke.’ Natalia pushes the accelerator too hard and the car jumps forward, pressing us into our seats. ‘Shit! His life depends on the quality of treatment he gets. I know it’s a lot of money, but I don’t think a government hospital is the answer. They’ll do nothing and he’ll be a vegetable for the rest of his life.’
    ‘I have three thousand.’ Lena wipes her face.
    ‘Good, I can round up five.’
    I fall silent, taking a deep breath.
    ‘I have one and a half, but I was going to pay for my ticket tomorrow.’ I fall back in my seat, looking into the darkness of the streets. ‘Shit!’
    Natalia looks at me in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘Okay, Jul, don’t worry. I’ll ask Tom, maybe he can help us.’
    ‘No, it’s okay… I’ll put my trip off… I want you to send my money too.’
     

14
     
    I stare at the card. It’s pretty standard – white paper with black block letters. Brenda Adams. Interior Decorator. Modern Design . Brenda is married, mid-forties. She’d shoved me her card a few weeks ago, right after I’d danced for her and her husband.
    Jeez… If I can do this, I can climb Mount Everest as well.
    ‘We like to do crazy stuff,’ Brenda went on, explaining to me what had brought them to the club as soon as I joined them. ‘It’s natural for men to desire more than one woman and I get it. I love my husband and want to do everything with him. Even if it is a strip club.’ She shook her hand, twinkling with a good-sized diamond ring. But her words didn’t match the image: she sat apart from her Woody Allen-looking husband, without even glancing at him, as if he was a part of the furniture.
    ‘Would you take us for a dance?’ Yet she sounded genuinely excited.
    Most of the couples are the same. The wife/girlfriend, while ‘supporting’ the idea that couples nowadays do ‘stuff’ to be cool or to avoid the monotony of married life, has a hard time camouflaging her disgust, anger and jealousy. The husband/boyfriend has too much to drink and starts enjoying things a little too much. Wife/girlfriend, who wasn’t prepared for the reality, flips out and the night ends up with her sour ‘Let’s get out of here’ or even a scene right in the club. Unlike most of them, Brenda was into it even more than her husband.
    As soon as I closed the door of the private room, she threw a ‘Make him happy, dedicate this dance to him’, dropped onto the couch, spread her legs, letting her skirt ‘accidentally’ slide up her thighs, and revealed an absence of panties and her preference for the au naturel full-bush look.
    Brenda didn’t mean what she’d said and, disregarding her own request, pushed her hubby off the couch while trying to get me on top of her. I went for broke to avoid her thicket, clinging onto his bony shoulders and ignoring her persistence. Even so she was turned on, constantly moving her pelvis and caressing her thighs and her breasts over her blouse.
    It was an I-can’t-look-or-I’ll-throw-up situation. Seriously disgusting!
    When we’d finished the dance and returned to the table, and her husband had gone to the bathroom, she handed me her business card with, ‘If you’re open-minded, call me. I’ll pay for your time.’
    I took the card only because I hoped they would take me for another dance later that night, but with the clear understanding that there was no way I would ever call this woman.
    Yeah, I know, never say never.
    I stare at the card, let out a sigh, and dial her number.
     
    ‘My husband is away on a business trip and the kids are at school until four.’ Her cheerful voice repulses me even more than what we are about to do.
    ‘Are you sure you don’t want